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seitmai · 8 hours ago

Text

Many thoughts

“Better now that I’m taking you back to our place,” he said. There was that spring in his step again, like he was allowed to be happy since he knew you were really okay after walking home alone.

His happiness very much depends on her, and little too much if you ask me 🥴

When someone like Bucky had the kind of money he did, you imagined he’d drop just about anything to spend time with you and it wouldn’t make a dent in his pocketbook. Even if he lost everything tomorrow, it would be the same. Somehow you’d come first.

For sure

“Steve insisted on talking to you about that double date.” Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and refused to let his friend take the bags from his hands. He really didn’t want anyone else carrying your things or opening doors for you. “He’s stubborn, but you get used to it after a while.” “I’m stubborn?” Steve chuckled. “Pot meet kettle.”

Lol for real

“Well, we can talk about how excited Bucky is that you’re spending the night,” Steve teased. “I think she knows,” Bucky smirked, your cheeks hot. Did the whole gang feed into his delusion of what would happen if you stayed over?

I'm sure they do 🫠

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky assured you, cupping your cheeks. “She’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.” “For now, she is,” Steve muttered under his breath.

Geez 🥴

“We still don’t know the angle.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He could be doing it to show that can get to people close to you.” “Like you with Addison and Brady?” you asked. Nick was Brady’s boss now, and it was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.

Nice call out lol

“How about I find a way to relax and still go out tomorrow?” you suggested. “You’re really determined to go. And here I thought Steve and I were the stubborn ones,” he smirked, guiding you into the penthouse. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom?”

She sure is and she should stay like that!

“Because you like being near me,” he said, your eyes rounding. “You slept beside me last night and you want to experience that again. Either that or being near me makes you feel safer than you want to admit.” You scoffed. “No, that’s…” You shook your head. “I mean, no. That’s just-” He gently smiled. “It's okay to admit. It'll be our secret.”

Oop👀

You tried not to choke up. It felt romantic, but you appreciated how thoughtful it was. “I…” You had to clear your throat. “I brought pajamas.” “I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They’re your size and I think you’ll like them.”

That is actually very thoughtful

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched. “Of course I won’t. This is your relaxing time,” he promised, kissing your forehead again as you breathed easier. “And like I said, I have a few things to do.” You felt a little sheepish at his expression. “I’m sorry. I just…” “Nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for double checking.” He patted your backside with a gentle hand. “Just enjoy your time.”

I mean is brought this distrust on himself 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-” “I don't have to do anything, but I wanted to. Do you like it?”

That's the spirit 🤭

“This is all thoughtful, but aren't I supposed to be making it up to you?” He frowned a little at your expression. “You being here is more than enough.” His fingers barely grazed your cheek. “Are you okay?”

👀

You avoided his gaze when you opened your eyes. “That’s all you want?” you asked. He hadn’t dragged you to bed once you arrived, but he also didn’t say that he didn’t want something. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “Well, I won’t lie to you. I want you, but I'm not pushing you. This is the first time you came to me willingly, and I want to cherish it.” You shivered at his touch. “Yeah, I did come here willingly,” you said. Sort of.

True...

“Stay home with me tomorrow,” he whispered, sitting up with you in his lap still. “We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the whole day together.” “No,” you said firmly. You were going out with your friends and that was final. “Send Ray or someone to watch over me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

You tensed and tried to push yourself up, but he grabbed you and situated you over one of his massive thighs. He had a firm hold on you and it made your heart pound. “I don't want you to be scared. I'll take such good care of you.” “I just… I’m not…” If he took you to bed, there’d be no turning back, and you had to maintain some control. “You’re not ready for that,” he stated, his eyes still dark. Shaking your head, it worried you how he’d take it. But he suddenly started moving you over his thigh, hard and slow. “Okay, Kotyonok. I won't put my tongue or fingers in you just yet, but I still want to make you feel good.”

I totally get that she wants to have at least a little bit control..

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, rocking you over his thigh again and sitting up, desperately pressing his lips to your neck. “You'll never have to beg for anything you want. Just ask or tell me and it's yours.”

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

And breathing hard, you surprised both of you by leaning in and kissing him. He let out a deep moan, kissing you back with everything he had as he held you closer. You were still shaking from your orgasm, and you could blame that for the reason why you kissed him. And he behaved, not letting his hands wander as his tongue moved with yours.

Ohh 👀

His smile confused you. “But… you didn’t…” you trailed off. He was hard in his pants, and you hadn’t gotten him off. You selfishly got yourself off on his thigh with his encouragement. “That doesn't matter,” he assured you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

Ngl that's kinda hot 🤭

He tucked your head under his chin and wrapped one of the blankets around you. “I know you're still a bit scared and you don’t want to trust me, and that’s okay. It’s scary to let someone like me in after everything.”

That's actually really sweet 🥹

He rubbed your back and you noticed how relaxed he was. He was content to just hold you. Like an actual couple. Exactly what he wanted. And if he noticed a tear streaming down your cheek when you eventually fell asleep in his arms, he thoughtfully kept that to himself.

Uff what an ending 🥴

Hold You Tight: Part 17

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 16 | Series Masterlist | Part 18

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.9k

Chapter Summary: You take a step further in your relationship with Bucky.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon elements, dirty talk, thigh riding, tension, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tried to occupy yourself as you waited for Bucky to pick you up. You made sure you had your outfit for tomorrow and sent Addison a text to confirm when and where you were meeting. God, what if Bucky insisted on dropping you off? He likely would. There was no way he’d let you head over on your own, unless Ray or someone dropped you off.

“What am I doing?” you muttered.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned. You had changed out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. He would think you looked sexy no matter what you wore, even if you didn’t try. What was he going to expect or demand from you? There was no way you’d go through the entire evening in his home without him touching you or something.

You weren’t sure if the anticipation was worse or knowing he’d probably make your body enjoy whatever he’d do to you, and use that as a weapon against you.

The knock on your door made you jump. Had two hours passed already? You checked the peephole and saw Bucky on the other side, shifting from one foot to the other. At least he didn’t break his way inside like he could’ve easily done.

“Hi.” You slowly opened the door to let him in. “I-”

Bucky had you against the wall before you could finish, his lips insistently pressing against yours. The kiss only lasted seconds, but it felt like hours when he pulled away. “Don’t walk home alone again,” he whispered with a brief flash of fear in his eyes.

You nodded after a moment. The conversation from earlier was still on his mind, clearly. “I won’t.”

“You look beautiful by the way.” Taking a breath, he ran both hands through his hair and straightened up. He looked like his normal self again, and you knew it. No matter what he’d find you attractive. “Is this everything?” he asked, picking up the overnight bag and garment bag that you had left by the door.

“Yeah, it should be,” you said, making sure you had your phone and purse, too.

“Was the rest of your day okay?” he asked, watching carefully as you locked the door.

“It was fine,” you replied. You were so busy thinking about Bucky that you hadn’t thought much about Clark. “Was yours?”

“You don’t have to go to the club tonight?” you asked.

“Only if there’s an emergency. There’s no special event tonight, no reason to make an appearance, and my staff knows how to take care of the place,” he assured you. “Time with you is much more important than that.”

Once you were outside, you were surprised to find Steve standing by Bucky’s car instead of Ray. “Hi,” the blonde smiled with a row of perfect teeth.

“Hi,” you replied, stepping a bit closer to Bucky. Steve was his best friend, but you still didn’t know him well. What you did know was that he had his own woman he was stalking.

“I’m stubborn?” Steve chuckled. “Pot meet kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bucky smiled, helping you into the car.

The interaction between the two of them was so natural and easy. You imagined that in another life they were decent men who fought for others instead of trapping them. “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?” you asked once you took off.

“Well, we can talk about how excited Bucky is that you’re spending the night,” Steve teased.

“I think she knows,” Bucky smirked, your cheeks hot. Did the whole gang feed into his delusion of what would happen if you stayed over?

“Did you want to talk about the double date?” you asked, hoping the topic switch would help.

“Well, my girl likes art and Bucky mentioned how you sometimes like to relax with a glass of wine,” Steve began, smiling at you in the mirror. “So, I was thinking, we could do one of those wine and painting classes. Just the four of us.”

“But if you didn’t want to do a painting, they do something similar with pottery where everyone can pick their own piece to paint,” Bucky said, slipping an arm over your shoulders.

“Dinner before the painting, too. It would be really nice for you two to talk,” Steve continued, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “She’s a sweet girl with a big heart, but she doesn’t have many friends nearby like you do.”

“I mean, I’m fine with painting a canvas or pottery. I think we should let her choose since art is one of her passions.” Your heart went out to the girl. Was that why Steve set his sights on her? Did he feel like he was rescuing her in some sense? “And does she have a preference on wine? White or red? Sweet or dry? Maybe I can pick a bottle for her while I’m at the vineyard tomorrow.”

Steve glanced at you again in the mirror, impressed. “That’s very considerate of you,” he said, sharing a quick look with Bucky, too. “And she likes sparkling sweet wine.”

“I have a very considerate girl,” Bucky boasted, kissing your temple. “You really are thoughtful.”

“I try to be,” you whispered, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “I’m sure Bucky will give me the details once it’s set up,” you said, not finding it in you to argue since you were outnumbered.

“He will,” Steve smiled, clearing his throat. “And now that we have that out of the way…”

“Really, punk?” Bucky asked, tightening his hand on our shoulder.

You sat up a little. All the warmth had left his voice, and he tensed up beside you. “What’s going on?”

“Tell her, Buck,” Steve urged.

You held your breath. Was this about earlier in the day when Ray spoke with Bucky? “Yes, please, tell me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Mrs. Crandle wasn’t at work today, was she?” he asked as if he already knew the answer.

“No, she…” Your eyes widened. Kate said she called out for some business reason. “Oh, my god. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky assured you, cupping your cheeks. “She’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“For now, she is,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Just shut up and drive,” Bucky ordered when you gasped. “The reason she was suddenly out of work today was because of Zemo.”

Your heart sank. What the hell would Zemo want with Mrs. Crandle? “What do you mean?”

“From what we’ve gathered, he met up with her to tell her that she won an all expenses paid trip to a flower expo. She was shocked since she didn’t remember even entering the contest, but he told her someone anonymously registered her,” he explained. “He asked questions about some of her employees in case she wanted to bring anyone from her shop along and your name came up.”

“But why?” you asked. Why would Zemo make a contest just to talk to your boss?

“We still don’t know the angle.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He could be doing it to show that can get to people close to you.”

“Like you with Addison and Brady?” you asked. Nick was Brady’s boss now, and it was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Bucky doesn’t have his hand in the shop out of respect for you, and Zemo knows that,” Steve chimed in before Bucky could argue. “So it’s possible that he may be trying to butter Mrs. Crandle up before he makes an offer, whether it’s to offer some kind of protection or to buy out her shop completely.”

The thought of Zemo owning the shop where you worked or having his hand in it made your stomach turn. “She loves her shop, and she’s honest when it comes to business. She wouldn’t want someone stepping in or buying it,” you said, your breathing a bit heavier. “Is she in danger? Is something going to happen to her because of me?”

If something happened to Mrs. Crandle, you’d never forgive yourself.

“It isn’t because of you, Kotyonok. It’s his actions,” Bucky answered. Just like Bucky’s actions put you in the line of fire. “I hesitated telling you because we still need answers, but she’s safe. We also have someone keeping an eye on her, just to exercise caution.”

You exhaled. If Zemo was trying to scare you, it was working. “Please, don’t keep me in the dark,” you said. Even if it scared you, you had to know. “And Mrs. Crandle is one of the most harmless people in the city and the shop is all she has. If he-”

“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Bucky promised. It was a lot to promise. “And I’m sorry I didn’t say something this morning. I just wanted you to have a normal day.”

You understood part of Bucky’s reasoning. Telling you even when she wasn't in immediate danger would've thrown your whole day off. But what was a normal day now? “We deal with ups and downs every day. So just tell me next time something’s going on, especially if it involves someone important to me.” Ignorance isn't bliss in the world Bucky lived in.

He regarded you with a soft smile. “I will.”

You stayed quiet for the remainder of the ride while Bucky and Steve discussed dinner options for the double date night. It would’ve been endearing with how excited they were, had it not been for the fact that you and Steve’s girl didn’t exactly have a choice. What was going to happen at Thor’s party?

And what about your loved ones? Were they safe? You thought being by Bucky’s side would keep them safe from his wrath, but what if Zemo went after them? You had to trust that Bucky and his men wouldn't allow that to happen.

“You two have fun tonight,” Steve winked. “Try not to get too handsy, jerk.”

“What?” you asked, your throat dry once you realized you were at Bucky’s place. God, you were really there. There was no backing out.

“Just get in your car and go, punk,” Bucky chuckled, helping you out and grabbing your things. “He really is excited for you and his girl to become friends.”

“I’ll bet,” you said, giving Steve a small wave for his benefit.

You counted the number of steps from the car to the elevator. This was similar to when he brought you here the first time because you didn’t know what to expect. You weren’t sure if it was better or worse though knowing what you knew now.

“Where’s Ray?” you asked.

“He’s busy,” Bucky answered cryptically, sweeping his gaze over you. “You seem nervous. If you’d rather skip your day out tomorrow, I can help you find a few ways to relax.”

“How about I find a way to relax and still go out tomorrow?” you suggested.

“You’re really determined to go. And here I thought Steve and I were the stubborn ones,” he smirked, guiding you into the penthouse. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom?”

“Okay,” you breathed, hoping he didn’t notice you trembling as you walked through the place. It felt warmer than the last time you were there, more like the temperature that you kept at your place. And as dangerous as Bucky was, you somehow felt safe being there. Someone like Zemo wasn’t going to get in there. Clark wouldn’t either.

Rubbing your arms, you took a seat on the sofa. It was a beautiful room, but nothing like your living room. It wasn't just the difference in size, but you noticed once again that there were no nicknacks or homey touches. Maybe you could add a pop or color or even some flowers to… Oh, God. You were really thinking of how you’d decorate the place.

“You still look nervous,” Bucky said once he joined you, giving you absolutely no space as he took a seat. “You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lied, biting your lip. “Okay, I am a little.”

He hummed. “Were you expecting me to drag you to bed?”

You nodded slowly. He behaved himself in the car with Steve there, but now the two of you were alone and you had no idea where Ray was. There was nothing to stop him from taking what he thought belonged to him.

“You thought sex would make it up to me because you walked home alone?”

“No,” you said immediately. You shouldn’t have to give him sex to say you’re sorry, especially when he had a much longer list of things he needed to apologize for. “I just thought this was a natural step in a relationship, you know? Spending the night together.”

A natural step would’ve been him staying at your place, too, but he was certain you would live at his place. And having him in your space, it didn’t feel the same. It was something you wanted to keep sacred.

“It is a natural step, but I don’t think you offered to stay here to make it up to me.”

His statement surprised you. That was part of the reason. If you made it up to him, he wouldn’t object to you going out with your friends. You weren’t going to bring up Clark or that the thought of being alone at your place made you nervous. “Then why else do you think I’m here?” you asked.

You scoffed. “No, that’s…” You shook your head. “I mean, no. That’s just-”

He gently smiled. “It's okay to admit. It'll be our secret.”

You shook your head again. Admitting that being in his arms wasn’t terrible and that his place did feel safer than yours at the moment would give him another win. “I'm not admitting anything.”

The smile on his face widened. “Is it because I'm right and you don't want me to be right?”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, standing and crossing your arms. “I should just go.”

“No, no, no. I’ll stop teasing. Please stay,” he nearly begged, getting to his feet, too. “How about I run you a bath and you can relax?”

“...A bath?” you asked. It wasn’t fair. He knew how much you loved taking baths.

He nodded. “A warm bath and a glass of wine, too.”

You uncrossed your arms, avoiding his hopeful gaze. It was a bit of a rough day, on top of a rough week. You deserved to relax. “Okay, that actually sounds really nice.”

He smiled and offered his hand. “I have bath bombs or salts if you want those, too. Anything to help you relax.”

“You have bath bombs?” you asked, your curiosity peaked. “What kind?”

“I have honeysuckle, lavender, vanilla,” he smiled softly. Each scent sounded like something that would help make the stress leave your body. “Let me show you.”

You let him lead the way you were pretty sure most of your apartment could fit inside the luxurious bathroom. The inviting tub almost made you burst into happy tears. It was nothing like your builder's grade tub. This was an honest to goodness clawfoot tub of your dreams.

“You like it?” Bucky smiled.

Blinking, you remembered Bucky saying how he wanted to fuck you in his tub. Would it be tonight? “I love it,” you admitted.

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “I’ll grab a tray and I can bring you a book if you want. Or you can just relax and enjoy your wine.”

“Well.” You thought it over. “I wouldn’t mind a book.”

Bucky nodded and brought the bath bombs out for you to choose from before he ushered you into the bedroom. “Why don't you stay here and pick one out while I'll get everything else you need?”

“Okay,” you said, holding your breath as you stared at the king sized bed. You avoided looking at it when he led you into the bathroom, but now you couldn’t help yourself. That was the bed he expected you to sleep with him in… the bed he’d fuck you and make love to you in. The satin sheets were a dark promise that he’d get everything he wanted and more.

Shaking your head, you carefully picked up each bath bomb and gave them a sniff. Each one smelled better than the last, and your eyes nearly rolled back at the one you selected. You wondered if he had these before you met or if he bought them specifically for you to have available.

Bucky came back after a minute and took your hand, guiding you back into the bathroom. “I’ve got everything all set.” The tub was steaming, candles were lit, and there was a generous glass of wine waiting on the tray with a book. “There's a robe on the back of the door, and I'll make sure fresh pajamas are ready for when you get out.”

You tried not to choke up. It felt romantic, but you appreciated how thoughtful it was. “I…” You had to clear your throat. “I brought pajamas.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They’re your size and I think you’ll like them.”

“Thanks.” What other clothes did he have waiting for you? “What will you do while I'm in the tub?”

“I have a couple of calls to make.” He kissed your forehead. “And there's something else I want to set up for you.”

You shook your head. “I think this is more than enough,” you said honestly. He didn’t have to go to the trouble of setting this up. “But…” You fidgeted a little. “You promise you won’t just… barge in, right?”

This was still his home. He could easily make an excuse to go into his bathroom for whatever reason. And being naked in the bathtub, you’d be more vulnerable than normal.

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched. “Of course I won’t. This is your relaxing time,” he promised, kissing your forehead again as you breathed easier. “And like I said, I have a few things to do.”

You felt a little sheepish at his expression. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for double checking.” He patted your backside with a gentle hand. “Just enjoy your time.”

With a small smile, he shut the door behind him. You waited a full minute after hearing his footsteps fade before you undressed and added the bath bomb to the tub. The scent brought a smile to your face before you tested the water temperature with your hand. It felt perfect, evident by your sigh once you got in.

You took your time sipping your wine as you began to read. Was this really going to be your bathroom now? Would you relax here after a rough shift or just because you felt like it? How many nights would Bucky insist on joining you?

But the man was, surprisingly, true to his word. He hadn’t disturbed you once. Even after you finished your glass and added more warm water to the tub, he didn’t knock or barge in. Even when you grudgingly got out of the tub and dried off before you pulled the plush robe on, he wasn’t sitting there waiting. Was he actually respecting your boundaries?

Peeking out into the bedroom, Bucky had laid out a pair of soft pajamas like he promised and was still nowhere to be seen. You were still quick to change so he couldn’t sneak a look at you. But where was he?

You thought of calling out when you went to search for him since the lights were dimmed all over the penthouse. Your fingers touched one of the walls. Would he ever hang a picture of his mom up or was it too painful?

Tiptoeing over to the balcony when you saw the door open, you spotted Bucky reading a book, too, and sipping whiskey from a tumbler. He looked completely at ease, lost in his own lonely world, and you weren’t sure if you should disturb him. Turning around, you wondered where you should go. Maybe you could curl up on the couch or something before he could-

“All finished in the bath?”

You froze and turned back toward him, his hair gently blowing in the breeze. “Yeah, sorry. I didn't know what to do when I was done, so I was going to wander around.”

He downed the rest of his glass and smiled. “You're welcome to wander, except into the den which is being redone.” He offered his hand again when he stood. “Did you enjoy your bath?”

“I did. That bath bomb was incredible,” you said. There was no reason to lie. “So was the wine.”

You gulped a little. Oh, god. You didn’t see him pour the glass. Why did you accept that from him? He could’ve put something in it. No, he wouldn’t. He wanted you to want him without that sort of influence.

“I'll get you more. The bath bomb and the wine.” he smiled, leading you back to the living room where he had pillows and blankets set up.

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-”

“I don't have to do anything, but I wanted to. Do you like it?”

You looked at the lush blankets and fluffy pillows. Like the bathroom, it looked like a dream. Looking back at him, you smiled softly at his once again hopeful expression. He carried himself with such confidence and didn't seem to care if he impressed others except for you. “I do. Thank you.”

He smiled, too, his whole face bright. “I thought it would be another good way to relax.”

The memory of Clark walking you home popped in your mind for some reason before you pushed it away. “This is all thoughtful, but aren't I supposed to be making it up to you?”

He frowned a little at your expression. “You being here is more than enough.” His fingers barely grazed your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You blinked and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Bucky considered you and you couldn’t help but fidget again when he pinned you with his gaze. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes. “I just don't understand why you’re doing all of this.”

He could’ve been manipulating you again, but it actually seemed like he was trying to be a doting boyfriend without expecting anything in return. Your guard was down enough for him to worm his way in, and you all too easily accepted the kind gestures. Why were you making it easy for him?

“You mean setting up the blankets and pillows? I thought we could lay together and watch a movie. Or talk.” His fingers touched your cheek again. “Whatever you want.”

You avoided his gaze when you opened your eyes. “That’s all you want?” you asked. He hadn’t dragged you to bed once you arrived, but he also didn’t say that he didn’t want something.

He ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “Well, I won’t lie to you. I want you, but I'm not pushing you. This is the first time you came to me willingly, and I want to cherish it.”

You shivered at his touch. “Yeah, I did come here willingly,” you said. Sort of.

“And how do you feel being here compared to the first time?”

“Better,” you admitted. You weren’t completely terrified this time, and you also felt like you had some control over. Maybe not much, but some.

“Good. Now, shall we?”

You nodded and allowed Bucky to help you settle into the comfort of the pillows. He pulled you close, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been before. This felt more gentle. More… right.

It should’ve felt wrong.

The room was so quiet and all you could hear for a minute was the gentle sound of his breathing and his heart beating. “What's your favorite color?” you asked. “I don't think you've told me.”

You weren’t sure if you had taken the time to ask because, well, it hadn’t been a real relationship in your eyes. But you needed to know him. Call it acceptance or ammunition. Maybe both.

“Blue,” he answered, his hand absentmindedly moving along your side.

“And your birthday?”

“March 10th.”

“Wait, you're a Pisces?” you smiled a little. “That explains so much.”

He smiled down at you and chuckled. “Oh, does it now?”

You laughed lightly. “Well, yeah. I mean, you’re just… you know…” He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to finish. “Emotional.”

“I can't argue with that,” he smiled, leaning in a bit. “Does it explain anything else?”

“Well, you're…” You were a little distracted as he kept rubbing your side. “Intense. Passionate. You want to be close to the person you fall for.”

He fit that to a tee.

His darkened eyes made you lose your breath. “I can’t argue with that either,” he whispered, pulling you close without hesitation and fusing your mouths together.

Bucky held you tight and rolled you over so you were on top of him, his hands skimming your thighs as he made you straddle him. A small sound escaped when he brushed against you, your heart pounding in your ears. “Bucky-”

“Stay home with me tomorrow,” he whispered, sitting up with you in his lap still. “We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the whole day together.”

“No,” you said firmly. You were going out with your friends and that was final. “Send Ray or someone to watch over me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Please?” he asked, thrusting his hips up. “I’ll make it worth your while if you skip.”

Natasha’s words crossed your mind, reminding you that you had power. But a sinking feeling washed over you because that power had to come from your body, right? You shouldn’t be expected to give him sex, but you could give him something to hold him over. Pushing the dread away, you could hate yourself later for it. “You can spend time with me when I get back,” you offered, grinding your hips against his. “I’ll be all yours.”

The sickening feeling you expected when he moaned didn’t come. “You promise?” he murmured.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, grinding your hips again. “You can even drop me off at Addison’s, and I’ll let you know when I get back to my place. I promise.”

“Okay, Kotyonok,” he groaned, his hands grabbing your waist. Your triumph didn’t last long. “Keep doing that and I’ll pay for all the bottles of wine you want, too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me touch you. Please, just let me make you feel good,” he half begged, half demanding between kissing you again. He truly hungered for you. “I'll make you feel amazing if you just let me touch you.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. How far would he take it if he touched you? No, you had to stay in control. “You are touching me.”

“Let me take you to bed. I'll eat your pussy so good you'll cry.”

“I just… I’m not…” If he took you to bed, there’d be no turning back, and you had to maintain some control.

“You’re not ready for that,” he stated, his eyes still dark. Shaking your head, it worried you how he’d take it. But he suddenly started moving you over his thigh, hard and slow. “Okay, Kotyonok. I won't put my tongue or fingers in you just yet, but I still want to make you feel good.”

You made a small sound, trying to get your body to relax. You had never ridden anyone’s thigh before and you hadn’t pictured it like this. But the blissful look on his face, he looked like he was in heaven.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you? Especially like this,” he praised.

“I…” you whimpered. “I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” he growled, tightening his grip. “And you deserve to feel good. My girl deserves whatever she wants.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders when he flexed his thigh, sending an unexpected shock through your entire body. “Oh, my God,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

“That felt good, right?” he asked, watching you with lidded eyes. “You want me to keep going? Make you come all over my pants?”

You whimpered when he held you still, unsure it was his dirty talk or the slight edging that had you trembling. “Bucky…”

“Tell me, Kotyonok,” he ordered, licking his lips and relaxing back into the blankets and pillows. “Tell me you want me to keep going and I will.”

You looked deep into his eyes. There was so much fire in them and it was burning for you. Your breath caught as he flexed his thigh again and you found yourself nodding. “Please, Bucky. Keep going.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I said,” he whispered, sliding his tongue along your lips. “Tell me.”

You swallowed hard, your core throbbing. “I want you to keep going,” you breathed.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling his thigh getting wetter beneath you. “Please…” you whispered, unsure of what exactly you were asking for. Mercy? To be put out of your misery? You could ask for anything except for freedom.

“Still begging when you don't have to.” He chuckled affectionately. “You’re so sweet.”

The pleasure building inside you was bittersweet. Sexual acts were, in your eyes, something to bring you closer together. What would he want next? What would you want next?

“Fucking yourself on my thigh. Wait ‘til you fuck yourself on my cock,” he gruffly spoke, your walls clenching around nothing when he lightly nipped over your pulse. “Just let go if you want. Make a mess for me.”

You were breathless from how close you were. “Do… that again,” you said, unable to let yourself feel embarrassed in the moment.

Bucky nipped your neck again and smiled when you moaned. “Fuck, that’s my beautiful girl. Doing so good for me, telling me what you want,” he said gruffly, dragging you faster along his thigh. “Now I want you to come for me.”

Your mouth fell open when he rocked you faster and bit down once more, hard enough that something inside you snapped. It didn’t just snap, you shattered. You saw stars. You couldn't stop it.

“There you go. Coming just for me,” he smiled, burying his face in your neck. “Fuck, you got my thigh all wet. Just ride it out. Good girl.”

Your face burned and you wanted to hide once you slowed down, but he wouldn’t let you when he lifted his head. He looked so happy, like a cat who got the cream. Your release dripped from your pussy and soaked your pajamas and his pants. You let him get you off.

And breathing hard, you surprised both of you by leaning in and kissing him.

He let out a deep moan, kissing you back with everything he had as he held you closer. You were still shaking from your orgasm, and you could blame that for the reason why you kissed him. And he behaved, not letting his hands wander as his tongue moved with yours.

He kept his mouth close to yours when you pulled back. The orgasm surprisingly helped you relax, but it worried you, too. Had you pushed too far with what you just did? Would he want more? You couldn’t let him in, and you weren’t ready to let yourself fall for him after everything. Not yet.

“Um, thanks,” you said, unsure of what to say to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

His smile confused you. “But… you didn’t…” you trailed off. He was hard in his pants, and you hadn’t gotten him off. You selfishly got yourself off on his thigh with his encouragement.

“That doesn't matter,” he assured you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “But that’s… No. I…” You just wanted a bit of time with your friends, it wasn’t about trust. Was it? How could you trust this man?

You shut your eyes to hold back tears. He had scared you from the moment you met, but you wouldn’t say you were completely scared of him right now. Not really. You didn’t know how you felt.

That was what scared you.

“Will someone keep an eye on my place while I’m out tomorrow?” you asked curiously, hoping the question didn't sound weird. You just didn't want Clark snooping around, and you didn't want Bucky worked up if you mentioned him.

“I have safety measures in place,” he replied. “Do you feel safe here?” he asked above a whisper.

“Yes,” you replied. You felt safe and in danger all at once. It was a strange feeling.

“Good,” he whispered. “Hey. Maybe you can spend the night tomorrow, too? We’ll do a movie night.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your heart finally starting to slow to a steady rate. “And pizza.”

“Pizza and a movie? It’s a date,” he smiled. “We can talk about redecorating the place, too. Make it a real home for us.”

“A real home,” you whispered, knowing full well you were home for Bucky.

He rubbed your back and you noticed how relaxed he was. He was content to just hold you. Like an actual couple. Exactly what he wanted.

And if he noticed a tear streaming down your cheek when you eventually fell asleep in his arms, he thoughtfully kept that to himself.

So, that happened. It could've been... worse? He's wearing his girl down, isn't he? How are things going to be in the morning? Will he leave you be when you're with your friends? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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cuntyji · 1 day ago

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cw: highly suggestive but v funny please laugh, reader wears lingerie 🙉

your first mistake was leaving choso alone in the apartment.

your second mistake was not expecting him to do something stupid when left unattended for more than an hour. but this? this was new.

you came home, fully expecting to see him napping on the couch, scrolling through his phone, or maybe reheating leftovers in the microwave. instead, you found him standing in front of your underwear drawer—organizing.

which, in itself, was already suspect behavior, considering you’d never seen him fold a shirt properly in his life.

but it wasn’t the tidiness that had your soul leaving your body. no, it was the fact that he was standing there with your panties over his face.

not in a pervy way. not like those spicy fanfics you’ve definitely, totally never read at three in the morning. no, your boyfriend—your 27-year-old, full-time salaryman boyfriend—was wearing your victoria’s secret lace-trimmed underwear over his face like a spiderman mask.

and he was making pew pew noises.

“take that, villain!” he whispered aggressively, using one hand as a makeshift web-shooter while the other expertly color-coordinated your socks. his movements were swift, methodical. he was, horrifyingly enough, completely immersed in his role.

you should have left. you should have turned around, walked back out, and never spoken of this. but no, you had to be brave. you had to step forward and, in the worst decision of your life, say:

“…cho?”

chaos.

choso shrieked. not a yell, not a grunt—a full-on horror movie shriek. his entire body jerked like he’d been electrocuted, hands flying to his face as if he’d forgotten what he’d done. his wide, horrified eyes locked onto yours for one agonizing second before he attempted to remove the evidence—attempted being the keyword.

because rather than just taking the panties off his face like a normal human being, your boyfriend, in his absolute panic, yanked them.

RRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPP.

the sound was deafening. the death of good fabric. lace fibers shredded in his grasp. the remnants of your once-beautiful underwear dangled limply from his trembling hands.

a heavy silence fell between you.

“…”

choso slowly lowered his hands. then, in the most pathetic, guilty voice you’d ever heard in your life, he croaked out:

“…hey, babe. how was work?”

you inhaled. deep. long. controlled. you were going to kill him.

“CHO—”

“WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! I CAN EXPLAIN!”

“EXPLAIN?! EXPLAIN WHY YOU’RE PLAYING SUPERHERO WITH MY UNDERWEAR?! WHY ARE YOU EVEN ORGANIZING MY DRAWER?! YOU DON'T EVEN ORGANIZE YOUR OWN SHIT!”

his mouth opened, then closed. then opened again. “well… it looked messy?”

you blinked at him. he blinked at you.

“… i’m gonna pretend you didn’t just imply my organizational skills are subpar,” you deadpanned.

“no! that’s not—! i mean—! it was just a little… chaotic?”

choso was walking on dangerous ground, and he knew it. you could see the regret in his eyes, but you weren’t about to let him escape unscathed.

you crossed your arms. “so you put my panties on your face?”

“… i got distracted.”

“distracted by what?”

he shifted awkwardly. “… spiderman?”

oh, he was so sleeping on the couch tonight.

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alaia777 · 3 days ago

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omg i got sooo excited when i saw this event on ur pinned post, also congrats on 200 eeeee u deserve it! >w< could i pleasee ask for "i want to marry you." with shido? like just chilling with him and then him saying it out of nowhere and we're so confused becuz there is not one serious bone in that mans body LOL, but ofc you can do a different scenario, i think anything u write will be adorbs<333

sorry for my bad english btw :3

hellooo, thank you so so much :’)))) i love your idea so much omg! i hope you like it, and also your english is perfect, don’t worry!!!

the living room floor was a mess of pillows and blankets, the aftermath of your boyfriend’s relentless begging for you to wrestle with him. you had other ways you would’ve preferred to spend your afternoon, but you gave in—mostly because you loved him, but also because you knew he needed to burn off some energy.

he didn’t take it seriously, of course. he never did. instead of an actual match, it turned into him picking you up, tossing you onto the couch, and carrying you around the room while laughing like a maniac. you didn’t even try to fight back in the end, just letting him have his fun.

now, after all that, the two of you were sprawled across the couch and floor, tangled up in the blankets, watching some comedy you had picked out. if he had chosen, it would’ve been something violent and disturbing—probably something that would make you question his taste in movies.

you could see him from the corner of your eye, stealing glances your way every few minutes. it was only a matter of time before he came up with some ridiculous idea—he always did.

last time, he had turned to you completely serious and asked if you two could try communicating telepathically for a whole day. before that, it was if you’d be willing to fake your own deaths and run away together “just to see if we could pull it off.”

but nothing could have prepared you for what he was about to say next.

“i want to marry you.”

for a few seconds—seconds that felt like an eternity for him—all you could do was stare, your mind scrambling to process his words. you searched his face for any hint of mischief, any telltale smirk that would give away a joke, but there was nothing.

no teasing glint in his eyes. no sly grin.

just him, watching you intently, waiting.

“like, right now?”

it’s the first thing that leaves your lips, and honestly—really? that’s what you go with? of all the things you could say, of all the ways you could respond to something this huge, that’s what your brain decides on?

but, to be fair, thinking straight is nearly impossible when your heart is pounding against your ribs, and his eyes—so steady, so intense—are holding you in place, making you want to say yes to whatever he wants, whatever he asks.

“if that’s what you want, yes. we could go to the courthouse right now and buy the rings on the way there.”

he says it so easily, like he’s suggesting grabbing takeout for dinner. like marrying you is the most natural thing in the world—because to him, maybe it is.

“it doesn’t even matter how it happens, as long as, at the end of the night, i know we’re carrying the same last name.”

you’re this close to crying.

but then, just as your heart starts to swell, he leans in, brushing his thumb over your cheek with a smirk that’s softer than usual.

“but,” he continues, voice lighter now, “i want you to have the wedding of your dreams. a pretty dress, in a pretty place, with all our friends and family.” he pauses, then scoffs, “not that i care about any of them. i just want an excuse to stare at the woman of my dreams for an entire day without anyone calling it weird.”

and just like that, you’re laughing and crying all at once, because only he could make you question everything you thought you knew about love.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. you’re not sure whether to laugh or cry, but the overwhelming emotion feels like both. this man, with his wild ideas, his way of making everything feel bigger than it is, is making your heart race in ways you didn’t expect.

you wipe away a stray tear, your voice catching as you speak. “you really know how to make a girl feel special,” you joke, wiping the moisture from your cheek.

his grin widens, and he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “well, i’ve got to keep up, right? otherwise, you’d probably realize you can do better.”

“is that a challenge?” you tease back, narrowing your eyes with a playful smirk. “because if it is, you’re about to lose.”

his smile softens, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, tangled in blankets, a mess of pillows, and the soft glow of the tv casting shadows across the room.

he reaches for your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “i don’t want anyone else, though. i just want you. for real.”

you look into his eyes, so full of sincerity, and feel the weight of the moment settle in. “well, if you’re serious about that, then we’ll figure it out. together. and who knows? maybe one day we’ll have that wedding.”

he laughs softly, but there’s a warmth in it that’s different this time. “we’ll do it right,” he says, “the way you deserve. but first, how about i just get to stare at you for a little longer?”

and with that, the two of you relax into each other, the laughter and tears fading into the background, replaced by the quiet, comforting presence of knowing that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

#now i want to get married #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou x reader

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joannasprose · 3 days ago

Text

DUST BOWL

“. . .Pretty boy. Natural blood stained blonde—with the holes in his sneakers. . .”

premise: you’ve had a crush on Abby - for a while now - but you’re too afraid to tell her. does she feel the same?

short little thing I wanted to write!!! I just love me some good ole’ butches!!!!!! :3

trigger warnings: vague intoxication, suggestive themes (?), jealously, NOT proof read ~_~

————

A FEW NIGHTS prior to this one, you had asked Abby to come with you to some party Nora had invited you to.

Sat cross legged on her sofa, you nudged her shoulder, “Abby. Please just come. I know you don’t wanna, but neither do I,” you said, a pleading etched between your brows. “But. It’ll be a little more fun if we both went.”

At this Abby rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her broad shoulders as she shots you a look. “You realize you could’ve said no. Right? And anyways, why am I being forced to go.”

The next words that had fallen from your mouth had settled unwarranted—causing you to mentally curse yourself later that night.

“I wanna spend time with you. I like it when you’re around.”

When the words had settled in the cusps of wind, sweeping past your heads, Abby’s face pressed into something unreadable. You’d seen the way the corner of lips twitched—and at this, you reiterate your words, “I mean. Whatever. Abs, can you just come. Please?” That night, you had found both you and Abby had chosen to undermine your words. Neither of you mentioning them.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” she says, letting out a breath, “just don’t drink too much. Okay?”

To be fair, you had never said you wouldn’t get shitfaced. If you were being honest, you had only done it to take your mind off things.

Things such as the curve of Abby’s smile. Things such as the belt buckles she wears—ones that hug her perfectly. And lastly (though not all), the furrow of her brows as she speaks, “Fucking Christ.”

You lean the entirety of your body weight against the porcelain surface behind. The bathroom both you and Abby reside in tonight is small—a friend of a friend, as Nora had stated. Abby stands tall in front of you, her braid faintly unraveled, a white shirt clinging tightly to her skin—as well as that damned belt buckle. Almost all of it is instilled in a pressing silver—save for the actual belt, a beautiful brown.

Her boots touch your own as she brings a hand to your face, lifting it up.

In contrast to hers, your outfit was different in many ways. A long, velvet skirt flowed aimlessly at your sides, though its end didn’t meet the ground. A black v-neck shirt rests over your shoulders, displaying hints of your breast’s that lay beneath. Jewelry adorns your fingers, over the curvatures of your neck and ears. Just how you like it.

Your makeup is smudged. And as you smile, you say, “What? Can’t I have fun?”

Her hand abandons the flesh of your cheek. You nearly shudder as you reminisce over the ghost of her touch, “You’re having too much fun.” She says, rather plainly.

You hum in response, your eyes dipping to the hem of her shirt. And now, you recall, her brown jacket lays comfortably over your shoulders.

“Who was that girl you were talking to?” You suddenly question, the words leaving you as easily as ever.

To this, she cocks a brow. Without any hint of hesitance, both of her hands fall to waist. This alone makes the pace of your beat faster than your thoughts, your knees nearly buckling as you at her with a wobbly vision.

“Liya,” she says, immediately. “Just a friend.” She states, invading your space as she leans in closer, “you jealous?” She jokes.

Any other night, you might not have said anything. Any other night, you might have dwelled on their conversation for far too long in the enclosed walls of your room. But tonight, with a faint drunkeness tingling against your tongue—as well as this longing for Abby, you admit it:

“Yeah.” You say, your lips pulled into a thin line.

Her eyes widen for a moment. A look of contemplation is evident across her features. She studies you for a moment; from the hammering of your heart, to the cupids bow of your lips. All the while, you’re nearly about the spit a string of apologies. But she beats you to it.

“Nothing to be worried about,” she says, now entirely in your space. Her lips are brushing over your own, “I’m yours. All yours. Only if you want me to be.”

Quickly you say, “I want you to be.”

It’s quiet until she laughs, that sound blocking out all sounds of the overwhelming music that pours beneath the slit of the door, “Good.” She says, and then presses her lips against yours.

It’s just how you imagined it would be—some kind of party, a confession of feelings, and so on. Because with all your yearning, all of it pounding against your ribs, it’s what you deserved. What you knew Abby wanted to give you as her lips press harder against yours.

She pushes your body gently against that porcelain sinks. That alone makes you groan, alongside the way she pushes her knee into you.

It’s sloppy. It’s soft and it’s everything you ever wanted. But suddenly, Abby’s pulling away.

“You’re still drunk. And I don’t wanna do this here. You deserve to be loved comfortably.”

At this, you realized you wanted her forever. That she wanted you forever.

#the last of us 2 #abby anderson x reader #abby and reader #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson #hope you guys enjoy!!

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ponyojujuu · 3 days ago

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Hiii ☺️🤭I'm here to kindly ask for some quality content

So if you could share who do you think is mtl likely to get turned on the first time they see their partner in their clothes?? ( Legal line ofc)

If you're up for it I would love it for both enha and &team.thank you🥰

hii! this seems so fun!

not a drabble more of a list with thoughts lol, lmk if you want drabbles of their reactions in my request box! &team will be in part 2!

most to least likely to get turned on seeing reader in their clothes (enhypen pt. 1)

not smut, but not fluff

slightly suggestive mdni

you have been warned

ni-ki! he would love this omg. i can imagine him giving you some of his clothes actually just to see you wear them. he’d love seeing his giant hoodies engulf your body, even if you just napping in them or being comfortable around the house. if he comes home from work and sees you in his clothes he’ll probably instantly feel a bit turned on, or even after you guys have sex and he sees you in his clothes he’s gonna wanna do it all over again.

jake! jake seems like the type to beg you to wear his clothes. you’d just be minding your business, maybe sitting on the couch/bed or just getting out of the shower and jake would be biting his bottom lip. “baby can you wear my shirt? please” sometimes your even avoid wearing it just because you know turned on he can get. if you can’t find some pajamas/clothes of your own you wanted to wear he would offer again for you to wear his. not only this but he would love the scent you leave on all his hoodies, shirts etc. he’d be obsessed with it, and loving to wear it again when he goes to work or anyplace without you carrying your sweet scent.

heeseung! heeseung seems like the type of bf to seriously love and be obsessed with anything you do as long as you’re doing it. including you wearing his clothes. it wouldn’t be just about the sexual, similar to jake he’d love the scent you’d leave behind on his clothes, and would probably hesitate to wash them once you give it back. he’d probably also love you in it more than himself and end up giving you a lot of his clothes. but getting turned on would definitely happen with him. like i said, heeseung loves everything you do in both ways, if you surprise him wearing one of his long button downs first thing out of the shower he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you (i mean when does he ever). you’d probably apologize for taking it short notice but he’d end up thanking you for wearing it because he finds it so hot.

jay! i think jay would like this, but moreso in the sense where he likes to dress you up in his clothes so you guys are matching. he seems like he’d be into corny stuff like that lolz. he’ll specifically pick certain clothes from his wardrobe that he wants to see you in, and his little fashionista heart will explode seeing you in it. I don’t think he’ll be a huge turn on for him, but something more wholesome he enjoys. but if you steal an oversized shirt or hoodie to sleep in he might be picky as to which you’re allowed to use since he has his favorite clothing. also jay and his short temper.

jungwon! jungwon wouldn’t be upset about you taking his clothes. but he would definitely tease you about it, like all the time in front of family friends who ever. “y/n has so much clothes but still wants to wear my favorite hoodie!” it would be cute. but he actually really loves when you wear his clothes. i think jungwon would have a decent self control so he wouldn’t always get turned on when you wear his clothes. especially his favorite items, then he might get just a bit upset with you. but sometimes when your wearing his clothes it might be a little to hard to keep control. i think he’d be very subtle about bringing it up because he knows you’ll tease him right back. “i thought you hated when i wore your clothes?” which was a really a lie, it was a way to stop himself from getting horny when he saw you.

sunoo! sunoo kinda seems like he wouldn’t typically enjoy you snooping around his closet at first. so when he sees you wearing his clothes he might be a bit picky about it at first. but once he is used to it he’d probably really adore you in them. but i don’t think he’d get to turned on by the idea unless your just wearing a plain white tee that’s see through. but in most case scenarios it would be more of a fluff thing for him. cuddling you and snuggling you in his clothes, sometimes teasing you for stealing all his clothes like jungwon.

sunghoon! sunghoon seems like he’s not huge on sharing things with you, especially since he seems to adore his high end fashion. but if you ask nicely though i can see him lending you a few clothes that he’d let you wear. but he’d probably be a bit moody if you went through his clothes without his permission. i don’t see him getting that turned on that easily by this though, unless he was already in the mood, or you were purposely trying to seduce him. but of course since your his girlfriend he’d give into the temptation of you eventually.

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starlightkun · 1 day ago

Text

savvy ❧ teaser

❧ teaser word count: 822 | full fic: 12.2k ❧ warnings: cursing, they go kinda skinny dipping at one point (wearing underwear) ❧ genre: fluff, a little suggestive, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au if you squint, summer camp au, dryad jaemin, human reader, camp counselors jaemin & reader, same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ estimated release: friday, february 14, 2025, 6:00 p.m. eastern time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

You knew you were getting closer to the river when you could hear running water, and the air around you started feeling less heavy and a lot fresher. The trail under your feet turned sandy as you finally emerged from the trees onto a shoreline by the river.

You immediately froze, though, not expecting to see somebody else at the riverside. It was a man pulling himself up out of the river onto a rocky formation. He was shirtless, his biceps, shoulders, and all other sorts of muscles flexing along with his motions. His eyes were closed as he shook his wet hair out, then pushed the damp locks back from his face with both of his hands. The sunlight made him look like he was glowing, every drop of water that ran down his body sparkling like a jewel, and you couldn’t make yourself look away.

He looked like he’d been sculpted by the gods. Which you supposed he had, or one in particular at least, you realized, as his eyes opened and settled on you as if he’d known you were there the whole time. They were the color of ferns, but shifted to a lighter mossy green under the dappling of the sunlight. Dryad. Son of Pan. Or so the legends go.

“Hi?” Despite his voice pitching up to make the greeting sound like a question, the wide, cocky smile on his face told you that he definitely knew that you’d been stood there ogling him for an embarrassing amount of time.

“Sorry!” You cringed at the sound of your own voice. “I didn’t realize there was anybody out here.”

The dryad started picking his way down the rocks towards you carefully, grabbing something off one of them as he went. A neon yellow shirt. When he finally dropped onto the ground a few feet in front of you, he gave the shirt a twist to wring out a few drops of water.

“I’m Jaemin,” he said, gripping the shirt even tighter and giving it another twist for good measure. You pretended like you didn’t notice the veins in his hands or the way his forearms tautened with the motion. He shook out the shirt to show you the logo on the front of it, a smiling evergreen tree that matched yours. “I’m also a counselor at Camp Pineleaf this year. We must’ve gone to different training sessions, huh? Anyway, I was walking the perimeter before the kids got here and I kind of—”

Jaemin stopped, a sheepish sort of look coming to his face as he ducked his head almost in embarrassment.

You looked around in confusion. “You what?”

“I fell in the river.”

“You fell in?” You stared at him. You couldn’t tell if he was messing with you or not. What kind of dryad—

“I know, what kind of dryad is falling in rivers?” He pulled the shirt on over his head, which you could now see he had cut the sleeves off of. “Aren’t we supposed to be connected to nature and all that? I still don’t know how it happened, one second I was just climbing the rocks and surveying the river, next thing I knew, I was in the river. Then you showed up.”

Clumsy dryad. That was a new one.

“I’m Y/N.” Introducing yourself was only fair since he’d already given you his name. “Seems like we’re head counselors of the Swallowtails this year, Jaemin.”

It was then that he seemed to notice the matching colors of your shirts, and his features lit up in recognition. “Hey, looks like it!”

You checked your watch. “We should be getting back, the kids are going to be arriving soon.”

“Right!”

“Besides, if I have to stay out here any longer, I’m going to pass out from heat exhaustion.” You groaned, pulling the front of your shirt off from where it had stuck to your skin, using it to fan yourself. “And there’s no way I’m dying out here and risking getting my ghost stuck in the middle of nowhere for forever instead of somewhere cool.”

Jaemin suddenly had a look of alarm on his face, and you looked around with an eyebrow raised.

“What? Something I said?”

“No, sorry, thought I heard something,” he shook his head. “It was just a vole. Lead the way.”

You hadn’t heard anything other than the usual forest sounds, but chalked it up to superior magic hearing, and started back on the trail to the main camp.

“So, why did you come out here, Y/N?”

“Same as you, walking the perimeter.”

“And… I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but what are you?”

You looked at him curiously. “Can’t you tell? I’m a human.”

He blinked as if shaken from a trance. Then he offered you another heart-stopping smile. “Right, of course. Sorry about that. Must’ve hit my head when I fell in the river.”

“Must’ve…”

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 day ago

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Teacher's Pet Baby

Shopping Trip

Cg!Professor!Wanda Maximoff x little!student!reader

Summary: Wanda offers to take you out on a shopping trip

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Age regression, mild anxiety, emotional vulnerability, fluff and comfort

Authors notes: Thank you my little ghost for sending in this request here~

Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!

You're nervous when Wanda suggests it after asking she'd only known about you being little for a week when she asked,

"Do you have any gear?" It was an innocent enough question she asked in the empty room of her class while she graded papers and you did some homework.

"Gear?" Your head tilted slightly, not looking up from your own book and notebook.

"Little gear. I know you have your crayons and coloring book and your favorite stuffie you showed me pictures of, but is there anything else?"

"Oh...um no...I left most things back at home." You absentmindedly tugged at your sleeve, pulling it over your hand to put it in your mouth slightly. It was a bad habit you’d long since tried to get rid of.

"Well how about this Saturday we go get some things?" She offers casually like it was something the two of you had done before. Like it was something so simple.

"I can't keep them at my dorm...my roommates will say something..." you felt your chest tighten. You knew if any of them found out about it they’d probably kick you out of the dorm. Probably call the dean on you or something, but just as your thoughts started to spiral, Wanda spoke up again.

"It can stay at my place and you can come and go as you please baby for whatever you want or need." Now there's a knot in your stomach.

“Y-your place?” You hadn't been over to her place. The only place you two had spent time together was here in this classroom.

“Do you not want that? I understand if you'd rather keep it here between us.”

You knew being with a professor at all would be frowned upon even if it was something like this…for some reason in your brain this felt even worse than if you were having sex with her. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts. sure you were big right now, but it's only been a week and you two haven't discussed anything beyond her being Mama.

Wanda let you sit with the idea, her eyes flicking between your face and the paper she was grading, letting you process in your own time. You weren’t sure what made your stomach twist more—her casual offer or the realization that you wanted to say yes.

“I…” You hesitated, gripping your pen a little too tightly. “I don’t know.”

Wanda hummed softly, setting her pen down. “That’s okay, baby. You don’t have to decide right now.” Her voice was gentle, patient, like she had all the time in the world for you. “I just want to make sure you have what you need. Somewhere safe for your things and a space where you can just be.”

A part of you wanted that so badly. The idea of a place where you didn’t have to hide, where you didn’t have to worry about judgment, where your things wouldn’t have to stay tucked away in the back of your closet or hidden under your bed—it was tempting. But this was still so new.

Your hands fidgeted with the corner of your notebook. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden,” you admitted quietly, barely above a whisper.

Wanda leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at you. “Oh, Malyshka,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You could never be a burden to me. This isn’t about me doing you a favor—it’s about giving you what you need. Making sure you’re cared for. That’s what being your Mama means.”

Your heart clenched at that, the sincerity in her voice making it hard to breathe for a moment. You’d never had a caregiver before, you didn’t know everything. You knew what you saw on the internet; all those posts of imagines with a caregiver that made you feel something was now here in front of you. You swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. “Okay,” you whispered, finally glancing up at her.

Wanda’s smile was soft and full of warmth, like she was proud of you for even considering it. “Okay,” she echoed, reaching across the desk to gently squeeze your hand. “We’ll take it slow, baby. Just one step at a time.”

You nodded again, still nervous, still unsure—but with Wanda, you felt safe enough to try.

It was about an hour later when you spoke a simple, "Yes." Aloud that Wanda smiled.

"Okay well how about we meet up here and we'll take a drive out so we're far away from others? Does that sound good?" She asks, finally looking at you. You felt her sea glass green eyes on you. You looked up to meet her eyes, suddenly feeling small.

"Yes Mama, that sounds good.”

Wanda’s smile softened, her eyes full of warmth as she heard you call her Mama again. She reached over, brushing a strand of hair from your face with gentle fingers. “Good girl,” she praised softly. The simple words made your chest feel warm, a little fluttery even, but you still shifted in your seat, feeling shy.

She chuckled, recognizing the way you squirmed under her gaze. “We don’t have to rush, Malyshka. Just a nice, quiet drive. A little shopping. No pressure, okay?”

You nodded, chewing your lip. “Okay.”

Wanda leaned back in her chair, a satisfied look on her face as she picked up her grading again. But every so often, you caught her glancing at you, like she was just making sure you were okay. It made something in you settle, knowing that even when she wasn’t speaking, she was still paying attention.

You went back to your own work, but your mind kept drifting to Saturday—what it would be like, how it would feel to have things again, to pick them out with someone who actually understood. The idea was nerve-wracking but also… really exciting.

✎✐ ✎ ✐ ✎ ✐

The drive was peaceful, just you and Wanda, the hum of the road beneath the tires filling the silence between songs playing softly on the radio. Wanda let you control the music, occasionally glancing over at you with a smile as you mouthed the lyrics or tapped your fingers against your thigh. It made her heart swell knowing you felt comfortable enough to just be with her.

When she finally pulled into the parking lot, you felt your stomach twist with nervous energy. This wasn’t just any store—it was a town far enough away that no one from campus would see you, giving you the freedom to pick out what you needed without fear of judgment.

Wanda grabbed a cart, and the two of you walked in together. At first, everything felt normal as you strolled through the grocery aisles. Wanda picked up some snacks, her fingers grazing over brands you had mentioned growing up with. “How about these, Malyshka?” she asked, holding up a box of animal crackers.

You felt a small grin tug at your lips as you nodded. “Yeah, those are good.”

From there, she guided you toward the baby and toddler section. The moment you stepped into the aisle, your heart started beating faster. Your fingers twitched as you looked over the selection—things you hadn’t let yourself have in years.

Wanda was patient, watching as you hesitated before slowly reaching out to touch a pack of toddler fruit pouches. “These are good,” she encouraged. “Easy to have when you don’t want to use a spoon.”

You swallowed hard and placed them in the cart. One by one, Wanda helped you pick out what you needed—plates and bowls with cute designs, a sippy cup that felt just right in your hands, even a bath toy set shaped like little sea animals.

When you reached the bedding aisle, she let you run your fingers over the different sets, waiting patiently for you to make your choice. Your heart ached a little as you settled on one with soft pastel stars and moons. It felt safe.

Finally, she led you to the toy section. “Alright, Malyshka,” she said softly. “You’ve been so good and so brave today. Pick out a toy, anything you want.”

You hesitated at first, shifting on your feet as your eyes scanned the shelves. It felt overwhelming—like you shouldn’t be here, like you were doing something wrong. But Wanda was right beside you, her presence grounding you.

After a few moments, your eyes landed on a plush bunny with floppy ears and the softest fur you’d ever seen. You picked it up, hugging it to your chest without thinking.

Wanda smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “That’s a very good choice, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned as you nodded, gripping the bunny tightly as she led you to the checkout. Wanda handled everything, paying without a second thought, and once you were back in the car, she handed you the bunny again.

“You did so well today,” she murmured, squeezing your knee affectionately.

You hugged the bunny close and whispered, “Thank you, Mama.”

And in that moment, you knew—you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#ley speaks #ley writes #ley writes series #cg!wanda maximoff x little!reader #cg!wanda maximoff #cg!wanda #little!reader #marvel caregiver #fictional caregiver #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #agere caregiver #sfw agere #age regressor #age regression

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antinousletmehit · 9 hours ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 22 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇this was posted late because of SOMEONEEEE

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The Greeks moved like a storm, sweeping through the next Skiaphos village with fire and steel. War cries echoed through the night, the clash of swords ringing out over the screams of the fallen. Telemachus led the charge, his blade cutting down any soldier who dared to stand in his way. Behind him, Antinous and Druses carved their own paths of destruction

Then Telemachus saw him.

Raphael.

The coral-eyed prince stood at the heart of the battlefield, dressed in armor polished to perfection, the deep red of his cloak making him look like something out of a nightmare. He was covered in blood, some his, most not, but he still held himself with that infuriating grace, as if this was just another game to him. Something inside Telemachus snapped.

He surged forward, his sword slicing through the chaos, his focus locked on Raphael alone. Raphael turned just in time to meet his attack, their blades clashing with a deafening clang. His light eyes widened slightly in surprise before his lips curled into a grin.

“Telemachus,” he purred, pushing back against the strike. “I was wondering when you’d find me.” Telemachus didn’t waste time on words—he struck again, harder, forcing Raphael onto the defensive. Their swords danced in a deadly rhythm, each strike faster than the last. Raphael was skilled, his movements fluid, his footwork impeccable, but Telemachus fought like a man with something to lose.

And Raphael noticed.

“You fight desperately,” Raphael taunted between parries, his smirk still in place. “Is it for her? Does it burn you, knowing she’s in my bed while you’re out here playing soldier?”

Telemachus’ next strike nearly took his head off. Raphael barely dodged in time, but Telemachus pressed the attack, driving him backward with relentless force. Gone was the arrogant grace—Raphael’s movements were getting sloppy, his blocks coming slower, his breathing heavier.

Then Telemachus’ blade cut deep into his side. Raphael let out a strangled gasp, stumbling back as blood bloomed against his armor. His light eyes flickered with something unfamiliar—shock, pain, fear. He clutched at the wound, but Telemachus didn’t let up, raising his sword for the final strike.

And then Endymion was there. The older prince moved like a shadow, stepping between them in an instant, his own blade catching Telemachus’ just before it could find Raphael’s throat. Telemachus’ arms shook from the impact, his breath coming fast and ragged.

Endymion’s expression was unreadable, his hazel eyes calm but sharp. “That’s enough, we can kill you easily, so I suggest you retreat.” he said, his voice steady. Telemachus’ heart pounded, his grip tightening on his sword. He could end this now. He could kill Raphael, take y/n back, end this nightmare—

But Endymion didn’t move. He didn’t threaten, didn’t taunt. He simply stood there, his blade still pressed against Telemachus’, waiting.

Telemachus’ jaw clenched. With a frustrated growl, he backed off.

Raphael coughed, still clutching his bleeding side, his smirk weaker but somehow still there. “Oh, Telemachus,” he rasped, laughing breathlessly. “That almost hurt.”

Telemachus ignored him, turning away as his men continued their rampage. Raphael had slipped through his fingers today. But next time, there would be no Endymion to save him.

——

The battle was over. The fires still burned, the scent of ash thick in the air, but the Greeks had taken what they needed and moved on, leaving the once thriving village in ruins. The wounded moaned in agony, and the dead lay where they had fallen. Among the wreckage, Raphael limped forward, his silver armor stained red with his own blood, his breathing uneven.

Endymion had an arm around his younger brother, half-dragging, half-carrying him back toward the palace. Raphael gritted his teeth, refusing to let any more pain show, but every step sent sharp, burning agony through his side where Telemachus had nearly gutted him. Endymion had saved his life. And he was furious about it.

The moment they passed the palace gates, Endymion shoved Raphael forward. Off-balance, Raphael stumbled before catching himself against a pillar, wincing as fresh pain shot through him.

Then came the slap

The sound echoed through the grand hall, sharp and unforgiving. Raphael’s head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging, his silver eyes widening in momentary shock.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Endymion roared, his hazel eyes burning with fury. “If I hadn’t stepped in, Telemachus would have killed you!”

Raphael let out a breathless chuckle, dragging a hand down his face. “But he didn’t, dear brother.” His lips curled into a weak smirk, but Endymion wasn’t in the mood for his games.

Endymion grabbed him by the collar, shaking him. “This isn’t a joke, Raphael! You waltzed into battle like some lovesick idiot and nearly got yourself slaughtered!” His voice was thick with frustration, but underneath it, something else—fear.

Raphael scoffed, prying Endymion’s hands off him. “And what would you have me do? Hide behind my walls and let Telemachus think he can take everything from me?” His voice was hoarse but defiant. “I am not weak.”

“You’re a fool,” Endymion snapped. “Do you even realize what would have happened if you died today? Our soldiers would have lost all morale, Skiaphos would fall within weeks, and Pandora—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “You think Telemachus would have left your wife and children untouched?” Something in Raphael’s smirk twitched, but he didn’t respond.

Endymion pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice lowering to something dangerously close to pleading. “You have a family now, Raphael. Stop acting like an arrogant child and start acting like a king.”

Raphael turned away, his light eyes dark. “I will not cower.”

“No,” Endymion muttered. “You’ll just bleed.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Raphael stood there for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his cheek still burning from the slap. Slowly, he reached down, pressing a hand to his wounded side, feeling the warmth of his own blood still seeping through his armor.

Teeth grinding, he forced himself to move, ignoring the pain as he made his way toward y/n’a chambers. If Telemachus thought this was over, he was dead wrong.

The door to her chambers swung open with force, slamming against the wall. The sudden noise startled Adonis, who was nestled beside his mother, while Phebie, barely a few months old, stirred but did not wake.

She didn’t flinch. She continued gently smoothing Phebie’s dark curls, her fingers moving with practiced ease, as if she hadn’t even noticed Raphael’s entrance. But she had. She could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves, the way his breath came in uneven huffs, the scent of blood still clinging to his armor.

He was angry.

She didn’t care.

Raphael stood there, watching her, his delicate eyes unreadable at first. His wounded side still ached, his cheek burned from Endymion’s earlier slap, and his pride—his pride—had taken its worst beating yet. And yet, here she was. Tending to their children, untouched by the battle that had nearly cost him his life. Because of him.

His jaw tightened. “I’m doing all of this for you, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and simmering.

She finally looked up. Her violet eyes met his, blank and unimpressed, like she was staring at a stranger rather than the man who claimed to love her. Then, coolly, she said, “I wish Telemachus had finished the job.”

Raphael froze.

The words cut deeper than any sword, deeper than the wound Telemachus had left in his side. For a moment, he just stared at her, his coral eyes searching her face for something—anything—that suggested she didn’t mean it.

“You don’t mean that,” he murmured, quieter this time. She held his gaze, her expression utterly, devastatingly apathetic.

“I do.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Raphael just stood there, his hands curled into fists at his sides. His whole body ached—from battle, from exhaustion, from something deeper and uglier than he was willing to name.

He had bled for her. Killed for her. Fought for her.

And she wanted him dead.

For the first time in his life, Raphael had nothing to say. The silence stretched between them like a chasm, wide and unbridgeable. Raphael stood frozen in place, staring at her as if she had just stabbed him through the heart. His silver eyes, usually so sharp and full of arrogance, flickered with something desperate. Something hollow.

Y/n, meanwhile, simply turned her attention back to Phebie, adjusting the tiny blanket wrapped around her daughter’s small frame. It was a simple, thoughtless movement, and yet it was enough to break him.

Raphael crumbled.

He let out a sharp, ragged breath before stumbling forward, falling to his knees before her. His hands gripped the fabric of her dress as he pressed his forehead against her lap, his shoulders trembling. “Please,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/n—just…” His fingers tightened, clinging to her like a lifeline. “Just give me something.”

A choked sob escaped him, muffled against the fabric of her gown. He was shaking—whether from exhaustion, pain, or something deeper, even he didn’t know. He only knew that he needed her. That he couldn’t stand this emptiness between them.

“I’ve given you everything,” he whispered, his voice thick with anguish. “I’ve fought for you. I’ve bled for you. I built all of this for us—for you, love—” His breath hitched as he turned his face against her thigh, his tears soaking into the soft fabric. “And you still—” His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw, sucking in a sharp breath. “You still don’t love me.”

She simply stared down at him, her eyes eerily calm. If she felt anything for the man currently weeping at her feet, she didn’t show it. Slowly, with the same detached indifference she had given Phebie just moments before, she lifted a hand and placed it on his head. Her fingers ran gently through his calico curls, a slow, mechanical motion—not out of tenderness, but out of something closer to pity.

Raphael inhaled sharply at the touch, his grip on her tightening. He curled further into her, like a wounded child seeking comfort from a mother who could barely stand to acknowledge him.

“I love you,” he whispered brokenly. “I love you, I love you, I love you, and you—” His breath shuddered as he turned his head, resting his cheek against her lap, his salmon-pink eyes flickering up to meet hers. “You’re all I have.”

She held his gaze, her fingers still threading through his hair, her expression unreadable. He waited for her to say something. To offer him even the smallest fragment of warmth.

But she said nothing.

Instead, she simply continued to pet his head, like one would soothe a restless animal. Raphael let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. He could pretend, just for a moment, that this was love. That she meant it.

Because if he didn’t—if he let himself truly see how empty her touch was—he would shatter completely.

Raphael was pathetic.

He knew it, could feel it, but he didn’t care. Not now. Not when she was the only thing keeping him from slipping into that terrible void inside of him. His grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of her dress as if she might disappear if he let go. His breath hitched, uneven and desperate, his chest rising and falling in erratic shudders.

“Please,” he whimpered, his voice raw. His tears had already soaked through the fabric of her gown, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. “Please, just—say something.”

She didn’t respond. She merely continued stroking his hair with that same mechanical, detached rhythm. Not out of love, not out of care—just to placate him. Like she was petting a dog that wouldn’t stop whining.

Raphael let out a weak, broken laugh, his shoulders trembling as another sob racked through him. “Gods, do you even feel anything?” His voice cracked as he tilted his head up, his silver eyes wide, wet, pleading. “Do you even care that I—” He sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head. “That I need you?”

Her gaze remained blank, emotionless. If his words affected her at all, she didn’t show it. Raphael clenched his jaw, sniffling as he pressed his face harder against her lap. “I’ve done everything for you,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I built you a home, I gave you children, I—I killed for you, y/n—” His breath shuddered as he clutched her even tighter, his arms fully wrapping around her waist now, desperate to hold onto something real. “Why can’t you just—just love me back?”

She exhaled quietly, her fingers never stopping their slow, absentminded motion through his curls. She didn’t push him away, but she didn’t pull him closer either. Raphael sniffled again, his breath uneven, his body curled against her like a wounded animal. “You’re all I have,” he murmured brokenly. “You and the children… I don’t—I don’t have anything else.”

Still, she said nothing. His grip on her waist tightened until his knuckles turned white, his body trembling against hers. “Y/n,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

She looked down at him, her violet eyes cold, distant. And then, as if responding to the cries of a child throwing a tantrum, she finally spoke.

“Stop crying, Raphael.”

Her tone was flat, emotionless. A command, not comfort. Raphael sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut. His chest ached, his throat burned, but he obeyed. Because if he kept crying, she might pull away. And that—losing even this small, pitiful form of contact—was something he could not bear.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4|frOgg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan @xo-cuteplosion-xo

@galaxygurlll @pjopinkk @h0ne4bee

@minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @yuvany @i-liketoast

#aphrodites gamble #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #telemachus x reader

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nanamineedstherapy · 2 days ago

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I lost you when I lost me

Summary: You never wanted to say it. You never wanted him to know. But when the truth comes out—when the realization hits—there’s no escaping the devastation that follows.

A/N: Hey there, fellow emotional masochists! 😈💔 Buckle up because this fic is here to ruin your day. You know that tiny sliver of hope you have for comfort? Yeah, crush it. The title is from the song 'The Pool' by Stephen Sanchez. I highly suggest you listen to it along with its lyrics while reading this. TW: All characters are like around 30s. The reader is gender & racially neutral; you can imagine however you like. Only one bit is slightly suggestive, but nothing in detail, only for the plot. Ok, ready? Now imagine your favorite JJK Male Love Interest & read this. Trust me, it'll be worth it.

The clock ticked relentlessly in the quiet apartment which felt colder than usual. He sat at the dining table, his head resting on his folded hands, eyes heavy with exhaustion. A plate of cold, untouched food sat before him—the dinner he’d cooked, the dinner you hadn’t eaten. Again.

You’d walked in hours ago, a soft smile on your lips but not for him. The same smile you saved for your phone calls, your whispered conversations. He’d tried not to listen, but the way your laughter echoed in the room had gnawed at his chest like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

You were busy, you’d said. Work had been demanding. He understood—of course, he did. But when had "demanding" started meaning you had time for everyone but him?

He stopped setting the table for two. It was easier that way. The leftovers in the fridge piled up, each container a silent testament to another night spent eating alone. The apartment still smelled like your perfume, like the shampoo you used, but it was starting to feel like a place you passed through rather than lived in.

He tried to bridge the gap—suggested a movie night, offered to pick you up from work, even learned how to make that pasta you loved. You’d smiled, thanked him, and promised next time.

The next time never came.

Instead, the glow of your phone lit up the dark bedroom at night, your quiet chuckles slipping between the sheets like an intruder. He lay beside you, staring at the ceiling, hands clenched into fists beneath the covers.

You stopped saying "I love you" first.

The words had once been effortless, tumbling from your lips in the mornings, between sips of coffee, when you rushed out the door. Now, they came only as a response, an afterthought. If he didn't say them, he wondered if you’d notice.

The apartment felt larger these days, too big for just one person to exist in. He found himself cleaning just to fill the silence, scrubbing countertops that weren’t dirty, rearranging bookshelves you no longer touched. He scrolled through old pictures—of vacations, of nights spent tangled together on the couch—and wondered how they had turned into this.

He stopped waiting up. What was the point?

He'd long given up asking where you’d been, who you’d been with. The answers had become vague, rehearsed, the kind designed to end a conversation rather than start one.

The bed felt colder, the nights longer. He filled his time with hobbies, things he never cared for before—reading, baking, even knitting at one point, just to have something to do with his hands. Anything to keep himself from checking the clock, from counting the hours between the moment you left and the moment you came back.

You still kissed his cheek before bed, a ghost of affection that barely lingered. But the warmth was gone, the weight of your love no longer something he could hold.

And so, he sat in that quiet apartment, a forgotten housewife in a home that no longer felt like his, waiting for someone who had already left.

So yes, the apartment felt colder than usual. Not because of the temperature, but because of the distance between them—an invisible chasm that had grown wider with each passing day. He sat on the couch, staring at the muted television. The faint sound of your laughter drifted from the balcony. His jaw clenched.

You were on the phone again.

The laugh that used to light up his world now cut through him like shards of glass. It wasn’t his jokes you were laughing at anymore. It wasn’t his voice that softened your features or brought that sparkle to your eyes. No, that belonged to someone else now.

He’s fists tightened against his thighs as he listened. The man on the other end of the line—some colleague, you’d said—had become an unwelcome fixture in both your lives.

He’d caught glimpses of your texts when your phone buzzed on the counter.

Friendly messages, full of inside jokes he wasn’t privy to.

You never laughed like that with him.

Not anymore.

---

One night, the dinner sat untouched on the table.

The same as every other night.

He’d spent an hour making your favorite meal, hoping you’d sit down with him, talk to him, see him. But when you walked in, you barely glanced at the plate before heading to the balcony with your phone.

After you disconnected the call, you turned to find him standing behind you.

He wasn’t spying, just hesitant.

Not sure how to exist in a place where he felt like he wasn’t wanted anymore.

This used to be his house too, wasn’t it?

“Who was that?” he’d asked casually, clearing his throat, though the edge in his voice betrayed him.

“Just a friend from work,” you replied, brushing him off.

“You’ve been talking to him a lot lately.”

Your fingers paused mid-swipe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, unsure whether to push further. “It means I’d like to spend more time with you.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Physically, yes. But your mind, your heart… they were somewhere else. With someone else.

---

It had been weeks—maybe months—since the last time you two had shared a proper meal together, one that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t filled with silences too thick to cut through.

But tonight, he was trying.

One last time.

The candles flickered on the dining table, their soft glow casting shadows against the walls. The air smelled of slow-cooked garlic and rosemary, the kind of dinner that used to make you press up against his back in the kitchen, stealing bites, giggling as he swatted you away with a wooden spoon.

He’d set everything perfectly—your favorite wine, the playlist you once called "our soundtrack," the one you played on road trips, during late-night dances in the living room.

When you walked in, he felt it—that brief, fleeting moment where your eyes softened, where your lips curved into something real.

"You did all this?" you asked, stepping closer, inspecting the meal as if it were some rare artifact.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "figured if I waited for you to cook, I'd starve first."

You laughed. A real laugh. The sound was warm, familiar, like home.

"Rude," you teased, nudging his arm before taking a seat.

You actually ate this time. You talked, joked, and rolled your eyes when he grumbled about how much effort it had taken to perfect this dish. He felt like himself again, like the version of him that existed before the distance, before the cold bedsheets and unanswered questions.

Maybe—just maybe—he could fix this. Maybe you were still his.

After dinner, he put on music, an old, slow song that once made you sway in his arms without a second thought.

He extended his hand. You hesitated. But then, with a small, almost shy smile, you took it.

Your fingers were warm against his as he pulled you close, resting a hand on your waist. You smelled the same—like something undeniably you. For the first time in a long time, you weren’t pulling away.

"You still dance like an idiot," you murmured, but you were grinning.

"And you still can’t follow my lead," he shot back, earning a playful shove.

Then, without thinking, without analyzing, he tilted your chin up, his lips brushing yours.

It wasn’t desperate or demanding.

Just a reminder.

But you kissed him back.

Something ignited between you both, something raw, something that had been buried under months of silence. Your fingers tangled in his loose unstyled hair, and his grip tightened on your waist. He pressed you against the table, the wine glasses rattling as he lifted you onto the edge.

For the first time in so long, it felt right. It felt like you wanted him again, like you missed this as much as he did.

And then—just as quickly as it began, it stopped.

You pulled away, breathless but distant, and murmured, "Let’s go to bed."

Bed.

Not together, not with him. Just bed.

He followed, swallowing the unease rising in his chest.

You climbed under the sheets, and he hovered above you, waiting, wanting, aching. But instead of pulling him down, instead of pressing your lips to his like you used to—like you once swore you’d never stop wanting—you reached up and gently, gently, placed your hands on his shoulders and held him there.

Not pulling him closer.

Just holding him down.

His breath caught in his throat. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

You didn’t answer, just smiled softly, brushed your fingers through his hair, and whispered, "Just stay."

He didn’t move.

He didn’t argue.

He just lay there, going along with it, convincing himself it was enough.

That this was still love.

Maybe you were tired, maybe it had just been too long, too much at once. He could wait. He’d waited this long, hadn’t he?

It became a ritual. A routine.

You’d let him kiss you, let him touch you just enough to keep the illusion intact. But every time, just before it could become something more, you’d stop him. You’d wrap your arms around him, whisper something sweet, something distant, and hold him there like a thing to be kept, not wanted.

And he let you.

Because if he didn’t, then he’d have to admit the truth—that something was dying. That maybe it was already dead.

---

Then one night when he couldn’t take it anymore.

When his body felt like tearing itself apart.

It happened.

You were in bed, waiting for him, already curled up like you always did, expecting him to play along.

But something inside him had shifted. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

"You don’t want me anymore."

It wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t angry.

It was just true.

You stiffened but said nothing.

He let out a hollow laugh, running a hand over his face. "I used to be the best you ever had. Remember?" His voice was quiet, but there was something damaging lurking beneath it.

"Of course," you said softly, like you always did.

Like it was rehearsed.

He turned to look at you, his eyes empty. "Then why do you keep stopping me?"

The silence stretched.

He felt something in his chest tighten, twist, break.

And then—he stopped speaking altogether.

He lay down next to you, let you wrap your arms around him like always, let you hold him down, let you reduce him to something small and quiet.

But in that silence, something inside him went cold.

And you didn’t even notice.

---

Then one evening your co-worker who you swore was ‘just a friend’ dropped you home. Drunk.

The door clicked shut, followed by the faint sound of retreating footsteps.

He sat in the dimly lit living room, the untouched dinner still laid out on the table, growing colder by the second.

The scent of rosemary and garlic—once comforting, once meant to bring you home—now only mocked him.

His grip tightened around the glass in his hand. He had heard it all.

"Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything."

"I will. Thank you!"

The laughter. The softness in your voice. The kind of warmth you hadn’t spoken with in months.

Not to him, anyway.

His jaw clenched so tight it ached.

He didn’t want to fight.

He’d let so much go already.

What was one more thing?

You walked past him like a ghost, barely sparing him a glance. "I’m going to shower."

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

His throat felt thick, his chest heavy, his fingers twitching.

The food in front of him blurred.

He swallowed hard, forcing it all down—the questions, the resentment, the ache.

You had forgotten the anniversary.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, before standing up and packing away the dinner.

Like always.

---

Now, the TV hummed softly from the bedroom, casting flickering shadows against the walls. Cartoons. Again.

No invitation for him to join.

You were curled under a blanket, eyes fixed on the screen, the faint remnants of a smile still playing on your lips. The same smile you used to give him.

His patience snapped like a brittle bone.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he pushed away from the kitchen table. His footsteps were steady but heavy, each one sinking deeper into the weight of everything he had swallowed for far too long.

"Hey," he said, voice low, measured.

You hummed in acknowledgment, but your eyes never left the screen.

His fingers curled into fists. "Can we talk?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you grabbed the remote and muted the TV. "About what?"

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. "About us."

Something in your face flickered—hesitation, maybe guilt—but it was gone before he could hold onto it.

He swallowed. "You’re never home anymore. You barely look at me, let alone touch me. You laugh on the phone with… someone else. You don’t eat what I cook, and you don’t—" His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. "You don’t love me anymore, do you? Haven’t in a long time."

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Instead, you shifted, like you were about to get up, about to walk away like you always did.

His breath hitched. His body moved before he could think.

He stepped forward.

"Don’t," he said, voice firmer, sharper. "Don’t walk away from this. I deserve an answer."

"Baby, please…" Your voice was soft, but it felt like a knife, carving through him with its emptiness.

"Please, what?" His voice rose, frustration bleeding into every syllable. "Please let you avoid this? Let you keep ignoring me while I sit here wondering what I did wrong? While I beg for scraps of your affection?"

You flinched, and for the first time in months, he saw something break in you. Your hands trembled as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, like it could shield you from him, from this—from the ugly, raw truth between you both.

"It’s not like that," you whispered.

"Then tell me what it is!" His voice cracked, his composure crumbling to dust. "Tell me why you’re shutting me out! Tell me why you’re treating me like I don’t exist in our own home!"

Your lips quivered, and then the tears came—slow at first, then all at once. You lifted your hands to your face, shoulders shaking as quiet sobs wracked through you.

And just like that—the fight was over before it even began.

The anger in his chest burned, smoldered, and then twisted into something else. Something worse.

He had been so ready for a war.

Ready for screaming, for accusations, for ugly confessions to come spilling out like blood on the floor.

Anything but this.

Because this?

This felt like surrender.

And he didn’t even know which one of you had lost.

"Hey…" His voice softened, guilt threading through the remnants of his anger. He took a step closer, reaching for you, hands trembling. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. Don’t cry."

But you only cried harder, shrinking away from his touch.

Something sharp twisted in his chest.

He crouched in front of you, desperation bleeding into every inch of his expression. "Please, talk to me," he whispered. "Whatever it is, we can fix it. Just tell me how."

Your hands slowly fell from your face, revealing red-rimmed, swollen eyes.

You looked at him—not through him, at him. Like you were memorizing every detail, like you were grasping onto something fragile before it shattered completely.

Then, so gently it nearly broke him, you cupped his cheeks.

"Baby…The love of the very essence of my existence in every universe…" Your voice cracked, barely audible. Your thumbs brushed against his skin, slow, reverent. Like you were trying to convince yourself.

His breath caught. His eyes shining with all his love.

"You’re not real."

The words hung between you both, sinking into his skin like ice. A deep frown now etched onto his face.

"What are you talking about?" His voice was steady, but there was something trembling underneath, something afraid.

"You remember your last mission?" you whispered. "When you came home and said you’d retire? For us?"

He exhaled slowly, nodding. "Of course. We defeated that cursed spirit. It was…"

He trailed off as you shook your head, your touch growing lighter, as if you were afraid he’d dissipate.

"No," you mumbled, voice breaking with sobbs. Each one harder than before. "You didn’t. You never came home."

The room seemed to shrink around him.

"You died that day."

His world stopped spinning.

"No," he said immediately, shaking his head. "That’s not true. I—" His breath hitched.

"I kissed you that night. I held you." His heart was pounding, desperate, frantic. "You were in my arms. We even watched cartoons and ate pizza."

You let out a sob so broken it tore through him. "I’ve been pretending," you whispered. "Pretending you’re still here. Pretending I’m not alone. But you’re not real, baby. You’ve been gone for so long."

His lungs felt too tight. His pulse thundered in his ears.

"You’re lying," he rasped. He reached for your hands, gripping them tight, pressing them against his chest. "You feel that? My heartbeat. I’m here. I’m right here."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around his for just a second—one last second.

And then, with a look so full of sorrow it made his stomach drop, you whispered, "There’s nothing there."

He froze.

"No." His voice was barely a breath. "No, that’s not—"

But then it hit him.

The way you never looked him in the eyes for too long.

The way no one else ever acknowledged him.

The way you never reached for him first.

How the food he cooked never tasted right. Not like how it used to.

How the memory foam mattress only ever had one dent in the mornings.

And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

You were still crying, shoulders shaking with the weight of grief too heavy for your frame. "I wish you were here," you sobbed. "God, I wish you were."

He wanted to fight.

Wanted to prove he was real.

Wanted to pull you close and never let go.

But then—the look in your eyes.

Not avoidance.

Not guilt.

Just loss.

And for the first time, in the suffocating silence of your shared home—

he felt the cold, hollow weight of truth.

---

Fushiguro Megumi

At first, he doesn’t say anything. Just… stares.

And then, slowly, his hands lift, pressing against his temples.

"No."

It’s not a yell.

It’s not even firm.

It’s quiet, almost pleading.

"No. That doesn’t—" His breath shakes. "That doesn’t make sense."

He sways slightly, his knees nearly giving out beneath him. His head pounds, his body feels heavy.

"I am with you," he murmurs.

He’s always been logical, always been able to process things quickly. But this—

This is different.

When he finally looks at you, his eyes are empty.

"So that’s why everything felt off."

His voice is hollow. His hands tremble, curling into fists.

"I should’ve figured it out sooner."

And then, finally, his face crumples.

"I should’ve done something."

---

Fushiguro Toji

Toji laughs. Short. Bitter. A sharp exhale through his nose.

"Tch. Bullshit."

His arms cross over his chest, his weight shifting onto one foot like he’s gearing up for a fight. Like he’s daring you to say it again.

You do.

And this time, his smirk falters.

"The hell are you talking about?" His voice drops an octave, his brows knitting together. "I’m right here."

But you just look at him.

No words. No argument.

And that’s what does it.

His fingers twitch. His throat tightens. And suddenly, the air feels wrong.

His mind races—memories flickering like a dying lightbulb. The fight. The pain. The blood.

The way everything just… stopped.

And then, just like that, he remembers.

His breath stutters. His fists clench. His shoulders tremble—not from fear, not from sadness, but from sheer, gut-wrenching denial.

"No." His voice is sharp, biting. He shakes his head. "No, I walked away. Megumi, I—"

His chest aches. His vision blurs.

"I can’t be dead. I fucking can’t."

His own voice shakes, and he hates it. He hates the way his body betrays him, hates the lump in his throat, hates the way his vision distorts as the first tear falls.

"I was supposed to come back to him."

You flinch.

Because you know exactly who him is.

Toji squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw clenched so tightly it aches. His whole body trembles as the weight of his absence finally, finally crashes down on him.

He falls to his knees.

“I have him. He’s safe with a friend.” You get on the floor and hold him.

You wiped your tears quickly from the back of your hand because you could not bring Megumi in a house that was haunted by you and his father.

---

Geto Suguru

His arms instinctively come around you, protecting you from something he can’t even fight. His breath is uneven, his body trembling as he holds you as tightly as he can, as if you might slip away too.

"I’m sorry."

He says it over and over, voice cracking, shaking, breaking. As if this is his fault.

Tears slip down his face in silent streams, dripping onto your hair as he buries his face in your shoulder. He never cries. But now, he’s unraveling, feeling every moment he missed, every touch that wasn’t real.

"I wanted to come home to you."

And when he finally pulls back, his eyes are haunted.

"I don’t want to go."

---

Gojo Satoru

He laughs. A shaky, humorless laugh—like this is some joke, like you’re playing a cruel prank.

"Nice one, babe. You almost had me."

But then he sees your face. The grief in your eyes. The way your hands tremble. The way you look right through him, like he’s already gone.

And suddenly, the air is gone from his lungs.

"No, no, no—"

His voice wavers, his fingers twitching as he grabs you, pulling you against his chest, shaking his head.

"I’m right here. You feel me, don’t you? I’m here. You’re messing with me. You have to be."

His breath hitches, his infinity flickering, his body betraying his denial.

When you whisper his name, soft and full of sorrow, something inside him snaps.

He crumbles. Completely.

"Please…" he begs, his voice so raw, so helpless. "Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me alone."

Gojo never begs. But he begs for this.

For you.

For one more second.

---

Haibara Yu

He smiles.

A soft, sad little thing.

"Oh."

And then he laughs. Because of course, of course, it had to be true.

He should have known. Should have realized.

The laughter fades, his throat tightening, and his hands shake as he lifts them—to touch you, to hold you. But they hesitate.

Because what if he’s not really here?

The thought makes his chest cave in, and suddenly, he’s crying—quietly at first, then ugly, body-wracking sobs.

"I didn’t want to leave you."

His fingers reach for yours, barely brushing against them.

"I wanted forever with you."

And when you whisper, "Me too," he finally breaks.

---

Hakari Kinji

"Tch, you’re talking nonsense."

He rolls his shoulders, trying to shake off the ice settling in his veins. His usual cocky smirk falters, his bravado barely holding.

But when you keep looking at him like that—like he’s a memory instead of a man—his breath stutters.

"No. That’s bullshit. I was with you every night since. I—I—"

And then his knees buckle.

He slams his fists into the floor, his shoulders heaving, his teeth clenched so hard it hurts.

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU LET ME PRETEND?!"

He’s angry—angry at you, at himself, at the universe that took him away. His chest rises and falls in ragged, uneven breaths, his body trembling.

But then, after what feels like an eternity, the fight drains out of him.

"I wanted more time."

And when you reach for him, he leans in, forehead pressing against your shoulder, his tears finally falling.

"I just wanted more time."

---

Higuruma Hiromi

His first reaction is silence.

Then, a low, shaky exhale. He leans back slightly, processing, his lawyer's mind running through every possible explanation, every logical outcome.

None of them make sense.

His hands tighten into fists at his sides. His nails dig into his palms, but he doesn’t feel it.

Then, a whisper makes its way out of him.

"Why didn’t I realize?"

He lets out a dry, bitter laugh, his breath shaking.

"I thought—" His voice cracks.

He swallows, hard. And then he breaks. He never cries. But he looks lost.

"We were finally supposed to be together."

His arms wrap around you, and he clings, desperate—because for the first time in his life, he can’t argue his way out of this one.

---

Inumaki Toge

He doesn’t react.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t tense.

He just… sits there. Staring at you.

His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something. Like he’s trying to process it.

And then, slowly, his hands lift—shaking.

"Don’t."

The single word—so small, so quiet—shatters the room like glass.

"Don’t do this to me."

His fingers clutch at his throat. His cursed speech had always been a burden, a limiter—but now, he thought he could speak.

You both had been talking now without rice ball ingredients.

He wants to scream.

Instead, he just wispers, "Tell me you’re lying. Tell me I’m real. Tell me I’m still here with you."

His shoulders tremble. His head bows.

And when the first tear hits the floor—you swear you hear his heart break.

---

Itadori Yuji

Yuji’s face freezes. Completely.

"No."

There’s no hesitation. No humor. Just raw, unfiltered refusal.

"That’s not—" His voice cracks. His lips tremble. "That’s not funny."

His hands curl into fists at his sides, his breath coming faster, shallower. His body knows before his mind does.

Because suddenly, it feels wrong.

Like he’s not supposed to be here.

The memories come like a gut punch. The battle. The pain. The blood. The darkness.

His stomach drops.

"No, no, no—" He steps back, hands pressing against his chest like he’s trying to feel something, anything.

His breath hitches. His knees go weak.

"I promised—" His voice breaks apart.

And that’s when the sob rips from his throat.

"I promised I'd live."

Tears spill. His whole body shakes.

"I promised I'd be different. That I’d have a long life. That I wouldn’t—"

His fingers dig into his scalp, his chest rising and falling in short, choked gasps.

And suddenly, it’s not about him anymore.

It’s about everyone else.

Gojo, Nanami, Nobara, Megumi—his friends.

"They're gonna be alone."

He chokes, his knees giving out completely.

"I left them all alone."

And when he finally looks up at you—tears streaking his face, lips quivering, hands trembling—you know.

Yuji Itadori never wanted to die.

But he did.

And nothing will ever change that.

---

Kamo Choso

He’s silent. No reaction. No change in expression. He just stares at you, his lips slightly parted, his mind trying to grasp the weight of your words.

Then, slowly, his breathing falters. His fingers twitch, his body stiffens. His usually composed face shatters as his lips tremble, his eyes welling with tears. His voice, so steady before, comes out in a whisper—fragile, broken.

"That’s not true. I’m here. I promised I’d protect you."

When you shake your head, his shoulders shake with the force of his grief. His arms wrap around you—desperate, clinging—as if holding you tightly enough would pull him back into existence. But even as you sob into his chest, he already knows.

And it destroys him.

---

Todo Aoi

"Nah."

Todo grins.

"Nice try, but I’m not that easy to fool."

You don’t smile. You don’t laugh.

His grin fades.

His heart stutters.

"Oi. Quit messing around." His voice wavers, just slightly. Just enough for fear to slither in. "You’re making it sound like I—"

His words die in his throat.

Because you won’t look at him.

And that’s when he knows.

His fists clench. His chest heaves. His jaw locks so tight it hurts.

"Hah… no way."

His breath is ragged now. His shoulders tremble.

His whole life, he’s built himself on strength. On resilience. On always pushing forward.

But right now—right here—

Todo Aoi has nowhere left to go.

He forces a laugh. A weak, broken sound. "So, what? That means I—?"

He can’t finish. He won’t.

Because if he says it, it’s real.

And if it’s real—then he left Yuji behind.

His best friend. His brother.

His chest tightens, his vision blurring.

"I was supposed to be there for him."

His breath stutters. His legs give out.

"I was supposed to—"

His body shakes with silent sobs.

He had promised Yuji he’d never be alone.

And now?

He can’t even keep that.

---

Kamo Noritoshi

Noritoshi barely reacts.

"I see."

His voice is neutral.

Straightens his back. Keeps his composure.

But his fingers tremble.

"I should’ve expected this."

He nods to himself, as if rationalizing it. As if accepting it.

But the tightness in his throat betrays him.

"Then that means my clan—" His words cut off.

Because if he’s dead, then everything was for nothing.

All that suffering. All that fighting. All of it—

And then, for the first time in years, his mask cracks.

His breath stutters. His hands curl into fists. His vision blurs.

And suddenly, Noritoshi is not a leader. Not a fighter. Not the heir to a clan.

He’s just a boy who never got to live his own life.

And now, never will.

---

Kashimo Hajime

Kashimo laughs. A cruel, hollow sound that isn’t like him at all.

"Really? I died?" he scoffs, voice biting, eyes sharp. "And you’re just telling me now?"

His jaw clenches, his fingers curling into tight fists. He refuses to believe it. Refuses.

He steps closer, teeth bared. "Then how the hell am I standing here, huh?"

But you don’t answer.

And the silence is louder than anything he’s ever heard.

His breathing stutters, and his shoulders tense as the weight of your words presses down on him like a boulder.

He’s never been afraid of death. Never.

But suddenly, his chest is too tight, and his vision is too blurry, and his body is shaking in a way he doesn’t recognize.

"You’re saying I lost?" he whispers, voice hoarse. "That I just… disappeared?"

His hands tremble as he tries to reach for you, but stops himself.

Because he’s starting to feel it now. The emptiness. The absence.

And for the first time in his life, Kashimo Hajime feels something worse than boredom.

He feels regret.

---

Kiyotaka Ijichi

He goes completely still.

And then, he lets out a choked breath, his eyes widening in pure, unfiltered terror.

"No, no, no, no—"

His hands grip his head, his breaths turning erratic. His entire body shakes as reality comes crashing down.

"That’s not true. That can’t be true. I—I was just—"

His voice cuts off.

He looks at you again, searching, begging. Pleading.

But you don’t deny it.

And something inside him shatters.

He sinks to his knees, his fingers tangling in his hair as sobs wrack through his body.

"I didn’t want to die."

He gasps for air, but it’s not enough.

"I wasn’t ready."

You hold him, because it’s all you can do.

And he clings to you, to whatever is left of you both, because he knows—

You can’t hold a ghost forever.

---

Kokichi Muta (Mechamaru)

Just… a slow, pained inhale.

"I see."

His voice is quiet, too quiet. His eyes drift to the floor, his fingers twitching like he wants to touch something, anything.

"Then… it really happened."

His voice wavers on the last word. His shoulders slump.

"And I still couldn’t be by your side."

You reach for him, but—your hands almost pass right through.

He flinches.

His whole body locks up, his breath catching.

And that’s when he knows.

A broken, strangled sob escapes his throat.

He grips his arms like he’s trying to hold himself together. But it’s useless.

"I just wanted… a normal life with you," he whispers.

Tears spill down his cheeks. His hands shake.

"I never even got to hold you with my own body."

And that’s what breaks him.

---

Okkotsu Yuta

"That’s not funny."

Yuta’s voice is soft. Too soft. Like he’s holding something back. Like he’s begging you to take it back before he even processes what you said.

But you don’t.

You just stand there, your eyes filled with pity.

And Yuta’s stomach drops.

"No." His head shakes, frantic now. His hands lift like he’s trying to stop something from slipping through his fingers. "No, I—I was just with them. I was just—"

His breath hitches. His knees wobble.

He remembers.

The mission. The fight. The impact.

The way everything blurred.

He feels cold. So, so cold.

His chest tightens. His pulse races.

"I was supposed to come back."

It’s a whisper. A plea. A lie.

He clutches his chest, desperate for the familiar weight of his beating heart—but there’s nothing.

His body betrays him.

"Rika."

The name barely escapes his lips before he crumbles.

And for the first time since losing her, Okkotsu Yuta is truly alone.

Your heart breaks when he still calls for her.

---

Ryomen Sukuna

"Tch. What kind of pathetic joke is this?"

He sneers, arms crossed, crimson eyes narrowed. But there’s something off. His voice isn’t as sharp as usual. His grip on control isn’t as tight.

You don’t flinch. You don’t waver.

You just stare at him with so much sadness that it makes something twist in his chest.

"I’m serious," you whisper. "You’re not real. You died a long time ago."

His expression darkens. Fury floods his veins.

"You expect me to believe that? That I—" His teeth grit. His breath comes out ragged. His whole body tenses. "That I lost?"

The word feels foreign in his mouth.

Sukuna, the King of Curses.

Defeated.

Gone.

Forgotten.

No.

He refuses.

"Enough," he growls. His claws dig into his arms. "I won’t listen to this nonsense. You’re lying. You’re confused. I’m right here, standing in front of you, aren’t I?"

His voice wavers.

Because suddenly, something feels wrong.

The weight of his body. The air in his lungs.

It’s hollow.

Like he’s made of nothing.

And you—you won’t stop looking at him like that.

Like you know.

Like you’ve known.

Like you’ve been carrying this truth for far longer than he has.

A breath shudders past his lips.

The denial fractures.

"No…"

It’s small. So, so small.

"I am real."

He says it like a prayer. A curse. A plea.

But your silence kills him.

You move to hold him.

And for the first time in a thousand years—

Ryomen Sukuna has lost everything.

---

Shiu Kong

Shiu laughs.

Short. Dry. Empty.

"So that’s how it is, huh?"

He exhales slowly, rubbing his face. His hands are steady. His voice is calm.

But you see it.

The devastation in his eyes.

He looks away.

"Tch. I should’ve known."

A sigh. A shake of his head. A muttered "Figures."

He leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Composed. Aloof. Unbothered.

But then, you notice—

He won’t look at you.

Because if he does—if he sees your grief, your tears, your pain—

He will break.

And Shiu Kong never lets himself break.

Not in front of anyone.

Not even you.

Even as his hands tremble.

Even as he grips his arms too tightly.

Even as his chest aches with the weight of everything he will never get back.

Because it’s already too late.

And there’s nothing left to save.

---

Takuma Ino

He blinks once. Twice. Then he laughs—light, breathy, confused.

"Okay, haha. That’s a messed-up joke."

But when you don’t laugh with him, when you don’t say "I’m just messing with you," his stomach drops.

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His body sways slightly, his fingers twitching at his sides. The reality of your words seeps into his bones like poison, and suddenly, the air feels too thick, too heavy.

"But… I still have so much to do," he whispers.

He turns, as if expecting to see his friends with their cameras at him, proof that he’s still alive.

But there’s nothing.

Just you.

Just your shaking hands, just your grief-stricken eyes.

And then it really, truly sinks in.

Ino is not the type to cry. He likes to act tough, likes to joke through his pain.

"I don’t want to be dead."

His voice cracks. He clenches his fists so hard his nails break skin, his shoulders trembling, his head shaking like he can deny it enough to make it untrue.

"I had plans, I—" he chokes. "I wasn’t done."

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, but it doesn’t stop the tears.

Nothing will.

And all he can think is: I never got the chance to live the life I wanted.

---

Yoshino Junpei

"Huh?"

Junpei blinks, confused. He tilts his head, his lips parting as if he misheard you.

Because he must have.

There’s no other explanation.

"What do you mean?" he asks, a nervous laugh slipping past his lips. It’s shaky. Unstable. But you don’t smile. You don’t joke. You just look at him with that same pitying stare.

And suddenly, he can’t breathe.

"No… no, that doesn’t—" He shakes his head, his hands curling into fists. "That doesn’t make sense. I—I killed them. I came home. I—"

The words die on his tongue.

Because the memories—they don’t fit.

They blur at the edges.

They break apart.

He remembers—

Mahito.

His mom.

The pain.

The cold.

The moment it all went black.

All his life he wanted to die but not after meeting you.

Leaving you alone like his mom.

"No…" His voice cracks. His fingers clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into his skin.

You take a step forward. He takes one back.

"You’re lying," he whispers, his breath shuddering.

You shake your head.

And that’s what destroys him.

The dam bursts. A choked sob tears from his throat as he crumples to his knees, his whole body shaking. His hands grasp at his hair, tugging—desperate to hold onto something real.

"I don’t want to go."

He sounds so small. So broken.

"I don’t want to be alone again."

Because that’s all he’s ever been.

And now, not even you can reach him.

---

Nanami Kento

He doesn’t let anything show at first.

He simply… stares in the distance.

Away from you, trying to get his thoughts together.

His brows furrow slightly, his head tilting just a fraction—like he’s processing your words, like they don’t make sense.

"What?"

He turns to you. His voice is steady. Calm. Too calm.

You repeat yourself. Slower this time.

"You’re dead."

And suddenly, the room feels too small.

His breath catches in his throat, his shoulders going rigid, his jaw tightening as he swallows. Once. Twice.

"No."

It’s soft, barely above a whisper.

"No, I promised you. I—"

His voice breaks.

His fists clench so hard his nails dig into his palms.

"I was supposed to come back to you."

His eyes burn, his chest aches. But he doesn’t cry. He refuses.

But then—he sees your face.

Sees the devastation. The grief.

And suddenly, he remembers.

The pain. The exhaustion. The moment everything went black.

And just like that, his entire world shatters.

"No."

It’s desperate now. He grabs you, pulls you against him, breathing you in like he can keep himself here just by holding on tightly enough.

"I can’t be dead. I can’t—I still—" his breath hitches, his arms tightening around you, shaking. "I still love you."

And then, finally, Nanami Kento breaks.

The first sob rips from his throat like it’s being torn out of him.

"I just wanted to grow old with you."

He presses his forehead against your shoulder, his whole body trembling. "I just wanted more time."

And the worst part?

You can’t comfort him.

Because he’s not real.

Because you’re all alone.

And because no matter how many times he whispers your name—

Nanami Kento is never coming home.

A/N: Oh, you thought that was bad? You thought there’d be even the tiniest bit of relief? LMAOOOO. You fool. You absolute clown. 🤡 This isn’t just pain. This is "why is my chest physically aching?" This is "I just stared at a wall for ten minutes." This is "I need to go yell at a cloud." I wrote this for Nanami at first, but then I was like, "Why should I cry alone?"

Comment below with your pick. Or just… cry in the comments. Bonus points if you can put in what unhinged silly stuff your manz did next in the comments because I personally think now Gojo will stress eat all the sweets and Nanami bread. That’s okay too. 😈💔

All Works Masterlist

Header by @sharmanswife. Here.

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yangjungwonisms · 2 days ago

Text

Dress- YJW

warnings: NSFW| dirty talk, semi-public sex, choking(only a little), MDNI 18+

You knew as soon as Jungwon stepped through the door today that you were about to have an interesting night. For one, he was in a much better mood than he normally was after work and secondly, he was clingier with you than usual. Not to say he was ever in a bad mood when he came home but today it was different. He hadn’t let you out of his sight once since he got home, immediately wrapping you in his arms for a hug and planting a kiss on your lips. You two stood like that for a while just enjoying being with each other. But every time you tried to walk away to continue with what you were doing he’d just pull you back into him and pout whenever you tried to leave. “Baby no don’t move please. wanna hold you, missed you so much today”. You never could deny him when he started asking so nicely. “Wonie, what has gotten into you today? Is everything okay”? At that he finally released his hold on you and walked into the next room. You followed him just a little confused about what he was doing. “I’m perfect baby, just missed you is all. Hey, I’ve got an idea, let’s go out tonight. We can get all dressed up and go out for drinks and then go have dinner”. You had to admit, the idea did sound nice, it would give you a chance to actually spend time with your boyfriend which is something you hadn’t gotten to do much of recently. “That sounds like a lot of fun baby. But are you sure everything is okay? You seem different today”. He simply turned to you, smiled and winked before answering “I’m fine baby, I promise. Just wanna take my pretty girl out on the town and spoil her”.

You’d never seen Jungwon get ready as fast as he did tonight. He was showered and dressed within 30 minutes leaving you to take your time. Eventually you had to lock him out of your room because he was starting to become a distraction. It had started with him sitting on the bed watching you with what you can only describe as a predatory look in his eyes. Then when you weren’t looking he had come up behind you placing little kisses up and down your neck. “You look so beautiful princess. Can’t believe how lucky I am to have you”. You turn around quickly dodging his embrace “Jungwon baby thank you but I need you to go away. If you want us to actually leave the house you need to let me get ready in peace”. He walked backwards towards the door putting both of his hands up in surrender “sorry baby, I’ll leave you to get ready in peace” and with that he closed the door behind him. You felt a tiny bit bad for kicking him out of your room like that so you thought you’d reward him later for being so good to you.

Once you had finished getting ready, you walk out to the living room to grab your jacket signaling that you were ready to go. Before you could go anywhere Jungwon looked up at you letting out a wolf whistle “damn my baby looks gorgeous for me”. No matter how many times he complimented you it always made you blush. “Thank you baby, dressed up just for you”. Jungwon was really starting to regret his suggestion to go out, not that he didn’t want to take you out and spoil you, he just really wanted to fuck you more. One look at him told you that. “Hm, I'm the luckiest man in the world, baby. We should get going now yeah”?

The entire ride from your place to the bar was one filled with tension, you were both displaying extraordinary amounts of restraint so as not to jump each other's bones in the back of the cab. The bar Jungwon took you to was very fancy and in a great neighborhood. He was able to steal you two a booth tucked away in the corner. Over the course of your time at the bar you two may have been drinking more than was planned originally. You two weren’t drunk by any means but you weren’t exactly sober either. But the thing that always seemed to happen when you two were tipsy was that you both became less aware of your surroundings and more aware of each other. The touches started out innocent, but quickly became lingering. Eventually that meant Jungwon placing a hand on your thigh, inching it up ever so slightly. If you were sober it might’ve been nearly imperceptible but the slow drag of his palm against your skin made you feel like you were on fire. Without the watchful eyes of anyone else he leaned in and started kissing you, pulling back just enough for it to appear innocent from the outside. “Baby, you look so sexy for me. Can hardly control myself right now”. You didn’t want him to either, one word from either of you and he’d have taken you right then and there even if you were in public. You grab his hand slowly inching it in between your thighs but stopping it inches away from the intended destination. He tries to move his hand so he can finally touch you the way he’d been wanting to all night. “Do you wanna know a secret”? He was hoping you’d say you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “Tell me”. You pull him into you leaning forward just enough to place a delicate bite on his ear lobe “I’m not wearing any panties”. Once you said that, you released your hold on his wrist. With absolutely no hesitation he moved his hand just enough to come in contact with your pussy. He started to touch you albeit with less urgency than he normally would’ve had. “You do this for me baby”? Your only answer was a nod of your head. “Get your things, we’re going”.

Jungwon was eerily silent the entire ride home, you thought maybe there was the slightest chance he was mad at you for doing that, but what you didn’t know was that he was trying to control himself. But it was another story once he got out of the cab, he was perfectly fine waiting until you had gotten up to your apartment but then when you moved to step out of the cab he saw the briefest flash of your bare pussy and he lost all semblance of control. When you had entered the lobby of your apartment building he did a quick glance around to make sure no one was out there before he dragged you into the stare well. You had no time to protest before he had you pushed up against the wall. “Fuck baby, you’re so dirty leaving the house without any panties on”. Before you could wrap your mind around what was happening Jungwon snuck his hand up your dress wasting no time finding your clit and rubbing it. He’s quick to throw his hand over your mouth, silencing any moans that were threatening to slip out. He’s quick to grab your leg and hitch it up before he starts fucking two fingers into you. “So wet for me baby, was this what you had in mind when you chose not to wear any panties tonight”? All you were physically able to do was nod your head. He’d kept the pace of his fingers slow and steady, you surmised it was to work you up further. Just as he’s finally started to pick the pace up he’s quick to pull his hand out of your dress at the sound of someone walking down the stairs.

Before you two could get caught he pulled you out of the stare well and back into the lobby. You knew one look at you two would show how flushed you were and how hard Jungwon was in his pants. The wait for the elevator was torturous, Jungwon was all but flush against your back trying to hide the hard on he was sporting. You two were lucky enough to get an empty elevator. As soon as the doors close Jungwon is back on you once again, trapping you in the corner of the elevator and kissing you like a man starved. You knew your time in the elevator was coming to an end so you snuck your hand in between the two of you and palmed him over his pants. The way his hips immediately start rocking into your hand leaves you both dizzy. If you had the time you would’ve gotten on your knees and given him the best head of his life right there for everyone to see. Instead what you do is pop open the button on his pants and push them down just enough to pull his cock out. You can tell he’s taken aback by the sudden movement. He tries to stop your movements but you’re too quick, taking him in your hand. Your movements are quick and slightly impatient setting a punishing pace for him. “Fuck baby, we can’t do this here, anyone could see”. He was such a hypocrite, having had no issue fingering you in the stare well where anyone could’ve seen you two at any moment. “Hm but do you really want me to stop”? His hips had started to grind forward creating more friction for him. “No please don’t”. That’s what you thought. Taking a page out of his book you speed up your movements and start whispering into his ear, which is a move he always made on you. “Baby, you have no idea how much I need you to fuck me right now”. As he goes to speak the elevator stops, Jungwon is quick to tuck himself into his pants pulling you in front of him to hide what had been going on. He does this in just enough time before someone steps into the elevator. The air is awkward between you two, you could tell by his body language Jungwon was irritated.

You’d no sooner walked into your apartment before Jungwon had you pushed up against it bringing his hand up to wrap ever so slightly around your neck. “Did you think that was funny baby? Answer me”. You should’ve known you wouldn’t get away with your stunt back in the elevator. “Just wanted to make you feel good baby”. He doesn’t buy it for one second, scoffing while tightening the grip on your neck. “Should make you get on your knees for me baby, but I’m too impatient for that. Need to fuck you now”. He takes his hand off your throat to undo his pants and take his cock back out. He’s too impatient to undress you, opting to push your dress up around your hips. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. He’s about to push into you before you grab his hand and move it back to your throat. He’d only ever choked you a couple of times, each at your request but never during sex. He’d never be able to put into words how much he liked when you asked him to choke you. He pushes into you, bottoming out in one swift motion. He’d normally wait for you to adjust to him but the way your pussy is sucking him in he can’t find it in himself to care. His pace is so fast that you can’t catch your breath. But it’s also so good that you don’t care about anything else but the way his cock feels inside of you. “Am I fucking you good baby”? You were shocked he even needed to ask you that, especially with the way you were moaning for him. “You- fuck- you always fuck me good baby. Can’t get enough of your cock”. You aren’t sure how he still has the energy to fuck you against the door when he’s pistoning into you how he is. “Always so good at taking my cock baby. Been waiting to fuck you all night”. You’re all but screaming his name at this point, overwhelmed by everything, by the drag of his cock inside of you and how good he smells up close. You’re overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at you and with the sweat starting to drip off of his hair. In short, you’re overwhelmed by him. “Fuck Jungwon, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum baby”. His hips falter at that, a telltale sign he himself is about to finish. “Gonna cum too baby. Where do you want me”?

You’re so far gone that when you babble out your answer to him you miss his reaction. “Cum inside me please, it’s okay”. You two had never had sex raw before, even though you were on the pill it just never got brought up. “Princess wants me to cum inside her huh? Fuck- you’re gonna take what I give you then”. With a few more sloppy thrusts Jungwon buries his face into your neck letting out the most sinful moans before cumming inside of you. As soon as he pulls out of you, he all but collapses on the floor pulling you with him. You two lay there for a few minutes trying to catch your breath. Jungwon is content in that moment, but he knows that he’s nowhere near done with you tonight. “What got into you tonight Wonie”? He himself isn’t even sure, he just knows when he saw you once he got home from work that he needed to fuck you good and hard. “You got into me baby. Don’t tell me you didn’t like it. I felt how wet you were at the bar”. He had you there. You were just as insatiable as he was. But before you could go to answer he’s flipped you around so he’s laying on top of you. He leaves kisses down your neck slowly moving his way down your body. “Hmm baby, I’m sorry we didn’t get to dinner tonight. But I’m going to have to insist we skip straight to dessert”. With that, your night was about to get a lot more fun.

#kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop writers #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enha jungwon #enhypen smut #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon smut #jungwon #jungwon enhypen #enha smut #kpop smut

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bonedo-enthusiast · 3 days ago

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birthday thoughts 𐂐◯𓇋

desc: a drabble about how i think the members would treat you on your birthday! includes two date ideas and a gift idea per member.

warnings: just pure fluff, legal line!bnd x gn!reader, headcannons, woonhak is not here because he's three technically almost four years younger than me & i don't feel comfortable writing a relationship x reader with him!

wc: 853

sungho

i’m thinking a fancy dinner date for sungho’s choice of a birthday date!

i can see him buying you a specific dress that either you’ve had your eye on or that he thinks would look so lovely on you.

either that or something like a new purse, wallet, or jewelry.

if you wore the gift on the date? big heart eyes.

oh, and he would go all out. you want an appetizer? hell yeah. two? anything for his partner.

and you can bet when he called to make the reservation, he told the staff it was your birthday.

if they end up singing to you for your birthday, he’d join in laughing and smiling at you.

another date idea i could see him coming up with would be a spa day!

he wants you to be fully relaxed and enjoy your special day, so i could see him booking an appointment in a heartbeat.

he’d subtly ask questions throughout the previous couple of weeks to gauge where your most sore, tense places are.

riwoo

i think riwoo would take you on a date to the park!

he’d bring one of those cute little picnic baskets and a blanket along with all of your favorite snacks.

i can see him scoping out an area beforehand, wanting to find the optimal spot for cloud gazing or any other similar activities.

i could also see him suggesting a gaming day for the two of you.

he can get pretty competitive, though, so he has to remind himself that it’s your birthday.

he would probably let you win a couple of times (or that’s what he’d say anyway).

as for a gift, i think he’d make you a cute beaded necklace or bracelet–kinda like what he did for himself and daebak.

he’d probably make you both matching pairs, as a matter of fact! :)

jaehyun

i can see jaehyun choosing to take you to an amusement park!

i think he would struggle to come up with a date idea, since he usually leaves that up to you.

but he loves to have fun, you love to have fun, so that’s the first thing he thinks of.

he’d slightly regret it though when you begged him to get on a certain roller coaster with you.

he’d regret it a bit more when you expressed wanting the photo they took of you two while on it–jaehyun in the photo looking like he was watching a horror movie with the way his eyes were wide.

on the other hand, jaehyun is a pretty romantic guy so i could see him decorating your shared place and buying a projector to have a cute movie night together.

would probably definitely choose a romance movie, maybe even a k-drama.

for the gift, i think again that jaehyun would struggle a bit to decide what to get you, but one thing he gives you is a beautiful bouquet for flowers.

he’d probably say something cheesy along with it, like how you’re a more beautiful flower than the entirety of the bouquet.

taesan

i think taesan wouldn’t plan out a birthday date on his own, instead asking you where you want to go.

however, if you can’t decide, i think he’d choose a place like an arcade!

he’d definitely be stuck at one of those claw machines trying to win you the giant stuffed teddy because you’re his partner and you have to have it, especially since it’s your birthday.

regardless of where you go, i can see him ending out the night by surprising you with a song he wrote for you!

i also could see him suggesting fun activities for the two of you to do if you’d rather stay in, mostly arts-related.

maybe you two trying to paint each other’s portraits!

he would tease your painting but immediately put it on top of the dresser or on the wall where he can see it every day.

taesan likes making and customizing things, so he would definitely give you something like that–maybe a pair of shoes that he hand painted!

leehan

i could definitely see him taking you on an aquarium date for your birthday!

it’s a bit self-indulgent on his part, sure, but he finds something so intimate and fascinating being at an aquarium, with the closeness of the animals and the different lighting involved.

would definitely buy you whatever you wanted from the gift shop, even if it was like a forty dollar stingray plush.

for another date idea, i could see leehan planning something a bit more out of the box.

so maybe he plans a scavenger hunt, with the prize ending up being something simple like a kiss, or even your birthday gift.

he would have some hints pre-chosen, knowing that you might get stuck since the clues are very obscure and weird. (it’s leehan, after all.)

as for a gift, i could see him buying you something that relates to one of your hobbies, or maybe a hobby you have expressed wanting to try!

he would love to watch as you use your gift, even taking the time to learn more about it.

a/n: by the time this posts, it will be the day after my birthday and i will be 22!! so i figured i'd write something birthday-related to commemorate another year of being alive. 🥳 also it's been a while since i've written fluff so i wanted to do that finally. :p

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cookierunoutofideas · 22 hours ago

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Just Make More Dragons (Longan Dragon Cookie/Fem! Reader) [SMUT]

“I mean, if you want the age of dragons to return, shouldn’t you just... I dunno, make more dragons or something?”

“Are you volunteering?”

Warnings: no beta we die like elder faerie, smut, PWP, probably out of character, probably not all that well written, neutral pronouns for Longan Dragon Cookie, oviposition, breeding, mating, double dicks, Longan Dragon has some sort of aphrodisiac pheromones that I honestly don't care to explain I just wanted to use the fact that longan fruit apparently smells sweet and is used for relaxation–

Read at your own risk!

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

“I mean, if you want the age of dragons to return, shouldn’t you just... I dunno, make more dragons or something?”

“Are you volunteering?”

Maybe you didn’t think it through before opening your mouth, but, then again, it’s hard to think when Longan Dragon Cookie is looming over you, eyes piercing yours for daring to direct your pathetic cookie voice their direction.

Honestly, not a single part of your current situation makes thinking an easy task. Out of all cookies and out of all places, it shouldn’t be you standing in the lair of the Ivory Dragon. Even if it was originally your idea to do something to distract the guy so the others could regroup and plan the next step to prevent the extinction of all cookie kind, you didn’t mean it had to be leaving you behind! It’s all Pitaya’s fault for throwing you at the pissed white dragon and leaving to lick their wounds somewhere, when you get your hands on that damn lizard-

“You haven’t answered, weak one.”

“I... I mean...” you stammer, taking a shaky step back, but they follow without much effort because, again, Longan Dragon is so damn tall.

You repeat that clumsy dance a few more times, quickly, eyes anywhere but the dragon. While you’re thankful they haven’t killed you yet, you’d rather not test your luck by sticking too close. Though it seems they don’t get the memo, meeting every step with one of their own, an oppressive waltz that ends with you against a hard wall.

“I wouldn’t dare suggest that! I’m just a lowly cookie!” you frantically wave your hands, fear running through your dough. Maybe if you act humble enough, they won’t crumble you for another few hours.

Damn it, Ginger Brave and gang, come faster!

Longan Dragon shortens the distance between you two, forcing you to lean your head back as much as you can to avoid touching their chest with your forehead.

Oh, they smell oddly sweet.

What a rich scent.

And their hands are so big, sharing their warmth—so far, all dragons you’ve met are pretty warm, must be a dragon thing—with your cheeks as they lift your face.

The sweet smell of fruit envelops you, relaxing your muscles without your permission. Not that you’re trying to fight the sudden wave of calm that hits you, no, you’re greedily breathing in all sensations, even the sensation of a much larger body pressing you against the wall, the difference in temperatures on your front and back making your breath hitch. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but tension pressing down your back that the small respite brings too much relief to your body and soul.

Then a thumb presses on your lower lip and you remember just where you are. And with who.

You open your eyes with a loud gasp, trying to free your body—and fuzzy mind—from the Ivory Dragon’s claws, but they don’t budge. No, they seem pleased.

“What...” you swallow saliva you hadn’t even noticed filling your mouth. “... are you doing?”

“A mate presents so willingly to be bred,” the dragon purrs—literally, you can feel the vibrations, “and responds to me so eagerly, what is this one to do other than claim them?”

Whatever happens between that low growl and your back meeting soft silken sheets simply doesn’t register in your memory. After all, the sweet scent filling your nose and the maddening kiss stealing your breath make remembering anything else difficult.

Longan Dragon Cookie’s body is hot and heavy on yours, their tongue insistent and their hands adventurous. Gone is the quiet intensity that made the Ivory Dragon a suffocating yet majestic presence, in its place is fervour you simply can’t comprehend, urgency and hunger and desire and want and need—oh, you can’t help but tug at their ivory strands, making them as messy as the kisses you two share. They growl, animalistic, finally acting like one would expect a dragon, instinct guiding them into manhandling you until your clothes are ripped off, exposed—offered to them.

You don’t bother to muffle your voice as sharp teeth finds the soft dough around your nipples. The dragon seems to like that, too, making sure to bite and suck and lick whatever place gives them the louder, needier noises. They move down your body, giving special attention to your navel, to where your womb rests, marking you with claws and fangs. Your vagina pulsates when they look up at you, locking eyes as they lick, long and slow, up the valley of your breasts. It’s so hypnotizing that you barely notice the sharp claws rubbing against your clit and folds, the danger making your toes tingle.

“This-” you gasp, pulling at their long hair—beautiful, like all of the dragon. “Keep... keep them outta me...”

“Do you think me foolish to risk hurt the one who’ll carry my eggs?”

“Eggs?!”

And the bastard only chuckles! A deep, rich sound that comes from the depths of their lungs, a sound no one ever thought the Ivory Dragon capable of. Feeling annoyed, you quickly hoist yourself up and do the unthinkable: you sink your teeth on the Ivory Dragon’s neck, completely forgetting that a dragon’s dough is much more resistant than a normal cookie’s. You can barely move your jaw, your tongue touching the smooth scales curiously.

Longan Dragon Cookie pulls you away from their neck with one harsh tug to the back of your neck, and for a second you fear that you’ve finally crossed the line and won’t see the next sunrise... but then they purr—or growl? Hard to tell—and oh.

They smile, predatory and pleased.

“A weak little cookie won’t be able to mark my scales, little mate,” they rumble, shuffling a bit until their robes fall off their shoulders. “But go ahead and try still.”

They bring you to another kiss with the hand on your neck, thrusting their hips on your unclothed pussy, allowing you to feel what awaits.

There’s two of them, your brain figures, there’s no way that bulge is only one dick.

There absolutely is two of them.

You watch as the rest of their robes fall off their body. It is like watching the most wondrous sculpture be revealed, like the ultimate piece of art finally leaves its artist’s studio to grace the world with its existence. Here is a being no one could ever dare deny their beauty, doing so would be to boldly lie to an omniscient god’s face.

And there are two dicks standing proudly, already leaking at the anticipation of tearing you apart.

Because that’s what going to happen, you’re sure. The one on the top is thicker while the one bellow is thinner, but they’re both far too much for a little normal cookie such as you. Longan Dragon Cookie, however, seems to care not—in fact, they seem to simply believe you can take it, take all they give you... which may or may not include eggs. Eggs.

“Wait!” you yelp, pulling at their hair, undoing whatever held it up and out of their way. To your surprise, Longan Dragon does listen, halting their clawed attack at your hips. “You- this- won’t fit!”

“They shall,” they simply answer, pressing another kiss to your navel before finally giving your wet folds—when did you get so wet?—their attention. “I shall make them.”

One long lick to your folds stops whatever protests you still have, instead freeing a long moan. Oh, their tongue is forked. Of course it is, they are a dragon, dragons have forked tongues, why wouldn’t the Ivory Dragon have a forked tongue—and why wouldn’t the Ivory Dragon be so good at using it?

Keeping their words, the claws stay away from you sensitive genitalia, instead drawing scratch lines one your thighs, some even painted blood red. The pain stings just enough to add to the pleasure the tongue stretching and exploring you gives. Giving up any sort of hesitance, you give in to your odd situation, enjoying with abandon the dragon’s ministrations until the knot built inside your tummy snaps and you cum the hardest you’ve ever done, pulling at ivory hair and squeezing a beautiful face between your legs.

Though despite that incredible orgasm, you still don’t feel satiated.

No, part of you still feels empty, craving more of the sweetness coming from your... your lover? No, what was it the dragon called you earlier—mate. Your mate.

As if feeling your desire, Longan Dragon Cookie crawls over your body, still licking their lips and chin to savour every drop of your juices, resting on top of you like a giant, warm cover. Strong arms hold you against a hard chest, prompting you to brace your arms around their neck and sink your nails on their back—thankfully, the scales don’t cover their cookie form completely, so you actually have a chance of scratching them, marking them.

If you could purr at that thought, you would.

Instead, you gasp as a fat cockhead pokes your entrance. Longan Dragon Cookie isn’t exactly gentle—the many bleeding marks all over your body show that pretty well—but they’re considerate enough to stop and wait every time you show signs of pain. Once the thicker cock is inside, they start moving in slow, deliberate circles, still holding you to their chest, giving you no chance to escape the addicting scent of their dough.

Not that you want to.

No, you want to drown in it. You want to be covered in that scent, suffocated in it, buried within it.

The stretch of the second penis entering you makes you whimper, but you can’t tell if it is from pain or pleasure—nor do you care, really. Not when your mate rocks the both of you steadily, thrusts slow but hard, resolute, hitting every spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back, kissing the entrance of your womb. It’s so hot, it’s too hot and you want more more more more!

“As you wish, little mate” the dragon growls in your ear, the breathlessness of their voice causing shivers to run down your back. “I will breed you round.”

Let no one ever say the Ivory Dragon doesn’t keep their word.

You whine your agreement, pleading for whatever they will give you. Something inside you had snapped into place earlier; suddenly, you are exactly where you should be, exactly with who you should be. Nothing else comes to mind but the one making you feel so good, taking you as theirs, giving you themselves. You turn your head in hopes to get a kiss and, much to your pleasure, you get exactly what you wanted. Longan Dragon Cookie is such a good mate, providing everything their mate wants without delay or confusion.

A good mate who’ll take care of your hatchlings—

Hatchligns.

Eggs!

Holy shit, Longan Dragon Cookie, the Ivory Dragon, is going to fuck eggs into you!

“Please...!” you beg, not sure what for.

Now, would carrying the eggs of your mate be so bad?

No, you figure as another orgasm washes over you, it wouldn’t.

An ever louder growl-purr answers your begging, claws mimicking the scratches left on a ivory back. Your mate starts thrusting faster, harder, deeper, as if trying to force your uterus to open to their cocks—no, not “as if”, that is what they will do. For the sake of your first clutch.

Your first clutch.

The thought alone triggers another orgasm and you repeat the earlier bite to Longan’s neck, not caring that your cookie teeth won’t pierce a mighty dragon’s scales. No, you must mark your mate however you can, no matter how difficult.

That is the limit for the dragon as they roar, shoving their cockhead into your womb with one last hard thrust.

You feel so damn full.

It is amazing.

There is nothing left in the world but you, your mate and where you two connect to become two. You scream to match their roaring, wild harmony ending in a passionate kiss.

Then you feel it. Something round travelling down their thicker cock, stretching you even more. A weak moan slips past your lips only to be greedily devoured by the dragon. The round thing must be about the side of your closed fist, maybe a bit smaller. The journey is slow, a sweet torture you endure in between the arms of your mate. When you dare open your eyes to look at them, your breath gets stolen by the sight of their pupils blown wide, eating away everything else. A forked tongue licks away your tears and sweat, the purring intensifying when you give their face your own, much shyer, licks.

Finally, the eggs pops inside your womb, getting comfortable in the empty space. The second cock gushes out a warm liquid; to fertilize the eggs, no doubt. Then another egg starts the journey. And another. And another. The first one arriving safely seems to have opened the gates as the others now rush to join their sibling. Another world shattering orgasm hits you when a particularly big egg presses your inner walls.

Ten eggs. You now carry ten eggs from the Ivory Dragon. Your belly looks round like a normal pregnancy. The cum inside you keeps you warm. So does the arms wrapped around you and the chest you nuzzle. You fall asleep, content and full, not a care in the world. Nothing can bother this serene moment with your mate.

A loud noise wakes you up hours later, and you recognize the voices of GingerBrave and the other cookies.

Ah.

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #longan dragon cookie x reader #longan dragon cookie #cookie run smut

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nameless-jamie · 1 day ago

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Hi, I love your writing and I love that you post so frequently! Could you wrote a fic based on the scene in the finally in which Rupert tells West Ham's coqch to take Jamie out? Could be a separate story (maybe Y/N is Richmond's lawyer) and she finds out and wants to finish Rupert? Or in the P/A universe and Jamie teases her about being protective and caring about him after she stands up to Rupert?

Thanks!

Red Card

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, angry Y/N, sexist joke from Rupert

A/N: I hope it's okay that I used your request for a Jamie Tartt x PA ff, I thought it fit so well. Thank you for the idea!

The energy in Nelson Road was electric. The stands were packed with Richmond fans, their chants echoing through the stadium as the team prepared for one of their toughest matches yet. The anticipation was palpable, the tension thick in the air, but none of it compared to the storm brewing inside her the moment she overheard Rupert Mannion’s words.

Y/N wasn’t even supposed to be standing on the sidelines during the match—technically, her job as Jamie Tartt’s personal assistant didn’t require her to be this close to the action. But after years of working with Jamie, she’d become part of Richmond’s inner circle, always hovering near the dugout with Roy, Beard, and Ted, ready to handle whatever ridiculous emergency Jamie threw at her.

But tonight? Tonight, she was glad she was there.

Because she overheard everything.

Standing just a few feet from West Ham’s technical area, she had no choice but to hear Rupert fucking Mannion—West Ham’s owner, snake, all-around waste of oxygen—lean toward his coach and murmur,

"Take Tartt out."

She had frozen, fingers tightening around the clipboard she had been holding.

"Hard. Do whatever it takes."

It was quiet. Calculated. Cruel.

Rupert’s voice was as smooth as it was poisonous, a quiet command given to West Ham’s coach, the kind of thing meant to be whispered in dark corners and carried out with no one the wiser. But she had heard it, and once she had, there was no way in hell she was going to let it slide.

It made something snap inside her.

Without thinking, she stormed across the grass, ignoring Roy’s “Oi, what the fuck are you doin’?” and Beard’s sharp “Y/N—don’t—”

She was already moving.

Marching straight up to him.

“Mister Mannion,” she said, voice saccharine-sweet with rage.

Rupert barely glanced at her. “Ah, Miss Y/L/N. Didn’t realize Jamie let his little assistant wander around unsupervised.”

She clenched her jaw. “I heard what you just said about Jamie.”

Rupert smirked. “Did you?”

“You told your coach to injure him.” Her voice was pure steel.

Rupert sighed, as if she were boring him. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Football is a physical sport.” He tilted his head, looking her over like she was some insignificant little thing he could swat away. “Though, I suppose you’d know all about being handled roughly. What’s Jamie got you doing these days? Fetching his water? Maybe warming his bed?”

Y/N lunged.

Her vision went red as she launched herself at him, fully prepared to end him right then and there.

Before she could so much as grab the smug bastard, two line refs yanked her back.

“Let me go—” she growled, twisting in their grip.

Roy and Ted were already jogging toward her, Roy looking absolutely thrilled and Ted looking like he was suppressing laughter.

One of the refs shook his head. “Sorry, miss, but you’re outta here.”

She stood beside Roy and Ted on the touchline, fuming, while the referee held up the red card like she was some kind of violent offender.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Ted said, ever the peacemaker. “Now, I don’t wanna tell ya how to do your job, sir, but surely we can all agree that giving someone a red card when they aren’t technically a player is a little… excessive?”

“It’s the rules,” the ref said flatly.

“She doesn’t even play, mate!” Roy barked. “You can’t send her off!”

The ref shrugged. “Rules are rules.”

Roy, arms crossed, scowled so hard he looked ready to combust. “It’s a stupid fucking rule.”

“Stupid or not, she has to leave,” the ref insisted.

Y/N threw her arms in the air. “Oh, come on! I didn’t even do anything.”

The linesman coughed. “You tried to assault West Ham’s owner.”

“Tried being the keyword,” she snapped. “If you lot hadn’t held me back, I’d have succeeded.”

Rupert, still standing smugly nearby, let out a low chuckle. “My, my,” he said, voice dripping with condescension. “I didn’t realize Jamie’s assistant was so… passionate about her job.”

Y/N whirled back toward Rupert. “You’re a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man,” she seethed.

Rupert only chuckled, waving his fingers at her like she was some little girl throwing a tantrum. “Run along now.”

The rage inside her burned.

“If anyone on West Ham lays a hand on Jamie, I swear to God, I will—”

Rupert tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “It looks an awful lot like you’re getting rather—” his lips curled into a smirk, “—emotionally involved with your client.”

The audacity of this man.

She felt the anger boiling in her chest, sharp and blinding, but before she could lunge, two line refs grabbed her arms, holding her back.

“Ohhh, I hate you,” she seethed.

Rupert just smiled, infuriatingly unbothered. “Careful now, boys. Wouldn’t want Jamie’s newest toy to get too scratched up before he inevitably trades her in for someone better.”

That was it. That was her breaking point.

She surged forward, only for the refs to tighten their grip, dragging her back toward the tunnel.

“LET ME AT HIM,” she yelled, legs kicking uselessly as she was forcibly removed.

“Jesus Christ,” Roy muttered, but there was unmistakable approval in his tone.

Ted just sighed. “Well, that went about as well as we could’ve hoped.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the way he dismissed her or the fact that she couldn’t do a damn thing about it, but she let the refs drag her off, still spitting curses as Roy followed them, arguing the whole way.

Jamie, standing on the pitch, barely caught the end of it—just enough to see his PA being forcibly escorted out, Roy yelling at the ref, and Y/N looking ready to kill someone.

He frowned. “What the fuck?”

Isaac, jogging up beside him, snorted. “Mate, Y/N just got a red card. She got sent off.”

“Right. And… why?” Jamie blinked. “She ain’t even a player.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got more fight in her than half of us,” Isaac muttered.

Sam, ever the optimist, said, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explana—”

“—Apparently she tried to murder Mr. Mannion,” Colin interrupted.

Jamie’s eyes widened. “Oh, fuckin' hell.”

Jamie found her in the locker room after the game, sitting on one of the benches with her arms crossed, scowling at the floor.

She barely glanced up as he walked in.

He leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, smirking. “So.”

She huffed. “So.”

He tilted his head. “Wanna tell me why my personal assistant got sent off the pitch? ’Cause, I gotta say, love, that’s a new one—even for you.”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Rupert told his coach to target you. To hurt you.”

Jamie felt something twist in his stomach. He wasn’t surprised—not really—but hearing it from her, hearing how angry she was about it…

It did something to him.

Before he could respond, she turned to face him fully, eyes blazing. “And then that prick had the audacity to say some sexist bullshit about me, and I—” She clenched her fists. “I snapped.”

Jamie smirked. “You snapped.”

“Yes.”

“And got dragged off the pitch.”

“Yes.”

“And got a red card even though you don’t play football.”

She groaned, rubbing her face. “Yes.”

Jamie couldn’t help it—he laughed.

Y/N shot him a glare. “Jamie.”

“Nah, nah, I’m just—” He shook his head, grinning. “You got sent off tryin’ to protect me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.” A really sexy thing. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Admit it. You care about me.”

She scoffed. “Of course, I care about you. You’re my job.”

Jamie smirked. “And?”

“And nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jamie leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “You sure sure?”

Y/N shoved him. “Shut up, Jamie.”

He laughed, stepping back. “Alright, alright.” He crossed his arms, eyes still bright with amusement. “But just so you know—next time, if you’re gonna get sent off, at least make it worth it.”

She huffed. “Oh, trust me. Next time, I’m throwing a punch.”

Jamie grinned. “Now that, love, I’d pay to see.”

And even though he teased her for it—because of course he would—he couldn’t help but feel something warm settle in his chest.

Because she had fought for him.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #afc richmond #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #roy kent #sam obisanya

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haru-dipthong · 15 hours ago

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Fansub release + translation notes for Utena ep 22!

さすがに何でもよく知ってるわね。でもそれだけの情報網があるなら、早く奴らの正体も突き止めて欲しいわ。

You know everything, don’t you Juri? With such a vast intelligence network, I wish you’d hurry up and find out these people’s true identities. (literal translation)

You know everything, don’t you Juri? I wish you'd put your little birdies to work finding out just who is behind this. (final translation)

情報網 (jouhoumou) is an interesting word to use here! It literally means “intelligence network”, so Nanami is implying that Juri has a bunch of spies feeding her everytthing that happens at the school. To actually use the word “intelligence network” sounds a little but out of place in English though, so I rephrased the line a little to sound more conversational and accusatory.

Boy: しばらく消えないでしょうね、根室教授。 Nemuro: ん？なんだい？ Boy: 雪の事ですよ、教授。

Boy: Won't disappear for a while still, eh, Professor Nemuro? Nemuro: I beg your pardon? Boy: I was talking about the snow, Professor.

There’s a double meaning in the first line here — the boy could reasonably be talking about the Professor himself not clearing out for a while. That was actually my original phrasing: “Won’t clear out for a while” but Anya suggested “disappear” which is actually much closer to the original Japanese phrasing so I changed it to that. I think this exchange preserves that passive aggressive dig at the Professor pretty well!

あの人は花が散るのを見たくないんですよ。こうすれば短い命の花も少しは長持ちさせることができる。でも、こうまでして永らえても花自身は嬉しいんでしょうか？

She hates it when the petals begin to fall. This way even a short-lived flower can be made to last a little longer. But… I wonder how the flowers feel about their existence being prolonged like this.

This is one of my favourite exchanges in the show! I think this really emphasises how Japanese sentence structure and general way of phrasing things differs drastically from English. A literal translation of the first sentence would be something like “That person does not want to see flowers scatter”. Each part of the sentence sounds weird if translated individually:

あの人 - “that person” being used because Japanese prefers that phrasing to third person pronoun “she”.

花が散る - “flowers scatter” is the most natural way to say “petals fall/die” in Japanese but sounds very odd in English

見たくないんですよ - “does not want to see X” also sounds very funny when translated directly to English, but simply conveys the idea that she doesn’t like seeing something happen.

When taken as a whole, complete idea though, the sentence can easily be translated into something that sounds natural in English: “She hates it when the petals begin to fall.”

The hardest part of this to translate was the last sentence. I originally had translated it like this: “So much work to make them last, and yet I wonder if the flowers themselves are happy.”

こうまでして - to go this far/to put in this much effort/to put in this much work. However, this is more of a tone setting phrase than a meaning carrying phrase, so it’s okay not to translate it directly.

永らえる - to prolong something’s lifespan. This is hard to translate because while the phrasing works in Japanese, the preserved flowers are actually dead. So you can’t translate it as “I wonder how the flowers feel about being made to live so long” or something of that ilk. My original translation of “make them last” works, but I prefer the final translation of “existence being prolonged”. It sounds more applicable to Mamiya’s situation, and this exchange is all about that metaphor.

永遠に憧れる心が美しく思えたりするだけだ。

(lit.) We just think of a heart that longs for eternity as beautiful. (??)

We just romanticise the idea of eternity.

Another great example of Japanese phrasing that sounds super weird when translated directly, but can sound very natural when the core idea behind the words is translated properly. “Romanticise” is such a succinct one-word translation of the several word phrase 「憧れる心が美しく思えたり」!

Thank you to my amazing editor @dontbe-lasanya for their help with the episode as always!

Follow the blog to stay updated with new episodes. For all episodes released so far, go here:

Rose divider taken from this post.

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #shoujo kakumei utena #sku #utena #utena fansub #translation #japanese #japanese language #language #langblr #official blog post #learning japanese

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aquarius-johnny · 2 days ago

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Promise? Promise. | Jeong Jaehyun

genre: smut | word count: 3.9k | deadly sins series | master list navi warnings: nonidol!jaehyun, tatted!reader, afab!reader, pet names (baby, my girl), needy jaehyun, use of sex toys, phone sex, sharing explicit photos, video sex, smut, a little fluffy summary: jaehyun so desperately wants you, only to remember you’re far away from him, so he settles for some long distance phone sex. | deadly sin: lust a/n: part of the deadly sins series. read part two: the sweetest hello cr. border by @dollywons, seven deadly sins prompts by @joelsmochi

⌞ pinterest board ⌝ ≫ concept photos

Never in your wildest dreams, you’d be sending suggestive photos of yourself to a man you’ve never met, in person at least, that lives on the opposite side of the world from you. Everything that you’re doing goes against your best judgement, but you did not care.

You tilt your head to the right, then the left, then the right again while analyzing the lingerie set you bought earlier that day. Eyes scanning the way the lace perfectly lays against your skin, the color complimenting your undertone, and how the cut flatters your body oh so well before turning to the side, slightly twisting your body to admire your ass. You give yourself an approving nod, taking pride in the set you chose yourself.

Your text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and a smile pulls your lips after seeing who it’s from.

jaehyun: i missed you today jaehyun: think we can talk tonight?

Your thumb hovers over your phone’s keyboard, thinking about what you should reply. Thinking on your feet, you snap a quick picture posing suggestively for the shot — you angle your mirror to face your bed, positioning yourself in view of your reflection. Your knees slightly part against your mattress and you lean forward a bit, ensuring your phone covers your face as you take a couple of photos. You reopen your messaging app, sending the best photo you took.

you: sure, feel free to call me when you can

Within seconds, you receive a new text.

jaehyun: is that new? you: yeah, i bought it today. you: what do you think? jaehyun: i might need a few more angles to come up with a solid opinion jaehyun: one thing is for sure though jaehyun: i want you jaehyun: so fucking badly

You giggle at his multiple messages sent back to back. You quickly shoot a couple more photos, multiple shots in semi compromising positions you remember Jaehyun saying he really enjoyed. Feeling confident in yourself, you choose your best photos once more, sending four more photos for him to add to his spank bank.

you: i really like it you: i think it’s very pretty jaehyun: i need to call you jaehyun: now jaehyun: please

Before you could reply, your phone screen lights up with Jaehyun’s contact information and cute little pouty photo he took and sent you when you took a little too long calling him one night.

“You’re a little impatient, aren’t you?” You giggle softly, hearing a door lock on his end of the line.

You feel him smile over the phone, his voice slightly echoing on his end. “I can’t help it.”

“Where are you?” You ask as you trace your finger against the waistband of your underwear. “Doesn’t sound like you’re home.”

“I’m not.” His voice lingers with a hint of urgency, his breathing slightly rattled and you hear the echoes of his belt buckle being undone. “I’m in a restroom. I have to be quick, my friends are waiting.”

“Hm, you’re gonna use me to get you off and then leave me?” Your bottom lip juts out, letting out a small whimper that always sends Jaehyun into a frenzy.

“No, of course not baby,” he breathes, “Those pictures, fuck, I — I promise to call you when I get home. I want to see you. I need to see you. But right now, I need to hear you, please.” His begging ignites something in the pit of your stomach, aroused by the breathy sounds he makes.

You slide your fingers under the fabric covering your core. “Promise?”

“I promise,” his voice low and raspy, before he inhales sharply. “Think you can touch yourself for me?”

You smile against your phone. “Already am,” you let out. “I’m really wet,” you softly giggle, tracing circles around your sweet nub.

A low groan escapes Jaehyun's lips. The sound of his hand slicking up and down his shaft is very prominent, the sound so enticing you let out a small moan.

“Should I stick a finger inside?” You wonder aloud, waiting patiently for his directions.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun growls, “please do.” He pumps his erection faster, aroused by the thoughts of your fingers dipping in and out of you.

“I wish they were yours,” you pout, your dainty fingers gently moving against your wet velvety walls.

“You have no idea how much I want that,” Jaehyun sighs, throwing his head back against the wall he’s pressed against. He twists his tip before returning to pumping himself. “Until then, fuck yourself with your fingers baby. Tell me how good it feels.” His voice is so low and raspy, you find it incredibly hot how needy and desperate he is to touch himself while thinking of you.

“It feels so good, Jaehyun.” You groan, penetrating your finger deeper inside of you. “I’m so wet and it’s so warm.”

“Fuck,” Jaehyun grunts. “Faster. Fuck yourself faster.”

His breathing turns rapid and you hear him sharply inhale. Your eyes shut, taking in the lewd noises you’re making that’s mixed with the sounds Jaehyun lets out every time his imagination gets the best of him. You do as he says, before opting out to rub circles on your clit knowing it’ll make you release faster.

“Jaehyun,” you whimper. “Harder.”

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back the groan he so desperately wants to let out. He loves the way you call out for him as you touch yourself. He does as you say, tightening his grip around his cock, pumping his hand all the way down to the base of his shaft as he imagines bottoming out inside of you.

You press down onto your clit, picking up the pace ever so slightly to reach your high. A string of breathy mumbles leave your lips, imagining how good Jaehyun would feel inside of you. Your walls begin to pulse and your back begins to arch. Your hand doesn’t falter and Jaehyun’s sounds help you chase ecstasy. As your pace increases, so does his. His pathetic whimpers are music to your ears.

“God, Jaehyun,” you gasp. “I’m gonna come!”

“Shit, me too,” he croaks.

A jolt of pleasure runs through your body; your thighs tremble and your toes curl. “I’m coming,” you cry out, rubbing yourself until you ride out your high.

Jaehyun doesn’t say a word, instead, you hear him groan and gasp into the phone. Strings of white ropes spurt out of his tip and onto his long fingers. Both your bodies go limp — you sink into your mattress and he leans into the restroom wall to hold him up.

“Damn,” he laughs, causing you to let out a giggle as well. “Hold on, I gotta clean myself up.”

He places his phone on the counter as he tears a bunch of toilet paper from its dispenser to wipe his release off his fingers and his tip. You hear a rush of water indicating hand washing on his end.

Soon enough, you’re greeted by Jaehyun once again. “You’re not going out tonight, right?” He asks you, unlocking the restroom door. A wave of chatter fills your phone, clearly telling you that he’s going back to his friends.

“That depends if you’re going to call me later,” you mumble, trying to steady your breathing.

Jaehyun chuckles and all you can imagine is his dimpled smile. “I made a promise, right?” He lets out, sharply inhaling.

“You did.”

“So I intend on keeping that promise.” Your heart swells with excitement, a small smile tugs the corners of your lips. “I’ll be home soon.”

You give him a tired hum before hearing his name get called by who you can assume are his friends. “When I call later, make sure you have those gifts I sent you, okay baby?”

Your heart flutters, excited to use the sex toys Jaehyun sent you a couple of weeks back. “Okay,” you happily mumble. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “It’s really hard not to,” he smiles. “I’ll keep you updated.”

And Jaehyun did just that. For the next two hours or so, he texted you with a ton of updates. He even sent you pictures of him and his friends as they walked the streets, eating their favorite street foods and making you slightly envious.

jaehyun: i’m heading home now jaehyun: i’ll call you when i’m inside jaehyun: i hope you have didn’t change out of that set, i can’t wait to see it

You smile at your phone, sending a picture of your point of view as you sit on your bed, back against your headboard. In front of you, you see a small vibrator and a custom dildo — custom to the size and shape of Jaehyun’s cock. Your lace underwear peaks from the edge of the picture, your focus are your legs and feet; looking silky and soft as your overhead light accentuates the smooth texture of your skin.

A few minutes later, your phone rings — this time, Jaehyun requesting a video call.

“Hey,” you answer with a smile, Jaehyun already smiling at the sight of you.

“Hey,” he replies. “How was your day?”

The one thing you appreciate about Jaehyun is the fact that he never forgets to ask about your day. Sure, things between the two of you were sexually tense, but you find him to be one of the sweetest people you’ve been sexually involved with. It always feels like he truly cares about what you have to say, making you feel more like an actual friend to him and not simply someone to help him get off.

“Oh the usual — stressful day at work, so I decided to go shopping afterwards to make myself feel better.”

“Did it work?” Jaehyun chuckles. He places his phone against a water bottle in his room before taking his shirt off then proceeding to pick up the phone again. Pushing his hair back with his long fingers, he shakes his head and it falls back into place.

“Yeah,” you grin. “I think what I bought is pretty.”

“It is.” Jaehyun licks his lips, his eyes wandering from your eyes down to the lace holding your breasts perfectly in place. “A very pretty girl in very pretty lingerie.”

Your cheeks rush with heat, shyly smiling at his comment. “How was your day?” You ask, changing the subject quickly.

“Oh the usual —“ he teases you, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he smiles. “Work was brutal, back to back meetings make my brain turn into mush.” You give him a sympathetic pout as he speaks. “Wished I could’ve come home to you, but you’re so far away.”

Your brows lift in surprise. You move to lay on your stomach, phone propped in front of you, making sure to angle it in a perfect view of your ass for the man you’re talking to. “I’m sorry I’m so far away,” you sigh, resting your chin against the palm of your hand. “Wish I was there with you.”

A toothy smile creeps onto Jaehyun’s face as he hears your words. “Maybe one day?”

You eagerly nod, smiling like a teenager in love.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you giggle at his neediness. “How was hanging out with your friends, by the way?”

“The same old stuff,” he shrugs. “They did wonder why I went to the restroom after looking at my phone.” His ears flush a crimson red, thinking back on the memory.

“What did you say?”

He lets out an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, I really wanted to tell them why, but I decided not to and just told them I needed to use the restroom.” Jaehyun sits at his work desk in his room, propping his phone on a stack of books ensuring you could see his body. “Not sure if they believed me, but that’s okay. I’ll let their imagination run wild.”

He leans into the backing of his rolling computer chair, looking relaxed in his position. He twisted his chair casually, your eyes catching his well defined body and how good he looked in those grey sweatpants he had on. He wasn’t doing much to excite you, in fact, he was just sitting there telling you about his day and you find the sight of it arousing.

“By the way,” he lets out, catching your attention. “You were absolutely amazing in the restroom earlier and those pictures, fuck — they look so good. I’d give anything to hear your moans in person.”

You blush at his compliments, biting down on your bottom lip before hiding your embarrassment. Jaehyun laughs at you, enjoying the sight of you crumbling at his words. He continues to twist his chair, letting out an amused laugh.

“Can I see what you’re wearing?” A smile never leaves his face, but you see him quickly squeeze his length through his sweatpants.

You sit on your knees, your screen filled with your body and that perfect little smile you had as you showed off your beautiful set.

“Turn around,” Jaehyun exhales, eyes locked in on your body.

You do as he says, showing him how nicely your underwear wraps around your ass cheeks. You bend over to give him a better view in hopes that he’ll think of you in this position as he jerks himself off.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath. He shifts in his seat, shamelessly squeezing his length a lot harder this time. “You have a tattoo?” He questions, pausing his movements and moving closer to his phone to get a better view.

You nod your head, pointing to the little text you have on your lower back.

“What does it say?” Jaehyun asks, eyes wide at the sight of your small tramp stamp.

The typewriter font tattoo in the middle of your lower back had been seen only by a handful of people and within those handful of people, only one of them was a partner who was also surprised at the sight of it. Jaehyun would be the second partner to see this tattoo. “It says, unforgettable.” You share, slightly embarrassed at the spur of the moment tattoo you decided to get a few years back.

“Wow,” Jaehyun lets out, giving you a smirk. “That’s so hot. Any other tattoos you have?”

You fall back onto your stomach, looking at your propped up phone screen that’s leaning on a bunch of pillows stacked on each other.

“Yeah, I have one on my inner lip.”

Confused for a second, Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak only for you to pull down your bottom lip, showing him the small text against the inside flesh of your bottom lip reading ‘kiss me.’

“Woah,” he breathily lets out. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter. When did you get that?”

“Like a year ago?”

“I met you a year ago, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked,” you laugh at him as he has a stupidly cute grin on his face.

“Can you turn around again? I wanna see your back tattoo.”

You do as he asks, this time moving a little closer to the camera. You sit on your knees, slightly twisting your body to see him admiring your body before a notification of a screenshot pops up on your screen. And another one. And another one. He massages his cock through his pants as he imagines how intoxicating it would be to see you in person.

“Jaehyun,” you whine, going back to the position you were in earlier. “You’ve been playing with yourself this whole time and haven’t even shown me it. I didn’t even get a picture in the restroom earlier,” you pout.

“Oh,” he chuckles, smiling at your whines. “I’m so sorry, baby, I forgot to show you what you did to me. Want me to show you, now?”

You nod your head, excited.

“Anything for my pretty girl,” he coos, pulling his sweats down to his knees before sitting back down. His cock springs up, hitting against his abs and you eye his tip ending right above his belly button.

“So,” you smile. “In hopes of seeing you one day,” you sigh happily, grabbing the dildo beside you and placing it between you and the camera. “I’ve been practicing giving head with this beautiful thing.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun croaks. “C-Can you show me?” He mumbles as he strokes his long length, already hard from the sight of you.

You nod, holding your custom dildo at the base with your hand. Your dainty fingers slowly begin to delicately caress its shaft before you let a pool of spit from your lips fall onto the tip of the silicone toy, using your hand to spread your saliva. Jaehyun spits in his hand before following your actions, spreading the saliva against his own shaft. His eyes never leave the sight of you.

He watches as your lips slowly part upon contact with the tip of your toy. Your head bobs up and down the silicone shaft, your hand spreading the wetness. All Jaehyun could do was watch and imagine — imagine your lips were kissing his reddened tip and your hands moving up and down, sending chills through his body. All he could do was imagine his fingers buried into your hair, guiding you as he bucks his hips up, forcing himself down your throat inch by inch. Sloppy noises heard on your end earns you a low groan from Jaehyun, his free hand running through the root of his hair, his eyes softening at the sight of you and imagining you were there with him. He silently thanked himself for getting you a replica of his own cock so you could use it during occasions like this.

“Put it in.” He sharply intakes a breath.

Using the back of your hand to wipe the drool off your lips, you begin to back up from the camera. You push the thin laced fabric aside, exposing your aroused hole.

“Take it off,” Jaehyun commands, slowly pumping his rigid length, veins popping out angrily. “I wanna see that pretty pussy.”

His explicit words cause a flush against your skin, exciting your core. You begin to remove your underwear, flicking it aside as it reaches your ankle. You plant your feet against your mattress, thighs wide open as you show your soaking heat to the camera.

Jaehyun’s jaw drops, his hair a disheveled mess with strands stuck against his glistening forehead. “So fucking pretty,” he mumbles. His hand twists against his cock, squeezing and stroking his hardened length, slowly.

Grabbing your dildo, you press the silicone tip against your clit before pressing it into you, slowly at first forcing out a satisfied groan from your lips. You begin to bury the toy into your soaking cunt, biting down on your bottom lip, enjoying how your toy filled you up perfectly.

Jaehyun’s left speechless, enjoying the sight in front of him. He tightens the grip around his length, matching your pace with his.

Your dildo slides into you ease, watching you fuck yourself through the mirror angled perfectly towards your bed. With your free hand, you grab your tiny vibrator, and place it against your sensitive nub. Jolts of pleasure run through your body and for a quick moment, you forget Jaehyun is watching you. His eyes glued to his phone screen, watching you hungrily, intimately, desperately.

“I wanna be inside of you,” he begs. “Fuck!”

You smirk at his words. You pump the dildo inside of you, your soft walls swallowing it whole. Your moans gradually get louder, your breathing gets heavier, and sweat beads begin to form against your forehead.

You sit on your knees, your pussy still clenching your dildo as it pushes it deeper as you change your position. Holding it at the base, you ride it while it stays in place during your movements. You place your vibrator against your clit once more.

“God, Jaehyun, I wish I could ride you,” you whine. Your hips move against your silicone toy while steady vibrations stimulate your pretty little bud, sending nothing but pleasure throughout your body.

Jaehyun watches your hips grind, a hint of jealousy from a toy. A frustrated growl escapes and he bucks his hips into his hand, imagining he was bucking it into you as you ride him.

“Faster,” you mutter, frantically grinding your hips. “I want you to come with me.”

Jaehyun’s lips part slightly before his jaw falls open. Clenching his throbbing cock, he roughly jerks himself letting his imagination run rampant with thoughts of you and only you.

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” You cry out, a feverish tingle runs through your entire body. “I-I’m com-ing!” Your voice hitches as you gasp in pleasure.

Jaehyun releases as you call out his name. His velvety white ropes splatter against his abdomen and a liquid mess leaks from his tip onto his fingers. His face flushes a bright pink, clearly exhausted by his movements. He lets out an amused laugh, carefully wiping away his release with the tissues he had on his desk. His forehead glistens with sweat and his hair clings onto his skin before he pushes his hair back right before pulling his sweatpants up.

You slowly pull your dildo out of you, putting it aside to clean off for next time. Grabbing your underwear, you slide them back on. “Was that okay?” You ask Jaehyun who is illuminated by his computer screen. He frantically types something, eyes scanning the words in front of him.

“It was perfect.” He smiles at your words, quickly peaking at you before returning to what he was doing.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, curiously, throwing your blanket over you.

“I’m looking for flights,” he quickly responds, his fingers aggressively tapping the keys on his computer’s keyboard.

“Flights?” Grabbing your phone, you rest your head on your pillow. “Where are you planning on going?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he smirks. “I’m looking for a flight to get your ass here.”

You laugh at his words. “You’re ridiculous,” you let out, pulling the blanket higher up your body.

“There’s a flight next month. Send me a picture of your information, I’ll book it for you.”

“Wait, woah, hold on.” You nervously chuckle. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah?”

“Jaehyun, baby, I can’t just leave — not next month, anyway.”

He pauses, eyes back on his computer screen. He taps and clicks away. “Hm, there’s a flight 3 months from now. Is that enough time to get everything sorted out?”

“You’re dead serious?” You ask, flustered at the thought of seeing him in person.

“I’ve got everything covered for when you get here,” he smiles. “3 weeks, tops.”

You sit up in bed, your blanket sliding down your skin as you’re in deep thought.

“I want to see you,” Jaehyun looks at you through the phone screen, his eyes soft and full of hope that you’ll agree.

“This is a very expensive booty call,” you lightly chuckle.

Jaehyun gives you an exaggerated pout. “C’mon, you know it’s not like that. We’ve been talking for over a year. Don’t you think we owe this to ourselves and finally meet in person?” He pauses, scanning your reaction. “Please? I just wanna see my girl.”

Your heart swells with happiness as you hear your nickname that he’s given you.

“Fine, I’ll send you my info,” you sigh in defeat, although your smile indicates a tinge of excitement. “After all,” you pause. “I did make a promise.”

#j*#deadly sins series #jeong jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct jaehyun smut #jh:smut

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