#why can’t I shut up and say something short for once?

[emptymanuscript]

I suppose that’s better than it could be. I’ll admit I belong in the category that got that fact wrong. But I also don’t know that the correction makes me feel any better. He still won the popular vote. Even if he won by one vote, that would still make me profoundly disappointed in my nation. An exact tie would do it. A loss by one vote would still scare the hell out of me. This should not have been a close election. This should have been a landslide.

I know, no matter what, he was going to get approximately 30% of the likely votes. Because that’s the number of people who will always vote for the Republican candidate no matter what. You could run a literal piece of dog shit and they would still vote for it. Which we can’t feel too smug about. There’s a similar voting bloc, right around 30% of likely voters, that are the same for Democrats. I’ll even admit I probably belong in that category. I wouldn’t vote for dog shit but I don’t require much better than that given the alternative. It’s the other 40% of the likely voting population and the UNlikely voting population that are in play.

Those two groups, the independents and the irregular voters, are the deciders. While the other three, Partisan Democrats, Partisan Republicans, and the Never Voters are the reason why there are only really ever two realistic choices for any high office.

Which is actually why I started out as an independent. If everyone besides the partisans agreed on a single candidate, that candidate would win the election by a large margin. The fundamental issue is that no candidate has ever won that constituency against the other two. They’ve only ever won in concert with one of the others. That wasn’t enough to make me turn Democrat. Even W, who probably never legally won election, wasn’t enough. I knew the chances of me ever voting for a Republican again were vanishingly small but there was hope and I didn’t exactly love the Democrats if I’m honest. I’m a little more liberal than most Democratic Leadership. I am aware it’s an imperfect fit.

What actually switched me was Trump. The second he won the Republican nomination to be the candidate… it was a hardcore no hope feeling. There is literally nothing that could make me vote for a Republican past that point. I re-registered as a Democrat for purely calculated risk reasons. Because it’s not just the President, it’s the party willing to comply with that agenda.

The thing I hate the most about Republicans is that they shoved me firmly into that 30% of partisan Democrat likely voters. Long before I admitted it to myself. I’m not voting for the Democrat as much as I am voting against the Republican. I’ll live with it because I think I have to but I don’t like it.

But then there’s this election.

I will admit I got excited. I wanted to vote for Harris. Not as the bitter calculation that I would have done anyway but like, yeah, that was a statement I was happy to make. It was an easy choice that fit with things I actually WANTED. And I’ll admit some of that still lingers. There’s a part of me that is going to eternally have this fantasy that Harris would have been our generation’s Kennedy. Probably only because she lost so reality never got to set in. I will cop to that bias and unreality.

But

There’s still Trump on the other side.

We literally saw January 6th with our own eyes. We literally saw how crappy his first term was. The man literally supported and gave orders to neo-nazis. There’s no fantasy here. There’s no imagination. He did that.

He was prosecuted I can’t even remember how many times. And every time a trial actually went through he was found liable or guilty or was convicted. He was given truly extraordinary leeway WITH what were already extraordinary advantages and he was still convicted on all counts.

And we saw it. We saw the boxes in his bathroom. We saw convicted felons who were convicted for doing things that benefited him making the very logical statement that he told them to do it. We see everyone who works for him and then stops say that that is exactly what he is like and what he does.

We know who surrounds him. We know what they’re like. It’s all horrifically consistent.

And we had the experience. No mystery. It happened. We lived through it.

Even the Partisans should have been holding their nose to pull the lever for him again instead of demanding he should go to jail where he belongs. Where anyone else would be in an even vaguely similar situation.

But

He won. Fair and square as far as any legitimately verified source can tell. AND he didn’t merely win on some technicality of systemic bullshit like just winning the electoral college. He won the popular vote. Exactly what should determine who the next President should be. America chose him. Over any other possible alternative. They chose the racist criminal. The CONVICTED racist criminal.

That’s another hope loss moment for me. Two from This Fucking Guy.

That it was even close would have been a challenge to my belief system. That he actually won… that TFG won… legitimately… that feels like a moment necessitating stepping back and rethinking my view of the world.

The numbers SHOULD have been negative. In any reasonable account by what I believe. So, my beliefs deserve to be challenged. They failed in practice. They failed when the rubber met the road. I’m wrong and I should feel it and I should reexamine my beliefs and I should change accordingly. What I thought about my country is demonstrably false. Doubling down is purely stupid with that outcome.

And I think that’s why I fit into the people who have the numbers wrong here. Because any win at all was a margin too large. Even that it was close was a large margin of mandate for me.

Doesn’t make me right. But it does explain the perception. It’s based on emotional reaction instead of a good grasp of the facts. Observer Bias. Which can be just as bad for what you FEAR is true as what you want to be true.

But on the upside, that’s a tool and an indicator. Better is better, even if it’s not actually to the point of good. It is worth remembering that TFG does NOT have a particularly strong mandate, despite his lies. He is wounded and weak. So keep up the pressure. Because even if the American people want him, I sure as fuck don’t. And it’s still my duty as an American, even if I would no longer attach proud to the label, to convince the world to do better and fight like hell against him. These numbers are better for that.

[paarksunghoon]

can you write something with soft dom bestfriend!jake eating out inexperienced!shy!reader after he finds out she’s never done stuff like that before (with lots of praise plz) tyyy

I shied away from the suuuper innocent/shy trope but kept some elements in there

***

“No one’s ever eaten you out before?”

“Jake!”

He throws his hands up like he’s asking an innocent questions. “Hey, I’m not judging you for it! It’s just that…you’ve hooked you with a few people, haven’t you?” Jake watches you hug one of your plushies against your chest.

“Once.” Your cheeks feel warm and you resist the urge to hide your face behind the soft object. “I don’t do it often. You know that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with not hooking up. What happened?”

You can’t meet your best friend’s eye. “He just…finished too soon and didn’t do anything else.”

“That’s deplorable.”

“Tell me about it.”

“He didn’t want to taste you?”

You sigh and lie back down on your mattress, shutting your eyes while keeping the plushie between your arms and pinned against your chest. Jake looks at you and sees your feet planted on the bed as you keep your knees bent. The sleep shorts you’re wearing aren’t nothing new. He’s seen you wear it plenty of times but tonight, it feels a little bit different.

You, on the other hand, don’t feel Jake’s wandering eyes. You’re too mortified talking about this kind of stuff because your best friend is far more experienced with sex than you are. He’s athletic, attractive, and someone who jumped at the chance to sleep around once he started university. You wouldn’t consider yourself someone people naturally gravitate towards and despite knowing Jake since the beginning of middle school, sex is the one topic you struggle to talk about with him.

But Jake, the ever persistent best friend who just wants the best for you, won’t let it go. He rarely pries into your sex life and if you’re talking to anybody because he’s typically the one who’s preoccupied with hookups or casual flings.

It’s currently the peak of spring and it’s starting to get warmer outside. One of your windows is cracked open and amidst your inner turmoil, you hear the crickets chirping outside. You don’t see Jake’s eyes glance over your bare legs and how he gulps when his gaze reaches the shirt you’re wearing that’s riding up to show a small portion of your stomach.

“Not all of us have a lot of experience, okay?!”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with me.”

“No,” Jake says, pulling the plushy from your arms and throwing it beside him, “but I know you better than you know yourself. I know you compare how many people you’ve slept with to me.”

You evert his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping around.” Your best friend laughs.

“I know. It doesn’t make me happy anymore but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have sex, Y/N.”

You huff and pull yourself up on your elbows to look at Jake. His annoyingly boyish charms and freshly dyed, dark brown hair make him look like a supermodel underneath your ambient lighting. The room is dimly lit with hues of pink and yellow, and you don’t know if Jake’s looking extra delectable because of the light or because you’ve started to look at him differently.

“Easy for you to say. People want to have sex with you.”

Jake bites back a retort. “I bet people want to have sex with you too.” You roll your eyes.

“If I were a guy, I’ll bet I could stare at a girl and know I’d be getting some.” You hear him laugh but that does nothing to quell your embarrassment. Jake sits up and scoots closer until he’s looking down at you.

“What is it that you really want?”

“Jaeyun.”

“I dunno, maybe if you say it then you’ll manifest it, or some shit.” Jake doesn’t know why but he likes that you can’t make eye contact with him.

“I…”

You finally look at him. He tilts his head and nods once. “Go on.”

“I just…I want someone to make me feel good, okay?”

“That can’t be all you want. There’s gotta be something more.”

“I want a guy to eat me out. Happy?” It’s embarrassing to say out loud. Jake grins.

“Very. Now you’re manifesting this into reality.”

“You’re really weird, Jake.” He laughs.

“So you tell me.” He brings his finger up to your bare knee and traces a random pattern that makes you feel tingly. It’s a new feeling around your best friend and you look at him curiously.

“More guys should eat girls out,” he says, cutting the silence abruptly. “Guys say they’re good at fucking but they never get anyone off.”

You groan. “Everybody sucks. It seems like no guy likes to go down on a girl, or whatever.”

“Some do.”

“You mean to tell me there are some guys who actually like eating a girl out?”

“Yes.” Jake looks down at you and holds your eye. He doesn’t move and you watch as his fingers start to grip the comforter. You speak after a long pause. He doesn’t break eye contact.

“A-Are you saying you like to do that?”

He doesn’t let up the eye contact. “I love it. Could do it forever.”

You gulp. “R-Really?”

Jake nods. “Yeah.”

“What do you like about it?” Your voice, ever so timid and testing the waters, makes him excited.

He licks his lips. “I like the taste the most. Always so nice and wet. Sweet, almost. I like the way it feels too. Makes me think I’m about to die.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“No. I’d be happy if eating pussy was the last thing I did.”

The look he gives you is unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him before. His mouth twitches while he sits in front of you and you’re beside yourself when you rub your legs together. Jake doesn’t make a move to touch you but his steady gaze makes you squirm.

“Are you…offering?”

Jake chuckles. “Would it be bad if I was?” Not really.

“Honestly? Not really…”

“Let me take your shorts off, mkay?”

Jake hooks his fingers around your flimsy sleep shorts and pulls them down slowly as you feel the fabric glide against your inner thighs. The cool air provides an electric shock to your mound and you realize then just how wet you’ve become.

Your best friend opens up your legs to little resistance and finds you too cute when you bunch up your pillows to rest your back against it. He toys with you for a moment, using his thumb to gently brush over your slit while grunting at how wet your panties have become. Jake pulls them aside and is met by the place you need him the most.

“Do you want me to eat your pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” you moan, feeling his warm breath over your wet folds.

Jake doesn’t answer you. Instead, he pushes his head down and spreads his tongue all over you and moans at the first taste. You’re so warm and tense underneath his touch and his hands come to your thighs to keep them pried open but at the same time, Jake rubs his palm all over your skin to soothe your rigidness.

His hands support your legs too, forcing them open when you start to close in. It feels like he’s spreading you apart across the board and looking down at him makes your heart beat even faster. Jake looks so lost in his own pleasure while making you feel good too. His eyes are closed and his lashes kiss his cheeks in a way that makes him look heaven sent.

His tongue feels amazing and this sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The wet slurping and constant pressure feels like you’re about to burst into a million pieces at any moment and you’re sure you’d become addicted to this if every guy made you feel the way your best friend does.

It should feel weird to have him touching you like this. You’ve only thought about him in the bedroom a handful of times before shaming away these feelings towards your best friend but looking down at him with his eyes closed and tongue pressed so deep inside of you makes your legs shake and toes curl.

You come without a warning and Jake encourages your loud string of moans when he licks you clean, lapping your wetness up like a dog drinking water. Jake’s face is so messy and so wet with your sheen and his spit before he wipes himself with the back of his hand.

He looks up at you before you can get a word out. “Let me do that again.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

♡ TW: fear, prank, prank gone too far, dubcon-ish

♡ GN reader

“Haha, ‘Toru—nice try,” is all you say to the tall figure, having stood patiently in wait and perfectly positioned to do a jump scare with his silly store-bought Ghostface mask on.

You sigh and go back to your dealings, and he remains as if the gist isn’t up—ever-committed to the task as if you’re suddenly going to forget that it’s him. Like—of course, it’s him! Despite what the movies will have you believe, not a lot of guys have bodies like that.

If he was really committed to tricking you, he should have worn something baggier to hide his perfectly shredded chest. But no—he’s set on wearing his black muscle shirt—probably opting to make you both scared and horny at the same time.

You carry on with what you’d been doing—cleaning up the kitchen. “Oi, quit standing there already and come help me.”

He doesn’t. But that’s not unlike him—he’ll take any excuse not to do the dishes. And right now, the excuse is this dumb prank. But it’s your fault in any case—you’re the one that put him up to it by saying he’d never be able to get a rise out of you.

You sigh and scold yourself for being so short-sighted—should’ve kept my dumb mouth shut. Knowing him, he’s probably going to be this way all through October, the insufferable prick.

He still stands there. Silent. And still. Eerily unlike him. And almost, just almost, utterly unlike him.

But no—don’t be stupid! He’s the same height and the same build, for fuck’s sake! What are the odds of someone with the exact same measurements as your boyfriend breaking in right at the time he isn’t around in something so cliche and dumb as a Ghostface replica? No, it stinks of Satoru—it’s got his goofy antics written all over it.

You scoff again—a little winded this time, a little strained. You have to hand it to him—he is a little scary when he shuts up for this long.

“You can knock it off, Satoru. I know it’s you.” You face him again, hand on your hip, with a frown. 

You sigh again when he still doesn’t answer, insisting on his stupid tactic of psyching you out. And you’re getting pissed that it’s actually almost working.

“Ugh, you’re so stupid.” You start stomping over—aiming to rip that dumb thing off his head and point your death glare directly in his insufferable blue eyes—those insufferable blue eyes you’re actually starting to hope are under there more than knowing without a doubt are there for sure. 

“Tch—it’s insulting if you think some half-assed performance like this is gonna be enough to scare me. At least have the creativity to come up with something somewhat decent–”

You stop in your tracks halfway over. Hair is peaking out from under the mask. You hadn’t seen it from afar, matted against the black shirt he was wearing—but how could you? How could you when it’s not white hair?

You flinch backward. Stumbling. Assessing the dark, silken locks a second time before looking up at the mask again—that soulless white warped skull with pitch-black bottomless eyesockets.

You take another step back. Breath hitching in your throat when the figure takes a step as well—toward you.

Your heart flares. It’s not Satoru.

Eyes peeled, you feel the panic overthrow you in an instant—like a cold rush, reaching all the way into your bonemarrow, making it hard to move, hard to do much of anything without feeling vulnerable to what it might trigger.

But once the figure pulls his hand out from behind his back, brandishing a butcher’s knife that catches the light and glints in the air—you have no other choice but to run.

What a perfect fucking day to wear fuzzy fucking socks! Fucking October cold is going to be the reason you die—stabbed to death in your own house by some cringey Scream fanboy. No—this can’t be the end—not this way! Why isn’t Satoru home yet? Why can’t he ever be where you need him to be?

You make your way through the house—hoping to reach the door, but turning the corner has you slip and fall, and the intruder’s on you—knife raised, poised prettily in the air above your helpless body, clad in your tiny heart-print pj’s—like the perfect hot airhead in any slasher spoof.

You scream and squeeze your eyes shut, “No! No—please! Please! Satoru, help!”

And right as the knife is supposed to come down and puncture your chest, making it spurt out red until you finally bleed out, dead and gone, there’s a bang instead as two palms land flat on the floor on either side of your head.

Joined by a muffled voice, “Are yah scared yet?”

With your eyes wide open again, you look up at not one mask blocking out the ceiling light but two. And with all the pure alarm savaging your chest, you manage to let out a real horror-movie squeal—unlike a sound you’ve ever made before.

And then, of all things, there’s laughter—no, not laughter—straight cackling.

And—fortunately or unfortunately—you’re quite sure you recognize that sound.

The last one pulls off his mask, and you really can’t believe it—pretty porcelain face squished in amusement with tears of joy in the corner of his insufferable blue eyes.

That fucking bitch.

“You should have seen your face!” he chortles—downright heaves. But for all his handsome features, he truly must be the ugliest laugher there is. Or maybe it’s just that the bastard always laughs at your expense, and after one too many times, it’s left a bad taste in your mouth.

Still, you sigh, eyes closed in relief, “I hate you, ‘Toru. You took it way too far, you ass.”

“No, no, Satoru, help~” he ignores you and mocks in a high-pitched moan, showing not a sign of remorse—holding his hand over his stomach as he falls to the floor, struggling to leave room for breath between hooting and howling.

Your eyes go to the original perpetrator. “And you? You proud or what?”

The wearer pulls off its mask and is revealed to be none other than Satoru’s best friend—Geto.

Honestly, you should have fucking known...

“Sorry, hehe…”

You’re upset—you make that clear with your pout, giving him your best guilt-tripping look from where you rest beneath him.

But still, within, your heart eases at the sight of his kind face and that apologetic smile across it—ever thankful to see him and not the cold-blooded murderer you were convinced was going to kill you only a moment ago—even when pinned beneath him in a position that should be making Satoru jealous.

But your boyfriend couldn’t care less, it seems—too busy rolling on the floor and laughing out loud quite literally, even banging his fist against the wood. Prick.

“I’m gonna throw up–” you say as the nerves finally settle. “And when I’m done, I’m gonna kill you. Both of you.”

Geto seems to think that’s fair, still with that sheepish smile on his face, but Satoru is quick to interject—laughing fit over as he shakes his head, “Nuh-uh. You said if I manage to scare you once this Halloween, I’d get whatever I want.”

You swear he can be such a child sometimes.

Oh, who are you kidding? He’s always a child. It’s only surprising he’s managed to rope Geto into all this—a guy who’s usually so mature.

“I don’t remember saying that…” you sigh, laying the back of your hand atop your forehead, still calming your breaths and the pounding in your head—your body not yet caught up to the fact that it’s trepidation over impending death was all just some silly joke played on you by two idiots.

You can’t believe him—you can’t believe either of them.

“Fucking shit, Geto—I thought I was gonna die.”

He still hasn’t gotten off you—the look of worry on his face tells you he’s probably just wanting to stay close to make you feel safe. You appreciate it, though it’s a little awkward lying beneath him like this—it’s not exactly a position you share with just anyone…

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would work,” he says—eyes slim like always, in that charming way. “I always thought you were smarter than to fall for something this stupid.”

You pull a frown at that—taking it all back. He’s as childish and dumb as Satoru is. He’s just better at hiding it. 

“Oh, shut up—as if you wouldn’t scream if someone chased you down with a knife,” you grumble. “Now get off, you prick.”

You begin to lift yourself onto your elbows, yet despite the clear intention of getting up, Geto doesn’t budge to make it happen.

No, instead, he leans further in—fine-kempt raven hair slipping off his shoulders, falling with the same grace as a veil.

“I was told there’d be a prize for the one that got you to crack, and seeing as I’m the one that made that happen—I want it.”

You have to blink—blanched at the sudden demand.

Satoru, as well, a little stunned—looks wide-eyed at the two of you, upside down where he lies flat on his back, long limbs stretched out like a starfish.

“You what now?” both of you ask in unison.

Geto chuckles before repeating, “My prize. I want it. It’s only fair,” as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Satoru rolls over onto his stomach to view you both the right way, pursing his lips in thought. “Hmm…” Hand on his chin as if it’s really something to deliberate when the dumbass very well knows what the two of you had bet on and how it very much isn’t a reward you can give to just anyone.

Yet, despite that. “Okay,” he agrees—as if it’s even up to him.

“Hold on now, wait a minute.” You intervene in the almost business-esque dealing they’d somehow held without you. "Not happening.”

“Why not?” they both ask, looking at you. 

And you can’t keep from gaping. The nerve.

Spluttering as you explain, “Because it’s—well, because it was a bet between me and my dumbass boyfriend, and it was very clear what the prize was gonna be, come winner or loser—so, sorry to break it to you, but there is no prize.”

But that doesn’t seem to deter Geto. “Oh, I think there is…” he all but purrs as he leans down further.

“Satoru already agreed. And you’re already on your back beneath me.”

His smile isn’t all so friendly anymore, and still… you can’t help but blush being caught beneath it, holding your breath with fear a little different from the one before but no different in how it makes your heart pound.

“So, if neither of you mind…" he grins slyly. "I think I’ll just take it.” 

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[hoshifighting]

      wonwoo!best friend's brother

— your best friend's older brother, the guy who dropped out of university a long time ago but still shows up once in a while at your and your best friend's dorm. the thing is, she's in a tutoring class right now, leaving you and him alone after all these years of having a huge crush on him.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, making out, almost getting caught, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob, spiting.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you hear the door click as you wipe down the last bit of the counter, the smell of cleaning products lingering in the air. wonwoo’s here again—because of course, he is. once a year, like clockwork, he pulls up outside your dorm building, car keys in hand, sipping some energy drink like he’s the busiest man alive, even though he’s been out of university for, what? two years now? maybe more. it’s almost funny, how he thinks showing up in his beat-up car, leaning against the doorframe, makes him look cool.

your best friend’s not even here. she’s in some tutoring session because she "really needs to pass this bio class." but, of course, she told you, warned you, that wonwoo might drop by.

“hey,” he says, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of model, downing a sip from the can like it's giving him more life than it should.

“she’s not here,” you say, wiping your hands on your shorts. you’re pretending like you’re not even thinking about the way they’re barely covering anything right now. it’s just cleaning clothes, but you catch his eyes flick down for half a second, and your heart skips a beat.

“oh? what, she ditch me or something?” he teases, eyes sparkling with that casual cockiness he always carries around.

you laugh, shaking your head. “nah, she’s at a tutoring session. bio, i think? she’s stressing hard. she said she’d be back in a couple hours, so you can wait if you want... or leave. i won’t stop you.”

“tutoring? she actually studying? i thought she gave that up ages ago,” he snickers, leaning against the couch, tapping his foot like he’s been there forever. “reminds me of my sister, always freaking out about school... only she actually tries.”

you snort, rolling your eyes. “yeah, well, not everyone’s like you, mister ‘dropped out but still thinks he runs the place.’”

“i’m just here for the vibes,” he shrugs, eyes settling on you for a little too long, way too comfortable. way too focused. “plus, i wouldn’t call it ‘dropping out’... i just, y��know, found my path elsewhere.”

you shake your head, pretending not to care. but fuck, that grin? dangerous. absolutely dangerous. the guy is too good-looking for his own good, and the fact that he’s here, all casual like he’s just dropping by, is making your heart race in a way you’re desperately trying to ignore. and those eyes—yeah, you can feel him looking at you.

you turn, grabbing a water from the fridge to cool down because jesus, he’s looking right through you. you twist the cap and take a long gulp, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks, trying to play it cool.

“you good?” his voice cuts through the silence. casual, like it’s no big deal.

you choke a little on the water and turn around, trying not to look flustered. “yeah, yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”

he raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “dunno, just... you’re kinda tense. cleaning stress?”

you laugh it off, but the sound’s more nervous than you want it to be. “something like that.”

fuck, why is this so hard?

he takes another sip of his red bull, his eyes flicking over your legs again, slower this time. it’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you’re just... standing there, pretending you don’t feel it, but inside, you’re absolutely losing your mind. freaking out.

“you always this... jumpy around me?” he asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.

“shut up,” you toss a dish towel at him, more as a distraction for you than him, but he catches it easily, his grin widening.

“what, can’t take a little teasing? you’ve been dodging my questions all day.”

all day? he’s been here for twenty minutes. still, your stomach flips at the way he’s just standing there, so confident, so sure. it’s unfair how hot he is when he’s like this, leaning against the counter, arms crossed like he’s just waiting for you to crack.

“i’m not dodging anything,” you lie, crossing your arms, even though you know your face is giving you away. “you’re just being annoying.”

“am i?” he steps closer, his voice dropping slightly. “or am i just... distracting you?”

“wonwoo,” you start, your heart’s pounding, your skin tingling. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” he’s closer now, and fuck, he’s standing way too close, his breath brushing your cheek as he leans in. “i’m just talking, y/n.”

just talking, but the way his eyes drop to your lips says otherwise, and you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend this isn’t happening.

you’ve never been this close to him before, and it’s making your pulse race, your head spin. his hand hovers near your hip, like he’s waiting for permission, waiting for you to crack. it’s not fair how good he smells.

“you used to play dolls with my sister, you know,” he mutters, his lips brushing your ear. “now look at you.”

his fingers graze your waist, light at first, but the way his eyes lock on yours? there’s no going back. you shiver, heat pooling in your gut, and his hand slips lower, gripping the curve of your ass like it belongs to him. he laughs softly when you gasp, his other hand trailing up your side, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your top.

“wonwoo, you can’t just—” your words cut off as he cups your tit, thumb running over your nipple through your shirt, the sensation making your knees go weak. it’s so subtle, but you feel everything—his breath on your neck, the rough texture of his palm, the way his body presses against yours like he can’t stand the distance anymore.

“what? can’t just what?” his voice is low, mocking, as he leans down, his lips inches from yours. “you’ve been staring at me like that for years, y/n. you think i didn’t notice?”

your brain short-circuits as he presses his mouth to yours, starting slow, teasing, like he’s waiting for you to snap. and when you kiss him back—hard, desperate, craving more—he groans against your lips, his tongue immediately slipping past them. he sucks on your tongue like he’s savoring the taste, his hand squeezing your ass, pulling you closer as you try to remember how to breathe. it’s wet, sloppy, and so fucking messy, the sound of your lips meeting, tongues sliding against each other, filling the small kitchen.

you moan into his mouth, gripping his shirt, trying to keep up with the way he devours you, his other hand now fully under your shirt, palming your bare tit. it’s so much—too much, and you arch into his touch, losing yourself in the heat of it all.

and then you hear it.

keys, fumbling at the front door. shit.

you push him away so fast he stumbles back, eyes wide, lips shiny and swollen from your kiss. his fingers are still brushing his bottom lip, eyes flicking to the door in disbelief as the knob turns.

“fuck,” you whisper, trying to catch your breath, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, but you can’t stop shaking. you dart back to the sink, pretending to scrub some nonexistent spot, heart racing a mile a minute.

the door flies open, and your best friend bursts in, barely even noticing the two of you. “i forgot this fucking book,” she mutters, rummaging through her stuff on the couch. her back is to you both, and wonwoo’s standing there, hands in his pockets, trying his best to look casual.

he smirks at you, and you glare back, your mind racing, heart pounding. does she know? she can’t know.

“you two good?” she asks, barely glancing your way as she grabs her stuff. “i’ll be back in like, fifteen minutes. sorry. tutor’s gonna kill me if i don’t bring this. see you in a sec.” and just like that, she’s gone again, the door slamming shut behind her.

the second the door clicks, wonwoo bursts out laughing, dragging a hand through his hair, and your face is burning.

“did you just shove me away?” he teases, stepping closer again, his hands now resting on the counter behind you, trapping you. “scared of getting caught, huh?”

you shove at his chest, but you’re laughing too. “you’re insane. she could’ve seen us, you idiot.”

“what, and ruin the fun?” he grins, biting his bottom lip, and your stomach flips at the sight. “you should’ve just let her. i think she’d approve.”

you roll your eyes, but before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours again—rougher this time, more desperate. it’s like he’s making up for lost time, kissing you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted, hands roaming over your body like he’s been dying to touch you. you’re pressed back against the counter, trapped between him and the hard surface, and it feels so fucking good.

“wonwoo, the couch,” you murmur between kisses, pushing at his chest just enough to make him move. he gets the hint, pulling you toward the couch, his hand never leaving your waist, never giving you a chance to breathe.

the second your back hits the cushions, he’s on you again, kissing you so hard it leaves you dizzy, his hands wandering everywhere—your thighs, your waist, your tits. he’s fucking everywhere, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, all you can feel is him, everywhere.

his fingers slide under the waistband of your shorts, teasing the edge, but you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “not yet,” you whisper, eyes locked on his. “let me…”

you trail off, sliding off the couch, sinking to your knees between his legs. wonwoo’s eyes widen, the teasing smirk on his face replaced with pure shock. “wait—”

“shh,” you murmur, already tugging at his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. your mouth waters at the sight of him, long, hard and already dripping. you can’t help but smirk up at him before leaning in, taking him into your mouth in all in once, in the most greedy way.

wonwoo groans, his head falling back against the couch, his fingers threading through your hair as you start to move. you take him like your favorite popsicle, hollowing your cheeks, loving the way his hips buck up into your mouth, the way he can’t control the sounds he’s making.

he pants, his voice strained, and it only spurs you on, sucking harder, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him all the way down again. the sound of your mouth, wet and sloppy, fills the room, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

he tightens his grip in your hair, guiding you as he thrusts into your mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as he moans your name again, louder this time. you can feel him getting close, his thrusts making you gag slighty, his hips jerking up more urgently.

“fuck, i’m—” he chokes out, but before he can finish, his hips stutter, and he comes with a loud groan, spilling into your mouth. you swallow every drop, not slowing down until he’s completely spent.

you pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning up at him.

his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back on his lap. “c’mere,” he mutters. and before you know it, his lips are on yours again, urgent, like he needs to taste you all over again. the mix of your spit and his cum lingers, and when his tongue swipes along the side of your mouth, to catch more of the taste of him.

his hands slide down to your shorts, fingers curling around the waistband like they’ve been itching to take them off from the second he walked in. you flinch when he pulls them off, showing your panties. his fingers brush against it, and then pulling to the side, and you’re already losing it, but then he spits.

right on your pussy.

you tense when two fingers slide inside you rough, curling just the way you like—coincidentally. you clench around him, moaning, but it’s not enough. you need more, and he knows it.

“so fucking wet for me,” he groans, his other hand pushing your legs open wider. “you’ve wanted this for how long, huh? wanted me to fuck you like this?”

you can’t even answer, your brain is mush, overwhelmed by the way his fingers pump in and out of you, quick and dirty, making you arch into his touch. and then—without warning—he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up, slipping inside you so easily, you gasp.

he’s still sensitive, you can tell by the way his breath catches, how his hips jerk forward a little too fast, but the way his dick stretches you out? it’s perfect. too perfect. your eyes roll back, a shaky moan leaving your lips as he starts thrusting, slow at first, like he’s trying to control himself, but that doesn’t last long.

you’re in his lap, legs spread, every little reaction of his face right there in front of you—the way his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth falling open, all the little groans and curses spilling from him as he fucks into you. it’s like he can’t hold back anymore, can’t resist, but still needs to fuck you, to please you.

he lays you, grabs your knees, pulls them up to your chest, bending you in half so he can get even deeper. the angle’s brutal, his cock hitting that sweet spot with every rough thrust, and the room’s filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, his low grunts, your breathless moans.

you’re a wreck under him, fingers clutching at the couch cushions, barely able to keep up with the way he’s pounding into you. his thrusts are rough, fast, almost desperate, like he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach, and every time he slams into you, your whole body shakes.

“wonwoo—fuck, i’m—” you try to warn him, but the words don’t come out right. everything’s too much—the way his hands hold you down, the way he’s fucking you so deep, the pressure building low in your belly until you’re falling apart. you clench around him, your orgasm ripping through you hard, your back arching off the couch as you moan his name.

he watches you, watching that smile on your face, that one that you have when you win a prize, how satisfied you look by being fucked—especially by him, how your eyes roll in ecstasy, nd how you spasm around his cock. is enough for him.

and then it’s over. you’re both panting, bodies spent. he pulls out slowly, leaving you feeling empty. you’re barely conscious as he reaches over, grabbing the nearest blanket and draping it over you, his touch surprisingly gentle for how hard he just fucked you.

“don’t move,” he mutters, smirking at you as he gets up, still zipping up his jeans. “you look good like this.”

you’re too tired to respond, sinking deeper into the couch, eyes half-closed. the door opens again—shit—and your best friend barges in, completely unaware of what just happened.

“ugh finally,” she mutters, tossing it onto the table. “you two good?”

he just grins, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb as he leans against the counter, casual as hell. “just keeping y/n company, we were waiting for you” he says, winking at you when your best friend isn’t looking.

you’re still sprawled out on the couch, barely able to move, trying to act normal, like you weren’t just fucked within an inch of your life, like you weren't just fucked with jeon wonwoo. your best friend glances between the two of you, raising an eyebrow, but she doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re completely knocked out.

“whatever,” she mutters, grabbing her stuff. “i’m going to take a bath.”

the door of the bathroom slams shut, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. wonwoo walks back over to you, chuckling softly as he sits down beside you, leaning in to kiss your forehead, the teasing smirk never leaving his face.

“you should’ve seen your face when she walked in,” he murmurs, his voice low. “but don’t worry. you looked so innocent.”

[cathnospam]

Continuing from This Drabble about you and your BF Katsuki answering sex questions about each other<3

Black Female Reader x Katsuki Bakugo , mentions of panty stealer bakugo, slight smut???

“Okay uh, how do you rate your partners kisses 1-10.”

“9”

“9?! Muthafucka I taught you how to kiss—-“

“You always push back first like you can’t handle it, it pisses me off.”

“I like breathing.”

“So.”

Rolling your eyes, “I was ganna say 12/10, but since you’re being a bitch—“

“So, 12/10 got it. Next.”

“Does your partner have any dirty secrets?…oooh.—-”

“M’going to bed.” Bakugo immediately gets up to take off his tank top seeing as he was going to sleep in your dorm tonight, but as the shirt clung to his semi flexing biceps you grab him, “No, y/n.”

“Oh c’mon boy are the secrets THAT bad?! I’ll tell you mine at least—-fuck.” He considers for a moment. Curiosity weighing heavier than his will to sleep at the moment, “You ass.”

“What did you call me—“

“I think…” You place two fingers on his soft lips, “One secret is that……….one time, when you were out on work study you left your black tank top in my room….and….i missed you….and i was ovulating so i….put on your tank top and ….played…with myself.”

The air was thick, it’s as if Bakugo took it as he grew closer to you while speaking, there wasn’t much to make him speechless but dammit that’s a new one.

Fuck. That’s actually more sexier than he wants to admit right now. He crossed his legs, hoping a tent won’t form in his grey sweats and noticed your eyes wandering at every part of your room but his eyes.

“I…moaned your name too.”

“You…you damn….pervert fuck—-“ His voice almost broke into a groan, looking away also embarrassed you knew he didn’t mean it in a malicious way from how he looked back at you, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, “Stop acting fucking weird. You did it. Who cares. As long as it was MY name you moaned.”

“Of course dumbass. I only want you…”

Bakugo felt his ears burning, already annoyed he was flustered once he groaned, “I took your panties once.”

“What?”

“Why the hell would you wear that lacy frilly shit during class in that short ass skirt? It’s like you want those idiots to see you.”

“That CANNOT be the reason—“

“IT IS. If you’re ganna wear ‘em wear them IN OUR dorms you dumbass.”

“…well.”

“Well what.” He pouts.”

“Well where the fuck are they I like wearing them after I get waxed.”

Bakugo hesitates, not wanting to actually answer mainly because he doesn’t just have ONE pair of panties. But a few. “I’ll show you later.”

“Tch.” You mock his sounds, “Ever use ‘em to masturbate?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggle, you can only imagine what his perverted ass has done with them. And the last time you seen them was in your hamper so you assumed they got lost somewhere in the laundry. Honestly it’s kinda….interesting he’s telling you this.

“Does your partner have any no’s during?”

“I’m not calling you a bitch.”

“Aw.” You sarcastically sigh, “Why.”

“Why the hell would I call you out your name—“

“You called me your slut yesterday.”

“…Slip of the tongue.” He crosses his arms like a child, making you giggle. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize it was hot.” You say adjusting yourself closer to him, you could actually feel the heat from his body rise as you kept speaking, “It’s fine. Degrading isn’t something I’d need from you anyway.”

“I don’t get that kink, who the hell likes to be disrespected by someone they…are y’know with.”

You shrug, you understand why certain people have kinks, but it’s hard to put in words for someone like Katsuki. He’s a very simple man when it comes to relationships. Almost traditional and old fashion which is what charmed you the most about him. He never even called you a bitch before in any sense nor has he ever told you anything that would genuinely hurt your feelings, “Some people are just into that.” You concluded, your boyfriend looks at you with an unresolved look, but accepts it anyway. Weirdos.

“I wouldn’t hit you either. Like in the face or anything. Only on the ass”

“Good because my face is too pretty for that.” Katsuki smirks at you, you’re absolutely right you’re too pretty for him to hit.

“Nobody else.”

“Hm?”

“…Nobody else is allowed to join us.”

Squinting for a moment his statement clicks , “OH! No threesomes and stuff. Oh yeah of course not. If I see you with any other girl I’ll kill you and her.”

Katsuki swallowed his laughter, masking it with a clearing of his throat, your eyes not tearing from his making sure he knew you were serious. You don’t scare him typically, but he knew the moments when you genuinely had an aura about you that screamed “Fucking try to play with me.” And this was one of those moments. “You look at me like I didn’t just fucking say —“

“I know.” Your voice cracked a little trying to cover up the jealous tone you were about to spew out. Just the thought of Katsuki touching another girl had you upset.

Little did you know it was the same for him with you.

“Anything else?”

“I won’t do race or age play.”

“What the hell…?—-“

“Well I am black so obviously no and then you have age play which is just a cute way of saying you like children—-“

“WHAT?”

You pause to cover up his loud mouth with your small hands, “SSSHH! Before we get in trouble again!…anyway moving on!”

Not wanting to argue, he takes your laptop and smacks your hand away, “What is something you DONT like that your partner does during sex.”

“Take my laptop away from me.”

He strikes you and look, he doesn’t say anything verbally but he says “quit fucking around” with his eyes, admitting defeat that he won’t give you back your laptop you sit back and think for a moment.

“Eh…Oh! I don’t like that you won’t let me ride you.”

Damn it.

He had a feeling you’d say that too. Bakugo scratches the back of his neck roughly while letting out a groan. Throwing his head back a little he side eyes you, “Why do you wanna be on top so bad. I’m the man I should—“

“It’s not even about dominating you or anything you can still fuck me from below, ‘Suki. You’ll still have all the power.”

Bakugo has seen porn videos where the guy fucks up into the girl. Even some where the man is straight up holding the girl up and pumps her full. It’s so erotic he couldn’t even finish the video, but even though he enjoys vanilla sex, he is quite certain riding him isn’t too far off from what he likes.

Besides he loves having your tits bounce in his face and feeling your nipples practically bounce into his mouth makes up of great reason.

“…Fine. But when I’M ready.”

“Yaaaayy mkay….now what is something YOU don’t like about me.”

“You’re ganna be pissed.”

Your smiles immediately transforms into a straighten line, “Uh oh.”

“I don’t …like when you cum too fast.”

It was a bit embarrassing yet confusing to hear. Clearly that means he’s doing a good job so why —

“Because I want to keep fucking you.” Bakugo speaks up as if he read your inner thoughts, all you could do was blink a few times at him, and he continued more, “Even though I don’t cum until after you do which isn’t that long, sometimes I wanna keep going. I’ve timed it, the moment I start fucking you sex only last about 6-8 minutes.”

“That’s average. Some people are 2-3 minutes.” You spoke with an unimpressed and deadpanned voice mostly because this sounded ludicrous to you and Bakugo seen it in your expression causing him to sigh in annoyance. “Shouldn’t your ego be filled knowing you make me cum fast?”

“Yeah, but —-fuck sue me for wanting more. And don’t say some shit like I’m a nympho or some shit because that’s fucking disgusting and those freaks are usually only in a relationship to fuck—-“

“OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN, BOY!” His voice kept getting louder and louder and you refused to have another write up because you have him in your dorm past curfew…again. “I get it though.”

“You want to be overstimulated.”

What? Bakugo scrunched yo his eyebrows. He never heard that term before used when talking about sex.

“Overstimulated means …well… showing you is actually better than telling you.”

In an instant Bakugo’s furrowed eyebrows soften, his gaze transitioned from confused to darker and subtly lustful. You felt the vibe of the room change so quickly you practically had to clear your throat to make him focus again.

“So the next question…”

“Nah, show me.” He firmly shuts your computer and places it on your nightstand. Arms still crossed, “Show me what that word means or should I look up a video and figure it out myself.”

“….y’can.”

It wasn’t ideal for your evening to end like this with him, but it’s just you and your slightly horny boyfriend watching porn videos.

What’s the worse that can happen?

[starmapz]

BLOW ME (ONE LAST KISS)

𓉸 fwb!satoru gojo x f!reader

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ it's been two years since you last saw satoru. showing up at his door in the dead of night wasn't on your list of things to do today, but when things don't work out with your boyfriend, you find yourself back at your old best friend and fuck buddy's door. ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. fwb to strangers to lovers type thing. pwp. fluff. hurt/comfort. gojo's a lovable idiot. sub!gojo. whiny!gojo. pet names (baby, sweetheart, pookie, darling, pretty girl, pretty, love). slight spitting. slight overstim. oral (m! and f! receiving). praise. handjob. unprotected. creampie. p in v. fairly soft n sweet.

𓉸 words ; 10.8k.

𓉸 a/n ; this turned out so much longer than i expected but i had a lot of fun writing the story so i hope you enjoy!

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

Bleary-eyed with exhaustion, Gojo’s barely able to keep himself upright as a knock at the door urges him out of bed at three in the morning. He yawns tiredly as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and shuffles down the hall to his front door.

He wouldn’t say he’s shocked to see you standing at his door, it’s not the first time you’ve made your way over unannounced. No, the shocking part of this encounter is that he hasn’t heard a peep from you since two years ago when you ended your ‘benefits’ agreement with him after getting a boyfriend.

He scratches his bare chest, looking you up and down. Your hair is a mess, mascara streaks are smudged on your cheeks in a lazy effort to cover up the evidence of your tears and the little fuzzy kitty cat shorts and matching shirt you’re wearing tell him everything he needs to know.

But why come to him?

“You broke up.” It’s not a question, he doesn’t need you to answer. The proof is written across your face.

“Something like that.” Your voice is raspy, throat raw from the sobs that wracked your body earlier, though now you just seem exhausted.

But why come to him, not your close friends?

Silently, Satoru’s eyes raise to your car. All of your belongings are clearly stuffed in the back seat from what he can tell. You’re shuffling from foot to foot, standing a small distance away from him.

“So are you here to fuck?”

It’s blunt, but it’s the truth of the agreement you once had. Though Gojo’s somewhat bitter tone is a reminder that you had forgotten about the ‘friends’ portion of that agreement somewhere along the way.

You hesitate, jaw opening and closing once, twice, three times as you search for an explanation but in truth you aren’t sure why you’re here. The thought tears you apart inside and you bring your arms up around your torso, shrinking in on yourself. That can’t be all that’s left of what was once your closest friendship.

But after all these years, maybe it is.

“No, I’m not,” you whisper softly, avoiding his gaze. “I… I should go.”

Even in his bitterness, your ex friend doesn’t have it in him to let you drive off to god knows where in the middle of the night alone when you’re clearly upset and came to him for help. With a tired sigh, his hand grabs your wrist and he tugs you inside.

You let out a surprised gasp as he easily pulls you into his house, shutting the door behind you. He takes a step back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he waits for an explanation that never comes as you grapple with your own thoughts. His mind drifts back to the last time he saw you, a bitter taste bubbling in his throat at the thought.

He remembers the way you excitedly told him you had a date. He’d smiled, turning to face you on the couch, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t think you noticed, too caught up in your own excitement.

You had told him the benefits needed to end. It didn’t matter to him, he was never in this for the benefits.

In truth, he figured you would come back to him with the realization you had feelings for him. You were always so enthusiastic around him, you were the one always pushing the boundaries you had established. Satoru never minded, but the longer the agreement went on, he was sure you would come to the same realization he had.

He was so sure you would reciprocate the feelings he was so afraid to voice out of fear of losing his closest friend. After all, he had really only agreed to your whole ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement because he thought it would give him the opportunity to get closer to you.

The cocky asshole that he is, Gojo Satoru thought that his dick game was so good you would fall for him.

Then you went on a second date with the guy, gushing to Gojo about him with a movie playing in the background and he realized just how wrong he was.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so colossally and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know if he even could fix it.

It was on the fourth date that your new guy made it official and you texted Satoru right away.

He feigned happiness. He would be what you needed him to be.

But the recoil of his complicated relationship with you hit him fast and hard.

It started with a decrease in time spent with you, which he could live with. Then, it was a decrease in excited texts. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, when his time had once been completely occupied by you and only you. Regardless of the benefits of your friendship, that was never what mattered to him.

You were like the sun to him. You shone brighter than anyone he had ever met, your smile as radiant as it was beautiful. Burned into his mind like a polaroid, cherished, even in the two years since he’s seen you.

There was no argument that ended everything, no big explosion or blow up of emotions that caused something so dear to both of you to fizzle out suddenly. It all came from a place of not knowing what to do after the benefits ended.

It wasn’t like sex was the only thing you did with one another. In fact, most of your time spent together was watching movies, playing games, or just gossiping and chatting. When the sex ended, however, something lingered.

It was that lingering feeling that shattered what remained of the bond you shared. Between longing looks from Satoru while out on a bubble tea run, and lingering physical attraction to him that left you uncertain, it was too much for you.

Just like that, you slowly stopped responding. You can’t blame Satoru for the fact that he stopped trying to reach out either, if you were in his place you’re certain you would have been embarrassed by the amount of unread messages he’d sent.

Now, you’re ashamed for letting your greatest ally, your biggest cheerleader and your most eager movie buddy slip through the cracks so easily. So blinded by new, young, love that you never stopped to see what was already in front of you.

Although the loss of your closest friend was gradual, fizzling away until there was nothing left, it changed you irreparably. The changes were small at first, they came in the form of little things that would bring your mood down as you reached for your phone to excitedly text him only to falter. With time, the uncertainty and lingering sorrow became a constant numbness and you were so caught up in your own world you couldn’t identify what caused it. You couldn’t make out the little hole in your heart in the shape of Satoru. With time, the hole grew until it was so immense that it resulted in a fight with your boyfriend.

A long fight in which he had insisted that although he cared for you, he had come to terms long ago with the fact that you didn’t feel the same way that he did anymore. The most gut wrenching part was that he was right, but you couldn’t accept that he was right for so long, because you couldn’t accept that you had feelings for someone you hadn’t seen in two years.

Now, standing in front of him, you’re at a complete and utter loss for words. All this time without a word and to think that he’d still let you in. No, he’d pulled you in. After two years of silence, two years of doing him so painfully dirty, he was still here. For you.

“Why are you here?” He asks again when the silence grows so loud he thinks he might be going crazy.

“Can we sit down?” You ask him quietly, feeling guilt wash over you as your eyes trail his washboard abs, as though you have any right to admire just how good he looks.

He steps aside, letting you walk into his living room. It looks almost the same as the day you were last here, probably yapping about your date like a damn fool. The only real difference is that the photo that once sat on a shelf in the corner of the room of the two of you at an aquarium was gone. A pang of sadness courses through you at the realization that he’s probably let you go.

You’re too late. You fucked up.

Gingerly, you take a seat on the soft couch, squirreling your way as far into the corner as you can. You feel small in his presence, unable to read him as you once could. You’re not familiar with the painfully neutral expression he wears, masking what lies beneath. The hint of bitterness to top it all off only adds to the taste of bile in your mouth.

“I owe you a lot of things, Satoru,” you begin. You’d run over what you planned on saying for an hour in the car before gathering the courage to walk to his door, yet the words died in your throat as soon as you took in the sight of him.

He sits opposite you, the distance between the both of you like a rope pulled taut. All you want to do is pull him towards you, but you fear the rope might snap if you do, frayed at the ends. You swallow hard, chancing a glance at those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. It will never be enough. You left him behind, and no apology will ever do him justice. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper again, choking on your words as tears burn in your eyes.

Satoru lets out a long breath. He never stopped hoping, praying, you would come back, but now that he has you here, something holds him back. Fear, maybe. Dejection, assuredly.

He doesn’t want to be your second choice.

As a tear trails down your cheek whilst you try your best to stay strong before him, the grip that fear has on him becomes frail, crumbling at the sight of his best friend, his movie buddy, his girl, crying.

“C’mere,” he sighs, sliding across the couch as he closes the distance between you. You cling to him like a lifeline as you sob against his bare chest. His skin is soft and warm, just as you remember it, tainted by your salty tears.

It takes him a moment, but his arms do eventually snake around your waist, pulling you into him.

“You deserved so much better back then,” you hiccup, a sound that has Satoru shutting his eyes as your pain crackles in the air around him, charged. “You deserve better now, I shouldn’t be here, I-” You panic suddenly, pressing open palms against his chest to push yourself away but his arms don’t relent. In fact, he rests his chin softly atop your head as he tucks you back against his chest in an effort to soothe you.

He still doesn’t say a word, but the silence and his insistence on holding you tightly serves as your encouragement to talk. That’s all Satoru wants, it’s all he needs. He needs to understand what happened. He wants to know why you’re here after two years of radio silence.

And do you ever talk. The words spill from you, messy and unorganized thoughts falling from your lips like a waterfall.

“You tried so hard to get through to me, and I was such an asshole. I kept trying to- to-” you stammer over your words as you catch your breath between sobs, “-to tell myself my attraction to you was just physical, but then I cut you off anyway and that wasn’t fair. I just don’t think I ever realized-” again, a sob wracks your body, “-that I had feelings for you, I wasn’t willing to admit it because that was my number one rule between us and then I ruined everything anyway, so what does it matter?”

You sniffle, the tips of your fingers gripping at his skin.

“I was so stupid, and everything was so much worse without you. I wanted to text you to tell you little things but anytime I stared at your contact, it scared me how long it had been and how awful I felt and now- now-” you swallow hard, “-now I’m here in front of you and I don’t know what I’m even saying. I- I-” you stammer, your breathing picking up as the words fall from your lips before you have a chance to think twice about them. “-I think I’m in love with you.”

Satoru stiffens beside you, his arms rigid with the revelation. It takes a moment to sink in, before his chin lifts from your head and he pulls back to see your expression. Your cheeks are puffy, eyes red, pupils blown. You look exhausted, and somewhat shocked, as if you’ve just realized this yourself.

His eyes have the sea held within them as turmoil flows through them. Wave after wave, each crashing ashore as he wrestles with his own thoughts.

He whispers your name in a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He should have told you two years ago, before everything became so complicated. “I can’t be your second choice,” he sighs, rejecting you, although his arms don’t leave the tight grip he holds on you.

Of course he never stopped loving you. He got together with others afterwards, had the odd fling here or there, but it was never enough. It never filled the hole in his heart that you’d carved to fit you and only you.

Yet you didn’t fit within that hole either now, he feared. His heart had been hollowed out for someone that didn’t exist anymore.

“We broke up,” you tell him, as though he doesn’t already know. He just stares at you, so you continue. “He told me something changed after we started dating. Like a part of me died and he was never sure why,” you sigh, staring blankly at Satoru’s chest. “He said his feelings weren’t being returned, and he was right.”

Satoru’s grip on you tightens. It’s miniscule, but you feel the way he pulls you just the tiniest bit closer.

“I just couldn’t admit it to myself. It felt wrong because of all the rules,” you try to explain, but it’s all a pathetic attempt at what you’re trying to get to. “You were never my second choice, Toru.” The nickname sets his heart racing beneath your palm. “You’ve always been it for me. I was just too caught up in those stupid rules to see that.”

Pain lingers in the back of his mind, but something new seems to fill his chest. Like you’ve found the hole in his heart that he was so sure could never fit you again, and you’re molding it to fit you as you are now. Healing him in your own way.

“I’m not a rebound,” he blurts out. He can’t let you in so easily, not when you could snap him in two like you had once before. Yet beneath the walls he’s trying to uphold, he’s so painfully vulnerable, an open book for you to see. Behind your tear-filled eyes, he knows you recognize this.

“Never,” you agree, the tips of your fingers tightening against him. “Promise, pookie.”

The nickname he’d used to tease you all those years ago feels foreign from your lips, you’d always hated when he called you it, yet he can’t help the way it makes his lips quirk up. He chuckles, unable to resist the laughter bubbling in his chest.

Such a stupid nickname.

You laugh along with him, sniffling as the lighter air between the both of you settles comfortably.

“Four years and three months, by the way,” Satoru’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt as he holds you to him. The curious tilt of your head that’s oh so cute to him is enough for him to continue. “That’s when I fell for you.”

Your eyes widen at the realization you’ve both just confessed. Your heart races in your chest, battering at your bones like a caged animal. “Four years and three months…? What…?” You trail off, brow furrowed.

“We went bowling with Ieiri and Nanami. You and I versus the two of them.”

“I remember.”

“They were beating us until the last frame. You bowled a strike and ran back to hug me.”

The memory feels fresh in your mind as you recall how silly Satoru looked in those oversized bowling shoes. You’d all looked like clowns, but Satoru had playfully dressed the part too in an ugly over-patterned button-up, always the butt of all jokes as long as it meant making everyone smile.

In reality, it was always to make you smile. He never cared about the scoffs and playful banter from the rest of the group. He wanted nothing more than to hear your pretty laugh.

“That’s it?” You ask, mouth agape. You and Satoru have so many similar memories from many years prior, so why that one?

“Dunno. There was just something so endearing about you running into my arms over bowling. You looked so gorgeous.” Satoru pauses for a moment as he grins to himself, reliving the memory. “You were smiling like winning bowling was our greatest achievement, wearing those stupid bowling shoes and you had on ugly socks specifically for the occasion-”

“They were cute,” you pout. “They had snails on them.”

Satoru snickers. “The snails looked high, sweetheart.”

“No they didn’t!” You whine, although you can’t deny the heat in your cheeks as he relaxes with you, observing you with the fondness of someone who never lost sight of you, even when all seemed hopeless.

“Their eyes were literally red.”

“Nooooo,” you whine, jutting out your lower lip. Gojo’s eyes flicker down to your lip, returning to your eyes. “It was just a design choice,” you insist.

“A design choice that made them look high,” he snorts, rolling his eyes.

You laugh through the remnants of your sobs, running a hand over your face in an effort to wipe away what’s left of your tears. To your surprise, Satoru’s hand closes over yours, moving your hand away from your face as he softly wipes your tears away.

“You asked me why I was here,” you state as Satoru watches the movement of his thumb beneath your tearline, wiping the liquid from your lashes. “I think I’m here because it’s the only place that feels right.”

His face softens, and what’s left of his bitterness sputters away like a candle burning out. It leaves warmth in its wake that spreads through Satoru’s body. Although he thinks the pain will take time to heal, it’s not like the hole that you left when you shut him out, one that hollowed his very soul. Time will heal his wounds, he just hopes that this time around, you’ll let him in. Although you’ve both confessed, he knows you well and he can feel the way you’ve carefully barricaded your heart.

For now, he just hopes you can get some rest as he takes note of the heavy dark circles beneath your eyes.

His hands grip your waist, long thumbs settling beneath your breasts, brushing their undersides. You have no bra on, you’re in pajamas that Satoru’s seen a thousand times before. It’s clockwork, the way he shifts you until you’re settled comfortably on his lap while he leans back.

“Movie night?”

You nod, eyes widening hopefully, a familiar sparkle shining within them that warms Satoru’s heart.

He hates to see you cry. It brings him more pain than he could possibly have imagined, even after two years of bitter silence.

He uses his foot to pull the remote on the coffee table towards him without needing to move you off his lap, leaning you both forward before resting back. Your head rests comfortably on his bare chest, his arm circling your waist like it belongs there.

There’s no question of what you’ll be watching as he turns on your favorite Studio Ghibli movie. Not a single memory of you has been lost to him, each one fresh in his mind as though you never left.

He sets the remote down, reclining back on the couch with his feet up on the table. Your knees lean over his thighs, hands resting comfortably on his muscular arms that hold you flush to his skin. Settling comfortably, you do your best to focus on the movie and keep your thoughts from spiraling, although it isn’t so easy.

“I’m sorry, Toru.”

Satoru’s white lashes flutter as he hears your voice amid his near-slumber halfway through the movie. He blinks a few times to wake himself up, inhaling as he looks down at you. Your head still rests on his chest, eyes looking up expectantly at him.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs blearily.

“No, it’s not. It never will be. I’m not asking you to tell me what I did was okay,” you insist. Satoru observes you quietly. You’ve matured over the last two years in ways he’s never considered. “You don’t have to forgive me right now, but I’d like a chance to earn your forgiveness.”

In truth, Satoru thinks you might have had his forgiveness since the moment he saw you standing at the door. The depths of his pain are already long forgotten as his sorrows wash away to leave space for blossoms taking root in his veins.

He’s not one for caution. Satoru has always been the type of man to dive headfirst into something without a second thought, that’s how the two of you ended up in this situation anyways. A joking suggestion on his part taken entirely too seriously to land him the official ‘fuck buddy’ status.

This time, as he dives headfirst into your request, it’s not a joke or a dare or anything of the sort that he’s so used to.

You’re taking this seriously. You’re taking him seriously. Taking into account his feelings of being a second choice, a rebound, and you’ll spend a lifetime showing him he never was to begin with if you have to.

He shoots you a tired smile, head flopping to the side in a lazy fashion. His white hair falls over his eyes, obstructing your view of his gorgeous cerulean irises. “Consider your wish granted,” he agrees.

You return his smile, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, unaware that you’ve soothed him almost instantly to an easy sleep as his gentle snores fill the air.

Despite the events of the long night and the early morning light beginning to peek through the windows as dawn approaches, you settle into an easy sleep in his arms.

When you awaken the following morning, the two of you have somehow shifted to be on the couch horizontally. You’re tucked between the back of the couch and Satoru’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around your middle. His breath fans the crown of your head, his grip on you almost suffocating, he's holding you so tightly.

You don’t dare wake him, not after the night he had. Settling back comfortably against his chest, you rest your eyes as you wait for him to stir. It isn’t too much longer before you feel his muscles begin to twitch and the pace of his breathing increases. After a few minutes, his eyes flutter open and he takes in his surroundings, but more importantly, the gorgeous girl in his arms.

It’s a dream he’s had so many times that it can’t be real, can it?

“Ow! Did you just pinch me, Toru?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles groggily in a voice so incredibly sexy you can’t believe you didn’t notice your feelings sooner. “Had to make sure you were real.”

He shifts, moving to pepper kisses over your hair. Your giggles are musical as he showers you in affection, but when he pulls back, he catches a glimpse of… something that he can’t place.

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?”

Your worries are forgotten momentarily with each pet name he uses, but you find your words soon enough. “I guess I just feel guilty,” you admit with a shrug and Satoru sees it again. He sees the walls you’ve built reflected in your eyes, shadowed with guilt.

“Eh? Nothing to feel guilty about,” he grins, but the look you shoot him in return tells him you’re not in the mood for him to take this so lightheartedly.

“I’m serious. I missed two years of your life.”

Satoru’s thumb rubs circles beneath the fabric of your pajama shirt with one hand, bringing the other up to rub his eyes. He’s not sure he’s awake enough for this conversation. Certainly not in a serious capacity.

“It’s not that long,” he shrugs, moving his free arm beneath his head as he shifts on the couch to lay on his back with you tucked into his side. He stares up at the ceiling. “I mean, you owe me a lot of movie and game nights, but that just means I get to make you pay,” he smirks, prodding your side.

It’s not the serious response you’re hoping for, but it does wonders to quell the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You better go easy on me though, you’re not a cheap date.”

He pouts playfully, lip jutting out as he prods your side beneath your ribs. You squeal in surprise at his finger jabbing into your side and in an effort to escape the ticklish sensation, proceed to shove him off the couch.

With a thump and a soft ‘oof’, he lands on his side on the (thankfully) carpeted floor.

“Sorry, Toru!” You squeak, peering down at him.

He rubs his shoulder with a wry smile. “Geez babe, I thought you were trying to make things up to me,” he grumbles as he pushes himself up off the floor.

You flash him an apologetic smile, taking a moment to admire him as he stands at his full height before you. He’s always been handsome, but even in the couple of years since you’ve seen him, he’s filled out and bulked up further. There’s a faint hint of barely visible white stubble growing along his chin and his hair is a breadth longer than you remember and falls in a more intentional manner over his head rather than its usual disheveled style.

He’s breathtaking, and you wonder how you were ever so foolish to begin with.

Unfortunately, he’s also just as frustrating as the day you last saw him.

“See something you like? You know, if you really wanna make it up to me-”

You cut him off by getting to your feet and shoving a hand against his stupidly pretty face, shutting him up with the action as he reels backwards. Catching his balance, he chuckles and trails after you as you walk into his kitchen just as you had so many times before.

Aside from a few new magnets on the fridge and a new set of dishcloths, it’s just as you remember it. Something about the knowledge that even in two years, things haven’t changed so dramatically that you’ve missed everything helps to keep you from feeling guilty.

“You know, I was gonna say if you wanted to make it up to me you could make me breakfast,” he grins cheekily as he leans into your personal space.

“No you weren’t.”

“I thought about it,” he shrugs as you catch him in the act of lying. You can’t resist the way your lips quirk up into a smile. He’s still so Satoru and his presence comforts you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

Opening the fridge, you take a look at what he’s got available, or more like the complete and utter lack of food in his fridge.

“Have you always lived like this?” You ask as you move to his pantry, which is somehow equally empty apart from a jar of peanut butter sitting beside some protein powder and a sickening amount of sweets.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He whines as he stares over your shoulder at what looks like a perfectly full pantry to him. It has mochi and chocolate and-

“What do you even have for breakfast usually?”

He purses his lips, staring up at the ceiling. His hair falls back over his ears as he does so, his skin so perfect you’re almost jealous at just how blessed he is with good looks. “Dunno. Mochi and some eggs?”

You recoil at the thought of mochi and eggs as a meal, nose wrinkling. “What happened to pancakes or omelets? We used to make them all the time.”

Something akin to sadness flashes in his eyes and you turn your full attention to him. “You weren’t there,” he says simply, his voice lowered, his tone unusually vulnerable. “I only really made them because you wanted them.” He doesn’t say it with the intent of making you feel guilty, but your shoulders fall to your sides as your chest coils with the emotion.

“Right.”

“Hey,” he raises his hand to cup your cheek and pull your attention away from your feet. “That’s behind us, yeah?”

Your eyes flit between his, the way they seem to hold galaxies within them. His face is so close to yours that his breath fans your face and your heart speeds up as you glance at his lips-

Like a gentle reminder of your wrongdoing, guilt churns in your chest and you stumble backwards out of his grip. Although he’s already forgiven you and given you another chance with him, you can’t help the way your heart stutters around him and your walls heighten out of fear of fucking things up again.

Yet your behavior only serves to confuse Satoru, who had been so sure you were about to kiss him and his heart is still hammering in his chest as you nearly trip over a flat of outdated soup cans, which is wild because how do soup cans even get outdated?

Before you can crash into the shelves behind you, Satoru reaches out to wrap a strong hand around your forearm and tugs you from the pantry.

“Um-” you clear your throat, trying to divert his attention away from your sudden meekness. “Can we order something?”

Satoru observes you for a moment, his expression unreadable before his usual grin finds his face. “Sure, pretty. You want your usual?”

Your eyes widen slightly, the guilt burrowing itself deeper into your chest as you realize just how many pieces of you remained tightly wound within his life all these years. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He saunters off to his bedroom to grab his phone and place an order, your eyes trailing after him until he’s out of sight. With a sigh, you bring a hand up to clutch at the shirt hanging over your chest with a photo of a little cartoon kitty on it. Your heart hammers against your hand and you wonder what you’ve done to deserve such kindness from him when you had left him behind so easily.

Well, no, that’s a lie. It hadn’t been easy. It left a hole so deep within you that it tore you from a two year relationship and brought you here to Satoru’s door in the middle of the night in pieces. It was selfish, really, to ask him to help put you back together, and seeing how eager he is to have you back in his life does little to quell the growing feeling of wrongfulness.

With a deep breath, you try to remind yourself of the fact that he’s giving you another chance and you need to use this opportunity to prove yourself rather than shut him out again. Letting the breath out through pursed lips, you pad slowly from the kitchen to the living room, looking around the familiar room in daylight.

The TV is newer than you remember and there are a couple of mostly dead plants that you wonder if he’s ever watered that are new to you. A couple of empty mugs sit atop a table to the side of the couch and there are some new movies and games stacked in the bookshelves at the side of the room.

Before you even realize you’re moving, you stand in front of the shelves. Sitting on one of the lower shelves beneath a thick layer of dust is a small bowl you recognize all too well.

Satoru hadn’t been too keen on the idea of taking a pottery class with you, but he couldn’t resist your doe-eyed pleading. He always was weak for you, and so you had learned how to make bowls together. He had beamed at you upon completing his bowl, showing it to you with such childlike glee that it had warmed your heart.

Taking the bowl delicately into your hands, you flip it and feel your heart clench as you see the familiar initials carved into the bottom. Yours, alongside Satoru’s, with a heart. How had it never occurred to you?

How horribly clueless had you been?

You set the bowl down as your gaze trails the rest of the shelves. There’s a small collection of rocks from each of your beach trips, a strange tradition you had shared after finding a fossil lodged into a flat stone you’d been intending to skip across the water.

Finally, you stare at the empty spot where a framed photo of the two of you once sat. Although the photo was gone, you would never forget the day. You had visited the aquarium together with Suguru and Shoko very shortly after becoming friends with benefits. Suguru had noted that the two of you seemed particularly close, but you’d brushed off his words.

He was right, though. It solidified your friendship. It was the beginning of something beautiful and you regretted ever letting it turn ugly. Blinking, you bring a hand up to your face to wipe away the beginnings of tears when you catch a glimpse of something laying on the top shelf where the frame was just barely in view.

Reaching out, you pick it up and your jaw practically drops, your heart gripped with so many emotions you don’t know where to begin. Relief, longing, fear, uncertainty, guilt, and most importantly, love. Satoru never let go of you.

There, in your hands, is a photo of Satoru grinning with an arm around your shoulders as you peer up at the whale shark behind you, wide-eyed with awe at the beautiful creature. The photo never moved, he’d just laid it down when it became too painful to look at.

“Alright, I ordered all of our favorites and some new things I wanted to try-” Satoru comes around the corner from his room, phone in hand, peering into the kitchen before he finds you in the living room. “They had something called a Croffle, I just had to- are you crying?”

Satoru’s hand falls to his side as he hears you sniffle. You straighten, refusing to face him as you attempt to compose yourself.

He takes a step towards you, setting a large hand on your shoulder as he peers down at your hands. “Oh, pretty girl. C’mere,” he coos, pulling the frame from your fingers with one hand as he wraps the other around you. He sets the photo back in its place on the shelf, upright now, before his full attention is on you.

He sways you softly from side to side, soothing his hand up and down your back as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Your cries are silent, the only sign of your sobs being the way your body shakes and the warm tears that wet his bare chest. He stands with you like that, swaying you gently from side to side and humming gentle “it’s okay”s into the crown of your head for a couple of minutes.

With a sniffle, you pull back and wipe the remnants of your tears, keeping your head down in an attempt to prevent him from seeing your puffy features. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me,” you croak with a half-hearted laugh.

Satoru is silent for a moment as he quietly observes you. “You know,” he starts, “if you keep shutting me out, you’re not gonna be able to make things up to me.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” you retort stubbornly, peeking up at him.

He dramatically swings his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You show up at my door at- what-? Three in the morning? To try to fix things- which is working, by the way- and now you shut me out?” He asks, reeling back and crouching until he reaches your eye level. You can’t escape those stupidly gorgeous eyes of his now, taking in a deep breath as you attempt to compose yourself.

You pull your lower lip between your teeth, mindlessly chewing on it as you consider what he said. You’d be foolish not to take his words into consideration given that he’s right, you are here to fix things, and the fact that he said it’s working sparks hope you haven’t felt in a long time within you. Yet, you’ve upheld your walls for so long that it’s difficult to let him in. Years of rules between the both of you, no kissing, no cuddling outside of aftercare, no PDA, they all still lived within you, even if you wanted to break them down. Sure, the rules were broken often, but not without reminding yourself why they were there later.

Then there were the walls you built to protect the Gojo-shaped hole in your heart. The hole that you couldn’t identify the shape of until now. With Satoru standing alongside you attempting to crawl his way into that hole and fill it, it scares you. Having what you didn’t know you needed for two whole years, if not more, is a terrifying thought.

You glance up at him, patiently waiting on your response as you consider his words while his thumbs rub soothing circles into your upper arms.

With your attention now on him, Satoru takes the opportunity to slide one hand down to your waist, taking a small step towards you until you’re flush to him. You hold your breath at the contact, giving him a wide-eyed stare. His words replay over and over in your mind as his other hand slides up your neck to rest on your cheek. He deftly tilts your chin up as his eyes bore into yours.

“Let me in, sweetheart,” he whispers, his face so close that your entire body feels as though it’s on fire and you can’t help the way your eyes flicker to his lips, so soft and close.

The air between you is charged, tension crackling in the air as the world seems to pause just for you. Your heart beats erratically and you fear it may escape its cage if it pounds any harder.

Satoru swallows hard as his thumb runs across your lower lip. Your breathing speeds up, as though it’s racing with your heart as you cling desperately to his chest like a deer in the headlights. His heart races beneath your fingertips, the only sign that he’s anywhere near as flustered as you are.

“Can I break rule number one?” He whispers, his voice low and sexy in a way that you’ve heard so many times but it’s charged with something new. Something more tender than you’re used to.

You glance between his eyes and his lips, letting out a shaky breath as you throw caution to the wind and slide your hands up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him the remaining distance down to your lips. Time stands still as his lips softly capture yours, moving slowly as he pours every ounce of adoration into the kiss. As though he fears he may never have the chance to kiss you again, he puts everything he has into it.

It takes only a faint brush of his finger along your chin to tilt your head up to give him better access as his tongue crests your lips. You’re pliant against him, your lips parting for him as he breaks down your walls. His tongue takes over your mouth, his minty taste flooding your senses as his fingers grip your waist almost bruisingly with how tight he holds you.

He hesitates as he pulls back, both of your eyes fluttering open to take in the sights before you as you catch your breath. Satoru’s cheeks are red, white lashes fluttering as he blinks quickly.

“Why did you never say anything?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“You had so many rules. You’d scold me for just putting a hand on your shoulder in public, what was I supposed to do?” He examines the way your expression returns to guilt, pressing a quick peck to your lips once more in an attempt to pull you away from the walls he’s trying to break down. Your eyes shine once again and he lets out a breath of relief. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.”

He kisses you softly again. “Stop apologizing. Just be with me here and now, we can figure everything out, yeah?”

As you nod, there’s a knock at the door and Satoru grins.

“Now come try this Croffle thing I got.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” You tilt your head as you trail after him to the door.

“Croissant Waffle.”

“Right. Of course,” you shrug playfully, heading back to the living room where Satoru sets the delivery bag on the coffee table. The two of you had always had a habit of eating anywhere but the kitchen table and it seemed that wasn’t about to change now.

As he pulls out your favorite order of pancakes alongside his own, you shoot him a lopsided smile at the fact that he remembered every single little detail of your order, right down to the specifics of no whipped cream as it was too sweet. He always insisted it was perfectly sweet, but maybe that’s just because of how saccharine Satoru himself is.

“Okay, I got a sweet and a savory one,” he beams, holding up what you can only assume is the Croffles. They seem to be just croissant shaped waffles, though you assume the dough is likely flaky.

“There’s no world where you eat the savory one, so just give me that one,” you chide with a roll of your eyes.

“Ouch,” he pouts, “I’m an adult, you know. I can eat it.”

“Satoru Gojo,” you get his attention and his back straightens as though he’s in trouble with you. “Look me dead in the eye and tell me you would eat your pancakes and a savory Croffle.”

The way he avoids your gaze tells you everything you need to know and you burst into laughter, followed shortly after by his own. You snatch the savory Croffle from his hands as the two of you share your favorite breakfast once again. It doesn’t surprise either of you to find the Croffle is also delicious and you may need to change your orders. Then again, everything from this restaurant is delicious.

“I missed this,” Satoru hums as he adjusts the way he’s sitting on the floor, leaning on his elbow over the short coffee table.

“Me too,” you hum, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you set your breakfast down to stare at it.

“Ah-!” Gojo blurts out a noise and just as you look up at him, he’s tackling you to the floor, pressing short and chaste kisses to your lips followed by your nose, your cheeks, your chin, and your forehead. He peppers them across your face as you squirm beneath him, laughing as he refuses to relent.

“Toru! Toru, stop!” You whine through giggles, pushing against his chest.

“Nope! Not until you stop trying to shut me out,” he insists, his hair draping around your face like a curtain as he holds himself just above you, pressing more chaste kisses to your face and lips. In an effort to stop his relentless attack, you pull him down and deepen one of his kisses. He hums contentedly into your lips, letting you lead.

You move slowly at first, cherishing the gentle feeling of his soft lips, but the way he treats you as though you’re porcelain causes something to coil in your stomach and you greedily pull him down harder, deepening the kiss as his lips part. Your tongue explores his mouth, the taste of sugar and syrup fresh on his lips but it’s the way he whines that sets your stomach on fire with need.

You part from him, the evidence of your lust now wet in your panties as you stare at him with blown pupils. He recognizes the look on your face and tugs you to your feet in one fluid motion. Like every other time you’ve done this dance, you figure you’ll end up in his arms, making out as he stumbles to his bedroom and tosses you on the bed, but to your surprise, he instead scoops you into his arms bridal style.

You yelp in surprise, snaking your arms around his neck as you cling to him. “Toru?” You question as you peer curiously up at him. He shoots you a genuine smile, filled with glee.

“Lemme treat you like a princess for once,” he grins. Your face softens and you bury your face into his chest. Who would have thought your eager fuck buddy would be such a romantic sweetheart?

He sets you gently on his bed before sitting beside you, the bed sinking beneath his weight. To your delight, he pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. Leaning back towards him, you capture his lips in an eager but passionate kiss and it seems the dissolving of your rules has changed the way it feels being with him.

Where once you kept kissing always off the table, the addition of it changed the entire tone of being in his bedroom. Where once you would eagerly fuck like rabbits, using the act purely as a way to relieve stress and have some fun, now it feels like a union of years’ worth of emotions. The way Satoru holds you as though he’s afraid the moment is fleeting, the way he puts his soul into the kiss just as you do, it’s a moment you know will play in your mind like a movie years into the future.

Satoru moans needily into your mouth as you let your hands roam, exploring the peaks and valleys of his abs. He’s grown bulkier since you last saw him, clearly continuing to work out. When your eyes flicker open as you catch your breath, his eyes are locked on you with a look of wonder that’s entirely too sweet given just how badly you want to see him between your thighs.

You set your hands on his collarbones, pressing him down onto his bed. You’ve had sex more times than you can possibly count, but everything about this still feels new. Satoru has always been fairly dominant, but the man looking up at you now is needy with lust and willing to relinquish all control to you. He’s looking at you like you hold the sun up in the sky and he wants to worship you for it. His gaze holds such adoration that you could melt into him.

You grind against the growing bulge in his sweatpants as you lean down and hungrily capture his lips, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth. He whines into your lips, sliding his large palms along the length of your curves. He tugs your pajama shirt over your head, breaking the kiss only to toss it aside before he pulls you back to him.

Parting from the kiss to catch your breath, you trail the tips of your fingers down his broad chest, past his chiseled abdomen, until your featherlight touch reaches the waist of his sweatpants. His cock noticeably jumps beneath you and oh how Satoru yearns to submit wholly to you, to be yours and let you do anything you wish to him.

Satoru’s pupils are blown with desire, his jaw slightly ajar as he stares at the swell of your breasts, admiring the way you look on top of him, so pretty. You smirk at his reaction to a simple drag of your fingers along his skin, wondering what else you can elicit from him now that you have him laid out beneath you.

Now that you’ve tested the waters, you cup Gojo’s face gently as you press a kiss to his lips before sitting up on your knees to shimmy out of your shorts and panties. Satoru thinks he may actually be seeing stars when your fingers card through his hair and you sit on his face. You sharply inhale when he moans at the taste of your pussy, at being used by you and the way his lips vibrate from the guttural noise sends white hot lust straight to your core.

“Shit, Toru-” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he laps at your entrance, pressing chaste kisses to your clit that have you whimpering as you rock your hips forward with need. The additional pressure you place on him that restricts his breathing subtly sends him into a haze of pure lust as he tightens his grip on your thighs and plunges his tongue between your folds.

As you pant and fist his hair harder, Satoru’s tongue delves deeper until he’s tongue-fucking you so well you’re seeing stars. “T-Toru- hah- don’t stop,” you pant, legs trembling as he eats you so expertly you’d think he’s a professional. With how many times he’s eaten you out, he may as well be. He still knows exactly what you like as he nudges your clit with his nose, sending sparks through your body like only he knows how to.

Grinding harder against his tongue, Satoru relishes in the sounds of your pleasured pants and moans mixing with the obscene squelching of his practiced tongue as your gummy walls pulse around him. He can tell you’re close by the way you grip him, the way you tug his hair and subtly restrict his breathing between your thighs in an effort to chase your high.

Your stomach tightens and twists as you hurtle closer to the edge and you lean forward, eyes locking with the definition of an angel beneath you. “Look at me, Toru,” you pant between pleasured mewls. One look from those lust-blown eyes sends you over the edge and you collapse forward as your body trembles and shakes.

With languid licks up your folds, Satoru draws out every last drop of your orgasm, eagerly drinking up every last bit until you weakly push his head back into the mattress out of overstimulation. His lips are parted as he pants weakly in an effort to catch his breath.

“Tastes so good,” Satoru moans from beneath you. You take the opportunity to push yourself back up and slide down his torso somewhat to look at him, shooting him a lopsided smile. He grins back at you, slick dripping down his chin.

“You’re still so good with your tongue,” you whisper in a sultry voice. He swallows hard, his abs noticeably tensing beneath your thighs as his cock jumps. All these years and you had absolutely no idea Satoru got off so much on praise. “Such a good boy,” you purr, testing just what sets him off.

Immediately, his fingers tighten bruisingly on your thighs and he whimpers. “Please, baby. I need you.”

Your lips curl into a devious smirk as you slide down his body until you’re on your knees at the base of the bed. Satoru sits with his legs thrown over the edge and a look of pure eager desire as he watches the way you slowly leave a trail of kisses up his thighs.

There’s a noticeable wet spot on his gray sweatpants from where his cock is steadily leaking with pre-cum and you tease the spot with a kitten lick and a glance up at him. Satoru whines, relieved when you tug his sweatpants down to the floor, his blue boxers following shortly after. His cock springs to attention, the tip swollen and leaking for you.

Just as he thinks you’ll bring him relief, you duck your head down to kiss a trail up his inner thighs once more. Satoru mewls, babbling out a needy “please- please, sweetheart, please,” as he attempts to direct your lips to his jerking cock.

The sound of his begging is intoxicating but you want to drag out the pleasure for you both. “Let me take care of you, Toru,” you hum, pulling away when he attempts to move his hand to your hair. He lets out a broken groan as his hand goes back to the bed, gripping the blankets beneath with enough force to turn his knuckles white. “Good boy,” you purr.

Satoru’s breath hitches, pre-cum leaking from his cock as it jumps again, aching for your touch. Sparing him of your teasing, you finally swirl your tongue over his swollen tip. He lets out a tortured groan, his abs contracting with the effort of not immediately cumming onto your lips, so needy for you that he’s not sure he can last.

“Sh- Shit,” he whispers, watching intently as you lick a stripe up his length so slowly that he mewls. The amount of time he’s spent fantasizing about this moment is shameful, really, and now that it’s here, he’s sent into a frenzy. His thighs are twitching, abdomen clenching with the effort of not blowing his load immediately.

“Tell me what you want, Toru,” you whisper, your breath ghosting warm over his leaky tip.

“Need you, baby, need your lips on me so bad, please pleasepleaseplease-” he babbles out, swallowing his broken moan when you teasingly kiss his tip, chasing after his desperate reactions. Pleased with his begging, you take his cock between your lips, sinking down slowly over him as you take him to the hilt.

His cock nestles into the back of your throat as you choke on his length. Bobbing your head as you set a slow pace, Satoru’s brain turns to mush as pleasure courses through his body. You take him so well and he’s already careening dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm, abs clenching as he throws his head back when your pace picks up. What sends him over the edge is the feeling of your little hum when you take him down to the hilt again.

His hand reaches out to hold you steady as a broken cry leaves his lips when his orgasm comes crashing over him suddenly, cock pulsing as he paints your throat with his arousal. You swallow it with a hum that makes his whole body jolt. He gently pulls your lips from his cock, leaning back on his hands as he comes down from his climax.

A chaste kiss left on his cock makes him shiver. Glassy eyes meet yours, pleasure swirling within the barely visible blues of them. “Such a tease,” he murmurs before pushing himself up the bed and flopping down on his back.

He smirks at you as you slide back on top of him, your wet cunt grinding over his hardened length. “So fuckin’ gorgeous,” he groans, warm hands coming to rest on your hips. Rocking your hips back and forth as you chase the friction you so desperately crave, Satoru throws his head back. “Fuuuuuck, pretty. So fuckin’ good.”

You lean down to kiss him, slowing your ministrations as you capture his lips in a heated kiss laced with your own desperation. His tongue eagerly explores your mouth again, the taste of him fresh on your lips. Every second of you on top of him sends him into a spiral of glossy-eyed pleasure that he hopes he can bask in for the rest of his life.

When you pull back suddenly, he whines, sitting up on his elbows to watch your movements as you slide down the bed with a predatory gaze. His lashes flutter as you intently watch his reaction while you spit on his swollen cock head. His jaw hangs slightly open and he groans when you use your thumb to spread the saliva down his shaft.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans unevenly between shallow breaths. His length jerks as you slowly pump your hand, so slowly it’s painful. “Baby, ne-need you,” he babbles, bucking his hips to chase the friction of your hand.

You grin, kissing his tip. “Yeah, Toru?” You purr, reveling in the way he turns to putty in your hand. “Think you’ve been a good boy for me?”

“Mhm. Wanna cum inside you,” he pants, raking his hands through your hair.

Your breath hitches as you crawl back up his body and position yourself over his twitching length. You don’t have the strength to tease him anymore, more for your own sake than his.

“Please,” he begs once more, leaking pre-cum as he waits to feel your walls squeeze him. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, this is entirely different. This is full of a new kind of desperation, full of a new kind of adoration as you grip Satoru’s shoulders tightly while sinking down on his cock slowly. Satoru’s long thickness makes you moan as you break past the first ring of resistance.

Your pussy is heaven for Satoru, a moment he’s dreamt of so long he has half a mind to pinch himself to make sure this isn’t the world’s most vivid wet dream, but he’s entirely too fucked out to manage a sane thought.

“So tight, love,” Satoru moans, his grip bruising on your hips. Every bone in his body begs him to fuck up into you, desperate to feel your gummy walls milk him. 

You hold still for a moment as you adjust to his length, whimpering at the feeling of his cock twitching within you. As the pain of the stretch turns to pleasure, you begin to rock your hips slowly, leaning back on his cock as it brushes your g spot and bliss floods your body.

Suddenly snapping, Satoru grips you tightly as he matches your rhythm and rocks his hips in tandem with yours. Every stroke of his cock within you pushes you both closer to the edge and as your nails rake his chest, you can hardly manage a coherent sentence.

“Toru- so big-” you moan, your pussy fluttering on his length as he needily whines along with your words.

“Shit, not gonna last long baby, I’m-” he watches your heavenly expression as you whimper and babble through your own words, both glassy-eyed and fucked out. He can tell you aren’t far behind him in spite of how teasing you’ve been all night, increasing the pace that he rolls his hips at until he feels your cunt pulse and your orgasm hits you like a wave.

You hunch over on him, your pace slowing to a halt. Your body trembles with the strength of your climax and your walls milk Satoru’s orgasm from him at the same time. “Fuck- nngh- feelsogood-!” He slows his rhythm as he works wave after wave of both climaxes out, chest panting from the overwhelming feeling of reaching such a high with you.

The sounds of your breaths fill the room as blood roars in your ears. After a moment of catching your breath, your eyes flutter open to find Satoru already staring up at you. His eyes are glazed in pleasure, but the look of pure adoration is what makes your heart flip. If your cheeks weren’t already flushed, you’re certain the look he’s giving you would have that effect.

“Toru?” You breathe, staring down at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers as his breathing begins to steady. You can’t help the grin that spreads over your features as you giggle at the man beneath you. Both of you so clearly spent in the afterglow of sex, and he’s being entirely too cute with his cock still nestled deep within you.

Sucking a breath through your teeth, you push yourself off of him, flopping down on the bed at his side as his slick drips from your folds and paints your thighs.

Comfortable silence settles between you both as you bask in the moment. Sparrows sing outside the window and the faint sound of distant traffic breaks through what’s otherwise a silent room. Your mind wanders to every moment in the past where Satoru shot you a longing gaze, where his words implied more than just friends. To each moment where you had brushed him off, assuming he was just pushing your buttons because that’s just how he is.

Now, each one of those moments held a different, new meaning. You turn your head to take in the sight of Satoru. He looks angelic in the morning light with his hair slightly disheveled, skin warmed by the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

“Where do we go from here?” You ask suddenly, pulling his attention to you.

Cerulean irises take in the sight of you just as you had done for him. It takes him a moment to reply, admiring your features and committing your face to memory as though he might lose you if he utters the wrong words. “As long as you’re by my side, I’ll go anywhere.”

“Satoru that’s… Cheesy and not what I meant,” you giggle. “But I’d love to start with a date. I know it won’t begin to make it up to you, but-”

“Sweetheart. Stop,” Satoru leans up on an elbow, kissing you so softly you would assume he thinks you’re glass. “I forgive you. I forgave you the moment I saw your pretty face last night.”

“Toru, please, let me make it up to you-”

“I forgive you. I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. Okay? Stop worrying.” He peppers kisses over your face amid playful giggles as he speaks, eyes warm with mirth.

“Let me take you out, then. Just- Let me do something, at least,” you insist.

“Yeah, gonna plan something, baby?” Satoru smirks, pressing a kiss to your collar. You nod eagerly. “Sounds like a plan, then.”

Sitting up, Satoru shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. Quietly, you admire the musculature of his back and arms, smiling to yourself. You have to consider yourself lucky that you have this chance at all, grateful you didn’t miss your opportunity with the angelic man.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Satoru hums as he bounds to his feet. In spite of his own tiredness, there’s a pep in his step that makes you grin.

“Satoru?” You call after him before he can disappear, sitting up on the bed. He pokes his head back around the corner, giving you his full attention. “Since we’re doing everything out of order anyways, uh-” you hesitate for a moment, not because you doubt what you’re about to say, but because you don’t want to scare him off. “I love you.” Although it’s an admission you made last night as well, without the tension of the prior night it holds a new meaning.

His expression softens but his eyes seem to glow as he grins. Giddily, he quickly makes his way back to your side and kisses you with all the passion in the world. “I love you too, you gorgeous, wonderful, maybe a bit sticky girl.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Did you have to mention the sticky part?”

Bounding back over to the ensuite door, he hums affirmatively. “Yeah, if you keep calling me back and don’t let me clean you up.”

And with that, he disappears to grab a warm cloth as you stare with a smile at the place where he just stood. You sigh to yourself at how goofy Satoru has remained over the years, always the butt of the joke and the life of the party.

Now you think he just might be the light of your life too.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; i don't know what happened this was meant to be like. 3k words of pure smut. but here we are so i hope you enjoyed! ♡ writing sub!gojo was a CHALLENGE for me it's not my usual thing so i hope i did it justice. as always likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated :))

𓉸 taglist ; currently open. please comment here or on the masterlist to be tagged in the rest of my kinktober work ♡ @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens @r0ckst4rjk

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby names

in which spencer comforts you after you wake from a good dream about becoming a mother

fluff! warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader sort of wants to be a mom sort of doesn't, they discuss having a child in the future, talk of pregnancy stuff, I think that's it! a/n: another short sweet fluff piece that is by no means going to get me a pulitzer but is cute nonetheless!! love u!!! let me know if u enjoyed!!

Spencer wasn’t in the room when you fell asleep into an impromptu nap, induced by the pattering rain, the low light of your bedside lamp, the warmth of your favorite throw blanket—but he is when you wake up. Home from work, sprawled on the bed next to you, long legs crossed and as close as he thought he could get without disturbing your slumber. 

“You came home,” you whisper groggily, curling into his side and letting your sleepy eyes flutter shut again. 

He pulls you closer against him, rubbing your arm. “I always do.” A low, affectionate chuckle that buzzes from his chest and dizzies you. “You tired?”

You hum a distant affirmation. Visions of diaphanous pink, of sweet cooing, of a haloed Spencer doused in warm light and smiling down at a some blanket-bundled creature in his arms, still burn behind your eyelids, fading with every passing second. The gentle classical music you’d been playing earlier now blends with the sound of evening rain tapping ceaselessly against the window. Spencer is warm next to you, scent familiar and comforting and only contributing to your drowsiness—but a lingering sort of sadness still claws at your stomach. Emptiness. It bites like a shock of icy water. It’s just a small thing. You feel silly for being upset, but you are upset, and you want to tell him. 

“I had weird dreams.”

Spencer offers a hum of his own (perhaps a habit you’d picked up from him) and you open your eyes, watching him watch the rain. The stark angle of his jaw, the sweet slope of his nose. Any baby he had a hand in creating would be absolutely cherubic. “You know, Carl Jung said dreams are hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”

You fiddle with the knit of his sweater, and he covers your hand with his own, looking back down at you, deep eyes full of easy contentment. Like as long as you’re together, he can’t imagine a thing to be worried about. 

“Wait—the dreams are the door? Where does the door go?”

His brows pinch slightly as he recalls what is no doubt an exact quotation. 

“Uh—he said they led to a primeval cosmic night, that is soul long before there was conscious ego, and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”

You frown, sleepy head aching as you twist your brain into knots trying to decode the ornate language. “Was he the weird incest-y one?”

Spencer chuckles again. “Nope. That was Freud. Jung was essentially saying that there is something primal and instinctual about our dreams. He said they were our way of accessing the unconscious, which can process things the conscious psyche can’t, and our consciousness was a ship on the great sea of unconsciousness.”

“You’re losing me, Dr. Reid.”

The corner of his mouth flickers up. 

“He just meant they offered us an unbiased look at our lives. Our desires, our needs, unburdened by conscious ego.”

Our desires. Our needs. 

You chew your lip. 

“What does dreaming about having a baby mean?”

You say it because Spencer is your closest friend as well as your partner and you trust him completely with every thought in your head—but the way his hand pauses on your arm makes you nervous. 

He takes a moment to dissect your answer, digging for a hidden meaning like a precious gem, and then, once he decides there are no landmines, proceeds cautiously. 

“Well… some people say that a baby in your dream is a representation of you. It could indicate a desire to nurture, or a need to be nurtured.” Again you make a noise of vague acknowledgement. His hand starts back up again on your arm, and he delves gently deeper. “Why? Did you dream about having a baby?”

For a moment, you can only nod. Suddenly you’re choked up, releasing an exhaled, “Yeah,” as tears cloud your vision. He gives you a moment, just holding you as you try to find the words to continue. “It felt really real. I mean—I think I knew it wasn’t, but I was so happy that I didn’t care. I—she—” You laugh tearfully. “I’m being ridiculous, I know, I just… I miss her. Is that crazy?”

“That’s not crazy,” he says quietly. A stretch of silence follows, and the brief deluge of tears fades to trickling stop. Spencer is probably used to you enough so that he’s not surprised when you huff dramatically, trying to dispel your melancholia with a hefty dose of drama. 

“I wanna have a baby!”

Your boyfriend releases a surprised laugh as you bury your head against his chest, but it only takes him half a second to root his hand in your hair and hold you there. 

“Because of your dream?”

“Yes!” You sniffle into his sweater. “She was so perfect, ’nd sweet. I wanna have a baby so much.”

“With who?”

You look up at him tearfully and visibly frustrated. His eyes betray only fondness. “You, Spencer! Who else?”

“No one! No one else.”

You collapse again, satisfied with his answer. 

“You were such a good dad. It was—oh my god, you were so happy. You were holding her, and smiling at her, and—can we please have a baby?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, half chuckle, voice tinged with pity. His hand sweeps over and over your hair in a soothing pattern. 

You pout, hiding even further away against him. “That’s not an answer.”

“We can’t have a baby right this second, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“Why not?”

He hums, pretending to consider the question, hand still carding gently through your locks, detangling. 

“You’re not pregnant, for one thing.”

“I might be.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could be.”

He angles your head up, smiling. Those warm brown eyes of his are full to the brim with sparkly affection. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“No, I’m saying, we could have a baby.”

The curve of his mouth lessens though doesn’t entirely dissipate, and the subtle lines next to his eyes soften as he regards you. There are a thousand reasons you shouldn’t have a baby right now, but Spencer knows you know that, and it’s still not what you want to hear right this second. 

“We could.”

He’s not being serious, but your heart flutters anyway. 

“Really?”

“Sure. Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Spencer. I’m not joking. You’re not taking me seriously.”

Spencer pulls you closer, and though you’re mildly annoyed, you allow it with a huff. 

“I am taking you seriously. Like the plague.”

“I know you want kids.”

“I do.”

“We can have kids.”

“Angel. We have time. I believe that you want a baby, and I’m overjoyed that you want one with me. And you know we’d need more time to talk about it.”

Of course, you probably will change your mind tomorrow, and again the next day, and Spencer will love you then and every time you change your mind thereafter. 

“Do you love me?” You ask softly, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand and not looking at him. Just to make sure. His eyes are liquid adoration on you. 

“More than anything in the whole world.” And maybe, you think, you’re okay with keeping it that way. For just a bit longer, at least. Spencer squeezes your arm. “I do think you’ll get to meet her again one day. I’ll get to meet her.”

You smile to yourself, imagining your little dreamy baby girl back in your arms. “One day.”

He kisses the top of your head. 

“Did we name her in your dream?”

“Elizabeth. But only because in my dream your mom’s name was Elizabeth, for some reason? I don’t… I can’t explain that.”

“Hm... I love my mom, but I don't know if I'd want to name my baby Diana. Feels too prophetic.”

“Hold on, I have like, a hundred baby name ideas. Can you hand me my phone? I’m gonna tell you all of them. First and middle name combinations.”

Spencer reaches for your phone on the side table. “Boy and girl?”

You scoff, settling into the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder, so he can see your phone screen. 

“We’re not having a boy, Spencer.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You smile and tangle your legs with his, searching through your notes app with your non-dominant hand for your list of ridiculous baby names. 

“I can’t believe you would even suggest that. You're obviously going to be a girl dad.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so glad I'm not pregnant because you’re clearly not ready. You have a lot to learn. Okay, how does Artemisia Valencia October Reid sound to you?”

You’re lucky he loves you so much.

[pochaccoups]

cw — nsfw minors dni, possessive reader, reader referred to as a woman, oral (f receiving), mention of breeding, creampie, i need other people to stop perceiving my man

Some days dating an idol is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Other days you’re reminded that millions, maybe even tens of millions, of other people want him. You’re reminded by the Instagram comments, videos, Tweets, news articles that fawn over him, all of which garner thousands of views and likes from other people who agree—he’s the perfect man. Strong and buff and hot and kind and gorgeous.

They’re not dating him though. You are. And it’s not that you’re insecure—far from it, in fact, because of Seungcheol’s attentiveness—but sometimes when your feed is riddled with things like fancalls where your boyfriend has been trained to play along as a fan’s boyfriend, you just need a little reassurance.

One of the things you love about dating Seungcheol is that for you he’s built a space where you can be entirely honest with him about any anxieties you have. It means that when you do need his reassurance, you don’t hesitate in voicing it.

“Seungcheol, you’re mine right?”

“I hope so,” he quips, scrolling along on his laptop. Unfortunately for you, he’s too accustomed to your clinginess, which means that sometimes he fails to recognise what you want to hear from him.

You swat at his shoulder like an irritated cat. “Tell me you’re mine.”

He looks at you then and realises you’re being entirely serious.

“Why wouldn’t I be yours? Did I do something?” he asks, now shutting his laptop over. Whatever schedule he’d been emailed about gets shoved to the very back of his brain, replaced with only you.

“No, I just-”

“I can’t have a conversation with someone without bringing you up, and you think I’m not yours?” he says, reaching forward to wrap his hands around yours. His thumbs rub circles into your skin because you’ve told him once or twice how comforting you find it.

“I panic if I don’t have the Hello Kitty cherry keychain you got me when I go overseas, and you think I’m not yours?”

You giggle, growing suddenly shy at his words. His ability to woo you with his words even after two years is impressive, though it shouldn’t be a surprise when his suave and charming attitude was what pulled you to him in the first place.

You give a yelp as he tugs you into his lap without warning, presses you flush against his hard body with the strong hands you love so much.

“I’ve been looking at a ring for you, and you think I’m not yours?”

Your mouth parts with bewilderment and your heart skips a beat, though you barely have the time to comprehend the implications of his confession because he’s ghosting his lips against the curve of your neck.

“Have I not been good at showing it? Is that it?” he asks, grazing his teeth against your skin. You’re under his spell already, eyes rolling into your head as you grow breathless. His palms are hot, gliding under your t-shirt—his t-shirt—sending a shiver along your spine. “Or is my princess just clingy?”

You pull away from him just to pout in his face, but his glassy eyes are dark with desire and it means you don’t stand a chance. Not when his hands have moved to your thighs, inching their way between your legs, rubbing softly at your clothed crotch in a way that has you bracing against him immediately.

“Tell me, baby,” he urges, ghosting his lips against your neck, turning you into a puddle with such ease that it’s embarrassing.

“I want you to show me, Cheol,” you admit. Despite the quiver in your voice, you’re stern. “Show me you’re mine.”

He wastes no time tearing your shorts and panties down your legs, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you, and diving straight between your legs.

He eats you like a man starved, laps at your clit like it’s life or death, peers up at you with hearts in his eyes as you moan and cry so sweetly it makes his dick swell in no time.

Seungcheol has you all mapped out; knows you like the back of his hand. He knows exactly how you’ll whine when he sucks on your clit, how you’ll tug at his hair when he glides his tongue through your folds, how you’ll buck your hips when he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue because you need more.

“More, Cheol,” you cry, echoing his thoughts. So predictable.

He grins against your cunt, pulling back just to let a little glob of saliva drop on it before his mouth latches onto you again. Seungcheol eats you out with a determination that’s dangerous. He’s aware of the telltale signs of your impending orgasm; your moans growing higher and your body unable to stop shifting, and when he knows you’re close, he’ll stop at nothing to give you what you want. What you need.

His tongue grows ruthless, dragging over every inch of your pussy with vigour until you’re crying his name at the top of your lungs and your fingernails are digging into the roots of his hair. He finally lets up a little, just enough so as not to overstimulate you as you cum, and he’s lapping up every drop of your arousal like he hasn’t seen water in weeks.

“I’ll never get over how sweet you taste, fuck,” he utters between the sounds of him slurping at your cunt, and it’s so lewd that your entire body flashes hot.

“Need you in me, baby, please,” you whimper, watching your boyfriend pull away from you with glistening, swollen lips, with his chin and cheeks covered in you. He’s quick to shrug his pants and boxers down his legs, frenzied almost, like he’ll die if he’s not touching you.

Seungcheol leans over you to melt his lips against yours. He’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth in a way that should be overbearing, but there’s an underlying tenderness in the way he kisses you that feels more like he’s pouring his love into you.

“Yours,” he mumbles against your lips. You flinch when he glides his cock along your sensitive cunt, bumps your swollen clit because he can’t help but torture you just a little when you’re all splayed out for him so pretty. His tip catches your hole, making you keen when he still doesn’t slip inside.

“Seungcheol,” you whine, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him in closer. His face softens when he sees how badly you need it, when he remembers that he’s not making you work for anything, because he has one job and one job only right now—to show you he’s all yours.

In one fluid motion, he slides all the way in, buries himself in you to the absolute hilt like it’s his home, the stretch so good you practically sob. He wastes no time, fucking you with tenacity, letting go of any semblance of self-control the second he feels the warmth of your cunt wrapped around him.

“God, how could I be anyone else’s when this is the pussy I get?” he grunts, fingertips gripping at your hips, guiding you along his fat cock so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head. “My fucking dream woman.”

“You fuck me so good, Cheollie,” you moan, your fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tugging at the slightly grown out hair there. You pull him in close, your face next to his so your breaths can intertwine, and you whisper, “all mine?”

“All yours. Only yours,” he replies, his thrusts growing faster, harder, more erratic, more debauched from how your pussy grips him, sucks him in. “Let me fill you up, baby. I’ll give you everything.”

You whine at the thought, making him hiss when you clamp down around his cock, but he refuses to slow his pace. In fact, he only fucks you harder into the couch. “Please, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll put my kids in your belly, huh? Will that convince you?”

You nod your head frantically. “Want it, Cheol.”

He only replies with a moan of his own, taking your hands in his and pinning them to the couch. His cock throbs, your cunt dripping wet as you both near the edge of your release.

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks, strained, like he’s holding himself back.

You only nod again, and Seungcheol’s thumb finds your clit, drawing circles until finally he unwinds the knot inside your belly, and you cum with another cry of his name, your walls clenching around him so harshly that he’s spilling inside of you not a moment later.

The kiss he gives you after is so contrastingly soft that you nearly pass out, but it’s the most Choi Seungcheol characteristic you can think of—to fuck you like an animal and kiss you like a loving boyfriend after.

“I love you,” he says, his voice still husky with his orgasm, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his words.

“I love you more,” you reply, smiling like the angel you’re not.

“Not possible.”

“Oh? I don’t believe you, so I guess you’ll just have to show me again.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. He pretends to be unamused. He loves it though. He loves being yours.

[notlongtolove]

in the woods

three photos. three crime scenes. three notes. slowly, then all at once, it hits you. you know these words. you’ve read these words before. why do you know these words? where have you read them before? this work is part of the little red cap series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff?

content: very brief mentions of a crime scene and blood. lit student reader helps spencer put together a clue he missed.

word count: 2.6k

note: this idea was truly so random but if you like it and are interested to see a p2 that includes her meeting the team feel free to lmk! i would love to develop this story but im having mad writers block rn lol anyways the linked poem is amazing, one of my favourites.

a line: Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit.

But then I was young – and it took ten years In the woods to tell that a mushroom Stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds Are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf Howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out- carol ann duffy

Spencer’s distracted tonight. You noticed it the moment he breezed past you, pressing a distracted kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the study. Normally, you’d give him space, let him untangle the thoughts on his own, but it’s past midnight now, and you’ve decided enough is enough.

“Spence,” you call softly from the doorway. 

He doesn’t look up.

​​You take a breath and step inside, the floorboards cool under your bare feet. The study feels foreign to you. You’re hardly ever in here despite Spencer’s gentle efforts to make space for you after you’d started spending more time at his place. He’d cleared half of the mahogany desk for your own books and files—a space now claimed by a few framed photos of the two of you from last year’s Christmas market.

You’ve always preferred his bed over the confines of this room, the comfort of his sheets beneath you, his bedside table the perfect coaster for your copious cups of coffee as you slog over your essays. The study always felt too still, almost stifling. It’s the kind of quiet that breeds overthinking, though Spencer thrives in it—Especially when it’s work.

Which it does seem to be tonight, judging by the furrow of his brow and the way his hands are clasped, tense, as he pours over the file in front of him. You cross the remaining space and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, thumb moving in soothing circles. 

“Hey,” you murmur, leaning down to speak into the curve of his neck. He reaches up absently, fingers threading into your hair, but his eyes stay fixed on the contents on the desk. 

“Come to bed,” you whisper, quieter this time, softer, as though you might coax him away if you’re gentle enough. 

He murmurs something you don’t quite catch, his focus still locked on the papers. You frown, the corners of your mouth tugging downward as you try again, this time layering your voice with the soft insistence you know he can’t resist.

“Please?”

That gets him. He sighs, the sound heavy, before slowly swivelling his chair around to face you. There’s a small flicker of satisfaction in your chest—still got it, you think, though his tired eyes make it hard to fully savour the victory.

“Soon, honey,” he says, soft and apologetic, but it’s not enough for you.

“Missed you today,” you murmur, stepping closer.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, reaching out to pull you into him. His arms wrap around your waist as he presses his face into your stomach, breathing you in like you’re the first fresh air he’s had all day. And with the day he’s had, you might as well be. 

“It’s almost 1,” you remind him gently, brushing a strand of his hair back. “And you haven’t even showered.”

He makes a sound—somewhere between a groan and a half-hearted protest. Probably indignation, though he doesn’t bother to articulate it. When he finally lifts his head to look at you, your chest tightens. He looks so so tired. Handsome, always, but tonight, the weariness in his eyes is impossible to miss.

“Aw, honey,” you coo, voice soft with affection. “C’mere.”

It’s ironic, considering you’re the one climbing into his lap. The chair protests under your combined weight with a faint creak, but neither of you care. Just your presence alone is a comfort that Spencer accepts all too willingly. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you closer and burying his face into you, fingers toying with the edges of your—his shirt.

“Tough case?” you ask quietly, your fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He nods defeatedly, the motion slow and heavy, like even that small acknowledgment takes too much out of him.

“He’s already—” Spencer sighs, low and weary. “Already killed three women. And the profile is… flimsy at best.”

You nod quietly, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his shoulder. Though crime-solving and criminal profiling aren’t your expertise, the weight of what he carries is never lost on you. You’ve come to know the signs all too well.

You see it in the way he comes home after cases like this—silent, drained, his body curling into yours. You hear it in his voice when his worry spills over during arguments, like the time he snapped at you for drinking too much on a night out after a brutal final. It wasn’t out of anger but fear, raw, born from the evils he sees every day. He’d never explicitly linked it to the horrors of his work, but you didn’t need to be a profiler to piece it together. 

“You’ll catch him,” you say softly, keeping your voice steady despite the knot tightening in your stomach. “You guys always do.”

Spencer sighs, releasing one hand from your waist to rub the bridge of his nose. “There’s something off,” he mutters, words tinged with frustration. “I just... I can’t figure out what it is.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?” you offer gently, watching his face for any sign of what he needs.

He manages a faint, tired smile and shakes his head. “I’d rather not,” he murmurs.

You nod, letting it go. Spencer tries, always, to keep that part of his life separate from you. But even you know some things are impossible to leave behind. Shadows don’t adhere to boundaries. They’re stubborn and heavy, sometimes seeping into the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is try your best to hold him together when that weight gets too much to bear. Leaning into him, you rest your head against his, the silence between you filled with a kind of unspoken understanding.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Spencer whispers after a moment, as though he can sense your quiet disappointment at not being able to do more. His arm tightens around your waist as though anchoring himself. You press a soft kiss to his temple, a quiet gesture of acknowledgement.

“Now,” you say, standing up. Spencer leans forward instinctively, unwilling to let the warmth of you go. “Shower?”

He glances between you and the desk strewn with papers, hesitation in his face. “After I—”

“Nope,” you interrupt, grabbing both his hands and gently pulling him to his feet. “I’ll handle this,” you say, gesturing to the chaos on the desk. “You,” you point toward him, then toward the bathroom, “Shower. Now.”

Spencer lets out a long-suffering sigh, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “Bossy,” he teases softly.

“Maybe,” you reply, a playful glint in your eyes. “But you love me.”

Without missing a beat, Spencer wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Wow,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tone warm and teasing. “Bossy and smart. How did I get so lucky?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling, nudging him lightly toward the bathroom. “Go,” you say, laughing. “Before I add ‘violent’ to that list.” At that, Spencer tears his arms away from your waist, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he backs slowly toward the door. “Go!” you laugh again, shaking your head at him before turning your attention to the desk strewn with papers.

You turn your attention back to the desk surveying the organized chaos, trying to piece together how he usually files them. The thin sheets—pale and slightly crumpled—belong in the manila folder. The thicker briefs, stapled neatly, go in the black case. And the photos…

Huh. 

Your hand pauses mid-reach, brow furrowing as your eyes fall on the glossy prints. You tilt your head. Something about them feels—almost… familiar, maybe. You stop to lay them out side by side, studying them more closely. 

Three photos. Three crime scenes. Three notes. 

The first note reads, ‘I burn.’ The words are scrawled haphazardly, the letters jagged and uneven.

The second is darker, more ominous, ‘Your knife.’ Its edges marked by splatters of blood.

The third is the most unsettling of all. Just two words. ‘All alone.’ Stark and final. 

Slowly, then all at once, it hits you. 

You know these words. You’ve read these words before. 

Why do you know these words? Where have you read them before?

It gnaws at you. The exhaustion you felt earlier is long gone as you find yourself sinking into Spencer’s chair. Your fingers trace the edges of the prints as you try to piece together your fragments of memory. You don’t know how much time has passed since you first laid eyes on the photos until Spencer calls to you from the bedroom.

“In here,” you answer absently.

When he steps into the doorway, your heart flutters despite yourself. He’s a sight to behold—hair damp, shirt slightly clinging to his chest, a towel draped over his shoulders as he dries his hair.

“Hey,” he says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Why’re you still in here?”

“Got distracted,” you murmur, gesturing to the desk.

“Intriguing, huh?”

“She definitely is,” you reply, almost without thinking.

“I don’t know when he’ll strike next—” he starts, then stops abruptly. His expression shifts, his gaze sharpening as he looks at you. 

“What’d you just say?”

“Hm?” You blink, finally meeting his eyes.

“You said ‘she’s’ intriguing,” he repeats, stepping closer now. “You think the unsub’s a she?”

“Isn’t she?” you say, frowning at the question. “I could definitely use a lot of other words to describe her, but…” your voice uncertain.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, the poems, for one—I mean, they’re all about hurt and enraged women,” you explain. “And signing off with them? That’s definitely not not intriguing…” You trail off, puzzled by the sudden gravity of the conversation. 

Spencer goes rigid, every muscle in his body locking up. “Poems?” 

“Yeah,” you say, your voice small now, “The notes. They’re all closing words of Duffy’s poems. I thought you—Did you not…” 

Your words trail off as you see his face harden, eyes widening as the weight of your words hits him. 

“Oh my god.” Your hands fly to your mouth as the realization hits you, the pieces suddenly falling into place. “You didn’t know.”

Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit. He’s already moving towards the desk, the towel falling unnoticed to the floor. “Show me,” he says, urgency in his voice. You get up quickly, wanting to make room, but he stops you. “No, you sit,” he says, eyes locked on the notes. “Show me.”

“Okay, okay.” You steady yourself before pointing to the first note. “Um, look, this one, ‘I burn.’ It’s from her poem Warming Her Pearls. She’s a maid who secretly pines for her mistress. She loves her but, well, she can’t be with her cause they’re from different societies.” You look up at him expectantly. “It’s about class inequality and…”

“Unrequited love.” Spencer finishes gravely, his voice low but certain.

“Right, exactly.” You glance up at him, searching his face for understanding. Spencer nods, taking it in, and you move on to the next. 

“And then this one, ‘Your knife.’ It’s from Valentine. The speaker, she doesn’t want the usual valentine gifts, so she gives an onion instead. But… she says it’ll make the receiver cry, because well, onions do that. It’s a basically a metaphor for love, how—” You take a deep breath, your throat tightening. “How dangerous it can become.”

Spencer stays quiet, but his eyes are fixed on you. His hand finds your back, giving a reassuring, gentle rub.

You hesitate before pointing to the last note. “And this one, ‘All alone.’” You swivel the chair around to face him fully, the tension in your chest growing. “I wasn’t sure about the first two, but when I saw this, I knew.”

“Little Red Cap,” Spencer finishes for you, his voice tinged with self-reproach. “Your favourite. God, why didn’t I see this?”

You nod, your voice softening. “Yeah. The opening poem of The World’s Wife. She uses Red Riding Hood to explore growing up, losing innocence and… well, you know the rest.”

Spencer’s lips press into a thin line as he nods grimly. “The wolf represents someone older, predatory. A lover.”

“Yeah, and she uh,” you say, barely a whisper. “She kills him.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “How did I not—How’d you—” If the situation weren’t so dire, you might have joked about never expecting to hear those words from Spencer Reid. Instead, you force a shrug, casual, as if your analysis hadn’t just reshaped everything. “TA-ed a few classes on Duffy,” you say grimly.

The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until Spencer crouches down in front of you. His sharp eyes soften as they meet yours. “You’re… you’re incredible, you know that?” His tone is low, reverent. He presses a brief, warm kiss to your forehead before standing, running a hand through his still-damp hair. Then his expression shifts, eyes darkening with urgency. “I need to make a call.” 

You nod silently, still curled up in his chair. You don’t trust your legs to carry you to the bed that’s one room over, not right now. Spencer steps away, his phone already pressed to his ear. It takes only a few moments before he starts speaking.

“Hotch,” he begins, “I think the unsub is a woman.”

The reply on the other end is muffled, but you can follow the conversation through Spencer’s responses.

“Poems, yeah—Carol Ann Duffy,” he says, pacing a few steps. “We’ve been looking for patterns in the wrong places.”

He pauses, listening, before adding, “How’d I—? Just… from a friend.”

His tone is careful, protective. You know Spencer doesn’t want his team knowing about you. When Spencer told you he wanted to keep his professional and personal lives separate, you didn’t understand at first. But after he’d opened up about what happened to his boss—how it shattered everyone—you stopped pushing. You understood then why he was so insistent on drawing those boundaries, even if it meant staying in the shadows of his world. 

You watch him, eyes tracing the way his jaw clenches, the restless motion of his fingers. “This is the lead we need. What—No, we don’t need to bring them in.” ​​You can see the moment his patience snaps.

“What we need is to focus on her work—her themes, her voice. It’ll give us insight into the unsub’s mindset. No, I—” Spencer’s tone sharpens, frustration creeping in as he rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. 

“I know this is important, I’m not saying it isn’t—” He stops mid-sentence, the voice on the other end cutting him off. His lips press into a thin line, and he exhales through his nose, fingers pinching the bridge. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone tense but resigned. 

“Okay.” He pauses for a beat, “We’ll—she’ll be there.”

As he hangs up, Spencer turns back to you, his expression carefully guarded. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks, tentative.

You have two lectures. “Nothing,” you say, the word slipping out easily. He frowns, uncertain. 

“Kristoff’s out sick, and Burton doesn’t care about attendance anyway,” you quickly lie. The tension in his face eases just slightly, but you can still see the hesitation in his eyes.

“Right, um, my boss,” You can sense a hint of nervous energy in the way he shifts his weight. “He wants us in at 8, sharp. I’ll drive.”

The apology is clear in his expression as he crouches down, taking your hands in his. “I know this isn’t exactly what you signed up for,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But... I know he wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” 

A simple, quiet “I know” is all you can manage.

You can tell he feels bad about dragging you into this. You definitely hadn’t imagined this would be your introduction to his world either—messy, intense, and impossibly heavy. And from this brief glimpse, you’re not sure if you’re ready for it after all.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ 'make me' with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: this is very suggestive lmao

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: this is a repost from my old blog! so if you feel like you've read this before, that's why :)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧

“Make you? Make you do what?” yes, he will play dumb to ‘make you’ use your words and elaborate.

Doesn’t do anything and acts oblivious until you actually say it, no matter how much he wants to.

Acts bubbly and normal like nothing even happened, laughing away without a care in the world while watching tiktoks or something. Unbothered.

The moment you do speak, something inside him snaps and he’s got you backed against a wall in moments, talking lowly over your lips while caressing your face.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧

Oh, he will. No matter the context or where you are, Minho will take your words as a challenge and do anything in his power to make you regret ever doubting him.

Gives you this specific look that makes you go weak in the knees, raising a single eyebrow before beckoning you closer.

Will whisper in your ear, giving you one more chance to back down while softly playing with a strand of your hair.

If you don’t do as he says, he will start whispering the dirtiest stuff with the straightest face, being content with just flustering you until you get home and he can finally ‘make you’.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧

Forget about teasing and playing dumb, Changbin will ‘make you’ instantly. He doesn’t play around.

Will also back you up against the nearest surface and cup your face, resting his forehead on yours with a smirk on his face.

He feels so smug and cocky when he sees you get shy and regret your words that he can’t help but find the whole situation amusing.

The power imbalance the moment provides feeds his ego so don’t expect to get away with this scot-free. Changbin will punish you thoroughly.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧

Raises an eyebrow and just…stares at you, blinking. Looks so unphased that you actually think he didn’t hear you at first.

But he did, and the moment you repeat yourself, he stands up to tower over you, fisting some of your hair in a makeshift ponytail to bring your face closer to his.

Licks his lips just to torture you a little more before finally pressing them to yours for a needy kiss, the soft action a straight contrast from the hold he still had on your hair.

When he pulls away, he repeats the words that got such an answer from you and expects you to finally listen, eyes sharp without any hint of playfulness in them.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧

Turns red instantly and his brain kind of short-circuits because he wasn’t really expecting that.

If this was said in the heat of the moment during an argument, all of the anger will leave his body and he will just…stand there, flustered.

His mind will be racing with all of the things he wants to do to you, some innocent, others not so much while he looks at you, licking his lips.

Jisung will be tongue-tied, wanting to say too many things at once so you have to be the one pulling him from his trance if you want something to happen.

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧

Felix will get the biggest smirk on his face, I swear. These are two of his favorite words after all.

He will make you do things you’ve never even dreamt of doing so be careful what you wish for.

Takes a hold of your hand and draws you closer until you’re a breath away, placing a sweet peck on your lips that somehow leaves you dizzy and desperate for more.

Then, his voice drops and you feel the vibration in your bones as he speaks. “Make you do what exactly? Tell me, in detail.”

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧

Oh, you want him to make you shut up? Say no more.

Will get up and actually go through all the trouble of getting a paper towel and shoving it in your mouth Minho style (I AM SO SORRY KSJDGNDF BUT HE WOULD)

That is if he isn’t in the mood to play your games. If he is, however, things would be completely different.

“Are you sure this is what you want? You might end up regretting it.”

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧

A tease from beginning to end. He won’t take you seriously at all I’m afraid.

Might even laugh in your face before making himself more comfortable in his seat, (man)spreading his legs before beckoning you closer with a single finger, amused.

Wants you to entertain him and if you don’t, he will ‘make you’.

Will place you in his lap and use his words to fluster you beyond belief, his fingertips ghosting over your skin sending shivers down your spine.

[coldfanbou]

Fair is Fair

We get to learn a little bit about Mina in this fic. Turns out she's a little needy.

Length 2.3K

Mina X Mreader

Previous Part

Once Chaeyoung had left your home, you lay on the couch, wanting nothing more than to relax when your phone began vibrating. It was a series of messages. “Why did Momo get a turn?” was the first one that got your attention. You wonder who would know about your night with Momo and Jihyo. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you open your messages. You scroll to the top and realize it’s Mina messaging you. The rest of her messages were her complaints about being left out.

“I’m not the one that decided that,” you reply.

“Well, I want a turn; it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone.” She texts back before she begins calling your phone. You pick up the phone and instantly hear Mina's voice come through, “It’s not fair that Momo gets to have fun with you. We share everything, and she shouldn’t be able to have fun with you alone.” she repeats, her voice high. Mina’s whines were odd to you. From the small amount of time you had spent together, she had acted much more like a lady, so her complaining like a bratty child was weird, for lack of a better word. 

“Mina, things just happened. What do you want me to do about it.”

“Tonight, you and I are going out, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Mina,”

“No, we’re going out.” Mina whines, the soft pounding of something heard in the background. On the other side of the phone, Mina kicked her feet against her bed, cheeks full of air as she pouted. “I want to go out tonight, and then we can spend the night at your place. Chaeyoung got to fuck you last night, why can’t I?” You question the last part, your mind working slowly until you figure out that the friend Chaeyoung had been talking about was, in fact, Mina.  “Chaeyoung was showing us pictures last night, and I couldn’t believe it was you. I want my turn now!” She whined, kicking her feet again. 

You reluctantly agree, too tired to put up a fight. “Alright, fine, but you plan the date.” 

“Really?” Mina almost shouts, the glee in her voice ringing out.

“Yes, give me the details, and I’ll meet you there.” You were already tired of the situation. You place your phone on the coffee table before shutting your eyes. 

When you wake up from your short nap you have several messages on your phone from Mina, including the time and place for your date. You check the clock and realize there isn’t much time left. You get yourself ready, already regretting giving in to Mina so easily. You head to the address Mina had sent you. Arriving at the address, you double-check to make sure it’s the right place. You question Mina’s choice of a Lego cafe, but soon enough, you see her arrive, standing outside the cafe and typing something out on her phone. Your phone buzzes a second later, “Where are you?” 

“Okay, guess this is the right place.” You say to yourself before getting out of the car. You walk up to Mina, who smiles when she sees you. She’s dressed casually, wearing oversized jeans and a hoodie.

“Let’s go!” Mina says, taking your hand and heading inside, grabbing a table for the two of you. 

“What kind of place is this Mina?”

“It’s a Lego cafe,” Mina says, stating the obvious.

“I know that, but why here? Why have the date here?”

“It’s fun,” Mina says, pulling out a set of legos from under her sweater. You feel like you’re in another world as Mina begins playing with the set. Looking at the box, you see it’s a car she’s building. You’re more confused than anything else; you never would have thought Mina would be interested in something like this. Seeing her pull a box set from under her sweater was another can of worms in and out of itself. You watch the young woman smile to herself as she puts the pieces together. It was cute, almost innocent. You feel out of place as she continues to build the car. “We’ll get you a set,” Mina says without looking up at you. 

As the waiter comes around, Mina takes charge, ordering coffee for both of you and a Lego set for you to work on. You sighed briefly, “I didn’t expect this would be our date. I thought you’d want to do something else.”  You pick at the set Mina had chosen for you; it was a set of flowers, something simple.

You build your set while watching Mina work on hers, “Do you do this often?”

She nods, focusing intently on the tiny stickers she had to place on the Lego pieces. “Yeah, I think it’s fun building these sets. Most guys don’t really like it, though; they think it’s childish.”

“It kind of is, but if you enjoy it, you should be able to share that.” You reply as you look through the instructions. “If they don’t like it and don’t want to date you because of it, that’s their problem.” Mina glances up from her set, looking at you before continuing to build it.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “It’s peaceful building these,” Mina pauses as the coffee arrives, taking her time to sip from the hot cup before returning to her build.

“I thought you would just want to get straight to business. Not go on a date first.”

“I-well, I thought it would be rude to go to your house and do it.” Mina stammers, “I thought this would be better; besides, I wanted to build this set. I’ve had it for a month.” Mina says, trying to give another reason for the date. She hoped you wouldn’t see the price tag on the box. She had bought the Lego set before coming here. After your call with her had ended, she got flustered and went out to buy it. 

“So what else do you like?” 

“Games, video games,” Mina says, drawing out another question from you. “I like Minecraft; it’s a lot like Legos. I like building things more than going on adventures.” You nod along and continue asking Mina questions about herself. She slowly grows more comfortable as the date goes on, and once she finishes her build and you finish yours, the two of you decide to leave.

Mina places her little car in the back seat, with your plant, staring at them as you drive home, hoping nothing happens to them.

As you arrive in the parking lot, Mina slips a pill into her mouth and swallows it, preparing herself for a long evening. The effects are immediate as she feels her body begin to heat up. Walking to the door, Mina grows anxious, her body growing needy.

Reaching the door, Mina throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck as she presses her lips against yours. “Let’s get started,” You struggle to open the door but eventually manage it, moving inside with Mina. She grabs your hands, moving them under her sweater. You feel her toned stomach as she drags your arms up her body until you reach her modest chest. Mina cranes her neck, letting you mark her body with hickeys as you lead her to the bedroom. Mina’s nipples rub against the palm of your hand, and she lets out a light moan as you squeeze her breasts. You push the door open and place Mina on the bed. You pull the hoodie off her before continuing to mark her body, her moans growing louder as you tease her nipples. Mina holds you against her chest, wanting to keep you there forever as you begin tugging at her jeans. 

Mina grabs your hands, stopping your advance. When you look up at her, her eyes are already on yours. “Before we keep going, I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” 

“Okay, I promise,” You state to her, staring into her eyes and creating a sense of trust.

“Momo doesn’t know about this, but…” Mina’s face becomes flushed as she struggles to finish her sentence. “Can I call you Daddy? I like it better this way; please take the lead.”

For the second time today, Mina stunned you. “Uhm, sure, that’s fine.” This version of Mina was a lot different from the woman you had sex with a couple of weeks ago. Whereas when she was drunk, she degraded herself, Mina seemed more soft when she was sober. Mina giggles as she unbuttons her jeans and lets you pull them off. You become distracted, thinking to yourself how Mina has been the opposite of what you expected of her as she reaches down and rubs your bulge. 

“You’re so big,” Mina whispers, “Can I see it, Daddy?” You nod and lay back on the bed, letting Mina pull your pants off you; she slowly moves her head over your crotch, her long fingers pulling at your underwear. A smile creeps onto Mina as she tugs at your underwear, and your cock flops out. She grasps it gently, her hand moving along it slowly.

“Keep going, Mina, that feels good.” You groan.

The young woman drips her saliva onto your cock, spreading it out as she runs her hand along her shaft. “I want you, Daddy, in here.” She says, placing her other hand on her stomach. Mina stares into your eyes as she strokes your cock, her body growing hotter as she becomes more eager to move on. Mina flashes her gummy smile as she uses both hands to stroke your cock, rubbing the tip with the palm of one as the other runs along your shaft. You groan Mina’s name, the pleasure flowing through you as she leans down and kisses the tip. Mina smiles after, feeling shy. 

“Mina, I want you.” The young woman’s heart skips a beat after hearing your order. She straddles you, rubbing her lips along your cock and moaning as she prepares herself. The heat coming from your cock, makes Mina want more. She doesn’t wait long before lifting herself and rubbing the tip between her folds. Light moans escape Mina’s lips as she slowly sinks onto your cock, her walls squeezing your shaft as she slips more into her cunt. Mina places her hands on your chest as she begins to feel full. 

Mina rides you, her hips rocking back and forth as she leans back. “You’re so big,” she groans. The young woman bites her lip as she moves up and down your shaft, slowly putting more force into her bounce as she takes every inch inside her. “Mmm, Daddy,” Mina moans, her strength slowly leaving her body, leaving you to thrust into her. You roll Mina onto her back and lift her lower half, continuing to thrust into her. Mina’s moans only get louder; she grips the bedsheets, getting closer to cumming. She wraps her arms around you, holding you tightly as you ram more of your length inside her. “D-daddy, you’re so deep,” she whines, her legs wrapping around you. You kiss Mina’s neck and listen to her whimpers. Your hands grip the back of her thighs; they quiver as you push Mina closer to her climax.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy,” you growl in a low voice. Mina’s body tenses, and she cries out as she cums. You continue thrusting into her tightening cunt, driving Mina mad. She continues to moan, “Daddy, wait!” She whines, her body becoming overrun by the pleasure. 

“I’m going to cum, Mina,” you groan. 

“I want Daddy’s cum. I want it inside me,” Mina moans, the pleasure breaking her as she feels your cock throbbing inside her. As you're about to cum you bury yourself inside Mina, your cum pouring into her cunt. “Oh, Daddy, more,” Mina moans. You kiss the young woman, shutting her up for a moment as you enjoy her body, her cunt milking you.

“Does my baby want more?” You ask, running your finger between Mina’s tits. 

“Yes, Daddy. Please give me more,” Mina says, biting her fingertip as she uses her other hand to spread her lips. “Please fuck me again, Daddy.” The sight of your seed leaking out of her cunt gets you hard again, and you slide back into Mina, gripping her ass as you begin thrusting again. 

As you fuck her to another climax, you feel something rub against your finger. Moving your hand just a little, you feel a plug. “Does my baby have a plug in her?” You whisper into Mina’s ear. 

“Yes, Daddy.” Mina says with a pout, “I want to save that for later.” she says softly. You leave it alone for now and continue fucking the young woman until you’re both exhausted. As you lay beside Mina, your chest heaving, you comment on her other side.

“This is a lot different from our first time together. So you have Sharon, and this is Mina?”

Mina looks away from you, covering her face. “It’s only when I’m drunk. I say a lot of things when I’m drunk.” She admits.

You laugh at Mina, “Oh yeah? Like ‘cum inside my slutty pussy’ or ‘fuck me like a whore’”  Mina’s mind flashes back to the first time you had sex, and she grows more embarrassed. “So, which do you like more?” You lean in closely to Mina’s ear and run your hand along her body, pushing two fingers inside her cum-filled cunt. “Or is it both?” You ask her, “Are you my slutty baby?” Mina gasps, and her body shivers. She bites her lip and nods.

“I like both,”

[tetzoro]

LOVERS ROCK — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. zoro roronoa !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : zoro has a new outfit for your excursion to egghead island and it fits him a little too well . . .

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. thigh riding, dry humping, multiple orgasms, praise, zoro calls you pretty, — WC : 1.9k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : i figured posting this on hump day was fitting. enjoy ! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

zoro’s musk wraps around you as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. steel, sweat, blood, and the salt of the sea all wrapped into one. the scent of something dangerous that should leave you repulsed only draws you in more. 

because you know better, you know what every inch of his body tastes like, how addicting it is when it melts on the tip of your tongue. can he blame you when you press your lips against the skin of his neck, humming approvingly as you steal another taste?

he lets out a groan that reverberates against your lips, one that has your kiss turning into something more vicious as you suck against the spot, leaving your mark for all the world to see. 

“easy.” zoro’s voice is low, his fingers tightening against your hips. the heated make out session was quickly becoming more as your lips latched near the column of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken under your tender care.

“can’t. it’s this suit.” you reluctantly ease up, warm breath fanning over the agitated spot you proudly left behind. “looks so good on you, zo.”

“yeah?” zoro couldn’t help but feel a little smug at your reaction to it. “why didn’t you just say so?”

“was me rubbing up against you not a big enough hint that i found it hot?” you pull back, giving him a pointed look. 

“how should i know?” his face heats up, singeing pink as he makes eye contact with you. “you act like this no matter what i do!”

“shut up.” you huff, looking away as your own cheeks become warm. “i do not.”

“yeah you do.” zoro’s hand found your chin, bringing your attention back to him. the blush that softly blooms upon his face dances along his cheeks as it spreads to his ears. “its cute.”

you open your mouth to retaliate once again but he beats you to it, using the opportunity to slot his greedy lips against yours as he pulls you in for another heated kiss. one that stole the breath from your lungs and replaced it with desire, a deep longing for his touch even though he was sitting right beneath you. you needed more. 

decidedly, you easily maneuver yourself from his lap to his thigh, the thick muscle sturdy as you straddle it. biting back a moan, you let out a soft strangled noise that slips into zoro’s awaiting mouth. electricity coursed through you both, a shift in the air that wraps around your shoulder, weighing you down to sink your core further against his toned thigh. 

“couldn’t even wait for me to get out of the suit, huh?” zoro whispers against your kiss bitten lips, hands gripping your sides as he holds you in place. if he wasn’t so damned strong you’d have moved by now, given into your lecherous thoughts that heat up your core with unadulterated need.

zoro flexes his muscle, testing you and gauging your reaction. even though you were separated by the almost comically skin tight clothing, the pressure sent your eyes reeling to the back of your head. with a short chuckle, he unflexes and the intensity simmers, leaving you full of want.

“zoro,” you mewl out in frustration, the sound dangerously close to a whine. your fingers grip into the plushness of his coat, more than ready to use it as leverage as soon as you can move your hips. “what are you waiting for?”

slowly, zoro begins to rock your hips against him, a steady pace that feels different from normal — it was alarmingly easier. the fabric of the suit was so slick on its own that you could slide along it with no problem, no hiccups. 

“just gonna ease you —“ zoro starts before you smack his hands away. enough was enough and he was going far too slow for your liking. he lets go, his smirk resting on his face as he holds his hands up in false surrender before moving them to rest on your thighs. “impatient, huh?”

ignoring his comment, you start moving your hips and just like you thought –  you could gain a lot of speed. with a steady hold on his jacket, your hips behind to move on their own accord, not an ounce of hesitation as your clit deliciously runs along his flexed muscle.

“z-zoro,” you breathe out, head lolling back as you keep up the pace. zoro could feel how wet you were, your own suit didn’t leave much to the imagination either and the wet spot forming on his covered thigh was steadily growing. 

“feel good?” he asked, beginning to continuously flex and unflex his thigh, the ridges catching along your clit and only making you spiral more.

“mhm.” you nod, already feeling the coil within you ready to snap. “so, so good zo.”

“filthy girl.” zoro kisses along your jaw, moving down your neck as your pace stutters. you could always tell your praise affected him, stirring something deep inside of him as the ghost of the smile seeping into your skin while he brushes his lips along your jugular. “if you keep this up, i’m gonna have to get a whole new suit.”

“can’t stop—“ you gasp out, breathy pants leaving your lips as you get closer to your high. 

“then don’t.” 

two words that had an unintentional ripple effect, your body moving without any forethought, driven by instinct and lust for the man smugly sitting under you, expertly watching you with lust-blown eyes as you take what you need.

each delicious drag along his thigh was sending electricity up your spine, the pleasure invading your brain and turning it into nothing more than a dull static, desperately chasing the high that you’re sure will bring you clarity once again.

distantly, you hear zoro muttering sinful praises, running his mouth in encouragement as you ascend to new heights. your center of gravity was dependent on him and the mind-numbingly corded muscles that make up his thigh. one wrong move and everything would tilt on its axis — you’re not sure if the thought excited you or not.

“shit, i’m gonna —!” you yelp out, your voice finally able to break through the steady moans and whimpers that were flowing out of your mouth like water. 

“let go f’me, c’mon.” zoro gives your upper thigh a harsh squeeze and your body locks up under the searing touch. it was earth shattering, so much so that the lower half of your body stuttered against the slippery fabric, cries of his name tumbling from your lips. “atta girl.”

the praise messed with your mind even more, melting it into a puddle that zoro was destined to lap up like a dog on a rainy day. you squeeze your eyes shut as the after effects still course through your body, gripping onto his shoulders like the world depended on it.

after struggling to catch your breath for a moment, you slump against him a bit, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. his palm soothingly runs along your back, easing you down and back to him, right where you belong.

“you good?” his low, gruff voice seeps into your skin and you only want to burrow deeper into the comfort of it. you make a small sound and reluctantly pull back, the look in his eye darkening. it was clear how much he wanted you.

“mhm.” you whisper, your palms running along the skin tight suit, agonizingly taking your time. your core still felt so gooey, like burning lava that was hot to the touch. each motion you take was lazy and uncoordinated until your fingers trailed along his covered abs that ripple in anticipation, making sure to outline each divot. “gonna take it off now?”

“takes too long to take the whole thing off. besides,” zoro’s breathing gets a bit heavier as your hand keeps moving lower to where he’s pulsing with need. there's a short pause before he roughly grabs you by your backside and lifts you up toward him, “can’t wait.”

moving over his covered length, the fabric was so thin you could feel him throb with need, each beat making your head spin more and more. zoro groans as you nestle in place, head tossing back at the sudden pressure. his hips jolt up to chase the thread of friction you tease him with, growing more impatient with every glide you take.

“cmon.” zoro grunts out, not wasting any more time as he takes control, moving your hips over him. you gasp as he thrusts against you, needily chasing his own high. “do what you did earlier.”

“now look at who the impatient one is. hmm?” you tease, grabbing onto his coat once again for leverage. but the need he felt transferred to you as soon as he let out another groan. mercifully, you  give into his desire as you quickly match his pace, your arousal igniting throughout your body.

“shut up.” he barks with no bite. “you’re gonna make me cum in this thing.”

“isn’t that the point?” you tease, your tongue poking out along the shell of his ear, before your nose nudges along his earrings. “i want you to come for me, zoro.”

“fuck.” he gasps out, fingers harshly gripping your backside as he moves you quicker, the friction burning you both up, ready to consume you whole. with a curt slap to your ass, he gives his order. “keep going.”

and you do. moving along him as if you were really riding his cock just the way he likes, gliding over him as your clit throbs against his cock, the combined heat suffocating you both.

zoro tried to remain intact, but you could see him tearing at the seams, strings of his self control spiraling out of control as you do a number on him. pretty saliva covered lips parted with grunts steadily pouring out, face rosey and scrunched up in pleasure. 

you move your hands to weave themselves in his hair, tugging harshly that forced a choked groan from him. through half lidded eyes, he looks back up at you with stars shining in his iris, twinkling with his love for you; a supernova waiting to explode.

“close for me?” you coo, watching as his mind goes blank, his grip tightening. “wanna watch you cum.”

“fuck—“ he head tosses back for a minute, steeling himself to outlast you as long as possible, but it was a lost cause. his next words grit through his teeth, his self restraint being heavily tested. “yeah, yeah i am. too fuckin’ pretty.”

“zo-.” you gasp, your second orgasm pooling in your core, ready to erupt as his compliment rushes down your body, tightening it up as it works its way down.

forever fated to be together, your pleasure merges into one — both of you hurdling over the edge. zoro cums with a grunt of your name before biting his lip so hard he almost draws blood. 

there’s an inexplicable warmth that blooms between your thighs, a mix of your mess swirling with the warm cum that steadily flows out of his cock. the fabric that separates you is fully drenched with both of your arousal and the thought only drags out your pleasure.

“mmm.” you fully slump on him this time, curling into his body as yours turns boneless — nothing more than a heap of limbs with a heartbeat that beats to his name.

“happy now?” zoro breathes out, his chest still rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. 

“mhm, so happy.” you purr, shutting your eyes. 

“good because my suit is ruined.” zoro grumbles. as if he really cares. you let out a chuckle, your hand wandering along his biceps.

“that’s too bad.” you grip his puffy coat once again, pressing  your lips to his ear, his earrings clinking together as you brush past them. “guess you’ll just have to take it off.”

thank you so much for reading ! ᰔ

[sirhamburrger]

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH ~ s. itoshi, m. kaiser, o. aiku x f!reader

⊹ in which you miss their match because you're sick. ⊹ tags/cw: reader is referred to as "meine liebe", "prinzessin" in kaiser's, that's literally it LMAO ⊹ wc: 876 total (this is very short) ⊹ a/n: very self indulgent but also dedicated to @aozui my fellow sae kisser and @wakeupmaddie kaiser glazer (but nonchalant)

“you’re burning up,” sae itoshi states bluntly, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. scowling, you swat it away, wincing at the throbbing pain in your head and the aching in your bones.

“am not, you just have cold hands.”

“will you quit being so stubborn for once?” he’s in the bathroom doing his hair now, his voice drifting out to the living room, where you lay limply on the couch. “if you need to rest, then just rest. you don’t have to be there.”

“but i’ve never missed any of your matches,” you protest, squeezing your eyes shut, though you have a sinking feeling this will have to be the first. your boyfriend doesn’t take no for an answer.

sae sighs audibly. he emerges from the bathroom, hands still damp from washing, and sits down in front of you.

you crack open an eyelid, and let out a tiny sigh.

“hey, you,” you mumble.

“hey.” he brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, tracing your lips with his thumb.

“i’m sorry i can’t go see you play today.”

he frowns. why would you need to be sorry? “i’ll make a pot of tea for you, and i’ll have your favourite snacks delivered here soon. focus on getting better.”

you lean into his touch and hum, content. he watches and feels you drift off to sleep, and only then does he move to the kitchen to boil water for your tea. and you have no way of knowing this, but sae presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before he leaves, quietly shutting the door behind him.

after all, whether you’re there cheering him on or not, you’re the only one sae itoshi plays for.

michael kaiser is a man of few wants. it’s how he was raised - to cling on to anything and anyone, because things are all so temporary.

which is why you feel so guilty that you can’t even give him one of the few things you’ve offered him all the while you’ve been together - your presence. your presence at one of his most highly-anticipated games of the year.

by the time you wake up one hour before the match, all groggy and feeling gross, it’s too late. the stadium he’s playing at is two hours away, and when you factor in the time it takes to get ready, you know there’s no way you can go to see him.

you know he’s been telling you not to go, because you’ve had the flu for a while now. his voice echoes in your head, still; prinzessin, i’ll need you to stay at home and get better, okay? take your meds? can you do that for micha?

and you have to admit, you feel a little better after that nap. but you could’ve sworn you’d set multiple alarms for yourself just before michael left the house, so you could wake up on time -

unless…

you check your phone, and a voicemail from your boyfriend catches your eye. you sit back and let it play.

“guten morgen, meine liebe.” you swear you hear a hint of amusement in his voice as he says this, as it’s nowhere near morning. “i admit i turned your alarms off, and for that i’m sorry. but you’ll still be here with me, in spirit. okay, liebling?”

“okay, meine schatz,” you find yourself smiling and responding to the voicemail, even though michael’s not actually there with you.

and when your boyfriend scores the winning goal that night on national television, you see him look straight into the cameras and mouth your name.

oliver aiku isn’t the type to fuss. he’s not the kind to make a big deal out of things like colds or missed matches. life is long, and there’s always another game, another night out, another chance.

but when he walks into the apartment to find you curled up in bed, shivering despite the thick blanket wrapped around you, he feels something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

he leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “you look like shit.”

you groan, burrowing further under the sheets. “wow, thanks, oliver. that really helps.”

he smirks, but it fades just as fast. you’re usually quick with a comeback, but today your voice is weak, your face paler than he’d like. 

he sighs and steps closer, crouching next to the bed. “i was gonna grab dinner with the guys after the match.” he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “but i figured you’d rather have me here.”

you blink up at him. “wait - what? the match -”

“relax, i played,” he cuts in. “did my job, had my fun, then left early.” he taps your forehead lightly with two fingers. “i’d rather be here, anyway.”

you frown. “you don’t have to -”

“i know.” his voice is softer now, just like his touches on your hand. “but i want to.”

oliver aiku has never been the type to make promises he can’t keep, and he’s spent years living like nothing and no one could ever tie him down. but tonight, as he pulls you closer, listening to your soft and fevered, though slightly calmed breathing, he realizes - if there’s anywhere he wants to be, it’s right here.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[ticklishfiend]

Distracted

Lee!Viktor x Ler!Jayce

Word Count : 4761

Summary : Jayce can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to tickle Viktor. When they get tipsy together one night, he doesn’t have to imagine anymore.

a/n : i love them. sm. also, two things: 1) this is lowkey an out of character fic but i realized that it’s kinda hard to write a tkl fic with lee!viktor and it not be a lil ooc so bear with me LMAO, and 2) i said i was working on a lee!jayce fic, and i still am, but it’s a little longer and more thought out than this one so again. BEAR WITH ME! okok love yall hope u enjoy

this is a tickle fic! not nsfw, but don’t like don’t read 😝

…

It’d be so easy. Almost too easy. Viktor would kill him for it, probably yell at him for 45 minutes for breaking his concentration with something so stupid and childish. But it would be worth it just to hear the cute sound Viktor would make when Jayce finally dug his fingers in sides, crawling up to his ribs and playing them like a piano, maybe even drill his thumbs into his hips just to hear him cry–

“What about this one?”

Viktor’s voice broke through his concentration, and Jayce nearly jumped. The slim man looked over his shoulder at Jayce, bringing his arm down from the top of the black board. Viktor has been writing near the top of it for a few minutes now, working on an equation as he mumbled under his breath. His arm had been outstretched over his head so he could reach, and with his whole side exposed like that, his ribs and underarms were on beautiful display for Jayce to stare and daydream.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Jayce had only been thinking those thoughts instead of acting on them, with the way his fingers itched and curled into the leg of his pants just looking at Viktor like that.

Shit, he should probably focus now. Jayce did a quick once over of the equation, making sure he’d have something of substance to say in response. “Uh, yeah it–it looks fine.” Ah yes, a very substantial addition, Jayce Talis. ‘Idiot.’

Viktor quirked a brow. “Just…fine?”

“Yeah I mean it’s…” Jayce cleared his throat, looking over it once again and finally taking in what Viktor was actually doing. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. And once we get it fitted into our earlier calculations, it should be ready to rock-and-roll.” Jayce cringed internally, ‘Oh my god shut up.’

Viktor still looked suspicious, as Jayce rarely seemed caught off guard like that. He turned back to the blackboard, “Well I think it could still use some touch-ups. You should come and help me, my brain is frying from staring at it for too long.”

Jayce swallowed. Dammit. He’d been perfectly content to watch from behind, it was easier to hide his self-made fluster at that angle. But…right fucking next to him? Where it’d be even easier to reach out, pinch a bottom rib, make Viktor squirm and laugh and—

“Jayce. Any day now would be preferable,” Viktor deadpanned, not even sparing a glance as he continued to look at his equation. 

“Right, right,” Jayce hopped to Viktor’s side, really trying not to be any sort of distraction in his state. Now next to Viktor, watching through his peripheral, he saw Viktor once again reach up and make a few scribbles with chalk. Above his head. Exposed.

Jayce bit the inside of his cheek, snatching a piece of chalk himself just to have something to hold onto. Why was this hitting him so hard right now? Usually, moods like this were so much easier to suppress, easier to forget about when he finally got himself lost in their work. But right now, their work was more mundane, small touch-ups on calculations they’d been meaning to get to for ages. It had been a very dull day in terms of their work, but inside Jayce’s head, a boring work day meant more time to think about Viktor. 

Whether Viktor was…sensitive. Ticklish. What kind of laugh he’d have. Would he giggle? Voice light and breathy, gently squirming and batting at Jayce’s hands while his face flushed at the feeling. Or would he cackle? His body shaking through the force of his laughter, having to clutch onto his own stomach like his reactions were being ripped from him. Maybe he’d beg Jayce to stop, maybe he’d be laughing so hard he’d be unable to even form words around his giggling, maybe he’d wail—

“Jayce, are you quite alright?” Viktor asked, his brow pinched in suspicion as he gave Jayce the one-over. “You’ve been…very distracted today. Not that I don’t appreciate the reprieve from your usual yapping, but your behavior does seem a bit unusual this evening.”

Viktor had taken to leaning against the board instead now, which was a lot easier on Jayce’s overwhelmed mind to take in. 

“Sorry, sorry. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess,” Jayce gave his nothing-answer and turned back to the board to make a few marks, hoping Viktor would brush it off like he normally does. Or at least, like he used to do. 

He’d been more inquisitive of Jayce lately, actually asking personal questions and even answering some of Jayce’s own. They’d gotten to know each other a lot better because of it, which was great, but it was also coming to bite Jayce in the ass right now since Viktor was able to notice that something was so off with him.

Viktor turned toward the lab’s window, his gaze on the moon shining bright through the glass. There was no telling when it had gotten dark outside, they both tended to very purposefully not look at the clock when they were at work. 

Jayce heard him sigh. “It’s late,” Viktor droned, rubbing a tired hand down his face. “I wouldn’t mind taking a break if you’re also interested?”

Jayce’s brows raised in surprise, a little smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “You’re asking me if we can take a break? Where’s my partner and what have you done with him?”

Viktor gave a small blink-and-you-miss-it grin, “He’s off drowning himself in a river. His brain turned to mush after staring at one equation for nearly 3 hours.” He grabbed his cane that had been leaning against the board, before pointing a finger at himself, “New Viktor, however, just remembered the alcohol he stored in the kitchen months ago for dull days like this. And he’s inviting you to share a drink.” Viktor poked Jayce in the chest, before turning toward the kitchen.

Jayce smiled brightly. “New Viktor’s got some good ideas.”

—

They ended up drinking just a bit more than either had expected to. They weren’t drunk, per se, but their combined buzz had them talking a lot more open than usual. Their conversations felt so easy tonight, and Jayce was starting to wonder why they didn’t drink together more often.

“And the next thing I knew, I had a kitten stuffed down my shirt and a crazy lady passed out on the floor behind me,” Viktor chuckled around the rim of his glass, taking a small sip before continuing, “Little moments like that make me glad I got out of the Undercity when I did.”

Jayce snickered openly, clutching at his glass through the laughter. “I don’t know Vik, that sounds like a great time to me.”

“That’s just because you're a Piltie with minimal Undercity experience. Trust me, a kitten down my shirt was the least of my worries.”

Jayce’s laughter simmered, but his grin never left. He gestured with his glass, “So, what’d you do with it? The kitten.”

Viktor shrugged. “I carried it in my shirt all the way home. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it with that woman, even at my young age,” He said, before giving a little chuckle at the new memory. “Actually, it was hell getting it back home. I didn’t take it out of the shirt because, before she collapsed, she said she had guys that’d be after me for it. I was naive to believe anyone would recognize the kitten on my walk, but I was young so I’ll give myself that grace.”

Viktor shook his head through a smile, taking another small sip. “But my god, if that thing didn’t tickle me the entire walk home. I must’ve looked insane. Some–hehe–some crippled kid with a lump in his chest, giggling to himself, ” Viktor couldn’t hold back his own snickers at the thought, but of course still scolded Jayce nonetheless. “Stop laughing, this was serious to me at the time.”

When that word, that one word he’d been thinking of all day, rolled out of Viktors mouth, Jayce felt his heart leap. His skin nearly prickled. And now he’s tipsy, and there was no way he could hold back on making sure they stayed on that topic for as long as he could hold it. “So what I’m hearing is, Boy Genius is too ticklish to handle a little kitten in his shirt.”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “I was a child. And I doubt you’d fare any better in that circumstance, even at your grown age.”

Jayce held his hands in surrender. “I never said I’d do any better. But it sounds like you think you aren’t ticklish anymore, which I think is total bullshit.” Jayce couldn’t hold back his smirk if he tried. “Actually, now that I think about it, you’ve just given me a way to get whatever I want in the lab. Maybe I should thank you?”

Viktor pointed at Jayce with the hand he held his glass, a small bit spilling onto the couch between them. “If you dare try something like that, I’ll go back and convince the counselors to have you arrested again.”

Jayce laughed, “Arrested for what? Tickling you?”

The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched upward, “For a hate crime. You can’t just take advantage of a cripple like that and get away with it.” Viktor claimed teasingly, before growing suspicious of Jayce’s wandering glare. He was staring hard at the glass Viktor held between them, a little smirk on his face. “What? What are you looking at?”

Jayce clicked his tongue, “Hold on, can I just—” He interrupted himself reaching his hand towards the glass, and Viktor was so caught off guard by the action (and a little slower to thinking now, thanks to their couple of drinks) that he let Jayce take the glass from him without any protest.

Jayce took one long swig of the drink, sighing hard as he set it down on the table next to them. 

Viktor’s brow furrowed hard. “What the hell was that?!”

“That was me getting your glass out of the way,” Jayce’s smile was wide and his eyes alight with mischief, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So I could test out a little theory.”

Viktor’s mind was working slow, but not that slow.

“Oh nonono , Jayce—Jayce, whatever you are thinking, stop thinking it.”

“Why?” Jayce wiggled his fingers as he scooted closer to Viktor, who cornered himself against the arm of the couch. “Nervous you’ll get caught lying?”

“Absolutely not,” Viktor said, “But I cannot promise you won’t get hit.”

“Ohoh that is a price I am more than willing to pay,” Jayce chuckled, before darting a hand out to sneak a quick pinch to Viktor’s side. The reaction was immediate. His partner choked on a sound in the back of his throat as he arched away from the fingers.

“Jayce I swear on everything—”

“C’mon, I never get to see you laugh. If it hurts, I’ll stop?” Jayce offered, and Viktor would appreciate the kind thoughtfulness of that statement had he not been too busy trying to push Jayce’s hands away from his torso. Unfortunately, the nervous smile on Viktor’s face during the entire tussle really took away any bite he tried to muster in his words.

“If it hurts, I’ll k-kill you,” Viktor’s voice wavered on the word as Jayce pushed a hand through and pinched his rib, latching on tight but not yet actually tickling. He just…held it there.

Viktor gripped onto the wrist at his ribs, pushing and pulling and trying everything to avoid his own humiliating downfall. He was already struggling to keep anticipatory giggles at bay, and Jayce was beaming at the reaction.

“You ready?”

“No, nonono, Jayce—”

“Three.”

“I’ll throw all your patents into the river!”

“Twoooooo.”

“Consider all your hard work a gross, soggy mush!”

“One!”

“Jayce, no-! aUgchk—n-nohohoho!”

Jayce finally put his fingers to work, gently pinching at that bottom rib incessantly. Viktor did exactly what Jayce thought he would. He giggled hard, arching in a way that curled his body around Jayce’s hand, and slapped at his wrist like it’d do anything to push him off.

“Y-You—You idiohohot-!” Viktor’s words faded seamlessly into another bout of laughter as Jayce brought his other hand around to squeeze nicely at Viktor’s side. Viktor squirmed in his hold, and Jayce thought he was going to melt.

Viktor looked so cute like this. Flushed from alcohol and laughter, smiling wide and desperate, squirming in Jayce’s hold like his every touch was causing a new reaction. Just cute cute cute.

“Nohot cute you freheak!” Viktor said around his giggles, making Jayce flush himself. Did I say that out loud? 

Well. Might as well double down, right? “Only thing to make this any cuter would be a kitten popping outta your shirt, huh?”

Viktor visibly blushed a tinge darker, “Okahay okahay! Stohop! I cahaha-ahahah!” He couldn’t even finish his sentences. Jayce was hooked.

But he was also merciful. At his command, Jayce declawed from Viktor’s ribcage and hovered above as he watched Viktor pant and come down from his giggle fit. When Viktor caught his eye (and that doting look he got when Viktor did just about anything these days), he shoved Jayce’s face away playfully with an all too smiley groan. “I hope you got what you needed from that study, because you are never gonna try that again.”

Jayce snickered, leaning back to his spot on the couch. “Oh yeah? Says who?”

“Says the guy who’ll stick a cane up your ass if you try it,” Viktor leaned against his own respective arm of the couch. 

Jayce grinned back. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

—

Hooked couldn’t begin to describe the feeling. Jayce was enthralled. Enamoured. He couldn’t stop thinking about that night, brief as it may have been. He didn’t want to go overboard with Viktor, of course, the man was weird about touch as it is. Jayce was lucky he’d been able to get his hands on him at all. But that hardly mattered. Because Jayce got to hear what Viktor sounded like when he felt ticklish, and now that he knows that sound, it might as well be on a record scratch repeat in his brain at all times.

Jayce’s leg shook anxiously under the desk. He wasn’t nervous, more just…unfocused, at the moment. Yes, partly from all of that, but mainly from the chaos of notes and blueprints and paperwork littered in front of him. That boring night must’ve just been the calm before the storm, because once they were able to get all those equations pieced together, the workload became fucking endless.

And of course Jayce loves their work, all the passion and hours they both devote to creating what is essentially their whole future. It’s a beautiful thing what happens in their lab. Astonishing. Awe-inspiring.

…and also ridiculously stressful. 

Jayce must’ve been working for nearly 24 hours at this point. His legs felt like lead, and his shoulders ached from the past few hours of leaning over this desk and working working working. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’s had to stretch his hand out from all the notes he’s written. 

He’s fucking exhausted.

And what’s worse? Jayce knows that Viktor’s somehow been awake for even longer than him.

Jayce cleared his throat. “So uh…it’s gettin’ late, Vik. Wanna call it a night?”

Viktor was hunched over his own desk, goggles on as he meticulously worked over their project. Jayce knew if those goggles were off, he’d be able to see Viktor’s eyes trying their damndest not to slip shut from exhaustion. “Not now. This needs a few touch-ups.”

“And it can’t wait til tomorrow because…?”

“Because if I break my concentration, I may forget where I was in my progress by tomorrow,” Viktor said, before waving Jayce off. “Go, get some rest. You deserve it.”

“And you don’t?” Jayce could hear his voice get defensive, on Viktor’s behalf no less. The guy never gave himself a break, it was nothing short of a miracle that he’d been the one to suggest their break just two weeks ago. Jayce sighed, “I miss ‘New Viktor.’”

At that, Viktor paused. Lifting his goggles to his forehead and throwing Jayce an incredulous look. “Seriously, Jayce?”

Jayce pouted with a shrug, leaning against the back of his chair. “Yeah. New Viktor would’ve had a drink with me hours ago and then gone to bed at an appropriate time,” Jayce grinned. He gave an exaggerated, almost theatre-like sigh, “I guess this Viktor just isn’t as fun.”

Viktor pursed his lips at Jayce, clearly holding back a little smile at the banter. “I’m plenty of fun. This is fun,” he pointed to the contraption on his desk he’d been fiddling with.

But Jayce stayed with the bit, humming dreamily. “Ohh, New Viktor, how I miss him. He drank with me. We shared funny stories and laughed together,” Jayce smirked, getting a fun little idea. “Yeah, I remember him laughing a lot that night, actually. And it wasn’t just from the jokes he was telling.”

Viktor scoffed a half-laugh, shaking his head. “You sound sleep-deprived.”

“Noooo, my head’s pretty clear right now, actually. I remember it so clearly. Gah, New Viktor was such a riot,” Jayce sat his elbow against the desk and propped his head against his hand, giving Viktor the cheekiest grin. “He even let me tickle him. Can you believe that?”

“I did not let you do anything, don’t go twisting the narrative,” Viktor pointed at Jayce, his face losing the battle against the smile he’s been fighting. “You probably have 100 pounds on me, you practically assaulted a disabled man against his will.”

Jayce ignored him. “If I remember correctly–”

“You don’t remember a thing.”

“-he was very ticklish, even though he tried denying it at first. How silly is that? If you deny it, you know someone’s just gonna try it out and prove you wrong anyway,” Jayce said, before humming in fake contemplation, squinting and tilting his head. “Huh. Are you ticklish, Viktor?”

Viktor tapped his finger against the desk in a steady rhythm, now avoiding eye contact with Jayce. “You are ridiculous. We are grown, and I need to work.”

“Actually, you need to stop working and go to bed,” Jayce stood from his seat and walked to Viktor’s desk (who still refused to meet his gaze), leaning an arm against the top and towering over Viktor. From the new angle, he could see a little blush over Viktor’s face and ears, how he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling anymore. Cute. “You gonna do that, or am I gonna have to answer my own question since you avoided it.”

Viktor glanced at Jayce with a side-eye. “You know the answer. And you’re being childish. If I wish to work, you cannot force me to stop.”

“Actually,” Jayce grinned, before hooking his fingers under Viktor’s arms (which were so conveniently sat atop the desk, leaving his underarms open and exposed) and digging in, getting an immediate reaction from Viktor who flung his back against the chair and choked down a laugh with the funniest sound. “I think I totally can.”

Viktor squirmed, his good leg digging its heel into the ground as his arms shook against their spot glued tight to his sides. His head was ducked down to hide his face, but he kept making these choked off little sounds like he was trying his hardest not to laugh (even though they both knew how ticklish he was, it was such a useless battle that Jayce’s heart burned in adoration).

“Viktorrrrr,” Jayce sung, his fingertips travelling just a tinge lower to Viktor’s upper ribs, and that’s what did the scientist in. Viktor let out a laugh that sounded like it surprised even himself, before tittering helplessly and falling into a giggle fit he couldn’t fight if he tried. 

“Nohoho! Not again, Jahahayce–!” Viktor shook his head against his laughter, slapping at Jayce’s arm as deeper belly laughs started escaping him. Jayce could almost hear in Viktor’s laughter how he started to feel the helplessness take over, how he couldn’t get out of this if he tried. “Why?!”

“Because I care about you. You need sleep even more than I do, Vik, and you aren’t gonna do it unless I make you,” Jayce said, like he wasn’t tearing Viktor apart beneath him, like Viktor wasn’t coming undone under his fingers and squirming like a worm on a hook. 

Viktor laughed harder at his words, “Cruel!”

Jayce couldn’t help but snicker himself. “Cruel? I’m helping you here. Just tell me you’re gonna go to bed and this is all over!” 

Viktor shook his head, “Let me work! Evil fucking–ggahahaha shihit!” He lost his words as Jayce found his lower ribs right above his sides, Viktor’s hands grasping onto Jayce’s wrists like a lifeline. 

“You are so stubborn,” Jayce chuckled. “I can go all night, y’know. You aren’t winning this.”

“Jdi do píči!” Viktor cursed in his native tongue around his giggles, and Jayce felt himself blush at the sound. Oh, Viktor’s gonna be the death of him.

“Gonna assume none of those words were ‘Yes, Jayce! Of course I’ll go get some well-deserved rest, thank you for helping me!’ Would I be right?”

Viktor didn’t respond, only laughing harder as Jayce slipped his fingers back up into his armpits. His head was thrown back now, and Jayce could see his Adam's apple bobbing through this laughter. His cheeks were flushed, eyes shut tight from the smile searing his face, and god the crinkles his eyes were making just made Jayce’s brain glitch. “C’mon, Vik. I know this is tiring you out.”

“You don’t know shit!” Viktor cackled, clearly confident he could withstand this. Well, at least before Jayce slipped one hand out and started tickling the side of Viktor’s neck and ear. Viktor seemed to stumble over his own laughter, his brain fuzzing around the new sensation as he slipped in and out of belly-laughter and high-pitched giggling. The side of his head slammed against his shoulder to block the sensation, but Jayce’s fingers were already at work, scribbling and scraping against those horribly sensitive spots that Viktor clearly couldn’t stand, if his incessant cursing in another language wasn’t enough to prove it.

“Oh? This a good spot?” Jayce teased, now bringing his other hand into the mix on Viktor’s other side. Viktor’s shoulders completely hunched up, his body so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do with himself. He doubled over, clutching one arm over his aching belly while the other continued its useless slapping at Jayce’s arm. Jayce chuckled, “What? Does this tickle or something?”

“F-Fucker!” Viktor’s voice wavered, high-pitched and bubbly, before he finally resigned to his fate. “Okay! Okahahay! Bed–! I'll sleheheep!”

“Okaaay, I’ll trust you this time,” Jayce grinned. He stopped the wiggling of his fingers, but poised the tips of his indexes right at the curve of Viktor’s ear. It was a threat, and one that made Viktor titter and squirm and pull at Jayce’s wrists uselessly. “But next time I catch you without sleep for nearly two days like this, I’m not going easy on you.”

Finally, Jayce pulled his hands away, and Viktor slumped against the back of the chair with an exhausted sigh. “Have I ever told you how much I don’t like you.”

Jayce snickered, “Yeah. And I didn’t believe you then either.”

Viktor grinned, wiping a hand down his face. “I knew you’d do that eventually. I couldn’t expect you to find out something like that and not use it against me at some point,” He stood up on wobbly knees, and Jayce quickly handed him the cane that had fallen on the ground during Viktor’s squirming. “Just didn’t expect you to be so cruel about it.”

“Hey I wasn’t cruel–”

“Oh? You weren’t? Torturing a disabled man when he’s running off no sleep for over 48 hours isn’t what you’d call cruel?” Viktor teased, gathering things off his desk to bring home in his bag. 

“Torture?” Jayce’s voice tilted up his grin. “You never even told me to stop.”

Viktor’s hands fumbled and he dropped a few pens. Jayce laughed as he bent down to retrieve them, their hands brushing as he gave them back. Viktor looked like a pouty cat, lips thin in a tight line with squinted eyes. Best of all, his ears were burning.

“It's a little hard to speak when you’re being forced to laugh.”

“But not hard enough you can’t slip in a few curses, right?”

Viktor had no rebuttal to that, merely scoffing like he had no clue what Jayce was talking about as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Jayce.”

Jayce watched as Viktor walked toward the door, completely satisfied with himself. He did it. And…it didn’t seem like Viktor even minded that much. In fact…hm. Maybe he’s reading too much into it. There’s no way Viktor liked it as much as Jayce. That’d be crazy.

“And um…” Viktor had the lab door pushed halfway open, stopping himself with his back turned to Jayce as he spoke. “Thank you.”

Jayce just could not help himself. “For tickling you?”

Viktor laughed at Jayce’s gall, “For making me get rest, you bastard,” He glanced over his shoulder to Jayce, who looked over the moon at Viktor’s honesty. “I know I need this, despite how I fight against it. So…though your methods are horrible, and undignified, and childish and stupid, and really show how odd your personality is—”

“Let’s get to thanks, yeah?”

Viktor smiled as he turned back around from Jayce. “...Thank you for looking out for me. I do appreciate the care.”

Jayce wanted to hug Viktor so tight their bodies melded together. Instead, he said, “Anytime. You know that.”

—

Viktor fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Jayce was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He’d lied when he said it was only two days without sleep. It was probably closer to four. Jayce just didn’t know that because the last time Viktor went home, he’d taken some of their projects and papers with him to work on in his own personal study.

So yes. His rest was needed, or whatever. And he did sleep really, really good. Almost 14 hours completely uninterrupted as he snoozed warm and cozy under the covers.

Only problem was…his mind ran a little rampant in his sleep that night. The events of the night before, with Jayce, and Jayce’s hands, and Jayce’s fingers, and Jayce teasing him so close to his ear he could feel his skin prickle with Jayce’s breath on his neck. All those thoughts that made his belly warm and fluttery were what he fell asleep to that night.

Which led to some…interesting dreams to think about when he woke up that morning.

“Does it tickle worse here? Orrrr here?” 

“Jahahayce! No plehehease!”

“Answer the question, Vik. Your thighs or your hips?”

Jayce’s fingers were pressed deep into both spots, one hand tickling deep into his thigh first, before pausing so his other hand could wreak a similar havoc against Viktor’s hip. The feeling was overwhelming, and Viktor squirmed hard against the weight of Jayce pressed on top of him on the lab couch. Viktor was fully pinned under Jayce, unable to move and only allowed to squirm because Jayce thought it looked pretty when he did it.

“Hihips! Jayce, hips, plehehease!” Viktor wailed, and when Jayce paused, Viktor inhaled like he hadn’t had a good breath in years. His breath was labored, shaky, laced with leftover giggling from Jayce’s attack. 

And Jayce just looked down at him like Viktor hung the moon that lit their lab through the window.

“I love your laugh.”

Viktor squirmed at the praise, shoving Jayce’s face. “Stop.”

“That’s the first time you told me to stop. What, am I embarrassing you?”

“Stop!” Viktor whined, shoving both hands over Jayce’s eyes so he couldn’t look at him in this flustered state. 

But Jayce only chuckled, grabbing Viktor’s wrists and hoisting them up over his head to pin them against the arm of the couch.

“But you like it, don’t you?”

Viktor woke up with a jolt, his eyes wide and breath uneven. 

Shit. Was he actually into this? What the fuck did Jayce do to him.

...

hope u enjoyed! pls consider reblogging if you did <3

[evie-sturns]

Friends - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris are friends with benefits until you notice a change in his behaviour, he starts to get angry about how clingy you are.

contains: fwb!chris, arguing, angst, yelling, crying, making out.

--------------------└── •✧• ──┘---------------—-

chris and i have known each other since we were barely able to speak, i've known him my whole life and we've always just. been. friends. until around 8 months ago. i don't even remember how it happened but suddenly his hands were roaming over me, and we fucked.

we both decided after that experience that would be friends with benifets, how could we not after getting a feel for eachother? it was so convinent because i'm always over at their house with nick and matt, they're also my closest friends.

7:39pm

i lay on the sturniolos couch in my small shorts and a tank top, nicks laying beside me as we talk about absolute bullshit.

"nick, you're seriously yapping now" i laugh, "no but tell me thats not the best wednesday video ever, i'm getting matt." he declares, heaving himself up and running out the room, he comes back with matt.

"i will happily cook salmon tomorrow for the wednesday video." matt says with a deadpan face, he speaks like he's being held at gunpoint.

nick claps, "let's go get the shit now" he says with a know it all smile on his face, "dickhead." i scoff to nick, he shrugs with a wide grin.

"you wanna come get the stuff from the grocery store with us?" matt asks, i shake my head "i'm not dressed for the occasion" i joke.

he laughs before grabbing the keys which are attached to his jeans loop, he walks with nick outside, shutting the front door behind him.

i put my phone down on the pillow beside me before standing up, aimlessly walking upstairs.

i open the door to chris's room, "chriss" i say with a smile before entering the room.

"why aren't you with nick and matt." he says, sitting up against his headboard. "hello to you too." i say sarcastically, jumping into bed beside him.

i lay my leg over chris's thigh, my hand reaching out and tracing random shapes on his arm, he pushes me off casually, an awkward silence filling the room.

“can i not touch you now or something.” i say jokingly, chris snaps.

“can you fuck off for once?” he raises his voice, i sit up in bed as my heart thumps. “what?” i say, slightly shaken up.

“all you do is touch me and be around me,” he starts, my mouth falls open slightly.

“we are FRIENDS with benefits, i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together?” he says, emphasising the ‘friends’.

“so for fucks sake, act like it, act like we are normal friends because the only thing different about us is we fuck, nothing. else.” chris finishes before standing up off his bed, walking out of his room and slamming the door behind him.

tears pool in my eyes, first of all he knows i can’t take being yelled at, he also knows that i’ve always been insecure about how clingy i can get.

i didn’t have any friends other than the triplets when i was growing up, they were all i really needed. so i’ve stuck to them majorly,

i always ask nick if i’m coming over too much, and if they want me to stay at my apartment i can, but nicks always shut down that, telling me that he will literally lock all doors so i can’t leave.

but that was just nick, nick wanted me to stay, did chris like me round?

i sit alone on chris’s bed, replaying each word than came out of his mouth over and over in my head.

“i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together”

“can you fuck off for once?”

i let out a small sob, tears starting to paint my cheeks. i bring my knees up to my chest as i bury my face in his pillows

i let out shaky breathes, having a poor attempt to calm myself down.

-

7:46am

i don’t know when i fell asleep, all i know is that i’m slowly starting to wake up in chris’s bed.

his arms are wrapped around me, spooning me as he snores lightly into the back of my neck, i stir as i look down.

i sit up in bed, chris’s arms still on me as he lets out a tired groan. all events of what happened last night start coming back to me. i instantly try to get out of bed but chris has a firm grip around my waist,

“chris, let me go.” i whisper yell, he shakes his head.

i place two hands on his wrists and try to pry them off of me. chris is slowly waking up, i feel tears start to form again, knowing that he most likely had to sleep next to me cause i fell asleep in his bed.

i let in trembling breathes, chris sits up. “sh shh.” he says, pulling me down onto his lap as he sits up against his headboard.

“can i please talk to you.” chris says, his voice hoarse.

“chris.” i say, small droplets of tears rolling down my cheeks as i fight his grip.

“i’m going home now.” i say again, “no you’re not.” chris starts.

“i am so sorry.” chris says, grabbing my face and making me look at him.

“i am so sorry.” he repeats, rubbing my arm with his free hand lightly

“i am so sorry for opening my mouth last night , i am so sorry for making you cry, i am so sorry for walking out of the room, i am so sorry for yelling.”

“i love you so much, more than you understand and there is actually no excuse for what i said, i don’t know why i said it. i have never felt truly loved by someone other than my family so it’s really throwing me off that you want to touch me, you want to be near me.”

“i think i’m so scared of getting to attached to you and then you leaving, because i can’t handle that, i don’t want you to leave, ever.”

he finishes, my tears came to a halt as soon as the words ‘i love you’ left his mouth.

“do you mean it..?” i ask, looking up at chris.

he grabs my jaw staring at my lips,

“chris, i have morning breath.” i laugh slightly

“i do not care at all.” he says, slamming his lips onto mine,

his arms holding me tighter than ever, he doesn’t let me go for the rest of the morning no matter how much i protest.

—————-

[moonstruckme]

hello my sweet gorgeous mae!!

how we feeling abt a fic where reader has some difficulty regulating her emotions when she’s upset and just some casual poly!wolfstar dominance. girl honestly just needs a hug and someone to validate her feelings tbh

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!! I did give her a reason for her upset which in retrospect I probably should have just left vague but I hope it doesn't take you out of it and if anyone knows anything that makes them think this relates to me in any way no it literally doesn't why would you think that

cw: somewhat subtle/implicit d/s dynamics (really just a couple joking mentions of "rules" or "bans")

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re grateful to come home to an empty apartment. No sooner does the door shut behind you than the sob that’s been building in your chest jostles its way out. You hug your bag to your front and go to the floor, crying. 

You don’t hold back. You let tears flow down your cheeks and take short, jagged breaths to fuel even more, curling your knees towards your chest and pushing your fingertips into your forehead. 

Your heartbeat is loud enough in your ears that it takes you a second to register the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but you notice when they pick up their pace as they draw closer. Not, evidently, so empty an apartment after all. 

“Dovey.” Remus sounds gutted. You open your eyes, and he looks it, too. Sirius comes up behind him, both of their forms blurring as they crouch in front of you. “What happened?” 

You shake your head. “I—I didn’t—” You’re crying like a child, all choked sobs and snivelly voice. “I didn’t—”

“Shh, that’s okay.” Sirius takes your face in his hands. His hold is firm but his thumbs gentle as they brush over your cheeks. “Just nod yes or no for me, my love. Are you hurt?” 

You shake your head. 

Some of the worry eases from his features, but his brows pinch sympathetically. “Just sad?” 

You open your mouth to answer him, and a hiccup of sobs spills out. 

Sirius makes a pained sound and pulls you to him. Remus murmurs, “Oh, sweetheart.” 

You try to speak again into the material of Sirius’ shirt, to apologize for coming home like this, but both boys shush you, Sirius rubbing your back while Remus gives your arm a squeeze and leans over to kiss your head. 

Remus takes your shoes off for you, and Sirius helps him ease your bag off your shoulder without ever really loosening his hold on you. They move you to the couch. Your boyfriends work in quiet harmony, one always comforting you while the other takes measures to make you more practically comfortable. 

“Dove, listen to me,” Remus says after a while. “You’re going to make yourself sick. Take a deep breath.” 

You try, inhaling only for it to come jerking back out of you on another sob. “I can’t.” 

“You can.” Sirius rubs your back. “Keep trying, baby.” 

They talk you through deep breaths for a while, until you start to calm and it’s only Sirius’ voice in your ear, low and reassuring while Remus goes to get something from the kitchen. 

He passes you a cold glass of water when he gets back, while Sirius is scraping damp pieces of hair back from your face. Presses it into your hands. 

You sniffle. “I’m not really thirsty.” 

“You’re going to be dehydrated after all that. You don’t have to drink it all at once,” he says, and the message is clear: but you do have to drink it. “Take your time if you need to.” 

You take a shaky breath, bringing the glass to your lips. 

“There you go.” Sirius kisses your cheek. You love and hate when they gang up on you like this. You’re between them on the couch, quite literally the center of attention. It’s both comforting and overwhelming. “Now, are you ready to say what’s wound you up so badly?” 

You swallow, nodding. “Sorry,” you say, and you still sound congested, “I didn’t think anyone was home.” 

Sirius tsks. “You know the s word is banned.” He somehow manages to strike a tone that’s both loving and stern. “You don’t get to start bending the rules because you’ve had a bad day.” 

“You shouldn’t feel like you can’t cry when we’re here, either, sweetheart,” Remus adds. 

“Probably wouldn’t have made such a spectacle of it, though.” You attempt a feeble smile. Neither boy looks amused. “It was only that I got my rejection from the Lunds job.” 

“Oh.” Remus' face creases with sympathy. He rubs your thigh. “You really wanted that one, yeah?” 

You shrug, but tears fill your eyes again against your will, dribbling down your cheeks. “I thought I had a good feeling about that one,” you whisper. Sirius starts stroking between your shoulder blades again. “It was stupid.” 

“I’m beginning to think we should ban every s word,” Sirius mutters. There’s no bite to it, though, and when you crack a smile he kisses underneath your ear. “It wasn’t stupid, baby. You were excited about it.” 

Remus’ voice is a low hum. “It’s not just about this one job, though, is it?” 

You look at him, tasting salt in the seam of your lips. 

“You’ve been anxious about all this for a long while,” he says, thumb moving over your knee in a slow, soothing back-and-forth. “I think you put all your stock into this one, and now it’s caught up to you, but this was never the only one that mattered. You can still find a job somewhere else.” 

“I just…” You draw in a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I thought I was so perfect for this one. If they didn’t want me” —your voice wavers— “how can I expect to ever get one?” 

“Angel, I love you, and you know I think you’re a genius ahead of your time,” says Sirius, “but that is some very shoddy reasoning. You’ve no idea who else applied. They might’ve had fucking superman in their stack of applications, and you could’ve been their second choice. That’s not going to happen every time.” 

“But it is still,” Remus tells you, taking your hand in his, “very hard to feel like you weren’t good enough. I’m sure all you’ve been putting in without getting results weighs on you, yeah?” 

You bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from bursting into tears again. Somehow Remus always knows how to get to the heart of the issue. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. 

“Oh, I know, sweet girl.” He pulls you into his side, kissing your head. “You’ve worked so hard. But it’ll all pay off in the end, alright? What’s say we have a break for tonight. No more applications, just relaxing.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees for you. “After a good cry like that, I think a film and some cuddles are in order.” 

“These aren’t already cuddles?” you joke wetly. 

He makes an offended squawking noise. “Not proper ones. Get your cozies on and let Rem make us a hot cocoa, babydoll, and then we’ll remind you what real cuddles are like.”