#when it’s 3 in the morning and you can’t sleep

[moonstruckme]

Hello lovely!! I am obsessed with your emt!poly marauders stories🧡. I'd love to request the emt boys taking care of sweet reader after getting an iud insertion. Thank you so much for your writing!! xx

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: reader with a uterus, cramping, it took me until after writing this to realize you probably meant at a hospital or something so sorry about that! but thanks to @ellecdc for helping me figure out how to fit the boys being emts into this when I was being clueless :')

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The volume of the television is turned down low, the apartment you share with your boyfriends quiet but for its soft hum. You’re curled up against the arm of the couch. Remus is in the armchair adjacent, and your bum is squished against James’ thigh, your feet tucked half underneath his lap. You think Sirius is nearly asleep on his shoulder. You’ve all had a long day. 

Remus leans over to peer at you. He frowns when he sees you’re awake. 

“Alright, sweetheart?” 

You hum. 

A warm hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn your head to find James frowning at you too. He rubs your arm. “I thought you were sleeping,” he murmurs, concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

You took paracetamol PM as soon as you left your appointment. Between that and how much energy you’d used up on dread during the first part of the day, both your boyfriends and you had expected you to crash immediately after getting home and sleep the afternoon away. Unfortunately, you haven’t been so lucky.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say. With two worried boyfriends looking at you, you’re trying to be reassuring. “I’m okay.” 

Unfortunately, a third only joins the mix. Sirius blinks, groggy, his cheek ruddy where it was smushed against James’ shoulder. 

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?” James asks gently. 

You give a little shrug. “Cramps.” 

Sirius coos, reaching for you. He gives your calf a squeeze. “They’re bad, hm?” 

“Not awful,” you say.

In truth, none of this has been as awful as you’d prepared yourself for. You were on the brink of cancelling your appointment, teary and reticent as the boys tried to get you ready this morning and reassured you over and over again that they’d be there to help you, but the procedure itself had lasted less than five minutes. Even now, your cramps aren’t much worse than they usually are on your period. Enough to prod you awake each time you start to drift off, but not so awful that you’re shaking or sweating like they sometimes get. 

Sirius tsks. “You should have said. We can give you another paracetamol, you’ve only had one.”

Hope must show on your face, because Remus is up in the next second. “I’ll get it. Anything else you want while you’re awake, dovey? Chocolate, tea?” 

“No, thank you,” you murmur. 

Sirius makes a low, pitying sound and folds himself over James’ lap, resting his head on your curled-up legs. “No appetite?” he asks, pouting at you. 

“Not really,” you admit. 

James frowns. “What about your heating pad, angel? Would that be alright?” 

“Oh.” You’d forgotten that was an option. “Yes, please.” 

Remus goes to collect. He does bring you a few pieces of chocolate when he comes back, just in case you decide you might like it—it’s as if he can’t help himself—and you take your paracetamol with some water while James situates the heating pad over your belly. 

He encourages you onto your back, unfolding your legs so your knees sit over his lap. Sirius goes to get another pillow, settling it behind your back. 

“How’s that?” 

“That’s great,” you sigh, meaning it. The angle of your legs seems to have helped somehow, in addition to the heat soothing your muscles. “Thank you.” 

“Are you propped up enough?” James takes your water once you’re done, setting it on the coffee table for you. “We can get another pillow.” 

“No, this…this is good, thank you.” 

“Her back might hurt, too,” Sirius says—not to you, but to Remus, who nods. 

“I’ll get the spare.” 

“The spare what?” You watch Remus go at a businesslike pace back down the hall. “My back does hurt, actually.” 

“The spare heating pad,” Sirius explains. Each of the boys seems to have taken on a more serious manner, their movements efficient and practiced. Sirius helps James lift your back, allowing Remus to slip the heating pad beneath you before he plugs it in. “How’s that, baby? Too warm?” 

You settle back down, pleasantly surprised when your pain eases further. “No, it’s nice. It’s sort of like being in a cocoon.” 

He grins, squatting beside you to press a fond kiss to your nose. “Sure you don’t want more pillows?” 

“This is perfect. Really. It’s a couch, it doesn’t have an up-and-down lever like a hospital bed.” 

You watch James blink as he processes what you’re saying. Sirius laughs. 

“Oi! We’re just trying to take care of you.” 

“The only way you know how,” you tease. 

“Oh, my angel.” James leans over you, hugging you sideways. He’s warm and pleasantly heavy, almost better than both your heating pads combined. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he mumbles, kissing your chin and the hollow of your neck until he seems to find someplace worth staying in your chest. 

“It’s not that bad.” You stroke his hair. “Anyway, it’s not your fault.” 

“No,” he says, cheek squished to your chest, “but I do feel sort of complicit in it. I was there when they did this to you.” 

“James,” Remus chides. “Don’t make them sound so villainous. She’s still recovering.” 

You laugh a little at that. It’s worth the twinge in your gut. “It’s okay. I’m not all freaked out about it anymore. It’s over with, anyway.” 

Remus softens. “It is over with. You did really well.” 

“Well, all I really had to do was lie there.” 

“You were scared,” Sirius says frankly, sitting down and pulling your feet into his lap. “I know that makes it hard. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

Your voice quiets shyly. “Thanks.” 

Sirius gives a soft smile. He rubs his thumb into your ankle fondly. 

“Feeling sleepy yet?” James asks. 

As if on cue, a yawn takes you. Sirius awws and you hear Remus exhale amusedly from his chair. 

“Sleep it off, love,” he says. “Even if the cramps aren’t gone when you wake up, they should be better by then.” 

You slouch into your pillow, getting cozy. “This has helped a lot. Thank you, guys.” 

Even though you’ve closed your eyes, you feel James’ smile smush his cheek into your chest. “That’s what we’re here for, m’love.” 

[badhee]

( 𝟐:𝟎𝟗 𝐚𝐦 ) ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

pairing: bf!heeseung x gf!reader, established relationship genre/tags: fluff + smut, marking, somnophilia, slight dubcon, fingering, piv, unprotected sex, breeding kink, use of word daddy (once), despite the warnings this is actually very soft and sweet imo <3 words: 1.6k

[ note. ] — this won the poll (yayyy!!), i wrote this all in a few hrs so if there’s any mistakes i missed srry haha. also tagging @heebear ❀

The moon looks extra beautiful tonight. Streaks of pale light bleeds into the sheer, ivory curtains— it’s soft, milky glow cascading over your shared bedroom. It was mostly quiet, aside from the whirring hum of the ceiling fan and faintly audible breaths from his left side as Heeseung temporarily rose from the tangled sheets.

It’s already past 2 am, sighing out in annoyance when he checks the time that’s flashed on his phone screen. He couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep no matter how hard he tried, only growing more frustrated as he’s been attempting to do so for the past hour.. Eyes greeting the wall with nothing but empty blank stares, sleep was deemed impossible to obtain by now and as many times he closed his eyes they still wouldn’t remain permanently shut.

He rolls over in defeat once again, facing to the left of him was the most precious and angelic little being he’s ever seen— casting his view over to his sleeping beauty of a girlfriend who’s peacefully dozing off into dreamland. Oh how he’s always been so envious of your ability to fall asleep in an instant.. you were the sleepiest girl that could easily try and catch a nap just about anywhere, and oddly enough, he always found that quality of yours to be quite endearing.

Heeseung could simply stare at you all day with no complaints, he couldn’t help but admire the way you looked in any state you were in, even whilst in your deep slumber. In his eyes, you were the true embodiment of perfection. Looking adorable as ever with your hair splayed all over the pillow, clutching onto your favorite teddy bear that you always went to bed with.

You’re pretty. So fucking pretty.

Though he was unable to physically fall asleep, he surely was mentally exhausted. His brain still a bit foggy, dreading when it’s time to get up in the morning for work when he’s so badly craving a part 2 of the 3-hour fuck sesh you both had the night before. A trail of faint markings were embedded into his chest, some that were barely noticeable on his neck and several scratches left on his back from the aftermath; recollections of your pretty moans echoing throughout the room made his cock stir, getting uncontrollably horny all over again. Too bad you had to be asleep..

It’s like the universe is punishing him, taunting him for some unknown reason. Not only can’t he fall asleep, but now he’s plagued with all kinds of other thoughts and it’s only fueling his insatiable desire for you. The more he thinks about it, the more sexually frustrated he’ll become. He could easily take care of this ‘problem’ of his by doing it himself, right? Sure.. but it won’t be nearly the same. He needs to touch you, feel every inch of you, have you under him with your face all smushed in the pillows as he fucks his cock deeper into you.. or he could simply eat you out until you begged for him stop like he did last time. Either way, all he wants is you.

He gets closer, reaching over to brush some strands of hair out of your face, smiling to himself when you snuggled up into his hand— still sound asleep. Your lips smack together a little, body shifting underneath the covers, completely oblivious of what’s going on. Heeseung slowly lifts up the comforter, revealing your pretty figure, the thin, slip dress you wore leaving little to the imagination. It’s silky fabric riding up as you tossed and turned during the night, completely exposing your lower body. He bit his lip at the sight behold him, wanting nothing more in this moment is to grab your thighs and have them spread open for him. He’d do many ungodly things to you if you were awake right now..

As his hand shifts underneath the hem of your nightgown to caress your thighs, he tries convincing himself that this was as far as he’ll take it. But as more delicate kisses are planted to your shoulder, slowly working his way up to your neck, how you’re lying there so pliantly for him, it only makes him want to do more, see how far he can take this before you actually do wake up. He’s gotten a bit overtly comfortable now as he traveled to your upper body, leaving no surface of you untouched. He’s fondling one of your breasts with his free hand, the pad of his thumb softly grazing over your nipple. You don’t make any sudden movements, still blissfully unaware of what’s happening.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder, stifling a groan when he grinds his clothed dick against your ass. He’s back to holding your waist, but that didn’t last very long before he gets distracted by something else. Eventually, he found his fingers inching closer to your core, circling your clit over the thin lining of your panties. He hissed at the feeling of how wet you are, even while you’re asleep your body subconsciously adheres to him, as if it knows who it belongs to. He slid the extra layer of fabric to the side, gathering more of your arousal before he plunges one of his fingers inside, watching as it disappears in and out of your dripping cunt. The sounds of your wetness only making him more painfully hard, he’s rutting up against you like a dog in heat and he’s fucking shameless about it at this point. All he wants is to bury his cock between those soft, pretty thighs of yours..

It’s only a matter of time until he finally caves in.. and it wasn’t long before he found himself rubbing his cock along your folds and caught his tip in your entrance, sliding in with ease from how soaking wet you are. He grips you tightly but not enough to leave any major bruising, he’s still gentle with you, keeping your hips flush against his as fully bottoms out, too deep in concentration to focus on anything else. He barely even notices when your eyes slowly flutter awake, a gasp slipping from your breath when feeling the unexpected intrusion, your warm walls pulse around him, adjusting to the stretch. You let out a small noise that might’ve been a moan, a word, or his name, whatever it was— it was the least bit coherent. You were still drowsy and disoriented, but once the initial shock wore off you found yourself relaxing into him again; bathing in his warmth and letting his desires roam free. Heeseung kept groping your tits as he fucks you from behind, lightly twisting your nipple to make you even more delirious for him. You simply could do nothing but lye there and take it, fighting the urge to fall back asleep and the overwhelming pleasure that he’s giving you.

“Baby..” you whisper softly, lazily grinding against him to match his movement, your sleepy voice sounding much cuter, and lot more innocent than the actions he’s performing.

“Yeah?” He spoke in a husky tone, never letting up on his ministrations, his hips snap back and forth, this time with a little more force— but remains gentle with his words. “Is this okay?”

He might’ve been a little late with that question.. but nonetheless, you still appreciate the sentiment of it. You simply respond to him with a hum of compliance, feeling in a state of euphoria as you arch into his touch, feeding off of all the soft praises he’d whisper in your ear. You’d do anything for Heeseung, not because he was just your boyfriend, but because it’s him— you trust him more than anything in this world. There were no limits when it comes to your love.

“Cum inside, please.” You desperately whine, your cunt clenching around his thick cock when he repeatedly thrusts in your sweet spot. You felt so needy for him. You always did. Even as you’re getting dicked down by him right now you still call out to him— begging for more.

Heeseung could feel himself nearing the edge, and your pleas for him to cum inside was only making his high approach faster.. he sighs, “Wan’ me to give you a baby? Make you a mommy?” It might’ve been a question but he already knew the answer, he didn’t need to hear a response.

“Yes, please..” you manage to say as tiny whimpers and moans fall from your lips, attempting to catch your ragged breaths. You don’t care about the consequences that come with your decision, you’ll bear those repercussions later. For now though, all you want is for him to milk every last drop of his cum inside you.

“It’s okay baby, just let go..” he talks to you with the sweetest, honey laced voice, coaxing you through your orgasm, “I got you… daddy’s got you.”

Your mouth flew permanently open, in a cloud-like haze as your own orgasm washes over you, all while at the same time having your insides plastered with thick, white ropes of cum. Your whole body is shaking but you’re brought a source of comfort when several fleeting kisses saturate your back, leading them up to your neck once more to litter faint love bites. You’re left feeling more exhausted than you were before, cuddling with your boyfriend who seems to also be just as worn out as you. Before drifting back to sleep, you hear a soft-spoken exchange, almost undetectable when he mumbles the words against your skin; but you could still make out exactly what was said.

“I love you.”

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

06 | big dipper // series m.list

note: hihi ,, thank u for waiting !! this ch is def worth it tbh </3 no warnings ,, just like ... oc goes off on jungkook ,, jungkook gets blindfolded ,, more context on their auras ??? yeah ... tension too ! pls do not be shy and send in ur thoughts !!! i would love to know how u're liking the fic so far as it's my first fantasy au !!!!! (clearly still very nervy lmfao) mwah ,, enj !

//

the past few days have been anything but easy for jungkook.

not that he deserves easy—he knows he doesn’t. if anything, this is exactly what he should’ve expected. what does surprise him, though, is just how well you execute the petty treatment. how effortlessly you lock him out. how, no matter how many times he shuts his eyes, focuses, and tries to slip into your thoughts—he can’t.

it’s like the connection doesn’t exist.

which makes no sense.

because it does.

the string between you is golden and bright, undeniable to everyone who has ever seen it. and yet, there’s this… knot. this missing piece. it’s so fucking strange. he felt you before—felt the way your heart would race, the heat that would bloom across your skin. he knew when you were sick, when you were anxious. when the bond first tied, his own pulse had stumbled just trying to match yours. he cared so much when it happened...

but now?

now, it’s empty.

like someone cut the string without actually severing it.

he first noticed it that night in the garden.

you had only been soulmates for a few hours, and still, he felt something. at first, he thought maybe he was imagining it. overhyping the entire invisible string phenomenon. but then, the symptoms started stacking—waves of nausea when you were overwhelmed, your voice in his head when you caught his stray thoughts in class.

you’re in his head.

but he’s not in yours.

and if he’s not in your head, then what about your heart?

after that night, jungkook had gone to bed feeling like absolute shit. you told him he made you feel better—but he couldn’t feel it. couldn’t be sure. how could he trust words alone when everything inside you was a blank slate to him?

it freaked him out.

it got to him.

he spent the night tossing and turning, unable to catch even fifteen minutes of real sleep. and then, the next morning, when you walked in well-rested and seemingly fine—it hit him like a freight train.

it’s him.

he’s the problem.

and as fucked up, childish, and selfish as it is—that’s why he called you boring.

because you are.

because you’re blank.

because he, the so-called master of manipulation, can’t get inside your head.

but he sure as hell can get under your skin.

"so everyone, partner up—and obviously, soulmates go with soulmates," namjoon announces, finishing his rundown of the sparring activity.

you barely register the rest.

instead, you watch the class shuffle into place. soulmates move toward each other. friends pair up. the guys—still without soulmates—team up amongst themselves.

and jungkook?

jungkook leans against a tree, one foot propped lazily against the bark, arms folded over his chest. his expression is unreadable, but the tilt of his head, the barely-there smirk, sends heat curling up your spine. he plays with his lighter.

you exhale sharply and motion for him to come over.

he stays put, smirk growing.

then, he mouths, "don’t wanna."

your jaw clenches. you point at him, then to the ground in front of you.

"come here. now."

jungkook blinks, feigning innocence.

you cross your arms.

you wait—a second, a minute, a moment too long.

then, just as you start to turn away, he appears right in front of you.

"you're impatient today," he remarks, voice smooth, teasing. "is that how fast you need me? i can teleport wherever you want me to go. tell me to go away, i'll do it."

you sigh, pressing your fingers to your temple. before you can retort, he lifts his hands, and with the subtlest flex of his fingers, two sparring sticks float from the pile and dart into his grasp. he catches them effortlessly and offers you one, grinning.

across the field, namjoon groans.

"jungkook, did you really need to use your aura for that? just walk like a normal person."

jungkook huffs.

"wow. it’s like everyone hates me today."

"maybe we do," you mutter, snatching the stick from his hand.

this was foreseeable.

you don’t need jin’s aura to know how this is going to go. the class knows, too. there’s a shift in energy, hushed murmurs, amused glances exchanged.

from where he leans against a tree, jin exhales a chuckle. “this should be interesting.”

and it is.

because while everyone else has started, you haven’t moved past the first three strikes.

not because you aren’t trying.

but because jungkook isn’t.

you lunge forward, aiming a strike at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch. his own stick twirls idly in his fingers, his gaze flicking toward the treetops like he’s more interested in cloud formations than the fight.

he dodges every attack without breaking a sweat. side-steps. pivots. barely moves.

and worse—he looks bored.

your foot pivots. another strike slices through the air. jungkook steps back just enough for it to skim past his sleeve.

“getting closer,” he muses. “try again.”

irritation burns at your spine. you exhale sharply, feint left, strike right. this time, you land it. the stick grazes his arm—not enough to bruise, but enough to count.

jungkook stumbles back dramatically, hissing through his teeth as if you’d run him through with a blade.

"shit—"

the class falls silent for a beat.

then, snickers ripple through the air.

"oh, come on," you deadpan.

jungkook blinks at you, playing it up even more. "that was—you stabbed me."

taehyung mutters something under his breath. jin actually laughs. namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose.

jungkook sighs, twirling his stick again. then, in a movement so smooth it’s almost insulting, he flicks yours aside with a gentle tap.

wood clashes.

you stumble back.

cheers erupt from the watching trainees. but you just glare at him, chest heaving.

"again."

you grip your stick tighter, eyes narrowing. across from you, jungkook still looks at ease. hands loose. weight shifted just enough to be casual. like he’s humoring you.

the heat in your chest flares.

“jungkook, are you even trying?”

he shrugs, nonchalant.

“dunno. are you?”

jimin chokes on a laugh. "god, jungkook’s asking for it."

your jaw locks.

the room feels warmer. everyone's watching. you’ve never cared about proving yourself before—but this feels different.

nam joon's voice cuts in, sharp. "jungkook, get it together. look at ___! she’s clearly upset.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker toward namjoon. then back to you.

and something changes... his teasing drops. his fingers tighten around his stick.

“you want me to try?”

you swallow, nodding once.

he shifts, expression unreadable. “whatever you want, p.”

then, he moves.

the first exchange is fast. too fast. you counter, but his strikes come harder, sharper. for the first time, he’s fighting back.

and you’re losing.

badly.

his strikes come faster, sharper. his movements are precise. he isn’t holding back anymore, and suddenly, you’re struggling to keep up. the wooden sticks crack against each other, loud against the backdrop of rustling trees and hushed whispers.

then, in a split second, he spins.

your stick is wrenched from your hands. before you can react, jungkook grips it, tugging it toward him—until you’re standing nearly chest to chest.

then—

he taps himself out.

a grin spreads across his face. the trainees erupt into giggles. your shoulders rise and fall as you catch your breath.

jungkook extends a hand.

"good game."

it wasn’t.

it wasn’t fair.

it wasn't good.

it was just so him.

instead of shaking his hand, you shove your sparring stick against his chest and avoid his eyes.

"excuse me," you mutter before turning away from the group and heading towards the garden.

jungkook watches you leave.

he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t move. but, after a few beats, jungkook follows.

you don’t acknowledge him, but you know he’s there.

you can feel it.

the ground hums beneath your feet, a faint tremor shifting the soil like the earth itself is attuned to him. the air turns crisp, infused with something familiar—fresh rain on warm stone, something sharp at the edges, something distinctly him. being his soulmate changes everything.

good and bad.

so you make him work for it.

you take the long way to the garden, slipping between hedges, ducking beneath ivy, fingers grazing the thick vines trailing along the palace walls. the scent of jasmine clings to your skin as you move, quiet and deliberate. you don’t look back.

but he follows.

always.

by the time you reach the stone bench beneath the willow, the late afternoon sun drapes golden shadows over the grass. the leaves rustle overhead, and the distant chime of a wind bell carries through the stillness.

he doesn’t speak.

you wait.

finally, after what feels like forever, jungkook exhales.

“you didn’t come last night.”

the words break through the quiet, heavy and deliberate.

“hmm?” you hum, dragging the sound out just enough to make him second-guess himself.

his jaw ticks. “i felt sick.”

the way he says it—careful, measured—betrays him.

a test.

a trap.

you don’t spring it... not yet.

instead, you lift your gaze, watching him with something unreadable.

“exactly how sick were you?”

his expression flickers—just for a second—but it’s enough. the shift. the realization that you know he’s lying. that you didn’t come because you didn’t want to. that he had waited for you, and you had chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t like that. not one bit.

for the first time since class, he looks at you. really looks at you. and for the first time, you let him.

the garden is quiet this time of day. that’s why you go. but now, the quiet stretches thin between you, taut as a thread about to snap. the leaves sway overhead. jungkook shifts his weight.

then, without thinking, you step forward.

he doesn’t move. just watches.

you lift a hand, resting the back of it against his forehead.

warm. not feverish, but—warm.

jungkook stills.

for a split second, he stops breathing. the world falls away, distant and unimportant, because all he can focus on is your touch. the way your fingers linger before you pull away.

he reacts before he can think.

his hand catches yours, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not tight, but firm. firm enough to stop you.

you blink.

he tugs you closer.

your other hand lands against his chest, steadying yourself against the solid weight of him.

he is warm here, too. warmer than he should be. his heartbeat is steady, but there’s something frantic beneath the surface, a tension coiled too tight.

jungkook doesn’t know what to do with this. doesn’t know what to do with the warmth spreading through him like something foreign. something dangerous.

his voice is quiet when he speaks. almost unsteady.

“what are you doing to me?”

your lips part slightly, breath catching—

then, you push away.

he lets go immediately, like your touch burns.

your expression smooths out, unreadable. you take a step back.

“nothing,” you say. “that’s the thing.”

jungkook exhales sharply, head tilting. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you hold his gaze. then, deliberately, you let your aura slip. let it expand—thick, unmistakable.

resistance.

jungkook’s breath catches.

“i can’t read you,” he says eventually, voice low, like he hates admitting it. “i... i could for a day or two... but it doesn’t make sense. this does't make sense. you knew i wasn’t sick last night?”

you nod.

“... you can feel—”

“yeah,” you breathe. “i can feel your symptoms. i can feel when your body reacts to me. i can hear your thoughts when you let me—when you want me to. i feel the bond."

his fingers twitch at his sides. his brows pinch slightly, like this realization is foreign. you inhale, steady. then exhale, letting down your guard just enough for him to feel it.

your aura glows—not to the eye, but in presence.

jungkook stiffens.

“resistance,” he pieces together. “that’s… that’s why i can’t—”

“i had my guard down when we met. i was giving you a chance, and you…” your voice softens, eyes searching his. “you can’t manipulate me. i refuse it.”

his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. then, he scoffs, shaking his head.

“who said i had plans to manipulate you?”

“isn’t that your aura?”

“and if it is?” he steps closer, chin tilting. “come on, p. you think you have me all figured out?”

your lips curl into a small smile. not sweet. not cruel. something in between.

“yeah, i do,” you say. “the truth is, i’m not upset that you find me boring.”

jungkook waits.

“i’m upset that you’re boring.”

his brows furrow slightly. “what does that mean?”

you step back, turning toward the garden bench as you speak over your shoulder.

“you think i’m just a princess? fine. to each their own. you think you’re too good for me—”

“i never said that—”

“what?” your voice sharpens. “you think you’re not good enough, then? see, i’m confused—frustrated, actually. i understand i’m the newbie to the divinity—to this… to you,” you pause, eyes finding his. “but why should i stand around and let myself be collateral damage to your low self-esteem and ego?”

his expression hardens. offense first, then defense.

“who the fuck said shit about me having low self-esteem—”

“no one,” you almost laugh. “but that’s it, isn’t it? your ego can't swallow the fact that you can't read me. that you can't manipulate your place in my life... that there's a possibility that you can and will fail and have to depend on trust and love to be enough for people like me to stay.”

jungkook clenches his jaw.

"i don't know what the fuck you're talking about," jungkook spits. "do you think you're better than us because you're the divine?"

"no," you answer steadily. "i think i know more because i've been away from the divine. i have perspective. i know what's real—what's out there."

"i know what's out there too—"

"you didn't live in it," you breathe. "jungkook, people in the real world have to do things they don't want to do. no manipulation in time, no manipulation in feelings or things—they face life... you sleep during class. you don’t care when we spar. you don’t care about me—”

“___, you can’t possibly be calling me out and using these as your fucking excuses—”

“i just want you to know it’s okay,” you say it softer this time, like you mean it. “has anyone accepted you... just the way you are? if not, let me be the first one to do so. jungkook, do what you want. be who you are. figure things out or give up—it doesn’t matter. i can live like this, okay? we don’t have to be obsessed with each other. we can fight the bond if that’s what you really want—”

jungkook’s mind spins.

you’re saying so much shit that doesn’t make sense to him. this is escalating too fast. he wasn’t prepared for this. he didn’t know the weight of his words until now.

“it’s not what i want,” he spits out. “___, can you please slow down—”

you shake your head.

“i just want you to know this: you’re wrong if you think i’m the type to tend to someone’s inability to see their goodness. their worth… their purpose. i’m a big believer in accepting what you think you deserve. if you can’t accept me, that’s fine. maybe i’m not what you deserve. but that’s not on me, jungkook. you limit yourself. you don’t believe in fate. you don’t want this—”

“do you?” he croaks out. “do you want this?”

for a moment, you’re stunned.

regardless of all the shit he’s put you through in the past two weeks, you don’t have it in yourself to lie.

“i want more,” you say finally. “not this.”

more.

jungkook didn't know what that meant exactly... but this was a start. he isn't an apologetic type, so this is his... version of it.

trying.

again.

he stands in front of you, rolling his wrists, exhaling slow. his eyes flicker over your stance—checking, assessing, adjusting before he even moves.

“keep your weight forward,” jungkook instructs, tilting his chin toward your feet. “you hesitate too much.”

you nod, shifting slightly. he steps in, light on his feet, and you match him, falling into motion as he throws a testing jab. you dodge. pivot. counter. he blocks. you move again.

but it’s wrong.

every strike, every dodge, every block feels a second off. like walking out of rhythm with someone—close but not quite. you follow his cues, but there’s no flow, no instinct, just effort.

jungkook exhales sharply.

“again.”

he moves quicker this time, forcing you to react faster, but it only makes the disconnect more obvious. he shifts left when you expect right. your counters don’t land where they should. his frustration grows, simmering beneath his skin, evident in the slight drag of his feet, the way his breath turns shallow. he shakes his head, readjusting.

you know that feeling—the itch of something not working, of knowing it should but not being able to make it.

you step back, panting, watching the tension tighten in his shoulders.

“can we try something?” you ask, voice softer now.

jungkook pauses. 

he blinks at you, expression unreadable, before tilting his head slightly.

“try what?”

you don’t wait for his response.

“wait here,” you tell him before you turn on your heel, feet light against the stone path as you take off in a quiet sprint. the air is thick with the lingering tension of missed steps, of a rhythm neither of you could quite grasp, but you know—you know—it isn’t just about movement.

jungkook doesn’t call after you. 

he stays where he is, watching as you disappear.

when you return, there’s gold handkerchief is wrapped around your fingers. the fabric glows in the dim light, soft between your hands as you come to a stop in front of him, close enough that you see the slight furrow of his brow.

his gaze flickers to yours, unreadable.

“trust me?” you ask, already reaching up.

jungkook exhales. then, slowly, he nods.

you tiptoe, wrapping the cloth over his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head. his shoulders stay squared, but you feel the way his breath slows, the way he stills beneath your touch. his lashes flutter against the fabric before he adjusts his stance again, waiting.

this time, when you move, he doesn’t see you—he feels you.

“focus on me,” you tell him. 

“h-how—”

“i’ll focus on you too. maybe if we do this properly, our auras will meet. i can put my guard up any time, but putting it down is something entirely different. it’s beyond my control to put it down. it’s a reaction to you—your vulnerability, not mine.”

jungkook swallows, letting your words sink in. 

"how do you know this shit?" he attempts to hide his suspicion.

you laugh. "have you forgotten who my grandparents are? just because i was raised outside this palace doesn't mean i wasn't educated and trained for the divinity."

"you are the divinity."

"that i am, little prince."

you don't know it, but he rolls his eyes.

"and you're a princess."

"that i am not."

he chuckles. so do you. the moment is light.

then, he takes a deep breath and envisions you.

in his head, it’s hazy. there’s only so much of you that he memorized in a short period of time—but he hopes it’s enough. he recalls the way you turn your head and how pretty your neck is. how long your hair is and how your eyes smile before your lips curve into one.

before you know it, the air shifts and he strikes. there’s a slight tremor in your breath when you hesitate—a quiet hitch when he moves too close.

his body reacts without thinking, syncing to yours in a way sight never allowed. he follows the push and pull, the rise and fall of your heartbeat, matching it, learning it. and for the first time, there’s no disconnect—no distance or this… force that pushes him away. 

no struggle.

just instinct.

just you.

and then, in a way he can’t explain, he knows where you’ll be before you even move. 

he anticipates every pivot, every feint, as if something unseen is guiding him—no, pulling him. there’s a thread between you now, stretched taut between his ribs and yours, humming with energy. it tightens when you step back, loosens when you exhale. he feels it with every shift, with every breath you take.

it’s disorienting at first, the pull, the quiet certainty of it. but it’s right. more right than anything has felt in a long, long time.

his heart pounds, syncing to yours. for the first time, jungkook doesn’t fight it.

instead, he lets it fall.

in so many fucking ways, he lets himself fall.

you bend over and tug the handkerchief off of him. 

then, you extend a hand.

jungkook squints, adjusting to the night. then, he stares at it for a beat too long, his pride hanging in the space between you. you didn’t exactly win… but you didn’t lose either. regardless, he feels defeated. 

the garden is quiet except for the sound of both your breaths, still uneven, still trying to settle. the tie had been hard-earned—one final strike knocking him down, leaving him on his back, staring at the night sky like it held the answers he didn’t.

you wiggle your fingers. “good game?”

his lips press into a line before he exhales, reaching up. his palm slides against yours, rough and warm, and you brace yourself as he uses the momentum to pull himself to his feet.

too strong.

the force drags you forward, nearly colliding into his chest.

you stumble, hands reaching for balance, and jungkook catches you before you can fall completely. one hand wraps around your waist, the other grasping your arm, steadying you like it’s second nature. his fingers press firm into your skin, and for a moment, neither of you move.

your palm lands flat against his chest.

a sharp inhale. not yours.

his heartbeat hammers against your touch, wild and restless. the same way it felt when he was blindfolded—when he had to rely on instinct, when the rhythm of his breath synced with yours and something unseen pulled tight between you.

you lift your gaze.

jungkook is already looking.

your eyes meet and it’s like you’re the only thing he sees. you see it. you look into his eyes and freaking see what he sees. 

you. only you.

his lips suddenly part like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. his eyes flicker, unreadable, caught between hesitation and something heavier. his grip on your waist doesn’t loosen. if anything, it lingers, fingertips pressing in like he’s mapping out the shape of you, committing it to memory.

"what are you thinking right now?" he asks rather shyly. “since i… i can’t read your mind.”

your voice is soft. it curls between you, laced with something you’re not sure you want to name.

jungkook swallows. his grip tightens—just slightly, just enough for you to feel it… seconds stretch.

then—before anything else, before you let yourself think too hard about it—you smile. you let out a small chuckle, tapping his chest with the back of your hand.

"figure it out, jungkook."

the walk back is quiet, but the air hums with something… different. 

the weight of the sparring match lingers between you—his hands on your waist, your fingers on his chest, the breathless moment you shared before you pulled away. now, as you walk side by side beneath the moonlight, the space between you feels impossibly small, as if the night itself is pushing you closer.

your fingertips brush once. a fleeting touch, barely there. but it’s enough to send a pulse through the invisible string that binds you.

twice. his breath stutters. 

three times. 

fuck.

you hear it. 

not aloud, but in the space between your thoughts, in the echo of his heartbeat. it’s his voice though. you know it is… and it’s the sheer panic in his mind and the way his body that betrays him. you giggle before you can stop yourself, and jungkook tenses beside you, as if caught in something he wasn’t ready to admit. 

his jaw tightens. 

his ears burn red.

you reach your doorstep too soon. your heart is still racing, tangled up in him, in the weight of his presence. and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, "i can send a guard to take you back to yours—"

jungkook scoffs, low and amused. “i can handle myself.”

you fumble for an excuse. 

“it’s just that… it’s dark.”

he glances up, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. the night sky is dark, but the stars shine almost as bright as you. it’s enough for him to know where he’s going.

“the stars are out.”

you follow his gaze. the sky is vast, endless, and speckled with constellations that stretch far beyond the palace walls. the kind of night that feels infinite.

“they are…” you exhale softly. “wow, they’re so bright here.”

jungkook tilts his head. “you do live in the highest point of the palace.”

you laugh, shaking your head.

“still. regardless of where i am, i can never spot the big dipper.”

he hums, tilting his chin toward the sky. “really? it’s over there.”

“where?” you ask, mimicking his gaze.

“made you look.”

you gasp, swatting his arm, and he grins—really grins, boyish and unguarded, like the version of him that slips through when he forgets to keep his walls up. it sends something warm curling in your chest.

you soften, stepping back toward your door. 

“goodnight, jungkook.”

he lingers, just for a moment. the moonlight catches in his eyes, in the way he watches you like he wants to say something but doesn’t. instead, he exhales, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“goodnight, princess.”

you slip inside, shutting the door behind you. the guards reposition themselves and ask jungkook if he’d like to be accompanied back. he shakes his head, declining the offer. then, he puzzles the guards for a moment. 

jungkook doesn’t leave immediately. 

he waits, glancing up at the stars once more. and then, with a quiet flick of his fingers, the sky shifts. the darkness of the night sky almost flickers. the clouds part ever so slightly, rearranging the constellations.

the big dipper, now perfectly clear. 

just for you.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Hello! I was wondering if I could make a request for the song fic event if you're still doing that? I was wondering if you could do Too Sweet by Hozier for either Gojo or Bakugou? Any trope/theme is welcome, I want you to do whatever you think is best! Thanks so much, in advance!

summary: maybe you're just the little bit of sweetness bakugou needs in his life

wc: 1.5k

cw: swearing, light angst, reader is referred to as "woman" once, bakugou calls reader "babe",

note: i'm so so sorry this took so long, but anon, just know that i am kissing your big beautiful brain bc i freaking loved writing this. i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

listen to this while reading

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | BHNA Masterlist | Blog Navigation

Bakugou loves waking up next to you every morning but he’s especially content waking up to your warm, soft body pressed up against his this morning. Shifting you gently, he readjusts so he’s laying on his side, staring at your sleeping form with his head propped on his hand. 

It’s a miracle, he thinks, that someone as perfect as you chose him of all people. He has plenty of confidence in knowing he’s the best when it comes to defeating villains, but he also has the self-awareness to know that he’s far from the ideal boyfriend. He’s brash, loud, and not good at expressing himself. 

Yet someone like you -kind, funny, intelligent- chose someone like him time and time again until you reached today; your one year anniversary. Suddenly overcome with love and appreciation, he buries his face in your sleep-mussed hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Your hair smells like the bonfire you roasted marshmallows last night as you stargazed. To celebrate what he hoped was the first of many anniversaries, he had rented out a little lake cabin for the two of you to escape the public eye and enjoy each other’s company.

Feeling you stir in his arms, he looks down at you as you blink at him sleepily, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. He swears his heart skips a beat (or two, or three) as he falls even further for you.

“What are you doing to me, woman?” He nuzzles into your neck affectionately. “You must have paid for some voodoo shit or something, because every time I think I can’t fall for you any more somehow you make me.”

Your laugh is soft, smudged at the edges with sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, kissing his chest.

“Someone’s feeling sappy this morning.”

And yeah, maybe he’s feeling a little sappy this morning, but as long as he’s with you he doesn’t mind showing his soft side.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake? Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

Bakugou loves his job almost as much as he loves you, but on the days that his line of work keeps him away from you, he can’t help but hate it.

It had only been a few weeks since he had taken you to the little cabin by the lake for your anniversary, but in the weeks since then he’s been swamped by mission after mission, the most recent one requiring him to go off grid for a couple of weeks. 

Sitting on the plane, waiting impatiently for it to carry him across the miles spanning between him and you, he can’t help but resent his job. He loves what he does, but he loves you more. Unable to help himself, he checks his phone every thirty seconds, eagerly awaiting a response from you.

What were you doing? Two hours later he was driving home from the airport, rough fingers tapping against the steering wheel aggressively. Normally you responded to his messages right away, and your lack of reply was stressing him out. Did something happen to you? The thought makes him nauseous, and he presses harder on the gas.

When he finally arrives at your apartment complex he’s out of the car in seconds and taking the stairs three at a time. The front door slams against the wall as he bursts through your front door, full of anxiety.  

“Babe! Babe! Where are you?”

Your head pops out from the room you had claimed as your office, and a grin stretches across your face.

“Kats! You’re home-mmph” You’re cut off by him tugging you harshly into his arms. “Dumbass.”

“Huh?” You try to pull away to get a look at his face, but he won’t let you. “Why am I a dumbass? I didn’t even do anything! I couldn’t have. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Don’t remind me.” He grumbles, happy to be back at home with you in his arms again. “You scared me. I was worried something happened when you didn’t respond to my text.”

“Aww.” You somehow sound both apologetic and amused at the same time. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to get some work done so I put my phone to the side. I’m okay though.”

“Good.” The huff of his breath against the curve of your neck sends a shiver down your spine. Giving him a couple more seconds, you enjoy the feeling of his warm arms wrapped around you before trying to squirm away. “Now that you know I’m okay do you want to clean up while I finish up this email? After that we can make dinner together.”

“No.” He doesn’t budge, practically draping himself over you like an oversized coat. “Just wanna stay like this.”

“Did someone miss me?” There’s a singsong quality to your voice that he doesn’t necessarily appreciate, but he can’t deny it.

He really fucking missed you; he always does when he has to be away from you. And he’s not embarrassed to admit it (to you at least). After all, isn’t it just a sign of how much he loves you?

I work late, where I'm free from the phone And the job gets done, but you worry some, I know

Watching you do your makeup, Bakugou is stricken by your beauty, admiring the sloping planes of your face, the curve of your cheek, the shape of your lips. He knows you’re gorgeous, but he still takes advantage of every opportunity he gets to admire you.

So he sits, content to watch you as you get ready. Wait. You’re getting ready to meet his friends. A chill runs down his spine.

“Hey babe?” “Yeah?” You don’t even glance at him, too focused on applying a perfect layer of mascara to your curled lashes. “What’s up?”

“Do you think you can take all of that off?” You close the tube of mascara, and look at him incredulously. “No? Why on earth would I do that when I spent so much time getting it to look good.”

“Because you look too good.” He scowled. “I don’t want Dunce Face getting any ideas.”

“Dunce face?” You arch a singular eyebrow and he feels his eye twitch. “Don’t do that either! He’ll like it too much.”

“Baby.” You stand up and wrap your arms around his neck. “So what? Let them look. You’re the only one for me. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that would consider me raising an eyebrow attractive.”

“I changed my mind. We’re not going.” 

“Katsuki.” You’re not impressed, levelling him with a look that reminds him of that one emoji. “We’ve been dating for over a year and I still haven’t met your friends. This dinner is long overdue.”

He knows that. He does, so he presses a kiss to the side of your head and allows you to finish getting ready, your bright smile soothing the jagged edge of jealousy. Fine. He’ll take you to meet the idiots, but that doesn’t mean he has to be thrilled about it.

Because deep down, he doesn’t give a fuck what Kaminari thinks about you. He just wants to keep you, with your beauty and bright smiles, all to himself.

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Bakugou doesn’t like sweets. He likes his alcohol strong, his coffee black, and his food spicy. He (and everyone else) used to believe he didn’t need, or want, sweetness in his life. Until he met you.

All his friends were surprised when he took you to meet them for the first time. You were his girlfriend? But you were so soft, and kind, and…sweet. All of the things he wasn’t. How did the two of you even get along?

Then they notice the way he is around you. The harshness in his eyes fades when they land upon you, sharpness dulling into pure, unadulterated adoration. When he touches you with palms designed to explode and break things, there’s a gentleness in his movements, an awareness of his own strength and how precious you are. 

When he speaks to you, his words may be harsh, but all of the bite in them is gone, his voice soft and affectionate. 

So maybe, just maybe, his friends whisper amongst themselves as they watch him join you on the dance floor. Maybe the infamous Bakugou finally found the little bit of sweetness he needed in his life.

I'd rather take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me

thanks for reading, as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are so so appreciated!

everything taglist: @ponderingmoonlight @hotvinimon @evemooniepeach

bhna taglist: n/a

bakugou taglist: n/a

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi Cal!! I’m back already with more requests because all of your current stories are so gripping that I just can’t help myself

Lol the themes that were coming to mind pretty much worked for all of the fics so this time they’re just ordered by much I am currently frothing at the bit to know what happens next :p

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊 (oh man i was right to worry about this one! Honestly that very first line really got to me and you haven’t been pulling any punches (hehe :p) since. And in that most recent snippet where Chris was mad that Eddie was able to make him feel better and scared that Buck wouldn’t love him anymore - my heart broke! That child really needs a hug so I’m submitting lots of emojis to do my part to get him one! Also I really didn’t think there were any scenarios left to make me madder at the Diaz parents but damn you managed to find one - major props to you :p)

🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀 (so so loving this one!!! Your magical stories are always incredible and I really love how you’re weaving the changling concept into the Buckley family history because it fits so well! Very excited to see more of how Buck and Evan interact and to learn what’s going on. Also lol on Evan immediately clocking Buddie - he might have been kept out of the human world for years but he’s no dummy!)

- PCA <3

AHHH thank you!

117 for 🥊( I am so glad you're liking it and feeling the tension! I don't think my brain will stop reeling until Eddie and Chris are reunited. I need it more than air):

---

“You didn’t,” Buck agrees. “But you do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re here now,” Buck says. “And your dad knows this isn’t what you wanted. He’s going to give you space and he’s going to… Be Eddie about all this.”

Christopher doesn’t know what Be Eddie means. But whatever. Okay. 

“So you have a choice,” Buck repeats. “You can keep being really mad at him. And that’s fair, you know? I have a lot of thoughts about what happened there, too. Really. But one time, when I was really mad at the person who has loved me unconditionally my whole life, I got some great advice. And I learned something. Do you know what that was?”

Chris shakes his head. “No. What?”

“That it’s really easy to stay mad at someone who you know will always be there for you,” Buck says. “Easier to forgive someone who you didn’t ever really rely on.”

Chris exhales heavily. Buck… Well, he makes a lot of sense. He does. Hasn’t Dad already sort of proven his point? By showing up and making Chris feel better, even when Chris was angry and rude and had gotten in trouble? But Chris… He just doesn’t know if he’s ready to forgive him yet. 

“I’ll think about it,” Christopher mumbles. 

Buck smiles kindly. Warmly. 

“That’s all I ask.”

iii.

Eddie wakes up the morning after Christopher comes home with nothing solved. Well, nothing solved beyond the absence. Yesterday when he woke up, they weren’t together. At least now they are. Even if Chris still hates him. He hates him under his roof. That’s something. 

But the hating him thing isn’t solved. And Eddie still hasn’t managed to talk to Buck about their situation, despite Buck helping immensely yesterday. Despite Buck actually having a long, good conversation with Chris. Eddie owes him a long, good conversation, too. If only he had any words in his brain that weren’t about how much he misses his kid. 

When he wakes up, he’s still not adjusted to Chris being back. Or, maybe he is but he just assumes that his son is a teenager. He won’t be awake before Eddie. Eddie walks out of his bedroom in boxers and a tee shirt, feeling like he’s been dragged out of the grave. He needs a calm, not emotionally exhausting day some time soon. And a good sleep, maybe. 

For now, coffee will have to do. 

Except, when he walks into the kitchen, Christopher is already in there. He’s leafing through a stack of papers that Eddie left on the kitchen counter. He left them there days ago. Two days ago. When he and Buck were discussing his move… Before they didn’t discuss other activities. 

“Chris,” Eddie says groggily. “Good morning, bud. Uh, what are you-”

“What happened to screw El Paso?” Chris demands. 

Okay, then. Good morning to him, too. 

“Christopher, I-”

“You’re selling the house?” He asks, incredulous. “Moving us back there?” 

“No!” Eddie insists. “No, I’m not doing that.”

“Well, why do these papers say you are?” 

“Because I was going to,” Eddie says. “Before your grandparents called me, I was going to. That was the plan.”

“What?” Chris asks. “Why?”

“Because…” Eddie sighs, frustrated. He’s fucking frustrated. “Because I didn’t think you were going to come home! And, I mean, you didn’t choose to, anyway.”

“What?” Chris asks. “You were… Really?”

“Yes!” Eddie answers. “Of course I was, Chris.”

“That wasn’t why I went,” Chris says. “I wasn’t trying to get you to come.”

“I know that,” Eddie says. 

“Then why?” Chris demands. 

“Because I needed to be near you!” Eddie sort of bursts. “Even if you hate me for the rest of my life. Even if you never wanted to live with me again. You are my son and I love you and I need to be near you. I couldn’t miss the rest of your childhood because I made a horrible mistake.”

Christopher’s expression falls.

“I don’t hate you,” he says quietly. 

Eddie blinks. What? He… He doesn’t?

“You don’t?” Eddie exhales. He can barely hear himself. 

“No,” Chris says. “I don’t hate you. I never… I wanted to.”

Eddie swallows. He nods. That’s fair. It’s fair to want to hate him. He deserves that.

---

96 for 🔀 (THANKS!! I love doing some magical shenanigans and playing with reality in my fics):

---

Well, easy for Eddie to say. His son is his son. His life hasn’t been a lie. 

ii. 

Eddie drives Buck back to his loft the next morning. He still looks like himself. The glamour lasted overnight. Buck wonders how long it will last. Will he wake up one morning green? In the middle of a shift? Next time he gets hurt? He supposes it lasted thirty years last time. Through a lot of bad injuries. Literal death. He doesn’t know how to predict what will do it next, and that unnerves him. But at least he has a solution. 

He’s called Maddie already. She’s on her way over as well. He feels sick about the whole thing. But Athena was right. She is owed the opportunity to have her own reaction. Make her own choice. Know the truth about both her brothers, living and dead. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Eddie says when they park. 

“You don’t know that,” Buck mumbles.

“I do, though,” Eddie says.

They’ll just have to agree to disagree on that.

When he walks back into the loft, Bobby and Athena are both visibly shocked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck says. “I know. Chris figured it out.”

“You look…” Athena starts.

“You did a good job,” Bobby offers. “Really good. Can’t tell the difference.”

Evan, who is no longer cuffed to the stairs, but sitting cuffed at Buck’s kitchen island, smirks. 

“Do you feel a little dirty? Hiding your true nature?”

Buck reddens. 

“Hey!” Eddie snaps at Evan.

“Watch yourself,” Athena warns him. “I feel bad for you. I do. But my patience only extends so far.”

Evan’s expression flatten. 

“Sorry, Ma’am,” he mutters.

Buck gapes. How the hell did she do that?

“Close your mouth, Buck,” Athena chuckles. “I had to lay down the law with you, too, once upon a time.”

Buck nods. “Yeah. It’s still impressive.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Maddie. She’s here. 

“I’m going to wait for her in the hallway,” Buck mutters. “Explain things.”

“Don’t you dare mislead her!” Evan calls as he walks to the door. “You have to tell her!”

And obviously he will. But Buck doesn’t even dignify this with a response. His life is about to be ruined, he doesn’t really care about the other guy’s feelings. 

🟢

Maddie greets him with a hug. Buck wonders if it’s the last hug they’ll ever share. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks. “You sounded serious on the phone. And why are we talking out here?”

“Um,” Buck tries to play it cool. Like his world isn’t ending. “Uh…”

“Evan-”

“Can you please call me Buck?” He asks, a little snappishly. 

Her eyes widen, surprised. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know that’s what you prefer. I just didn’t… I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“No, Maddie, I…” He trails off. “I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just… Something has happened.”

Maddie frowns. “Something bad?”

He nods. 

“Okay,” she says calmly. “Well… You know you can tell me anything. And you called me because you know I want to help you, right?”

[sweetchildofrocknroll]

[skinreflectsthesun]

.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[robotic-maid]

How things are going again… update I guess? Still can’t figure out how to read more on mobile. I’m just typing this out so it can leave my head.

[devilsskettle]

you’d think that my managers might consider, when making the weekly schedule, that it’s probably not a great idea to schedule only one (1) front desk attendant, with no managers or housekeeping or maintenance present, when the hotel is at 100% occupancy

[chika-nyan]

Lies down. So it looks like my job is actively trying to moorder me so I’ll probably be mostly ded for a while. Honestly at a breaking point, can you believe vacation was just last month? :) Gonna keep doing my best to hold on for that mid-late spring exit/quitting time with next vacation but it’s going to be a trial forsure.

[dante-mightdie]

my take on divorced!john fancying the nanny <3

he’s not fully in the clear yet. he’s separated from husband wife, she’s fully moved out and signed over custody of their son to him. all they’re waiting on is the divorce papers to be rustled up

it’s not uncommon for him to ask you to stay for days on end, caring for his son and watching over his home when he’s away on short-term deployment. more than happy to pay whatever it costs him. always comes home to spotless house and his boy ready to greet him at the door

except this time, when the mission wrapped up earlier than expected. his flight landing in at an ungodly hour so his arrival is unknown to you. the house is dark when he gets in, dead quiet just as he expected considering how late it is in the night

his footsteps are light, even lighter once he starts tripping over toys and his son’s playpen still strewn about in the front room. he’s not used to coming home to this with you about. he’s not mad by any means, but he can definitely feel the added personal touch you’ve let lingering on his home

he finds an empty tub of ice cream on the coffee table, his ice cream to be specific. it was unopened when he left and here it sits in front of the tv with the spoon still in it.

cheeky, he thinks. he begins to wonder how much of his stuff you pinch and replace before he gets home. he’ll make sure to tease you on that in the morning, watch you fluster before he laughs and ruffles your hair. ensuring you that you can have whatever you want of his, darlin’

when he stops in the bathroom to shower, he finds your bras and panties hanging up to dry next to the medicine cabinet. he can’t help the way it makes his stomach twist in a deliciously achy way. not because of the juvenile inclination that he’s seen your undergarments

but because they’re yours, and they’re hanging up in his en-suite bathroom. makes him wonder where you’ve been sleeping for a good few seconds before he actually switches on the bedroom light and sees his covers strewn about

another secret of yours revealed to soon. you’d complained about the sofa being uncomfortable to sleep on when he was away in a passing comment. his original plan was to buy a more comfortable pull out bed for his office

but this is much better. his sweet nanny curled up in his bed, drooling into his pillows. what side do you sleep on? do you occupy the place which originally belonged to his ex-wife? or do you stuff your face into his pillows, breathing in his musky scent?

he only wishes you didn’t wash the sheets before he came home :(

he finds you in the nursery, curled up on the rocking chair with a blanket on your lap and a book hugged close to your chest. snoozing peacefully alongside his son who was dozing in his crib. he checks on the infant, pressing a kiss to his forehead before making his way to you

the book you’re reading is the one he’d left on his bedside table with his reading glasses. some non-fiction book about the Cold War he reads before bed. he tucks it under his arm before reaching down to scoop your sleeping form up from the rocking chair

the blanket once covering you slips off, pooling at his feet and it takes everything in him not to let out a groan and wake you up when he sees you sleeping in nothing over this his boxers and his old lieutenants t-shirt

the engraved ‘Price’ branding your chest is simply an omen of good things to come :)

[exopelagic]

actually tiny thing this time that I would just like to complain about so I can go to bed :/

[gooobraghhh]

1,000 follower kink vote post: 1st place, Somno

Sleeping pups make the best toys. It’s so fun to tease a cute things body while they’re unconscious. You get to hear their honest, unfiltered noises, usually little breathy moans that react to your every move once you start gently rubbing and playing with them while you feel them get hard and messy on your fingers.

I just love the perverse intimacy of it. There’s no lying, no altering your reactions, just the honest results of my touch and you don’t even know you’re functioning as entertainment for me. You don’t know that I’m studying every little thing you do in response to my fingers and mouth. Learning what feels the best based on your reactions.

It’s so rewarding to feel the mess you’re making, to feel you needily throbbing as I play with you. If I can get you to cum even better. It’s so cute to hear you cum when you aren’t awake enough to control your voice. To make you twitch and clench and squirm infront of me while you’re none the wiser.

Maybe I’ll leave it at that. Let you wake up in the morning either oblivious to my actions or I’ll have done something to let you know I used you in your sleep. You might wake up without your underwear, or maybe you notice dirty words written on your skin in some very intimate areas, if I’m feeling cruel there could be a toy left in you that teased you all night.

But I think it might be more fun for you to wake up. To watch you try to process what’s happening. Seeing your little useless groggy brain try to catch up with the pleasure your body has been experiencing. And while you’re pathetically trying to understand why you feel so horny and sensitive I’ll make sure to start fully fucking you now that waking you up isn’t a concern. God it’s so attractive to see you beneath me, getting overwhelmed by the intensity of what you’re feeling while you’re barely even awake.

Hearing the little words you try to say that just get lost in between moans. I’ll make sure to use you until I’m satisfied, as is your purpose. With how primed and sensitive I made you I’m sure it wouldn’t take long for you to cum again, but I’ll keep going for as long as I want, without a care for how intense it is for you. And of course I just can’t stop myself from getting in your ear and telling you how cute you were in your sleep, how loud you got from my touch, what specific things made you react the most. I’ll watch your little face get all flustered and embarrassed before your eyes roll back and you just can’t keep your voice down.

Once I’m finally done with you I’ll make sure to hold my little plaything and let you know how good of a toy you were for me, how amazing your body felt. I’ll keep you nice and tight while softly praising you to sleep in my arms, at least until I feel the need to play with you again <3

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL

[tteokdoroki]

jock bf yuuji who’s tongue lolls out of his mouth when he feels u cum on his dick and then he ends up cumming when you suck on his tongue as it hangs out of his mouth <3 he’s a big manhandler and so unbelievably strong, has def broken the weak frame of your dorm bed at least once <3 loves sleeping over and then waking up to you in the early morning light, eats you out then has you ride him and you’re both thinking about it for the rest of the day <3 yuuji sends you the riskiest texts too, texts you that he can’t stop thinking about how good you looked when you sucked him off the night before and now you’re distracted in the library <3

ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #6. pleasure prioritised.

about. just some scenarios of an incredibly strong jock boyfriend pleasing his girlfriend in different ways. thank you nonnie for driving me up the wall with this!!! ( 1K )

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. nsfw, smut, college!au, characters aged up to 20s, creampies, messy makeouts, breaking the bed, strength!kink, unprotected sex, oral sex (f + m!receiving), jock bf!yuuji, weird + fem!reader.

everybody knows that yuuji itadori is strong, he wouldn’t be the star athlete in the soccer team if that wasn’t the case. 

with muscles that ripple when he moves, thick thighs that spread wide and flex on instinct and dark eyes that shine like gold while pulling you in — it’s no wonder why half of the campus wants a piece of him. luckily enough, yuuji itadori only wants to give himself to you.

yuuji only uses the full extent of strength when he devotes his body to pleasing you. when it’s lights out at your dorm go out, and the common spaces are vacant while your roommates party the night away and all that remains is a man who loves his girlfriend with all of his entirety. and a girl who loves him all too much, right back. he pins you to the bed, pelvis to pelvis as yuuji uses all of his might to pound into you.

his thrusts are usually heavy, but thoughtful and with meaning — designed to make you see bright, shining stars behind your eyelids and pull an angels song from between your lips. itadori doesn’t just fuck you —  his sweet girlfriend, his everything, his purpose. he makes love to you, makes the bed rock while his sticky tip stays tacked to your g-spot and safe, comforting brown his eyes stay locked on yours, reminding you of how much you are loved as you tremble and quake beneath him. 

there’s often a dull thump to the wall from where the force of yuuji’s hips drive the headboard into it. only you ever have the power to make your man that feral, have him drooling like a dog with its tongue in the wind whenever he has the chance to sink into your tight heat. it’s the way your snug little pussy ripples around the giant jock’s fat girth, his tummy smooshed up against your puffy clit does nothing to help him either. the more ecstasy he gives you, the more you clench down on your boyfriend and the further his eyes disappear into his skull. 

itadori just loves being inside of you, tucking his thriving dick away inside your velveteen walls, hearing your pussy suction around you and your cheap dorm mattress squeak in harmony with your hiccuped moans. yuuji, yuuji, yuuji. his name on your kiss swollen and tear glossed lips is enough for the pink haired man to break the bed from how hard and deep he thrusts into you. even when it does collapse in on itself, yuuji doesn’t dare stop until you’re cumming in sweet streams around him — painting his toned stomach and washboard abs in your arousal before he fills you up with his own thick white.

he usually cums with his drooling tongue in your mouth and an arm wrapped around your head, keeping you tucked underneath while he grinds his hips through your shared highs. sometimes salacious laments and high-pitched whines manage to slip through the cracks — which mean noise complaints from the Dean of your dorm and a call to maintenance in the morning to fix your destroyed bed (and walls).

mornings are no different (once your bed is fixed), yuuji itadori always fails to keep his hands to himself and if he’s lucky enough to stay the night — he uses those very same greedy and large hands to pleasure you all throughout sunrise. you wake up to find fingers on the swollen little nub tucked between your puffy pussy lips and his eager tongue swiping over the eight of your slit to catch any of your juices before they’re wasted on cheaply made college-friendly sheets. 

it’s a sight to behold, the way you arch your back from the bed and your thighs quiver either side of a head full of bright pink hair that tickles their insides. you can’t help but tug on the soft tufts — dragging yuuji further into your creamy cunt while accidentally kicking plushies galore from their place amongst your pillows and blankets. itadori remains a messy eater, slurping on your succulent folds, running laps over every inch of the heat between your glorious thighs. 

except you don’t get to cum on his mouth or his tongue on mornings like this — instead yuuji likes to really show off his strength. he likes you in his lap and seated on the swell of his fat, oozing girth. he adores plugging you full, watching you writhe above him for something, anything. any type of thrust or friction. yuuji can’t help himself, he’s always dying  to grope the globes of your ass when you’re riding him, using the strength in his arms  to hold over his bright red ans milky tip before pumping himself all the way into you in one calculated thrust upwards. 

both of you cum before either of your alarms go off, messy as always but content. you’re happy with yuuji and he’s always so happy to please you — it’s the least he could do for his precious girl. 

itadori always leaves you with a limp throughout the rest of your day — a comfortable pain in the base of your spine that reminds you of how deep he’d gone. there’s a dampness to your underwear during your classes too, reminding you of how much hot, oozing seed the jock had filled you up with. ‘keep it there,’ the pink haired soccer player tends to ask with those guilt-tripping puppy dog eyes of his. ‘want you walking around with my cum dripping down your thigh, so that everyone knows who you belong to.’

you often wonder what the campus would think if they knew how debauched their star player really was.

they’d have a field day if they saw the texts yuuji sent you while wiping the floor with his teammates during practices. pictures of his erection in the changing room mirrors and maybe some of your pretty face while he had you cumming on just his tip. sometimes paragraphs detailing how he was going to ruin your pussy, make you see god or even reach cloud nine. some tell you how much itadori misses your plush lips wrapped around him as he cums down your throat. 

but no matter what way you look at it, your jock boyfriend yuuji itadori always has your pleasure prioritised at the forefront of his mind. he’d use whatever part of his body, whatever strength he has to keep you satisfied. all alongside his insatiable appetite for you and only you. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.