#catching before collapsing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 3 months ago

Text

TRACKSTAR?!

Synopsis. He’s not running a marathon with you, he’s fúcking one.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, MARATHONS, overstím, creampíes, cúmflation, dúmbifícation, making them whímper, cervíx kíssing, breaking the bed, ínnapropríate use of powers, pússydrúnk men, true form Sukuna, dp, bréeding, p talking, they’re FÉRAL, manhandIing, BÚLGES, spítting, cúmplay, L bómbs, boss!Higuruma, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week!!

�� TOJI FUSHIGURO - 5 rounds

“C’mooon- only round five n’ you’re already this gone, mama?” Toji departs a breathy whistle from his scarred lips, jaded eyes rolling in time with your cute whimpers.

And you’re just trembling underneath him - your legs turned into complete mush and your eyes permanently homed all the way in the back of your head. A big fat wad of creamy white drips out from your sensitive slit and makes you groan– “As if you’re any hck! better.”

Grumbling gruffly, “Huh? S’that backtalk, doll?”

“M-maybe…”

Well- what else could he have expected after completely breaking your rickety bedframe, two desks, and damn near the floor you were drooling all over.

Toji’s plush pecs grinding firmly against your shoulder, scorching skin-against-skin as one beefy arm loops underneath to keep you arched. The other patting that inflationary, throbbing lil’ bulge rested inside your tummy with a leer, “Because all she’s tellin’ me s’that you’re gonna take this next round like a champ.”

Next.

A marathon - fuck, a marathon.

So many rounds upon countless rounds and he was still aching for more - the fat n’ girthy shaft of his painful cock drip-drip-dripping with even more sappy precum. Flooding your sheeny entrance as if he was slobbering, the cutting edge of his mushroom tip swirls around your milked entrance to open you up further.

“Yeah…” Toji drawls under his breath, low. Pinkish tongue flicking out at the pretty, pretty vision of your ruined pussy– “Tellin’ me she’s gonna t-take it alright.”

And if he stuttered, if his voice broke then you don’t notice - because soon enough your brain melts into nothingness as he traces your teary slit with a harsh jab of his crowned head. Dribbling veering into straight-up bawling from between your legs.

Your head lolls back stupidly, striking the plane of his sharp collarbone. Hands scrambling for anything on the floor right about now, “Oh- oh, please. Toooji–!”

“What, huh? S’that pretty lil’ ngh- head scrambled already?” A hoarse snicker breezes out from above you, in unison with the splintered creeeak! that resonates out once one of his clammy palms press up against the nearby wall.

No- you want to say.

But the only thing that spills out of your spit-glued lips is a few whimpering wails of Toji’s name, your knees weakening as he keeps rutting his bludgeoning cock deeper and deeper.

Fucking you like an animal. He was so big that you could feel his pounding veins scrape every inch of your insides, lightning bolts rubbing up against your snug walls in a way that was so sensual. Zig-zagging across your gooey pussy as your bottom lip catches on your teeth. “Harder h-harder.”

So dizzy that you felt like collapsing-

“Whoops- upsy daisy.” Before you can even blink your tear-stuck lashes, Toji cradles your neck with his bulging bicep. In exactly the lecherous way that makes your mouth spill over with a splash of excited slobber, seeping right down his toned arm. “Tch, made a mess too.”

Manhandling you like you’re boneless, you’re pressed up against every rippling muscle. Every glissading ab, a hot trickle of sweat drips down from Toji’s temple.

“Please- nghhh please, it feels t-too good–”

“Too good, huh?” And you already know he’s rolling his eyes lazily. Grouching out, “M’not even all the way hah- inside this cute lil’ pussy. So tight s’like she’s gonna fuuuuuck- break.”

The image made you want to squirm, held down by the briefest, barest flex of his arms. Knocking out every ounce of wheezed air stuffed inside your lungs, Toji gazes down at you when you moan and sneers.

“And look at that- she’s still throbbing.” His free hand’s flicking over your relentless tummy bulge until ivory cum splatters down your shivering thighs. “Lettin’ out a damn hngh- fountain, too.” Skin glued together with the mess he’d made inside– and somewhere far off in the distance, your eardrums register a sharp snap!

Because Toji Fushiguro was out of control. Out of his mind.

Sharp tendrils of his inhuman power breaking every piece of furniture inside of your heady bedroom, and making his slender hips rut with a sharp spank! It echoes, the sound.

Clap after clap after clap where he’s cluttering your velvety dripping insides with that fattened circumference, gooping out splashing wads of precum that skids right on over to the target of your tummy bulge. Inflating you up even more.

“Tight fuckin’ th-thing–” He’s gasping into the crook of your neck, eyes ogling down at the globular bump through his shaggy Stygian bangs. So sensitive. So tender, the underside of his cock was flinching with every slip n’ slide deeper. Wincing at your saturated clench, “-fit- fit- fit, goddammit.”

Shit- he’d plugged you so full with glutinous bucketloads of cum that every snagging buck pulled your walls so taut.

Struggling to even fit, he’s rovering his thick fingertips over to that invisible line he was jackhammering inside you and pushing. Hard. Snickering to himself as your pussy torrents out a milky flood with a splurch!

You think you might be cumming - you think you don’t even realize as your vision of the wall splinters with splotches of pure white. Clawing down his sweat-simmered skin, your throat tastes rusty with a strained moan of “T-Tooooji—!”

“Yeah- yeah yeah, doll. Scream f’me. Even she’s louder than you.” Smoothing over the doughy patch of his palm on top of your glittery pussymound. His words carry out over the vulgar paps of flesh, stinging your mounds. And even the scratchy gliiiide of Toji’s tufted happy trail leaves your skin all tender, “Scream- scream, because…”

And then there’s a sudden crack!

Thundering across your ears; you’d have thought that your poor bedroom floor would be the last thing that even Toji wouldn’t be able to break. You’d have thought you were safe down here.

But his hand plants away from the wall, a crumbling handprint embedded deep into the plaster. Oh.

That very same one patting your womb - with both his calloused fingers outside your tummy, and the ruby-red cockhead on his vast shaft. Bottoming out until he was shoveled balls-deep, he shivers. Primally, “-because this next one’s gonna be a biiiig one, mama.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 8 rounds

“I want to be your…cumdump, Kento.”

That was what had started it - that was exactly what had broken whatever was left of Nanami Kento’s sanity until he’d bent you over and taken you in the lewdest, rawest mating press right then n’ there on your marble kitchen counter.

His thick, frigid wedding ring roams between your swollen pussy folds, peaking right between those slippery edges to watch the way your pretty face twists into a whine. “Are- are you hah! alright? If you can’t, darling-”

“No no- I want it, Ken–” Your words huff into a pout almost as much as your delicious lips were, and Nanami finds himself leaning in to smear a laaaazy peck. “-want you to fuck me rough- again, please?”

“Aww, my love…an eighth round? S’gonna be a biiig stretch, y’know?” And for a second you think he simply won’t agree, for a second you think he’ll simply kiss you dizzy and make slow, sensual love to you.

But, no.

No- what your husband does next is sternly loosen the yellow speckled tie still stuck to his perspired neck, cording it tightly around your own. A sinful little loop that pulls your head off of the frosty counter and up to him.

“-then you better open ‘er up wiiide, m’kay?”

There was something hard in his rugged tonality, something so…feral. And the only thing more feral were his hips, prying apart your puckered lips until you were gasping around his plumped-up girth. Every ridge and vein pushing and pushing until his massive cock was working you open - you could never get used to Nanami’s sheer size.

“Please-” You’re clawing down his half-open shirt, drenched through with such slabs of sweat until you could count every ab. Your head throws back as he further thumbs open your filthy hole with a soppy squelch–! “Please please please-”

Stretching and stretching. He couldn’t get enough of you - your rubbery hole was already opened up so that he could take you maddeningly.

Nanami’s aching tip was burning hot, slurping up your gooey insides with such famishment. And every pistoning drill had his golden happy trail itching your perked clit until you saw overstimulated stars-

“M’kissing you here.” He gruffs out from the depths of his guttural throat, veering an index in a straight line down your cunt. “And here.” Mazing into one of your favorite spots, battering a bruise. “And here…”

Skidding a stripe of pre just millimeters below your throbbing g-spot; your melty insides clench oh-so-adorably at the sensation and Nanami finds himself almost cumming. A singular thin, stringy knot of seed dribbling out of his sensitive orifice and targeting your g-spot - almost like he’d planned it.

He’s smiling as your chest heaves with a wail– “And m’kissing you ngh- there.” Your lips tremble as he leans over to nibble down on your dewy-glossed lips like a gummy, “My favorite. This here-” Your thighs jittery uncontrollably as he draws a firm line across, “-love you up to right here. Love you more.”

“K-Ken- oh!”

And it might be the eighth- was it? You think you’ve lost fucking count. The only thing on your mind right now was the way he hiked a capped knee over to angle his drilling hips just so.

“Mmm– keep these open.” A softened palm latches onto the underside of your thighs and splays you out until your legs hit your tits, such a burning stretch. And yet, Nanami himself was even hotter - even more feverish. Blond bangs tickling your face- “Squeeze- squeeze.”

Before you can even think of listening to his spat-out words, he’s slouching his head back to dart your pussy like a fat splat of spittle. Formulating a shiny sheen right over your entrance, “My pussy- fuck! Squeeze, my wife, m’gonna make sure you c-can feel allll of it. Gonna make sure.”

The swell of his vein-covered shaft protrudes against some of your sweetest spots, probing. “I feel- feel it-”

“Yeahhh—? S’she memorizing it?”

It’s like every vulgar whack has Nanami more pussydrunk by the sultry seconds.

Pound after pound that made the counter shake dangerously with his sheer force, you’re sure that if you tilted your head enough you’d see the way that his toned pelvis was stinging red from his bulky base.

The driveling crown of Nanami’s cock slips across your womb and you cry out, letting him clench that vice-like tie even tighter. Needier.

“She- she is.” You’re croaking out, embarrassingly belated. Oblivious to the way his molten eyes widen, heavy lashes fluttering furiously to remain open. A thin line of saliva leaks from your mouth, which Nanami tenderly wipes away. “Want you to- fuck- faster. Harder.”

Oh.

You evil, evil thing. Lengthy digits curling into a fist, he’s slamming it down inches away from your head at the white-hot sparks of pleasure that sprints through Nanami’s body. He wasn’t just fucking you on the kitchen counter, he was fucking you into it.

Meaty pecs heaving with a wheeze– “M-marry me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Marry me.” Damn near ten inches that drove crazily inside each n’ every time, pummeling out a clean circular bruise on the pinpoint of your spongy cervix. “Marry me marry me marry- fuck!”

He feels the moment you cum before even you do, a sparking hot flash of heat. Not even electricity, not even peaks, just sizzling tingles that make your dripping wet cunt spit out a few more pearly drops of sappy slick.

“Ken- fuckfuckfuck–” Your back arches almost completely off of the cool surface, and right into his arms. “-m’cumming m’cumming–”

The metallic frames of his glasses sag even loser, making him look such a mess. All burnished flush, hooded eyes, and a sleekly slobbering mouth that shapes to form- “Mhmm— cum, cum, my love- n’then m’gonna fuck! wife you up. Make you my gorgeous wife.”

He really was that pussydrunk.

Your shimmering lips crash mindlessly into his and your usually-stoic husband finds himself bloating even larger. Wrenching your head back with every snagging catch of his rock-hard cock, ba-dump–! goes the very bottom of your watery pussy.

Your words are soaked in such utterly loving, “We’re already married, Ken–”

“O-oh.” You never thought you’d hear the day that Nanami Kento stutters - almost even whines. Looking helplessly towards your prettily fucked-out face, and then your matching rings. Oh.

“Then…” But you can’t revel in your accomplishment too much before he rendered you thoughtless with yet another splosh of scalded seed overstuffing your soppy cunt. Spraying down your cervix until you could feel every loooong slide of those heavy ribbons. Eyes widening- did he just cum from realizing you two were married…Nanami grunts, Nanami begs.“-make me a dad?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 7 rounds

“Mmm, gorgeous–” He’s purring, cherry-pink lips now all stained white with the leaky remnants of his cum. Clinging his greedy maw ‘round your seed-frothed clit and draaagging, “Ya taste even sweeter after the heh- sixth round.”

You’re whimpering, tastebuds overflowing with the saturated taste of your slick saliva. It gurgles at the back of your throat and gushes the very instant Geto flops his prolonged tongue inside your filthy hole, “Sugu- Suguru–”

“Mmm– what’s that?”

“Sugu, I want-”

Before you can even think of finishing your sentence, Geto’s slender fingers come slamming down to leave your dripping pussymound aching. Spank! The manicured crescents of his nails just slightly catching on the hood of your clit while he pinches and leaves you breathless-

“N’ who was talking to you?” The sloped tip of his nose meanly nudges your pert nub, flaring out a scorched huff of laughter right where it struck you the most. “Mhm- s’rude ta talk outta turn, you know?”

And Geto’s gulping so loud it’s just filthy. Letting his heated mouth open wiiide enough that you’re displayed with all the dewy droplets of syrupy white that glisten down his dampened muscle.

Your thighs try helplessly to clench together, mussing up his long, inky locks - in a way he’d never admit that he fucking loves. “B-but, Suguru…” He really doesn’t make it easy for you, thrusting his tongue in rapid, greedy gyrations in and out. Mewling, “Really wan’ you to- to fuck me again.”

Ah, there it went - Geto halts, he gasps - his sanity.

Again? Again?

Oh. And somewhere in the back of his husked throat, he giggles. Has the audacity to fucking giggle whilst his eyeliner-smudged irises drift up to your fucked-out expression, the way you were so needy still. Begging, actually.

“R-round seven?”

He was so pretty - all tear-glittered eyes, lips that were swollen and sopping wet with oozing dredges of his own creamy white seed. He looked like he was about to fucking ravish you to soothe his permanently-drenched throat.

The only thing you can do is fucking nod - before Geto Suguru makes lecherous use of his swift battle prowess to latch a hand on the side of your waist and flip you over.

Sweat-simmered abs kissing up against your arched back, his long bangs tickling down your spine. Down, down, down– inches over where he’s swabbing your drooling cunt with three repeated strikes. One to make your pussy just whoosh! with syrupy gumdrops of sap - coating a burnished lacquer where his glinting piercing was-

“Heh- yer more honest here, gorgeous.” The stretchy band of your hole rings out with a burning streeeetch once Geto’s teasing you with the sweltering hot crown of his length.

So unfairly wide that your teary eyes run away to the back of your head without even a single inch sunken in. Your boyfriend catches the sensitive slit underneath his pretty swollen mushroom tip right where your entrance was, “Mmm– spilling out so much. Take it- take it then, if you want it so bad.”

“More–” Your skin pebbles with so many endless goosebumps at the chilling orb of his Prince Albert’s piercing probin’ your cunt open. In in in- “Fuh-fuuuuck, gimme- gimme more.”

“Greedy girl.”

Dark yukata only half-off, pinning you down. And yet even seven rounds wouldn’t be enough to ever get you used to how truly big he was. Massive.

Fuck- he’s cradling his half-soft, sensitive hilt with those lengthy fingers of his. Tight. Pulling and pulling in tight, rapid tugs so that his aching cock bloats even harder. Whispering a staccato of ‘c’mon c’mon c’mon’, either side of his circumference molding your melty walls never-endingly open. You whine as his throbbing tip starts perking even deeper inside your innards, making himself so fucking painfully hard for you.

“O-ohhhh so big.” You’re gurgling out, knees skittering to a shake on your screeching mattress. “S-Suguru why are you so ngh- big.”

Ruby-red, blushed so fucking pink that it matched the maidenly flush overtaking Geto’s handsome features. “That’s what ya get for thinking more with this hck! pussy than that head.” A creamy ring of cum outlines your entrance as he bottoms out, tender balls-deep. “So take it- take it then.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so tight that it made him groooan pornographically.

Knotted slivers of spit dolloping out from between his cracked lips and onto your back, Geto’s sneaking a foot down on your hazed head and holding you trapped. Eyed locked on what he could see of your expression while he delved deeply in—

Every minute change, every tiny squeal while his heavy cock drips out hot precum exactly on the target of your g-spot. As if his circular piercing was a spotlight tugging on every tender spot mapped out, “Yeahhh– atta girl.”

You always melted into such mush whenever he cooed at you that way, yeowling out while he opened up every cute lil’ crevice. “Sugu, kiss- kiss?”

How cute, his long, eyelined waterlines flutter with the overstimulated urge to pass out right then and there.

Instead, Geto’s dragging his neatly-trimmed pelvis against the mound of your jiggling ass until your skin scratches raw. “A lil’ kiss- you mean- here?” Pointing a cute lil’ splotch of thick precum where your sloppy entrance was clenching and unclenching furiously. “Orrrr here?” Another barreling poke near where your g-spot was, digging the curvature of his piercing right inside. “Or– oh, you like that, huh, filthy girl?”

“Yes- yesyesyes fuck–!”

Thwack! You’re hit with the edges of his knobbled digits, and then another second strike with a ropey splatter of saliva. “What’d I say about talking out of turn, gorgeous?”

Before you can respond, Geto flicks over a slash of his beaded piercing right over your clit. “Or…” Right prior to the way that rasping breath of his grows shaky. Unsteady. And no sooner are you hit with the realization that you’re positively walloped with the saturated swash of his stringy cum clogging you up. Stretchy, squeezing himself inside you as if he was trying to milk himself dry - and he truly was.

Bumping out an inflationary lil’ pouch where he was knocking on your womb, you felt so full that you couldn’t even breathe.

Finally, finally against your lips– you taste Geto’s cum and overstimulated tears. He whimpers, “-here?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 4 ½ rounds

Choso’s crying, he thinks he’s blubbering. Big, great tears that spill from the ends of his eyes and stream down his scorchingly blushed cheeks, “C-can I put it inside again, baby–?”

And almost as if he was afraid of what you would say, your poor boyfriend’s angling your leg just a lil’ higher from behind. Watery mahogany eyes fixed permanently on your expression from behind, on his side - every minute change whilst he slithers his blushing red tip inside to wrench out the sloppiest sluuurp–!

Once. Twice. Three filthy times in succession.

You just leak in milky ribbons of cum that he’d pumped inside of you, all full until his rounded hilt was dripping wet in sticky rings upon rings of it. Drenched.

“Ohhh- pretty pussy. What a pretty pussy.” His breathy gasps humidify your neck, heaving. Leering down, “Hey there— pretty.” Not even talking to you. Panting— oh, and you’re sure right now if you turned around then he would be flushed bright pretty pink. “Please, baby, let me give you one more?”

You can’t help but coo as you’re feeling his warm tears splatter your shoulder drenched, “Of course, Cho– All inside now- don’t be shy.”

“M’n-not…”

And for all he said, Choso has to rim his pearly white teeth over the tender crook of your neck and bite the moment he sinks in. Bloated mushroom tip so fat that it only eases in a single inch before he’s latching two hands on the flesh of your hips and bucking.

Wildly, achingly.

“Oh- oh my god…” He’s whispering into your skin. Chiseled abs stuck like adhesive to your back, the sizzling sweat between your bodies makes Choso’s fattened girth slip out with a lecherous pop! and he whines– again and again.

You run your hands through the sweaty valleys of his locks, “Aww, s’alright–”

But he gapes, stingingly swollen cockhead almost steaming in your heady bedroom air. Spurting out a viscid jetstream of pre as if to say he wasn’t supposed to be outside. Anywhere but your honeyed pussy. “No- nonono–” Choso mutters, nibbling down on his bruised lips to failingly hold back his soft gasping whimpers. “Inside. Inside.”

“Mmm– lemme help, baby.” You pop the ‘p’ and gaze adoringly at the way his girthy, fat cock massages your outer ring. Treacling out a gooey few splotches of pre that overrun your flooded entrance and stretch you open so wide.

Truly, Choso was way too big for his own good.

Heavy and hard. The curving ridges of his shaft’s help him lean exactly towards where your g-spot was located, smearing out a steamy line of sap straight towards his bullseye there. Your clingy walls were practically melting into him, keening at the curly brown hairs that tickle your inner thighs.

“S-s’it all ngh! inside, baby–?” Your head lolls to the side and drowns in your plush pillow, dragging in deep breaths with every even deeper stroke he was planting on you. Slowly, so that you can feel every sensual lightning bolt of his veins massaging your innards.

“Inside- inside oh-” Choso’s spit-glued jaw drops as if the thought only registered to him. And he’s flapping his long lashes furiously to blink down through the haze, “S’inside.”

As if to prove his point, he snakes over one of his sweat-moistened palms and crams down over where your spongy cervix was being kissed over n’ over. So many loving, lingering kisses that scrubbed his rounded cockhead polished with every glide.

“A-all inside, all safe and hck! sound.” He’s prattling away drunkenly - and you don’t know who’s more fucked, you or him. Another winding arm pressing you to him like two halves of one body, “For the f-fourth time. Fuck- m’gonna cum once more o-or die trying.”

He’s treating your dampened cunt like he’s worshipping you there, such loooong raw grinds that make your eardrums buzz with the intense gulping slurps. Every strike to your most favorite areas leaving your perpetual high just tingles.

Your hand reaches over to drag him by one of his dangling silver necklaces into a sloppy, sloppy kiss. “Mmm– all inside, m’kay? No ngh- missing, Cho–”

“No missing. No…no missing.” He nods from behind, chestnut bangs falling over those half-lidded eyes and still doing nothing to hide the glaring intensity in them. With a puffing heaval of his full lungs, he moans– “Won’t miss- won’t miss…won’t miss so you have to t-take it ngh- all, baby- m’kay?”

And it’s only a few more vulgar slap after slap before Choso throws his head back and cums. Lifting your hips almost middair so that you’re swallowing up each plump wad of seed.

There’s so much of it bursting inside, coating your every nook and cranny in a stark white. You could practically feel the knotted mess streaaaming down your gummy walls, the drooling slope of his crownhead targeting every sweet orifice.

And Choso counts- oh, he counts.

Something smoky that crackles underneath his baritone breath, just barely reaching your popped ears. “One-” Just as his first wiry ribbon weaves its way through your oversaturated walls, “-two-” Another one streaking down your battered g-spot. “-three.‘

That third and final clump of hefty cum could barely even be considered that - only a few pearly droplets before he’s reaching his high dry.

Sparks explodin’ behind those shuttered lids, his sweat-slicked brows furrowing almost painfully. Choso rears his head like some beast and bites down exactly where your pulse was beating the loudest.

Hard enough to break skin whilst he cums and cums and cums and nothing comes out.

“Ngh- nghhhh–” He gurgles from the throaty back of his larynx, voice broken. And it’s just about the most intense high of his life- “Please- take it. P-please take it, baby.”

And take it you do— with open arms, and your legs shoved even more fully open by one of his lanky legs. The skin of his thighs steaming against yours, your cunt throbs once and you leer. And he jolts, primally. “Cho– how about we try till five?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 11 rounds

There was one thing no one ever mentioned about the king of curses - one thing no one dared to even question. Never dared to find out.

And that one thing being…his heat.

The very thing right now that had you bent all out of shape on his centuries-old bed into the most filthy mating press; your voice achingly hoarse from crying out, and yet your gushing pussy even louder.

So fucking loud, in fact, that Sukuna himself can’t help but let his cursed second mouth come lolling out to give your dripping lips a lil’ peck. Loud and squelching, the sweltering hot gusts of his breath make you shiver. “Wh-why the hell is your stamina so ngh- good, Kuna–?”

“Heh- m’flattered, brat.” You’re feeling each prominent vein decorating his twin shafts throb, bloating up even bigger until your rubbery orifice was stretched to the max. Your very cervix stinging with how many times he’d whacked it with his globular slopes. “But if yer still sensical then m’not doing a good ‘nough job.”

Though, he supposed that was partly on him for seeping reverse cursed technique throughout your boneless body- but he couldn’t have his dear queen breaking any bones, right?

And if this was any other time then Sukuna’s husky baritone wouldn’t have shaken the way it did, hitching octaves higher as he’s slapping his monstrous tongue down once on your slick-topped clit.

The mushy tip of it flicking over a few glittering beads of stray cum up to his other mouth, and Sukuna shivers. All cleaned up once more for him to ruin. Pink locks of hair flopping over as he throws his head back, “Oh- ohhhh, here it comes- here it comes. Get that cute cunt ready girl, because m’heat is far from over.”

And you’re far from even registering the words in your melted mind before he’s inching his sculptured hips back and hitting them down with a wham!

You can only stare as he barrels his rugged cocks flawlessly, direct hits that simultaneously batter both your g-spot and your poor cervix. And that’s all that it takes for your clingy, overstimulated walls to hold onto his heated lengths for dear life and cum. Sparking with white-hot pleasure while he stretches and stretches and stretches you stupid.

Even the slightest, tiniest movement made your body curl– the burning sparks of bliss way too much for you to handle. After so many continuous rounds you didn’t even know how you hadn’t broken any bones. Spread-eagle by two of his big, beefy arms-

“Oh my god- ohhh s’so big. Kuna s’too big–!”

“Yeahhh, tha’s more like it.” Sukuna snickers from above, eyeing the way your maw gapes open with a torrent of spittle that stains his shoulder tattoos. A sleek gloss that makes his other set of lips smack, “Always love when ya ngh- fuck yerself stupid taking that biiig cock ya said was too big.”

Mindlessly, your hand skims over where he was pounding a rounded bulge right into your tummy. Filling you up snugly. “Please- p-please–”

Tilting his head almost mockingly, “Yeah? Wha’s that, ma?” Oh, his grin makes him look so feral - gleaming white canines on full display. He quirks a brow, “That cute lil’ bulge?”

Your inner thighs shake pathetically as he drifts a fatly-padded thumb right over where he was reaching such tender areas inside, deeper and deeper every time you blinked. “Heh- s’where m’breeding you, human. N’ I think I reeeeeally like her.”

One, two, three whacks of his dual curved cocks until you realize Sukuna wasn’t even talking to you.

No- he was cooing down at that cylindrical outline visible through your tummy. The way every tunneling jackhammer had him pouring out a generous helping of precum that made it inflate even rounder - all from the sensitive bawling divot that rubbed raw along the ridges of your insides.

One of his four hands palming down hard, “And you know what else-”

“Fuuuuck–! Wait- m’sensitive m’sensitive, Kuna-”

“-s’reminding me of…” There’s a filmy haze in his eyes, something feral and gone. And as Sukuna inches in closer, his saccharine steamed breath makes you sweat. Drinking in a deep whiff of your honeyed pheromones and he drools, “-wanting to get you all round n’ full.”

Your mouth lacquers over with a watery bout of sap, the cloying taste of it taking over your senses. Slight strings of it snapping and dangling from your panting crevice, “Y-you mean…?”

“Oh you know what I mean-” Honed fringes of his canines dig deliciously into your earlobe, “-ma.”

There’s an electric trill that runs through you - and not just because Sukuna had taken up to walloping your poor g-spot about four times every single second. Fuck, the man had stray bursts of red, red lightning darting devilishly all over his body with the sheer power it took to keep you two from breaking.

Hard, thorough thrust after thrust that rendered your mind dizzy - your brain clanging around the inside of your empty skull. Excess sloshes of seed that he hadn’t lapped up swashing on your innards, you barely even realize it when you’re hitting yet another orgasm with a shrill–

“M’cumming- m’cumming m’cumming, Kuna–” Your hands claw down his muscular back, feeling his sexily shifting muscles underneath your touch. Pretty noises so loud that he’s reaching up a palm with his second mouth manifested there for you to suck on- “I’m- mmpf-!”

“Good…good.” His titters rumble out in a guttural gruff, prominent veins popping out on either side of his throat. “Mama’s always gotta cum first- n’now ta ngh- give ya my heir.”

Your chest heaves frantically, heart racing at his words. Set free from the heavy make-out with his lengthy tongue with a dampened pwah! “Will- will it even fit?”

Because Sukuna meant double the wadded cum filling you up, and with him being in heat…

“Of course ya can-” Probably, he’s musing inside of his fuzzy mind. And yet, it didn’t matter if a single knotted ounce leaked out because his cursed maw was already manifesting back across his tensed core. Licking its lips just as he twitches warningly inside you - so hard it leaves your tummy lurching- “‘-Kuna’s’ always right.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 3 rounds

Ino can’t help but hitch out a tiny, rasping sob with each thrust; those sensitive veins covering each side of his red n’ swollen shaft massaging up and down furiously. “So sensitive- so sensitive, think m’gonna- gonna cum, pretty.”

Your throat clogs up with utter bucketloads of saccharine spittle, drenching Ino’s sexy ski mask that’d been stuffed into your sagging maw moments prior. Something about your voice being ‘too pretty’...

“What’s that? What’s that?” His weepy crowned tip stirs around your gummy insides, splotching out a hefty wad of creamed pre - a warning. So many pitches higher, feral. “C’mon m-milk me- milk me milk me with that pretty pussy, sweetness.”

Every vicious pap was so rough that it made your vision blister with pure white - you’re muffling out something that sounds like a jumble of ‘please’.

And before long you’re simply being soaked - if you thought your driveling pussy was wet before, then you weren’t ready for the absolute puddles it was formulating now. Heavy, clumped bucketloads of sappy cum that spills out of your saturated brim.

For the second time now.

Every crevice of your tender pussy is just flooded, the smooth waves of seed treacling down your sides is so sinful that your knees weaken. Doughy heels of your feet sliding down the sweaty skin of his slender waist ‘till his tawny happy trail hits your bleary cunt. “Mmm– feels so h-hot inside.”

So hot that Ino himself was burning, veins bubbling up from underneath his very skin – he’s flushing all the way down to his mahogany roots at the sight of that creamy frothing between your legs.

“Wanna see– s’alright if I- s-see?” And he’s not just probin’ the question at you, he’s targeting it to your pussy. Nodding along with every squelch after squelch emanating out as if holding his own lecherous conversation.

And the very moment that Ino lurches his hips and draaaag his ballooned-up cock out of you, your sloppy hole simply cascades.

So wet that a warm waterfall pours out between your puffed-up folds, enough to soak your sheets and right down to your bedsprings. They ricket creakily following every bulky slap of his round, cylindrical shaft down on your gluey slit.

Grunting, “Yeah- yeah yeah yeah so fuckin’ pretty- so pretty. D’you have any idea h-how hck! gorgeous ya are?”

A clingy, dripping mess dangles from his oozing divot by the time your cottony mind clears up enough to spit out his choking mask. Blubbering out a strained, “Please- please, Taku—”

Oh, that lil’ nickname makes Ino slouch his head back and groan.

“Don’t- fuuuuck, don’t say it like that-” His huffing words depart his chest with every stimulated twitch, full-bodied. Ino was shivering, those trembly thighs of his doing nothing to hide the way his ruby-red cockhead was blushing enough to resemble a lollipop. “Don’t say it or m’gonna…”

“Mhm—?”

You evil minx.

With a determined rut of his beastly hips, Ino’s spanking the tender underside of his length down straightly across your cunt. Making you see for yourself just how loooong and wide he really was, your greedy insides are clenching already.

Drawling up a steady finger to mark on your where he’d be using as his target, “Hiya, pretty- can ya handle one more? J-just- just the tip this time, ngh- okay?” Muttering - more to himself than anything. Those fawny doe-eyes look up at you and you’re noticing that his pupils are practically hearts. “Swear- just the tip, I swear-”

And he’s still so sensitive - so delicate from just cumming that even smooching your glossily saturated lips is enough to leave your pretty boyfriend gasping.

Nose crinkling at the bridge, “Just…just the tip…” He’s talking almost as if he’s in a daze, drunkenly lolling his head down to watch the way your bulging pussylips smear open with his wide circumference, “-for th-this third round- can’t be more than the ngh- tip, okay–?”

Punctuated with slow, sensual grinds.

The pulsating of his tip curves up into your g-spot precisely, over and over. Repeated, thorough strikes where he makes sure you’re being rendered dizzy on his winding veins. Your sensory walls feel along every zig-zagged pattern, rubbing back n’ forth back n’ forth back n’ forth.

“Fuuuuck– it feels so good, baby.”

“Sh-shit.”

He stills at your words - body aching out a ba-dump–! You mewl out, your overstimulation making the blissful sensations increase twofold. And a fat glob of cum spurts out of you as you quiver, heady gaze starin’ dead-on. “Want a bit more…Taku.”

There it was again. And Ino is falling even deeper in love with you, heart racing once he flits his hazed peripheries down to your pussy. Then you. Your pussy. Then you. Your drooling pussy-

“G-gonna…” He starts off, voice low. Rasping. Something primal in them jolting awake, he clings on a hand underneath one of your asscheeks and lifts you up easily. Pliably, to inch in just another solid bulk further, “-gonna take it alllll like a g-good girl, okay?”

Yes- but you don’t even have the time to revel in your success before you’re being split apart.

“Keep- keep your eyes open, sweetness.” You’re hearing grouch into your fuzzy ear canal, the stinging spank of skin-on-skin echoing right along with it. “Keep ‘em open n’ watch me all ngh- deeeep inside.”

Ino wasn’t giving you mercy, he wasn’t giving you even time to breathe before the very cum-capped tip of his cock reaches into your lungs. Carving out a stout, rotund bruise exactly on your sponged cervix, “One.” He counts - counts. “Two- three.” Every hit after hit to the ends of your gooey pussy that make you wail out in whimpers.

Your hands wrap around his craned neck, tangling with the sweat-matted curls at the base. “Are- are you gonna cum all hck! inside this time, Taku–?”

And how could he resist? He’s reaching up to ten before answering, a breathy pant of an answer. “Anything for you, sweetness…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - INFINITY?!

“Sweetheart, look- look at me.” Torrid clumps of spittle cling down Gojo’s lips in a shiny sheen, licked dripping wet as he takes in the sight of you all pretty underneath him and damn near swoons.

For the nth time tonight– you’d lost count.

The strongest frantically flaps his long lashes open, eyes bleary and hazed - your bedroom lights had long since shattered, and yet he was so honed in on you. On the way your slippery slope sloshes out with a creamy white pour of cum the second he slaps his sweltering crowned tip down. Thwack!

Octaves higher, wild. Gojo couldn’t even speak normally at this point- shit, you wonder if he was even thinking. “Look, sweetheart- o-oh my fuck, look.”

And you - you were so fucked dumb you could barely even breathe let alone twist your head ‘round to stare, teeth bitten cutely around the drenched edge of your silken pillow. “Please- please, Toru- d-dunno if I can fit any more…”

“Wh-what?” At this, the strongest has the audacity to flinch- fully bodily, his meaty thighs pressing down further on your ass to prevent you from squirming. You could count every tick and every flex of his calves as he pinned you down in the most lecherous, most raw prone bone ever.

A hot waft of breath empties out near your sensitive ear, “Y-you don’t ngh- mean that…do you?” Desperate. Fattened globs of something wet splatter on top of your shoulder, and only sultry moments later do you realize that you had him crying. Dewy sapphire eyes honed in on your expression of oh! “M-more- c’mon, say it- tell me what you want, my girl.”

Both you and the rickety bedsprings sing in unison as he rests his hefty weight over and smears a thick stripe of buttery pre where you were leaking out. Flooding, actually.

You were so wet that it’d formed a syrupy puddle, your ruined sheets sticking to your slammed skin as if they were made of glue. Because your dear husband had made sure to fill you up till the very brim, knotted ribbons of seed frothing at your entrance like a cap of icing.

Gojo rovers his hands near the base of your spine and arches you, “Again, c’mon- c’mon c’mon—” Your ears ring with a slobbering sluuuurp–! as his rounded mushroom tip leaves peck after peck on your sloppy hole. A huff of laughter vibrating his broad chest from behind you, “Look how loud- how p-pretty.” Yeah, those powerful eyes of his were locked on your dripping cunt. The way those dangling wires of slick streeetch ridiculously. “Look how badly she wants me- but I needa hear it from ngh- you, sweetheart.”

“F-from me?” You’re gurgling, and somewhere along the way he’s curling a dexterous hand around your throat to force you to look up.

He’s rutting into you like an animal - a promise of what was to come. “Mhm— you, my girl.” Those heart-shaped pupils of his finally dead-locking into yours- and a few axons in the air explode from simply the eye-contact. “Say it- say it. Tell me you wan’ me- want more. One more.”

He’d been saying one more for aaaaages now. For so many seconds and thirds and fourths.

If it was anyone but Gojo, then they wouldn’t have been able to catch the minute way your watery lips unfasted into a wobbly shape of something like ‘more’.

But this is Gojo Satoru - so of course, he notices.

“Wh-what was that?” He’s breathing out, globe-headed tip just starting to press against your awaiting pussy. Throb-throb-throbbing, his pounding vein massaging the hood of your clit. “Tell me- tell me what-”

One clammy palm of his reaches out to claw the crown of your head- whining for a second when his limitless flickers on and off. Feverish. Out of control. Gojo’s nose buries inside your throat to drink in your sexed-up scent, slobbering. “Tell your dear S-Satoru here, tell it allll t’me.”

“W-want it-”

“Want whaaat?”

“Want-” Your throat constricts with such a leaden ball of need, the saturated sweetness of it clogging your words. “-want you. Fuck me, Toru-”

And Gojo feels his ears pop! with pressure, every unbolted piece of furniture hovering numerous inches in the air when the strongest reels his toned hips back and slams you incredibly full.

So sensitive that the man flinches, head throwing back with a smoky groan of– “Oh. Ohhh m’n-never gettin’ tired of that.”

It’s a mind-numbing stretch, the taut pull of his girthy cock swabbing apart tender nooks and crevices that only he could. Mixing n’ matching new hefty piles of pre upon the remnants of seed he’d left behind prior. He was just so big.

Before you know it, Gojo’s rubbing one of his doughy-padded hands over your lower tummy. “Woah…” Eager tips of his fingers pressing down hard on the plump, cylindrical outline jutting out of you. “-can feel it-” Peripherals glowing, Six Eyes rendering him light-headed. “-can see it, sweetheart.”

Fuck- it’s about the fifth time that he was uttering those very words to you. And the simple sound of them had your thighs clenching, sticking together with a solid plap! of sprayed juices trapped in-between.

Gojo was so hot collapsing down into you like he was melting - everything from his pants, to his skin to his pace. Practically melting. A fast, pounding pummel over n’ over that rubbed your gummy walls raw every time he’s prodding about.

Can’t stop, won’t stop.

“Gonna- gonna fuck you, m’kay?” His pearly whites sinking down on your soft earlobe, Gojo’s grunts pour out after every slick gliiiide of his meaty muscled front down your prespired back. Up and down.

You think you count six- no, eight of his washboard abs before your cottony mind is put-together enough to mewl, “Y-you already- are. Fuck! Already f-fuckin’ me so deep, Satoru.”

“Oh…” Sexily half-lidded eyes of his fall down to where his viscerally fat length was prying your swollen folds apart. In and out. Split-ended tip rummaging up your gooey insides until hot pearly beads of cum were just oozing out with each thrust. “Oh.”

Was he seriously so pussydrunk that he’d forgotten? That it was the only thing on his mind?

You’re not getting too far with your half-formed thoughts until a few slender fingers drift over to toy with your knobbled clit and make your eyes swirl cartoonishly. “H-how’s it feel to keep the strongest ngh- hostage like th-this. To know m’not gonna go aaaaanywhere until I’ve plugged up this pretty pussy?”

Your heart races with the implications that his bass steeps primally in, “P-plugged up?”

“Mhm.” As if to prove his point, the rounded curvature of his tightened balls come spanking down near the treacly ends of your cunt. Enough to render you speechless, he floats his sensory touch over where a spurt of white was jetstreaming out. “Until I fill you up so much I c-can’t even fit anymore.”

Your vision’s flashing pure white, “And h-how will you do that?”

Oh- you were so fucked.

And if it wasn’t the way the bed was shifting- floating, then it was the way that something in the air shimmers with power. Your clit twitching as a few tendrils of buzzing cursed energy reach up your body with a low bzzzzzz–!

Whirling your droopy head to see that his pretty eyes were aglow, skin crackling with minuscule blue lightning.

“Gonna…” Gojo cracks a toothy smile - breathy, crazed. Canines gleaming with carnal slobber, “-mold you to my cock forever.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 6 rounds

Your boss, Higuruma, was mean - and he fucked even meaner.

Tangling a hand near the satin base of your tight, tight office skirt– one that he all but rips off entirely. A few scruffy tatters of it stuffed into your stupidly unfastened mouth, Higuruma takes one good look at you and takes you for hours on his very own desk.

The mahogany surfaces crackles underneath your clawing, a dopey smile splaying out across your face. Feeling the tattered glide of that condom that was ripping off, “Fuck- more, more– Hiromi.”

“Hiromi?” Higuruma’s grouchy baritone rings across your ears and makes your toes curl cutely, vibrations skittering right down to the dewy spot between your legs. And where it rained, it poured. Out with every rummaging pound being planted on your poor, dripping cunt. “Who the fuck is ‘Hiromi’, angel? Forgot m’your hck! boss after five rounds, huh? Guess m’just gonna hafta- hah- jog- that- memory back-”

And every rut had him stretching and stretching at your gluey walls until you saw white, the pointed probe of his pre-topped cockhead bludgeoning you so thoroughly.

Higuruma throws one of your jittery legs over his shoulders and slicks down a solid splash of viscous spittle, prying apart those glossily stained folds until they let off a ringing sluuurp–! “Ooo– look at you, say ‘thank you’.”

“Th-thank you…” A hefty spitball bubbles out of the edges of your pathetic maw, one that Higuruma wastes no time slouching over and licking away with the edges of his tongue himself.

“Mmm– always welcome, sugar.” The curvaceous fringe of his thumb comes slotting down between your slippery slit, pokin’ just inside to tug on your cozy ring of muscle. “Now how about we test that hah- streeeetch.” Digging right along the sleek flesh to let both his rigid length and his fingers pull you taut.

One of his frigidly cool rings snag on your flooded hole and make you whine– “Please- s’sooo much, Hiro- sir.”

“Now now- don’t whine, angel.” Higuruma’s bloating his cock up a few more mind-numbing millimeters in width, dilated pupils latches permanently on the way it makes your kiss-bitten lips fall into a cute oh! “You begged for this with this- damn skirt n’ that-”

A blazing bite on your lower lip, the corners of his mouth turns up into a leering snarl as your boss takes his languid time draaagging it away. “-this damn s-smile and-” Steady pace getting sloppy, achingly filthy. “-this fuckin’ pussy.”

Oh, your pussy was just yeowling with every ramming slam.

Soggy squelches that rang across all four walls and seeped through the paper-thin plaster of the office. Higuruma watches with a smile as you slap your hand over your mouth, “Now now, let ‘em hear-” Tracing a wet streak of buttery pre that sandwiches each of your sweet orifices, he’s targeting your adorable g-spot and striking it like a dartboard. “-how many rounds- how- how many times have I fucked you stupid, angel?”

“S-s…��

“Speak up.”

Fuck- he was so hot. With his clean-cut, billowing jacket haphazardly draping off, and the way that Higuruma’s hair was uncharacteristically unruly. Mussed-up strands plastering to the perspiration-stuck plane of his forehead, he looked crazed.

Hitting your pussy faster and faster, it was a slaughter fest. “Speak up speak up-”

“Six!” You’re squealing, gasping. Unsure of what came first - the drawling yelp of your whine or the way that you’re running headfirst into your high.

“Oh– filthy girl. Look how she’s ngh- throbbin’ f’me.”

So powerful that every peak of it flashes your vision with nothing but white, and you can only stare up ahead at Higuruma’s sinfully fucked-out expression while he bludgeoned your pussy raw. Lugging you through one peak, another peak, another, another-

Voice cracking with tears at the sheer overstimulation running through your body, “Hiromi- inside, please. Wan’ you inside-” Before you know it, your hand reaches down as if magnetized to caress the dark happy trail leading up to his base. “P-please?”

“Please…?”

“-w-with a hck! ch-cherry on top.”

And almost immediately, Higuruma grins. Depraved.

Pulling out with a spectacularly wet plop! he’s leaving you clenching around nothing for the briefest nanoseconds. Tearing off the mess of rubber that was once a condom - one that was way too small for his massive size.

Because Higuruma was so big that your thighs flinch at simply the idea of fitting all of him once more, mouth watering.

But that’s exactly what you do - in one, sloppy shuddering ram. All the way from his rounded, gummy-pink mushroom tip to the very hefty base. All those prominently veins snaking down your snug walls, vehemently. You’re feeling his hips shudder–

“Inside-” You echo, just about the only thing you can do right now. “-don’t miss. Don’t miss–”

“Think m’gonna miss?” One sappy smack on the awaiting slope of your pussy for you to get your lil’ act together, and another just for fun. “Just w-watch me–” His hissing growl makes you clench; dark brows furrowing, toned abdomen snapping, achy cockhead bursting. “-m’gonna fill her u-up until she fuuuck–! can’t take anymore.”

Your overfilling pussy feels like a slushy as the first few ribbons of cum strike your sloshing bottom. Practically feeling the swashing sensation of a goopy second layer cloaking your insides, and he doesn’t just orgasm once.

No- your dripping cunt is being fed with so many seconds and thirds and fourths. Gripping pussy swirlin’ around the glossy mess until it pinpoints every magical spot inside you.

“S-see?” Higuruma’s stern baritone wavers, unsteady. Stuttering. He’s smoothing over a few dumbstruck droplets of spittle that slip out of you, “There- your Hiromi doesn’t miss. There we go- are we happy now, hmmm–?”

And you can only nod and nod and nod, in awe of the oozing oodles of sappy liquid that stuck your thighs together. “Y-yes, Hiromi.”

“Mmm– call me your…husband?”

A/N. Mwahaha I sense ovulation is near…

Plagiarism not authorized.

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sinkuna · 2 months ago

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୨୧ — Nanami’s uneven footsteps shuffle against the wooden floors, his tie already slung over his shoulder, dress shirt wrinkled. He toes off his shoes with a clumsy thud, muffling a hiccup as he shrugs off his crumpled suit jacket. The bed dips as he kneels behind you, his warmth seeping through the thin sheet fabric before he stills- breath held, as if afraid to wake you.

"Mm... there you are," he slurs softly, calloused fingers brushing aside your hair so that he can press feather light kisses to the curve of your shoulder, "Missed... hic… missed your warmth." breath reeking of bourbon.

"Couldn't... hic... stop thinking 'bout you," a trail of saliva glistening as he licks up your spine, teeth scraping the nape of your neck. His hips grind sloppily into your ass, slacks straining against the swell of his cock, "Just... needed t'feel you. That okay?… 'S been... too long."

You stir slightly with a sleepy murmur, but he shushes you with a nose nuzzled into your hair, "Shh, I-let me... let me just..." A shaky exhale fans across your ear as he continues to grind gently against you, "Mmph, always feels... so good, m’ my perfect little wife."

With trembling fingers, Nanami undoes his belt with clumsy haste, the metal buckle clattering to the floor, a hiss escaping his clenched teeth as he pushes down his slacks. His bare cock nestles between the swell of your ass, hot and twitching and slick with beads of pre cum drooling from his tip.

"Please," he groans, a desperate note in his voice, "I- hic- need to-"

He gasps as his bare cock nudges against your already damp underwear, the fabric catching on the swollen head. "Hah-fuck," he curses, hands sliding down your sides to squeeze at your hips, pulling them back until they're flush with his own, "So wet- so wet for me, dear."

His hands tremble as they slide down your thighs, hooking his thumb under the elastic waistband and pulling them aside, "Can't wait, 'm sorry, I need-" He cuts himself off with a soft whine, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick folds.

Snapping his hips forward, your drunk loving husband buries himself inside of you with a choked moan, his hands squeezing tightly, "Shit- you're so hot and-hic-t-tight." His head hangs over your shoulder as his cock throbs inside of you, twitching and spasming at the sudden heat, his breaths stuttering.

It's slow. Aching. Each shallow thrust accompanied by broken whispers against your skin-"So good... like this. Wanna... wanna hold you." His hips stutter, alcohol making him clumsy, but his hands stay gentle, adoring as they map the expanse of your body, his lips trailing across every inch of skin he can reach. "Love you- love you s'much. Never-mmm, never letting go, I- I swear it," his voice cracks, his pace quickening, desperation bleeding into his movements.

His rhythm fractures- a stuttering, vulnerable push as he bottoms out. You could feel it in your sleep- in your dreams where your mind showed your hardworking husband fucking a child into you- the first tremor through his thighs, the choked "Nngh—!" vibrating against your shoulder blade. Then the pulse before a flood of warmth spills into your fertile womb.

"K-Kento~," you sigh, a dreamy smile spreading across your lips.

He groans out your name, half sobbing, hips grinding in tiny circles as if to coax every last drop before collapsing against you, "My... my love... right here." His wedding band glints in the moonlight, sticky with proof. "Always... always here… always ‘gonna come… home to you..."

By morning you’re curled in his embrace, his tie knotted loosely around your joined hands.

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

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xoxojisu · 26 days ago

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thinking abt being scared to be too clingy w katsuki...

"jisu you seem like you think abt being too clingy a LOT. didn't you just recently write this fic and that fic that are basically the exact same prompt?" no you can sybau.

you’re standing in the doorway of his dorm, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

he’s sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, legs spread just enough to be inviting without trying. hoodie half-zipped, sweats hanging low on his hips, phone in one hand, completely relaxed.

you are not.

you want to sit with him. in his lap. be tucked in, held tight, kissed maybe once or twice until you melt into him like sugar in hot tea.

but your feet don’t move.

you feel like if you climb into his space first, it’ll make it obvious how badly you want it. how you’ve been thinking about it all day. how when you woke up this morning, a part of you was already aching for his arms.

and what if he doesn’t want that right now?

what if he’s tired, or busy, or just not feeling it?

you shift from foot to foot.

his eyes flick up for only a second before going back to his phone.

“you comin’ in or just gonna stand there lookin’ like an idiot?”

your cheeks flush a little.

“shut up.”

he hums. doesn’t banter. just sets his phone aside, like, completely, not even face-up, and looks at you properly now. tilts his head a little.

and you see it. the way his gaze softens. the way his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile, because if he does, the world will probably collapse or something.

he opens his arms. slow, easy.

“c'mere.”

you hesitate. not because you don’t want to. but because you do, and that’s the part that always scares you. you want him so much. you love him with your whole heart and soul and would spend every second being close with him if you could. but does he? are you being too much? too clingy? your own insecurity and self-doubt eats at you.

he catches that in your face. always does. so he adds, voice lower now:

“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make me ask twice.”

maybe the nickname does it. or maybe it's his tone, or the look in his eyes. either way, it does you over.

you pad over quietly, still a little unsure, until you’re standing between his knees. he reaches for your hips, not rough like how he does most things, but careful, like he doesn’t want to rush you.

“lemme hold you, yeah?”

you nod.

and that’s it.

he pulls you in, smooth and easy, guiding you into his lap like you’ve always belonged there. one arm wraps firm around your lower back. the other slides up under your hoodie to settle warm against your spine.

he exhales deep, like tension he didn’t even notice was there just fell out of his chest.

“fuck. there you are.”

you melt.

your face tucks into his neck. your arms go around his shoulders. your whole body curls up like it knows exactly how to fit against him now. no more guessing. no more hovering.

he rubs your back, slow and steady, fingers dragging ticklishly but soothingly along skin.

“you don’t gotta wait for me to say it every time,” he mumbles into your hair.

“if you want this, just take it. always want you close.”

you nod against his neck, lips brushing warm against his pulse.

and he holds you tighter, just for a moment, like he needs to be sure you believe it.

you do.

masterlist

#jisu writes!#this is in my mind like new relationship katsuki or smth bc kats is so quick to expel this kind of insecurity (..or could be unofficialbf..#im sorry all of my writing is just the exact same things. clinginess and unofficial bf #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #katsuki fluff #katsuki x reader #mha fluff #mha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo comfort #bakugou comfort

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gojosconsort · 3 months ago

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OLDER BF!TOJI ♡ // HEADCANONS 01

⁀➷ CONTENT. you're toji’s problematic younger girlfriend.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x older bf!toji

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. oral sex (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, age gap, size kink, spanking, degradation, restraint, public/semi-public sex, possessiveness

♡ NAV. 01 // 02

older bf!toji who first meets you at a shady bar where you’re hustling pool with your sass and short skirts—he’s there for a job, but your beauty catches his eye, and he buys you a drink despite your friend whispering he could be your dad.

older bf!toji who fucks you that first night at the bar’s back room, locking the door, bending you over a sticky table—your stockings tear as he rams in, growling at how tight you are when you take his fat cock like a good girl.

older bf!toji who starts picking you up from your shitty retail job in his truck, leaning against it with a cigarette—your manager squints, assuming he’s your uncle or something until you hop in with a kiss.

older bf!toji who drives to a convenience store to get food with you after work, then parks in an alley—lifts your legs over his shoulders, eating you out ‘til you soak his seat and scream his name.

older bf!toji who crashes your birthday party at a club, when some asshole in a cheap shirt gets bold and grabs your ass and toji' fist cracks the guy’s jaw, sends him sprawling into a table.

older bf!toji who gets possessive when you flirt with someone to rile him up. later, he’s got you face-down on the mattress, spanking your ass red before fucking into you, grunting, “think anyone else can handle you like this?”

older bf!toji who fixes your car in the driveway, sleeves rolled up, muscles flexing, while your nosy neighbor watches, mistaking him for a hired hand or relative—your loud moaning later sets her straight.

older bf!toji who strips you to just your stockings, tossing you on the bed to ride his face, grinding your clit on his tongue while he squeezes your ass, making you cum ‘til you collapse.

older bf!toji who loves fucking you in a headlock while he pounds into you from behind. your squirming and whining only make him tighten his arm, rasping in your ear, “keep actin’ up, see where it gets you.”

older bf!toji who makes you ride him after you’ve pissed him off one too many times that day. he’s sprawled out, smirking, watching you struggle to take all of him—his hands only guide your hips when you start whimpering for help.

older bf!toji who loves how small you are when he’s got you on your knees, his hand in your hair as he forces you to take him deeper, “look at you, choking on me—fuckin’ perfect.”

older bf!toji wakes you up in the middle of the night, already hard, and pulls you on top of him. he locks his arms around your waist, fucking up into you relentlessly, whispering, “you’re mine, doll—don’t ever forget it.”

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

#—amy writes : toji fushiguro ★#toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji x reader #toji x you #divider by cafekitsune

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jungwnies · 3 months ago

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drive to survive bf moments | lando norris

୨ৎ : featuring : boyfriend!lando x reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : compilation of boyfriend lando moments if you were in dts with him <3

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : in honor of lando p1 !!!! so proud <3

boyfriend!lando who is constantly caught on camera teasing you in the paddock.

boyfriend!lando who is tugging at your sleeve during interviews, poking your cheek mid-media session, or making funny faces at you when you’re trying to be serious.

boyfriend!lando who unknowingly starts a viral soft launch fail when dts cameras catch him absentmindedly fixing your hair in the background of an interview. the internet explodes when he casually kisses your temple without realizing the cameras are rolling.

boyfriend!lando who panics live on dts when he nearly crashes during a race, caught muttering under his breath like a stressed-out boyfriend while you watch from the mclaren garage.

boyfriend!lando who hijacks your dts interview by walking by and loudly whispering, “tell them i’m your favorite driver.”

boyfriend!lando who grins like an idiot when you deadpan into the camera, refusing to answer.

boyfriend!lando who is oblivious to the cameras when he wraps his arm around you after a race.

boyfriend!lando who is holding you close while talking to his engineers. it only hits him later when twitter is flooded with screenshots.

boyfriend!lando who sends you ugly selfies while away, which dts editors unfortunately include in a montage of “how lando spends his free time.” one clip is just a zoomed-in picture of his forehead.

boyfriend!lando who is too proud when you wear his #4 merch, caught pointing you out in the crowd during fan interactions.

boyfriend!lando saying, “that’s my good luck charm right there.” everytime he sees you in the crowd. the netflix editors make it ten times funnier by cutting to oscar rolling his eyes.

boyfriend!lando who collapses onto you after an exhausting race, full weight, head buried in your chest, groaning dramatically for the cameras.

boyfriend!lando who says, “i’m dead. you have to carry me home.”

boyfriend!lando who gets called out by dts producers for always whispering to you during serious team meetings. the subtitles just read: [unintelligible flirting] while zak brown sighs in the background.

boyfriend!lando who, when asked in an interview who his biggest supporter is, glances at you off-camera and grins softly before answering, “i think you already know.”

boyfriend!lando who laughs nervously when dts confronts him in a confessional, playing a supercut of every single moment he’s been caught staring at you. “alright, alright, i get it. i like them, okay?!”

boyfriend!lando who, despite all the teasing, all the joking, and all the chaos, is caught in a rare, unguarded moment...dts cameras filming him looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

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ozarkthedog · 11 months ago

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat.

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA.

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just another night you won't talk about again.

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal

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jaysbaefie · 2 months ago

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bullshit | sjy

synopsis: in which months of mocking jake online comes back to bite you, and he makes sure you regret every single word—on your knees.

genre: idol au

pairing: idol!jake x blogger!reader

warnings: dubcon? bratty!reader, petty!jake, mean!jake, big dick!jake, kidnapping (sort of kind of??), oral (m.rec), cum swallowing, reader grinds down on jake’s shoe, mention of daddy kink (but it’s not used), forced submission, manhandling, titty sucking, marking, begging, degrading. self degradation, rough and unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, light spanking slapping and chocking, creampie, spitting, recording for blackmail purposes. i think that’s it….

wc: 15.1k

a/n: this took a lot more time that i initially thought it would … but it’s here now! this draft has been sitting in my archives for years like literal years. back when i used to write on wattpad for bts i had this plot written for tae but scrapped it because i lacked creativity to make it happen. but here we r ! also side note this is not edited to the best of its abilities so if u c a mistake… im sorry :D hope you enjoy, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :)

✎﹏﹏

the dorm door slammed open, the sound of sneakers dragging across the floor echoing behind it. the 7 exhausted boys spilled into the living room, all drained and sweaty from the insane dance practice that had run two hours longer than scheduled. jake collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning into a throw pillow as he stretches his limbs before he feels a cramp in his leg.

"i think my spine is permanently bent," he mumbled, not moving an inch.

sunghoon flopped onto the floor, using his hoodie as a pillow. "i think i disassociated during 'bite me.'"

"you always disassociate during 'bite me,'" heeseung shot back, tossing a towel at him making sunghoon scowl.

jay, meanwhile, had his phone out, thumb lazily scrolling through twitter as he half-listened to the chaos around him. he was about to put his phone down when a thread caught his eye.

"kpop idols who probably have the smallest dick (a very unserious thread)"

"...oh?" jay blinked, intrigued for all the wrong reasons. a grin formed on his lips as he clicked, the list started off wild.

1. jaehyun nct - idc what y'all say. he screams below average. 2. jeno nct - this is a hater post. cry about it. 3. jake from enhypen - golden retriever energy but gives micro vibes. sorry not sorry.

jay let out a loud, sudden laugh at the description given for jake—catching everyone's attention.

"yo, jake," he wheezed, turning the screen toward him. "look what someone said about you."

jake rolled over lazily, half hazy, "what?"

jay shoved the phone in front of his face. jake read the tweet once, then again. then a third time. his brows furrowed deeper with each pass, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"...are you serious right now?"

he sat up, yanking the phone from jay's hand to read it himself. his eyes scanned the username, the post and then the likes. 10k likes for a bullshit post, jake scoffed in disbelief. he scrolled down to read the replies which were full of people either agreeing or arguing like their lives depended on it.

"no because she's right and she should say it louder" one of the comments read, jake furrowed his eyebrows before scowling.

"i love him but... yeah."

"nah he gives big dick energy actually"

"this is so mean LMFAOOO"

jake's mouth opened in shock. "why am i even on this list? what did i do to deserve this? how does someone look at me and go, 'yeah, micro dick.' what the hell?"

jay couldn't stop laughing. "it's so random, too. like. where did they get the data? did they run a poll?"

"this isn't funny!" jake snapped, slapping jay's shoulder with the back of his hand. "i'm being slandered in front of thousands of people. tens of thousands!"

sunoo peeked over jay's shoulder. "ooh. and someone made a follow-up post. wait—found their tumblr. they said he looks like he apologizes after missionary.'" sunoo cackles, "i can totally see that."

jake nearly choked on air, "what?!"

he snatched sunoo's phone this time, heart pounding as he scrolls violently across your twitter page. he followed the breadcrumb trail from twitter to a tumblr blog: @s0ftbrat666.

the header was a blurry photo of a cunty hello kitty, and the bio just said: "unserious about everything but dick size."

"who the hell is this? why do they hate me so bad?"

niki, who had been quietly sipping water from the kitchen, muttered, "maybe they're a fan of yours. like, weirdly obsessed. reverse psychology or something."

"no. this is personal. this feels targeted," jake muttered, already downloading and opening the tumblr app on his phone. "i'm not letting this slide."

he made a new account. he picked the most ironic, absurd username he could think of: @goldenjake420.

because that screams, 'i'm the real jake sim!!'

he messaged you immediately, his hands shaking in rage as he smashes his fingers into the screen.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

"this is so stupid," he muttered, tossing his phone beside him.

jay raised a brow. "you really just dm'd a twitter troll on tumblr?"

"yes. because the truth matters, jay. i do not have a micro dick!" he exclaims, clearly frustrated from his group mates lack of empathy. he looks around the room in hopes of his members reassurance, only to receive looks of disturbance.

"cmon guys, you know i don't have a micro dick.." he trails off when he sees sunoo grimace at his words.

heeseung smirked from the other side of the couch suddenly sitting up right, ignoring his aching body. "you should send a pic to prove it."

jay cackles before agreeing, "yeah, downwards angles always make that shit look like a tower."

"SHUT UP!" jake shouted, face red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

the room erupted in laughter as jake sat there fuming, arms crossed, waiting for a response. he had no idea the person he messaged was already rolling their eyes and preparing to block him.

and this was only the beginning.

you were no stranger to the occasional deranged and delusional fan losing their mind over a post. it was social media, not a diplomatic summit. if you said someone's fave had bad fashion sense or gave off weak dick energy, it was bound to stir drama—but you thrived in it.

what you didn't expect, though, was to get a dm from an account called @goldenjake420 claiming to be jake himself. not just a fan defending him. not someone crying in your inbox about how you were "too mean."

no. this person had committed to the bit.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

you blinked at the message, snorted, and sat back in your chair.

"okay..." you muttered under your breath. "we've reached new levels of delusion."

you clicked the profile. no posts. followed no one. default layout. pfp of a blurry golden retriever. and the username?

goldenjake420.

"oh my god," you wheezed. this was peak fandom brainrot.

you stared at the message for a minute, thumbs hovering over your keyboard before you decided, you know what? fine. you wanna play jake sim? let's play.

you typed:

@s0ftbrat666: omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry... i didn't know you had a tumblr account i feel so bad now omg i'll take it down right away thank you for being so mature and respectful about it... ugh i feel terrible lol

you hit send. then burst out laughing, eyes watering as you cackle alone in your room.

and five minutes later, you posted a new post on your blog.

—— post by @s0ftbrat666

just got a dm from someone PRETENDING to be jake sim because they were mad i said he has a micro dick LMAOOO. like babes be serious... jake sim is not on tumblr dot com messaging me with a blurry pic of a golden retriever and the username @/goldenjake420. but since he's here reading my posts, hey jake! if u're mad now wait til u see what i post next

anyway updated my list: "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version" jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes and gifs as evidence. enjoy :] ——

you tagged it: #jake sim #enhypen #pls don't take this seriously #except jake if ur reading this then yeah take it seriously

you sat back and refreshed the notes every few seconds. it was already blowing up. likes, reblogs, someone screaming in the tags: "NOT THE FOOTNOTES."

you were thriving, satisfaction filling you as the comments seemed to hype you up.

unbeknownst to you, somewhere in a dorm across the city, jake was screaming into a pillow.

jake was laying on his stomach, face shoved into a couch cushion, aggressively refreshing your tumblr page like a man on a mission. the first message he sent you hadn't gone exactly how he expected. he thought maybe—maybe—you'd feel a little guilty, take the post down, maybe even apologize. instead, he was met with:

"omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry..."

at first, he blinked. then smiled. you were going to apologize and take it down..great!

okay, he thought, that was easier than expected.

but then he saw the post you had published just a few minute later.

—— "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version." jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes. and gifs. enjoy :] ——

"NO I AM NOT," he yelled into the pillow, voice muffled but full of sheer disbelief.

he rolled over and shot upright, shoving his phone in jay's face. "do you SEE this? i was already called micro dick jake, but now i'm a submissive pillow princess? where is she even getting this from?"

jay looked over the post with a calm expression and said, "well... you did say 'ngl' in a tumblr dm. that's kinda submissive."

"jay."

"i'm just saying."

jake's blood pressure was actively rising. he was pacing the living room now, phone clenched in his fist. "this isn't a joke anymore. she's making footnotes. gifs, bro. there's like a whole academic paper on my dick energy. and worst of all, PEOPLE ARE AGREEING."

sunoo peeked around the corner. "maybe just let it go? like... it's tumblr. no one's gonna remember next week."

"it's twitter too! no. no, she wanted to make it personal. it's personal now."

he went back to tumblr, typing furiously in your dm's.

@goldenjake420: okay first of all?? i was acc being really nice u said some really rude stuff and i still tried to talk to u calmly but now ur doubling down with footnotes?? idk y ur so convinced i'm a submissive pillow princess but ur wrong like so wrong scientifically inaccurate levels of wrong

he hit send. then stared at the screen.

nothing. no response. refresh. refresh.

"error: message could not be delivered."

"...what?" jake frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he desperately tried sending his messages again.

he clicked your profile.

"you've been blocked by this user."

the silence that followed was deafening.

"she blocked me," he whispered, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. "she actually blocked me."

jay cackled from across the room. "maybe now you'll stop fighting the tumblr girl who thinks you're a bottom."

"i'm not a bottom!" jake snapped, defensive. "and i'm definitely not a pillow princess!"

jay peers over jake's shoulder, his face pulls into a grimace as he reads jake's messages. "maybe it's a good thing that those didn't deliver... you're proving her point." jake rolls his eyes in response, not wanting to deal with his friend.

he opened twitter, then paused. was he really about to tweet about this?

he closed the app.

instead, he opened his notes app and started typing:

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick."

this wasn't over.

if he had to write a dissertation, he would. he was reclaiming his name. one footnote at a time.

you were in bed, face smushed into your pillow, scrolling aimlessly when the tag notification came in. you were about to ignore it—probably another reblog of your cursed "submissive missionary micro dick energy" thread—but the caption caught your eye:

@s0ftbrat666 you need to see this LMAOOO he made a THREAD. a whole thread.

confused but curious, you tapped the post.

and there it was.

a full thread. by a tumblr user named @truthaboutjake, which already gave deranged energy, but it got better.

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick (a thread)."

you nearly dropped your phone, a giggle leaving you as you excitedly click on the thread.

the first slide was formatted like a presentation. bolded title, bullet points, and an unnecessary amount of spacing like someone had spent way too long formatting it.

—— slide 1: addressing the accusations • the tumblr user @s0ftbrat666 has made multiple posts claiming i am submissive • she has also accused me of having a micro dick • both of these are false, offensive, and based on no real evidence ——

no real evidence, he said. like you were in court.

"what in the deranged.." you muttered to yourself, re-reading the text a second time to make sure you were hallucinating.

you snorted, swiping to the next.

—— slide 2: rebuttal • i've been told i give off dominant energy • no one who owns a denim jacket collection that big can be submissive • as for the size... let's just say i've never received complaints ——

you had to pause there, hand over your mouth, wheezing. "denim jackets radiate peg me," you cackle to yourself.

this wasn't a thread written by a deranged fan. no, this was someone personally offended on a soul level. and the way it was written? the tone? the wording?

it was giving him. it was jake.

no one else would be this pressed.

you laughed so hard you had to sit up.

this man had been so insulted by your dumb, unserious thirst post that he created a whole alternate account, wrote a google-doc-tier thread, and was now trying to clear his name in the notes app format. you were obsessed.

you hit reblog.

—— @s0ftbrat666: i have never in my life witnessed a man fight for his dom rights this hard the denim jacket argument almost had me convinced ngl

jake sim if this is actually you: 1. calm down 2. you're literally proving my point 3. post the evidence since you're so confident ——

the comments came flooding in:

"NOT HIM MAKING A PRESENTATION" "'never received complaints' is CRAZY" "he could've just logged off but now he's in too deep" "@truthaboutjake is shaking"

you weren't done though. oh no.

you clicked the original post again and dm'd @truthaboutjake directly.

@s0ftbrat666: wow a thread? you really sat down and made a powerpoint about your dick this is the best thing that's happened to me all week but you still haven't proven anything so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era i'll wait <33

you hit send with a shit-eating grin.

this was your roman empire now. you were going to be thinking about this thread forever.

jake stared at your message like it physically slapped him.

"so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era"

his jaw dropped.

"e-evidence?!" he sputtered aloud, standing up in the middle of the dorm living room like he'd just been accused of murder.

jay, sitting across the room with earbuds in, pulled one out and glanced up. "what now?"

"she wants evidence."

jay blinked. "like...?"

jake gestured wildly at his phone. "like evidence evidence!"

jay raised both brows before grinning "...so what i said about the downward angle, i'm telling you jake that shit makes it look h—"

"NO!" jake practically yelled. "i'm not sending a picture of my dick to some random troll on tumblr!"

he fumed. typed. deleted. typed again. then, finally, sent:

@truthaboutjake: okay. listen. i'm not sending you a dick pic. i don't care how much you want "evidence" that's weird. this whole thing is weird. i'm literally just trying to correct a false narrative about myself

you saw the message and immediately rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain. you were curled up on your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, typing with vicious speed.

@s0ftbrat666: omg. are you serious right now?? NO ONE asked for actual dick pics. what the hell is wrong with you. you're literally so deep in this delusion you really think you're jake sim like?? be serious for once you are a grown man on tumblr dot com pretending to be an idol and defending your imaginary dick size this is next level behavior. you need to touch grass and maybe talk to a therapist jake sim would never you are EMBARRASSING yourself rn.

you hit send and sighed, rubbing your temples. it was funny at first but the more you interacted with this person the more brain cells you lost, it shocked you that people would go to such lengths to defend their favs.

this was beyond fandom drama now. this was a case study. and the worst part? you were kind of impressed with how committed he was to the bit. concerned of course, but impressed too.

like... he was spiraling. but passionately.

still. you weren't going to let up. because whoever this man was, he needed to be humbled.

you opened a new post draft and typed:

—— @s0ftbrat666: update: he dm'd me again and accused me of demanding dick pics because i said "evidence"

i rest my case. this is not jake sim. this is some 32-year-old man who unironically uses reddit and thinks being called "submissive" is a slur

log off, drink some water, and go outside before you get a nosebleed from rage

#jake sim #not the real one obviously #this is tumblr not onlyfans relax ——

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to move on.

he really did.

after the dick thread. after being labeled a submissive missionary pillow princess. after the fake fan accusations and being accused of roleplaying as himself—he made the conscious choice to stop checking your blog. he muted your username. closed tumblr for a solid 24 hours. he even turned off his notifs.

he was healing. growing. rebuilding his sanity.

until a member sent him a screenshot.

it was sunghoon.

of course it was sunghoon.

sunghoon: yo y tf she got sm time on her hands icl tho she funny asf

attached was a photo of your newest tumblr post.

jake opened it, eyes squinting. then he saw it.

—— @s0ftbrat666: watched enhypen's most recent stage and i just wanna know WHO chose those pants for jake like bffr. i can see his entire situation

the dick print? front and center. and it's not giving what he thinks it's giving

it's giving: he begged the stylist to let him wear those pants so he could prove me wrong and i'm here to tell you... babe... don't ever do that again.

i'm LAUGHING.

#enhypen #jake sim #pls don't wear tight pants if ur not ready for the scrutiny king #it's not looking good ——

jake froze.

his phone was literally vibrating with how hard he was gripping it.

"she's watching performances now?" he whispered to himself, horrified.

jay looked up from across the room, warily. "...oh god. again?"

"she's analyzing my crotch, jay. she made a post about my dick print."

jay blinked. "that's... new."

"and she said it's 'not giving'!" jake practically screamed, spinning his phone around to show him. "not giving what?! not giving big dick energy?!?!"

jay read it silently, lips twitching. "...it does kind of sound like she thinks you're trying to prove her wrong. which, to be fair, you kinda are." he pauses for a second, "but i thought she deemed you as a deranged fan, does she think that you're actually texting her?"

jake shrugs, "who knows what she's thinking, clearly way to much of this is the shit she posts. also i wasn't even thinking about her when i wore those pants!"

"you literally made a thread defending your dick size last week."

"NOT THE POINT."

jake felt like he was going to combust. it was like every time he clawed his way back to peace, you dropped another post from hell and dragged him back into the pit.

and this time?

this time you targeted his outfit. his styling choices. his crotch visibility. he couldn't even enjoy the stage anymore without wondering if you were out there in a hoodie, behind a screen, zooming in on freeze frames of his pants.

"this is psychological warfare," jake muttered.

sunghoon looked up from his phone, his face annoyed. he was tired of hearing about this, "just block her again."

jake clenched his jaw. "she'll post about it. she'll brag."

he scrolled back up, reading the caption again. and again. his fingers hovered over your username.

he didn't message you. not this time.

instead, he posted on his burner account:

—— @truthaboutjake: some people spend their lives spreading negativity online because they have nothing else going for them. if you spend your free time zooming in on people's bodies just to make fun of them, seek help.

also, the pants looked fire. ——

he hit post. and then, two minutes later he opened the group chat.

jayke: whoever styled me last week. never again. we're going back to loose pants. i'm not doing this with tumblr anymore

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to stay composed. he tried.

but every time he opened tumblr, there you were—lurking in his psyche like a demon with wi-fi.

at first it had been a few jabs, sprinkled here and there between your usual posts about other idols. someone's hair, another's dance move, one guy you kept thirsting over for his "evil smirk" and "long fingers." whatever. jake didn't care.

until suddenly—your entire blog became about him.

not in a cute, stan-like way.

no.

it was relentless.

"jake sim update: still looks like a man who apologizes during sex."

"new era, same micro dick energy."

"his pants looked like they were holding in a lie."

"i know he fumbles the aux every time. just look at him."

your followers ate it up. reblog after reblog. tags like "#he's just so bashable" and "#jake sim slander is self-care" filled the notes.

there were polls. there were graphics.

you made a tier list of idols based on who looked like they cried after sex, and jake was placed right at the top with the caption: "he looks like he'd say 'was that okay?' while tucking his soft dick back in his briefs."

jake was spiraling.

the worst part? you didn't even seem like a hater. you didn't hate him.

you just... targeted him like it was your job. your content was crafted with care. effort. borderline affection.

jay leaned over one afternoon while jake doomscrolled through another one of your polls—this one titled "which idol do you think would last the shortest in bed (no offense)", where jake was winning by 68%.

"you know," jay mused, "i think she actually likes you."

jake looked up, eyes wide with horror as he looks at jay disgusted. "what?"

jay shrugged. "she's obsessed. it's giving weirdly specific attention. enemies-to-lovers coded."

"jay. she made a gifset of my crotch."

"exactly."

jake nearly threw his phone across the room.

it wasn't just slander anymore—it was becoming personal. and the most infuriating part?

you were so sure. so smugly sure.

every post was laced with casual cruelty and the sharp confidence of someone who truly believed they knew him. his vibes. his music taste. his dick size. like you'd studied him and filed a damn report.

and the urge to prove you wrong? it was eating at him.

he'd see one of your posts and get this itch. this slow, simmering burn in his gut. like he had something to prove now. like he wanted to walk up to you and say—

"say that shit again. to my face."

he'd fantasized about it more than once.

cornering you at a fansign, maybe. or catching you backstage if he ever figured out who you were. you with that smug little expression, your arms crossed like you knew everything. and him, leaning in, low and sharp, and making damn sure you knew you were wrong about everything—especially that.

he wasn't even mad anymore. not just mad. he was determined.

this wasn't just tumblr slander. this was a challenge.

and jake sim? he didn't lose.

✎﹏﹏

jake laid in bed, phone hovering above his face, lit only by the blue glow of tumblr's godforsaken app. it was well past 2 a.m., and he'd already scrolled through your entire blog—again.

he told himself it was just to see if you'd posted anything new. which, of course, you had,

but really, he was spiraling.

another post. this one read:

—— @softbrat666: something about jake sim just screams whines when it doesn't slide in all the way like he'd pause mid-thrust to ask if you're okay because he came too fast

he'd definitely say 'but you just feel so good...' as an excuse ——

and the worst part?

jake read every single reply. studied them, even. like they held some kind of twisted insight into how you saw him. how you imagined him. you were building this whole persona of him in your mind and then broadcasting it to thousands of followers like it was gospel. and the most messed up part?

you had just enough accuracy to make it sting.

and yet—you remained anonymous.

faceless. untouchable.

he'd tried to find out who you were. he dug through old posts, clicked your tags, searched your url on twitter and insta.

all he found was: • you lived in seoul • you were 21 • you drank too much iced americano • and you had audacity in excess

that was it. no selfies. no personal posts. no full name. you were just a sassy username and a collection of jake sim hate posts.

meanwhile, he was a public figure with his whole government face on blast while you dragged him through the mud constantly.

he hated how much he thought about what you looked like.

were you soft and bratty, like your tone suggested? did you smirk when you wrote those captions? were you the type to twirl your hair and say, "what? it's not that deep," while ruining a man's reputation?

he imagined you walking around seoul, laughing with your friends, ordering overpriced coffee with that smug, evil-little-gremlin energy.

he imagined running into you.

he'd play it cool at first—polite, casual, maybe even a little flirty.

watch you ramble. watch you squirm. and when he caught you slipping—maybe when you made some offhand comment about k-pop or tumblr—he'd hit you with it:

"so how's that blog going? still think i'm a submissive pillow princess with a micro dick?"

he rolled onto his side, fuming into his pillow. you lived in his head rent-free and you didn't even know what he looked like at night when he was losing sleep over your bullshit posts.

it was unfair.

you got to stay invisible while he was out here analyzing his own stage outfits to figure out what clip you were gonna slander next.

he scrolled back to that gif set you made of his recent performance. paused on the close-up. the zoom-in.

the goddamn caption: "not jake sim trying to start a dickprint redemption arc. spoiler: it's not working."

his eye twitched.

"this girl is the devil," he muttered.

and yet... he couldn't stop checking. he needed to know what you'd say next.

✎﹏﹏

you wake up to absolute chaos.

your phone is buzzing. not one or two notifications—hundreds. group chats. twitter and tumblr dms. unknown numbers. missed calls. it's like your phone caught fire overnight.

you blink against the morning light, groggy and confused, heart picking up speed. something's wrong. you can feel it. you squint at the screen, drag down your notifications, and the first notification you see makes your stomach drop.

"girl you're trending rn... what did you DO???"

then another.

"is that actually your name???"

your pulse is pounding before you even open twitter. your fingers shake as you type your own @ into the search bar, and the second you hit enter, your breath catches.

it's you.

your name. your photo. your phone number. everything.

someone—no, a group of people—had clearly gone full fbi. they'd taken all your casual, dumb little posts over the years and pieced them together like a fucked-up puzzle.

and now your full name was in a viral thread titled: "this the girl behind the jake sim micro dick blog?"

with a photo of you at a party two months ago, smile beaming.

people were quote-tweeting it with comments like: "she built like someone who'd have beef with jake sim for no reason." "oh she definitely owns a stan twitter burner too." "her blog is my roman empire i need her in therapy immediately."

your blood turned to ice. you were exposed.

fully.

not just as a shitposter but as the jake sim hater. your inbox was flooded—death threats, confessions, apologies, people asking if it was really you. tumblr dms screaming:

"TAKE THE POSTS DOWN BEFORE HE SEES THEM."

too late.

you scrambled to log into tumblr. your hands fumbled across the keys. it took three tries to get your password right.

the second you were in, you did the only thing you could do.

you hit deactivate.

the blog was gone. years of posts. thousands of notes. all of your followers, your drafts, your hate-poll templates.

deleted.

and then the panic really set in.

your hands were trembling. your ears were ringing. and all you could think about was @truthaboutjake, your mind racing. it was him, you realized that it was him.

"he knows. jake sim fucking knows who i am."

and the worst part?

you had no idea what he'd do with it.

✎﹏﹏

jake found out the same way everyone else did—waking up to a string of texts from jay and sunghoon absolutely losing their shit.

jay: bro. check twitter. sunghoon: she got exposed. jay: HER NAME IS OUT LMAOOO jay: bet she's sweating rn sunghoon: she's kinda cute tho

he blinked hard, still groggy, and tapped open the thread that seemed to be trending.

your face stared back at him.

his heart flipped.

you looked... nothing like what he expected. he'd imagined someone smug. cold. maybe with villain bangs and a cigarette habit.

but no—there you were, face flushed in a group photo, laughing mid-sip of iced americano. you looked normal. it almost hurt to admit, but you were pretty.

you looked real.

and now, you were reachable.

he did what anyone would do: searched your name on instagram. he found your linked facebook.

scrolled. scrolled.

paused.

you had your workplace tagged in an old comment.

"juniper bean café - seoul branch."

he stared at it for a long moment. then, very calmly, he stood up, threw on a hoodie, cap, and mask, and left the dorm.

✎﹏﹏

the café was a little tucked away spot with plants hanging from the ceiling and a chalkboard sign outside that said "kiss me, i'm caffeinated."

jake walked in, glancing around. he spotted you immediately, behind the counter, head down as you punched in an order.

he could tell that you had a rough morning, good. your posture was tense. your hair was pulled back messily. your voice was strained. you looked tired, your eyes that seemed so full of life in your leaked photos had disappeared.

he stepped up to the counter. waited. his eyes trailed down your figure, your frame was draped with a loose fitted sweater and some baggy light wash jeans. you wore a black apron, cinching at your waist—allowing his hungry eyes to capture your curves.

you were trying to look invisible. trying not to stand out. but to him—you were glowing with guilt.

he watched you fumble with a stack of napkins, pretending you didn't feel his eyes burning into you. finally you cleared your throat, still not looking up.

"hi, what can i get you?"

he smiled behind his mask, slow and wicked. he pulled it down just enough to speak—voice dripping low, sharp with mocking sweetness.

"you gonna spit in my drink too?" he asked. "or just keep running your mouth somewhere i can't see?"

you froze.

head snapping up. eyes locking with his. and there it was—that flash of horror, recognition, disbelief. it was him.

you had to admit, he was just as if not more handsome in person. your mouth dried up when you watched his lips curl into a smirk and his eye twitch.

your mouth opened. closed. no sound.

"hi," he said, almost sweetly. "miss me?"

you fumbled a reply—something, anything—but he leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter like he had all the time in the world.

"you disappeared fast. what happened? got leaked and lost all your guts or did you burn through all your micro dick material?"

your coworker looked between you both, utterly confused and in awe that jake was standing in front her. you took a breath. straightened your spine. tried to salvage your dignity.

"this is harassment," you muttered.

"this is karma," jake shot back, his smile dark. he twitched in anger, how dare you call this harassment—what about what you had been doing for the last couple of weeks? "i wanted a latte, by the way. no sugar. unless you're finally ready to be sweet to me."

you nearly dropped the milk jug.

he didn't care. he was so amused. you were the girl who wrote entire essays dragging his dickprint and his imagined bedroom habits? you, flushed and stammering behind a café register?

he wanted to laugh. he wanted to lean in closer. he wanted to ruin you back.

and this? this was just the beginning.

your hands were shaking. milk frother sputtering. heart pounding in your chest like it wanted to escape. and he—jake fucking sim—just stood there.

smiling.

smug.

head tilted slightly like he was thrilled by your discomfort. "you gonna make that latte, or you gonna keep fumbling around and glaring at me?" he drawled, voice low and casual.

you gritted your teeth, turned back to the machine, and fumbled through the motions of making the drink. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time—watching, drinking you in like you were the fucking joke.

you finally slid the drink across the counter, trying not to slam it.

"here. now leave."

he didn't move. just sipped slowly, then licked a bit of foam from his lip like it was the most dramatic thing anyone had ever done in a coffee shop.

and then—he leaned forward. elbow on the counter. voice quiet, words slow and deliberate:

"what time do you get off?"

you blinked, "excuse me?"

"your shift. when does it end?"

"why the fuck would i tell you that?"

his smile widened, all teeth now, sharp and smug. "because there's going to be a black car waiting for you outside." he continues, "when you clock out, you're going to get in. and then you're going to follow instructions."

you stared at him, genuinely floored. "are you insane? what the hell are you talking about?"

he tilted his head, mockingly sympathetic. "i get it. you're scared. probably embarrassed." he grins, "but see, that's the thing about defamation—once it's public, i can take legal action. and you've been very public."

your stomach dropped, "you're bluffing."

he shrugged. "wanna bet your savings account on that?"

you opened your mouth. closed it again. because—fuck. he wasn't bluffing. he didn't have to. you'd posted too much. said too much. and now he had your face, your name, your location.

"you can't just—kidnap me," you said, weaker than intended.

he laughed.

"it's not kidnapping if you get in willingly, sweetheart."

then he slid the latte off the counter, turned, and started to walk toward the door. before he left, he glanced back, over his shoulder.

"9 p.m., right?" he called out. "don't be late. i hate being stood up." he grinned, fuck him.

the bell jingled as he left. the door shut behind him.

and you stood there, in your apron and sneakers and sweaty palms, absolutely rattled. what the fuck did you just get yourself into?

✎﹏﹏

9:03 p.m.

you were pacing behind the café. your shift ended three minutes ago, but you hadn't stepped outside yet. you couldn't. your feet felt like bricks. your stomach twisted with anxiety, hands clenched in the pockets of your jeans.

what the fuck am i doing?

you shouldn't go. you know you shouldn't go. this was literally stranger danger 101, except instead of a stranger it was a kpop idol whose dick size you flamed online for weeks.

your brain was screaming at you. your nerves were a warzone. your inner monologue sounded like one long anxiety spiral:

"you're insane." "this is how people get murdered." "he's rich. he could make you disappear and blame it on anxiety meds." "but also... maybe he just wants to talk?" "or maybe he's gonna sue you in person with his scary legal team and laugh while you cry." "or—worse—what if he takes a picture with you and posts it with some shady ass caption like 'finally found her :)' and now you're really cooked?"

your fists clenched tighter.

this was your own fault. you were the one who made that blog. you were the one who said he looked like a pillow princess. you were the one who photoshopped a pacifier into that one fansite photo and captioned it "baby boy can't handle coochie."

and now?

now he knew your name. your face. your shift schedule.

and there it was, waiting on the curb like a horror movie prop—a sleek black car, windows tinted, headlights glowing like eyes.

you stared at it.

and then, finally, took a deep breath and walked towards it.

the back door opened before you could even touch it. you slid inside, hesitating, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield. you looked around the dimly lit interior. leather seats. no jake.

just a stone-faced driver in a black cap.

"um," you said cautiously. "where are we going?"

no response.

you leaned forward slightly. "hello? i just—can you at least tell me if jake is—"

silence.

he kept driving.

great.

you sat back, heart still racing. the lights of the city blurred past the windows. you couldn't even track the direction—you were too jittery to focus. every turn felt like it took you farther from safety.

and god, the silence was suffocating.

you hated it. you hated him.

jake sim and his smug face and his legal threats and the fact that this whole thing was so humiliating.

how the hell did he turn it around on you? curse those people who leaked you.

you were supposed to have the power. the upper hand. you were the one who had thousands of people laughing at his expense. you were the one whose posts got quoted like bible verses on stan twitter.

and now?

now you were alone, in his car, being driven to god knows where because he told you to.

you should've never fucking posted about his dick. you should've stayed anonymous. kept your mouth shut. deleted the pacifier post when it hit 10k notes.

the car slowed. you peeked out the window. it wasn't some mansion, like you feared. wasn't a dungeon either—at least you think so.

it was a private-looking building—modern, sleek, tucked down a quiet alley with a gated entrance. definitely expensive. definitely secluded.

you were dropped off at the curb. the driver didn't say anything—just nodded toward the front door.

you stepped out slowly, phone gripped tight in your hand, ready to fake an emergency call or scream if necessary.

a man, different from the driver, opened the front door. another silent guy in all black gestured for you to follow.

you hesitated, then followed him down a short hallway, up a narrow flight of stairs, until you reached a door with a single number carved into it: 17.

he knocked once, then opened it.

you stepped in—and stopped.

jake was inside.

he was leaning casually against a wall, dressed in all black—hoodie, chain, jeans, hair tousled, like he hadn't even tried and still looked like a good.

he was scrolling on his phone when you entered, then looked up.

and grinned, "hey." he stops, letting his gaze travel down your trembling form, "glad you could make it, hate blogger."

you wanted to punch him. you wanted to turn around and leave. but most of all—you wanted to know what the hell came next.

and by the look on his face?

he was very ready to show you.

room 17 is quiet. too quiet.

you stand near the door, gripping the strap of your bag like it's your last line of defense. jake hasn't moved from his place against the wall, but his eyes haven't left you for a second. he looks too calm. like this is just some casual meetup and not the most batshit confrontation of your entire life.

"you still haven't told me why i'm here," you say finally, voice tight, trying to sound unbothered even though your throat is dry.

he doesn't answer right away. he just studies you, eyes flicking from your clenched fists to your shifting posture to the tiny, almost-invisible tremble in your knees.

then he lets out a soft little chuckle, the kind that feels mean. smug and quiet and condescending.

"you really don't know?" he asks, stepping away from the wall at last. his strides are slow, deliberate, like he knows you won't run—but that you should.

you take a step back automatically, bumping into the door behind you.

"if this is about suing me," you mutter, chin lifting defensively, "you could've just emailed your legal team. this whole drama king act—" "i'm not suing you." he cuts you off, voice calm but sharp. he walks past you and locks the door with a soft click. your stomach flips.

"then what the hell is this?" he turns back to you, expression unreadable, "this is about correction."

you blink, "what?"

"you posted things that were... inaccurate." he steps closer. you press yourself further into the door. "about me. my body. my performance. my preferences." another step. you swear you stop breathing, "so now i'm giving you a chance to see the truth."

you stare up at him, wide-eyed, "you're joking."

"does it look like i'm joking?" he murmurs.

you're momentarily speechless. your brain is whirring, trying to process what's happening. jake sim—international idol, global heartthrob, the man you've memed within an inch of his digital life—has dragged you to a private room to debunk his dick size?

you should laugh, but you can't.

because he's standing too close. because he's looking at you like prey. because his voice is dipped in amusement but his eyes are furious.

"you're out of your mind," you whisper, eyes wide and your jaw slacked.

he shrugs, "maybe."

his hand lifts, knuckles brushing your chin—just enough to make your breath catch.

"but you made this personal. you dragged it out. you turned it into a running gag." he leans down slightly, until your noses are nearly brushing. "and now you're gonna watch what happens when you say shit you can't back up."

your throat works around a swallow. your persona starts to crack.

still—you can't not be a brat.

"so what, you're gonna just pull your dick out like some frat boy in a scandal?" you snort. "you're so mad over a joke, you're—"

"baby," his voice cuts you off again, soft but dangerous.

"a joke is calling me clingy or annoying. a joke is editing me into a pink onesie." he steps even closer, "but accusing me of being a submissive pillow princess with a dick that couldn't break a hymen?" he tilts his head, mocking, "that's slander."

you flush. deeply, "you saw that post?"

"i've seen every post," he says coolly. "and the reblogs. and the tags. and the memes."

you suddenly feel so small. not because he's taller—though he is—but because you'd spent months building this image of jake sim as a joke. a punchline. a target.

and now he's right here. and he's pissed.

"you're really that bothered?" you ask, but your voice is quieter now, unsure. "bothered?" he repeats, almost scoffing. "sweetheart, i was obsessed." his hand lifts again, brushes your hair away from your face, fingers dragging a little too slow behind your ear.

"you don't understand what it's like to be degraded by someone who's too cowardly to even show their face." he pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips, "but i'll show you."

you swallow hard. "so what?" you ask, trying not to waver. "you want me to apologize? to... take it all back? post a formal retraction about your dick?"

he grins. slow and sharp, "nah."

"i want you to see it," he pauses, lets the words sink in. "and then i want to see the look on your face when you realize you were dead fucking wrong."

your mouth opens. no sound comes out. your heart is pounding so fast you think you might throw up. because there's teasing and there's joking and there's flirting with danger—but this? this is crossing the line, and you don't know if you want him to stop.

you laugh, it comes out breathy and nervous and completely unconvincing. "okay," you say, holding your hands up a little, trying to cut the tension with sarcasm, "haha, very funny. you got me. you've officially scared the shit out of me, and if that was your goal, congratulations."

jake just stands there. watching you. expression unreadable, unreadable and dark. you shift on your feet, trying to find a way out of this, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"look," you continue, "i'll take everything down, okay? every post. every meme. every stupid out-of-pocket caption." you swallow. "i'll issue an apology. hell, i'll write a thread. a whole google doc. whatever you want."

you inch away from the door, toward the side of the room, trying to put some space between you.

"i crossed a line. i get that now." you laugh again, weaker this time. "like—clearly."

jake still doesn't speak, he starts walking.

slow. silent. like a cat with its prey cornered.

your back hits the wall.

"i'll stop posting about you," you rush out, your heart beating frantically when you feel jake's breath fan against your cheek. "seriously. no more degrading content. no more jokes. you win, okay?" his palm hits the wall beside your head with a sharp thud.

you freeze.

he leans in.

"i don't want a fucking apology," he murmurs, voice thick and low, the sound of it making your legs weaken. you try to hold his gaze, but it's hard when he's this close. when you can smell his cologne—clean and warm, like cedar and skin. when you can see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"i want you to look at me," he says, "and admit you were wrong."

"i just did—" "no." his other hand comes up, fingers ghosting your chin, tilting it up. "not because you're scared. not because you think i'm gonna sue your ass. i want you to say it because you know."

you suck in a breath as his fingers graze your throat. not squeezing. not threatening. but claiming, staking a presence.

"you think i'm some submissive little pushover," he whispers, "who just lays there and takes it. soft. boring. harmless."

your heart pounds in your chest so loud you swear it echoes. "you think you own the narrative. that you get to decide who i am, what i'm like in bed, how big my fucking dick is."

you flinch at the way he says it, so vulgar and harsh it shoots straight to your core.

"but the second i show up—" his thumb brushes your bottom lip. "you're quiet. nervous. twitchy. like you already know you were talking out of your ass."

you suck in a shaky breath and try to bite back the heat that's crawling up your neck. "you're insane," you whisper, but there's no bite behind it.

his body is so close now, you can feel the heat radiating off him. he hasn't even touched you properly and you already feel like your knees are going to give.

"what do you want from me?" you ask, voice barely holding together. he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"i want to fuck the lies out of your mouth." his voice is so low, it vibrates down your spine. "i want you to choke on everything you said about me and realize i was never the one being dominated."

you let out a small, shaky sound—and that's when he finally kisses you.

not soft.

not slow.

possessive. like he's claiming what he's owed.

like he's trying to shove every insult back down your throat, one filthy kiss at a time.

your mind blanks the second his mouth claims yours. his tongue pushes past your lips without hesitation, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you right where he wants you, and you feel it deep—too deep. like he's trying to crawl inside your ribcage and brand himself there.

his kiss isn't gentle. it's punishment. all teeth and tongue, your back shoved harder into the wall as he presses against you. his body completely, deliberately dominating yours.

"still think i'm soft?" he growls against your lips when he pulls back, breath ragged, thumb digging into the underside of your chin to keep you looking at him.

you don't answer. you can't.

your mouth is open, panting, lips wet and swollen from how violently he just kissed you. your knees barely hold.

his gaze drops to your mouth. then lower, and lower.

he smirks.

"you look scared," he says, tilting his head slightly. "thought you liked writing filthy shit about me. what happened to all that confidence?"

you swallow hard, still in absolute disbelief, "you're—you're actually insane."

"and you're actually still turned on." his hand drops to your hip, gripping hard, pulling you flush against him—and fuck. he's hard. painfully hard. pressing right against your lower stomach. and he knows you feel it.

your eyes widen. you try to squirm away but there's nowhere to go, your back hits the wall again and his thigh wedges between your legs.

"not so micro now, is it?" he breathes against your neck. you let out a broken sound—half gasp, half groan—and that's when jake loses it.

he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, other hand sliding beneath your shirt, grazing skin and pulling a shocked noise out of you. he doesn't give you room to breathe.

"say it," he growls. "say you were wrong."

you shake your head. still stubborn. still you.

"no?" he scoffs. "fine." his thigh presses harder between your legs, rocking up once. your clit throbbed pathetically at the feeling, it was just enough friction to make your eyes roll back. you try to keep your composure, but he watches your face change—watches your pride falter.

"don't lie to me, baby." his voice drops lower—hungrier. "you're dripping. over the same guy you dragged for months."

you gasp, trying to turn your face away from him, but he leans in again, his nose brushing your cheek.

"you gonna blog about this too?" he whispers. "tell your little followers how jake sim manhandled you and made you eat your words with his cock halfway down your throat?"

you whimper and it disgusts you how fast your body betrays you. how wet you already are. how much you want him to ruin you just to prove you were wrong.

and he can tell.

he sees the shift in your expression. how your resistance is slowly, deliciously, falling apart.

your wrists are still pinned, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling fast as jake leans in like he owns the air around you.

"i'm done hearing you talk," he mutters, dragging his mouth along your jaw. "i think it's time you showed me just how sorry you really are."

he releases your hands and steps back. you don't move. your legs are trembling, your pride hanging on by a thread.

"on your knees," he says simply.

you scoff, arms folding defensively across your chest, "you can't be serious—"

he tilts his head, "i'm not asking again."

there's no loud threat. no yelling. just the terrifying calm of someone who already knows he's won. you hold your ground—barely. but something about the way he looks down at you, already palming the bulge in his jeans, makes your body respond before your mind does.

you sink, slowly. knees hitting the floor like it's a confession. he watches you with quiet satisfaction, like he's waited for this exact moment.

he had been dreaming about the moment he would get you to himself, on your knees—right where he wanted you.

"look at me," he says, and you do—eyes meeting his as he unzips, the sound ridiculously loud in the silence.

he's already thick in his hand when he pulls it out, and your mouth goes dry. you don't want to admit it, but fuck. it's big. way bigger than you ever gave him credit for. your throat tightens at the sheer weight of it, thick and flushed and veined.

his smirk deepens when he sees the way your eyes drop.

"what was that again?" he mocks, giving himself a slow stroke. "micro?"

you glare up at him, heat crawling up your neck. "i was clearly misinformed."

"say it properly."

you hesitate, his free hand tangles in your hair—firm, but not painful. just enough to tilt your face up toward him.

"say. it."

you grit your teeth, "i was wrong."

"about what?"

you groan. "about your dick. okay? you don't have a micro dick."

he raises an eyebrow, "that all?"

"it's big," you mutter, cheeks burning. "you made your point." he laughs—low and satisfied—and guides your face closer, "not yet."

you gasp when you feel his tip touch your cheek, he grins at your expression—feeling satisfied with your shock. he does a few experimental taps, dragging his length over your lips. you hold in a whine when he smears his pre cum over your bottom lip, almost as if he was applying lipgloss on you.

and then he pushes in.

there's no easing into it—he gives you the thick weight of his cock all at once, making you choke. your hands scrambling to grip his thighs as he holds you there, watching with dark, satisfied eyes.

"look at that," he murmurs. "mouth so full of me you can't even talk shit now." you gag again, but his grip stays steady, fingers flexing against the back of your head as he rocks his hips in slow, controlled thrusts. just enough to make you feel how deep he is and prove how wrong you were.

he could feel how warm your mouth was around him, basking in the feeling of not only pleasure but the satisfaction of shutting you up.

"this what you wanted?" he groans. "to see what i've been hiding in those pants you loved to degrade?"

you can't respond. not when he's using your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking every insult out of you with a punishing rhythm. spit drips from out of your mouth and onto your chin. tears prick at your eyes and yet—somewhere deep in your gut—you like it.

jake's grip on your hair gets stronger, the pain causing your jaw to slack as you continue to take his brutal pace. you could feel the head of his cock rub against the back of your throat, the force not strong enough to make you gag but enough to cause a stream of tears to run down your face.

your nose touched his pelvis with every thrust, indicating how deep he was going. "fuck. look at you, __. who knew cock being in your mouth is the only way to shut you up."

you whine at his words, looking up at him with pleading eyes—yet you didn't know what exacting you were begging for. you rub your thighs together in hopes for some temporary relief, the scene so lewd that you could feel yourself gush in your panties—holding in the urge to let your hands wander down to touch yourself.

jake looked down at you with hungry eyes, his lip twitching as his grip in your hair grew tighter with each thrust. he let low moans slip from his mouth every time his dick grazed the back of your throat.

"aren't you a dirty little whore.." jake drawls out, his chest heaving with pleasure when he notices how tightly you have your thighs clenched. "getting all worked up for someone you've publicly shat on for having the least sex appeal."

you moaned around him when suddenly he pushed your thighs apart with his foot, wedging his sneaker between your legs—giving you something to ease up the tension in your core.

you mewl when he pushed against your clit, almost urging you to grind down against him while he used your mouth to his hearts content. slowly, but surely—you allowed yourself to ground yourself against him. it sickened you how desperate you had become in just a span of a few minutes.

jake almost cums when he sees you move your hips, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you from your throbbing clit.

the familiar feeling in his stomach begins to tighten, his grip on you becoming unforgiving as he loses self control and allows himself to push himself into your mouth as much as he could. his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly now, a mixture of his cum and your spit dribbling out of your mouth.

"f-fuck," he groans. "m'gonna cum.. you're gonna take it? yeah? take it in that bratty mouth, hm?" jake murmurs to what seems himself just before he combusts in your mouth. you swallowed a chocked moan when you feel his warm cum coat your mouth, gagging around him as he twitches.

jake felt as if he was on cloud 9, his head lulling to the side as he keeps your head planted where it is—ensuring that you swallow what he gave you fully.

when he finally pulls back, cock glistening with your spit and his cum, your jaw aches as you swallow the salty yet sweet taste of his release. your chest heaving like you've just survived something.

"mouth open and tongue out," he demands. you hesitantly open your mouth, your tongue out as you show him that you swallowed everything.

you whine out desperately when he slides his foot away, leaving you aching again. jake tsk's, "desperate slut."

he crouches down to your level, thumb wiping the corner of your mouth.

"still think i'm a pillow princess?" his voice is a little breathless now. dark and smug. "or you finally ready to admit you don't know shit about me?"

your throat still burns. your lips are swollen, coated in spit and shame, and jake's leaning over you like he's just getting started.

"on your feet."

you hesitate, still panting, still dazed from the way he fucked your mouth like it was owed to him. but something in his voice—firm, expectant—makes you move. your knees tremble as you rise.

jake doesn't give you time to adjust. the second you're upright, he steps in close, hands on your waist, guiding you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

you're pressed back against the mattress, thighs parted under his hands, still catching your breath from how rough he'd just been with your mouth. but instead of backing down, you do what you do best—deflect.

"look—how about this," you say, voice shaking but holding onto some scrap of cocky defiance. "i'll just say the blog was satire. irony. you know, performance art or something. no one has to know i meant any of it."

jake's expression doesn't change.

"or better yet—i'll make a new post trashing someone else. redirect the attention. easy." you flash a grin that's all teeth. "maybe i'll even throw in a little praise for you. balance it out."

he just blinks at you. slowly.

"you think you're negotiating right now?" his voice is calm, but the grip on your thighs tightens.

you blink. "i mean, i'm trying to be reasonable—"

"reasonable?" he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "you publicly dragged me for weeks. humiliated me. and now that you're caught, you want to rewrite the narrative?"

"i'm offering solutions—" "you're offering bullshit," he snaps, and in a second he's climbing over you, his body slotting between your legs like it was made to be there. "and you think you still have leverage? cute."

your breath hitches. your hands push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down again, harder this time—your body arching into him involuntarily.

"here's what's really gonna happen," he says, leaning in, nose brushing yours. "you're gonna try to flip this. act like you're still in control. try to turn the tables on me."

your throat tightens.

"but you won't. because the second you try, i'll remind you who made you beg. who had you gagging on the dick you said didn't exist." his voice drops lower, dangerous. "and then i'll ruin you all over again."

you glare up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and defiance."you know what? fine." your voice is sharp, shaky. "you wanna play games? i'll play. let's see how fast you fold when i turn this around."

he raises an eyebrow. "is that right?" you reach down between your bodies—slow, deliberate—wrapping your hand around him. he's still hard. unfairly so. hot and heavy in your palm.

"maybe i was wrong about the size," you murmur, stroking him slow, his breath hitching. "but maybe you really are just a pillow princess. maybe you like being praised more than you like fucking."

his jaw ticks.

you press a kiss to his neck, voice a taunt against his skin. "what happens if i ride you instead? if i make you cum all over yourself."

he freezes.

"what if i write about that next?" you sit up dragging your tongue along the edge of his jaw. "'jake sim—big dick, zero stamina.' think the internet'll love that?"

you think you've got him.

until suddenly—he flips you.

you yelp, back hitting the mattress again as he rips your hand away from his cock and shoves your thighs up around his waist. the shift is fast, dominant, practiced.

"you really thought that'd work?" he's laughing now—mean, breathless, hungry. "thought you'd rile me up and get the upper hand? you forget who tracked you down and got you here in this room." his voice is pure venom now, thick with want. "who had you gagging and drooling on your knees while you fucked yourself on my shoes not even 5 minutes ago?"

his hands expertly yank off your jeans, his thumb hooked around the waistband of your baby pink cotton panties—teasing you. you writhe beneath him, but he doesn't budge—he presses into you, cock sliding between your clothed folds just to tease, just to show you what you don't get to control.

"you wanna test stamina?" he growls. "i'll fuck you 'til that smug little attitude disappears. 'til you're begging me to stop. 'til you're crying and calling me daddy."

you gasp—rage, arousal, panic blending in your gut—but you can't deny the throb between your legs. the way your body betrays your pride.

he feels it too.

his free hand runs up your sweater, your breath shaking as you feel him run his fingers up your stomach and make themselves comfortable on your tits. letting your hands go momentarily, he's yanking your sweater off and throwing it across the room.

"didn't know bratty girls like you wore baby pink. ruffles, lace trim—bows?" he grins, his hands playing with the frills of your bra as you twitch beneath him.

"fuck you," you spat out, voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. jake only smirks, his hand reaching up to pull the straps of your bra down—letting your tits fall out. "oh i will," and with that he's taking one of your nipples hostage in his mouth. his grip on your wrists stays planted, not allowing you to move or struggle against him when he nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts.

he switches from left to right for a few minutes, basking in your whimpers and mewls before he kisses down your stomach. pulling away he's back to being face to face with you, a smug look on his face before he plants a kiss to your jaw. the kiss turns into bites, nipping at your neck and chest as he leaves behind purple splotches.

"maybe you can post the marks i left and then bash me," jake grins against your skin. you roll your eyes in response only for jake to shoot you a look that says: behave.

he moves your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to his hungry eyes. he runs his thumb through your slit, gathering your slick.

"so wet," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock against your slit. "guess your body knows who's in charge, even if your mouth doesn't." he slams into you—deep, all at once—and you scream.

no teasing now. no easing in. no prepping.

just punishment. just proof. just him, ruining you from the inside out like it's the only way to shut you up.

"gonna make you forget every insult," he grits, hips snapping into yours over and over. "gonna fuck the hate right outta you."

he could feel your velvet walls convulse, sucking him in like a vacuum as he thrusts into you. you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders, back arching, mind blurring. you hate how good it feels. how right.

"gonna ruin you," he whispers, lips at your neck. "and you're gonna thank me for it." his mouth traveling down to your tit to engulf one of your nipples once again.

your body jolts with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room as you struggle to adjust to his girth.

you're still trembling when jake lifts your chin. his touch is deceptively gentle, but there's nothing soft in his expression. smug. commanding. dangerously patient.

"you still think you were right?" he asks lowly, voice scraping down your spine like velvet over steel. you blink up at him, lips parted, but your throat is dry. no sass now. not with the way your body's still recovering, knees weak, throat raw from every choked sound he pulled from you.

when you don't respond jake stops his movement, his hips go still as he simply stares down at you with a dark look in his eyes.

you were falling apart.

his cock was deep inside you, filling you so completely you couldn't even think straight— but jake wasn't moving. he just held you there, pinned beneath him, wrists trapped against the mattress, his hips grinding slow and mean against yours.

you whimpered, hips twitching up against him helplessly, desperate for more. he smirked down at you, cruel and smug, loving the way your body shook, the way your face twisted in frustration.

"what's wrong?" he murmured mockingly, leaning in so close his lips brushed your ear. "thought you'd be tougher than this."

you rationed with yourself for a moment, were you really going to beg? yes.

you tried to twist your wrists free but his grip only tightened. "please," you gasped out, tears welling in your eyes from how badly you needed to cum. "please, jake, i need it—"

he laughed, low and sharp, and snapped his hips forward once—deep and brutal—making you cry out. but then he stilled again, ignoring your desperate whines.

"you need it?" he repeated, pretending to think. "need my cock? need me to make you cum like the stupid little whore you are?"

your cheeks burned, shame rolling through you, but you nodded frantically.

"say it," he ordered, voice dropping, rough. you squeezed your eyes shut, humiliated, but the words still poured out.

"i need your cock," you sobbed. "please jake, please—i'll do anything, i'll be good, just let me cum—"

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied with himself.

"should've thought about being good before you started running your mouth online," he muttered, dragging his cock slow and deep inside you, making you arch and cry out.

you were shaking now—your whole body burning, every nerve stretched tight and ready to snap.

"you want it that bad?" he asked casually, grinding his hips just enough to make you sob.

"yes," you choked out. "please, jake—please, i need to cum, i can't—"

he grinned wickedly and finally, finally started fucking into you hard—deep, punishing thrusts that made you see stars. your walls clung onto how dick like a suction in attempt to milk him dry.

your moans spilled out loud and wrecked, your whole body bowing off the bed.

"good girl," he murmured darkly, "you're gonna cum when i say. not a second before." you nodded frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without crying. and when he finally, finally leaned down and growled, "cum for me, slut,"

you shattered.

you came so hard you were sobbing, spasming around him, your body giving out completely under his.

jake fucked you through it, laughing under his breath, dragging every last bit of pleasure and humiliation out of you until you were left shaking and gasping for air.

and even then, he wasn't done with you yet. he hadn't cum yet, and at the end of the day that's what you were here for—to be his little cum slut. you barely had time to breathe—your body still spasming from the orgasm he tore out of you before jake grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto him, grinding even deeper.

you yelped, broken noises spilling out of your mouth, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

"no," he snapped, voice sharp and final, one hand locking tight around your waist to keep you from moving. "you don't get to run."

your head lolled back, tears slipping down your cheeks, your body a twitching mess.

"too much," you sobbed, trembling violently.

he laughed—laughed—at your misery.

"too bad," he muttered against your ear. "you're not done." he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you hard, fast, merciless. your thighs shook, your nails dug into the sheets, your mouth fell open in helpless, gasping cries. you could feel yourself spiraling again—pain and pleasure tangled together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"you think you're in control?" he grunted, slamming into you harder, making you scream. "you think you can say whatever you want about me and not pay for it?"

your whole body jolted with every thrust, the humiliation making your head spin.

"say it," he growled. "say you were wrong."

you whimpered, stubborn even now, biting down hard on your lip. he slowed down, grinding his cock against your sensitive walls in deep, deliberate circles that made you keen helplessly.

"say it," he repeated, cruel and low, "or i'll edge you until you're fucking crying."

your pride crumbled fast.

"i was wrong," you gasped out, voice cracking. he smirked, hips snapping forward again. "about what?"

you squeezed your eyes shut, shame flooding you. "about—about your dick," you choked out. "i lied, you're big—you're fucking huge—"

he chuckled darkly, like he already knew. "good girl," he breathed, voice dripping with mockery. "what else?"

you shook your head frantically, body jerking with overstimulation. he pulled almost all the way out—your cunt squeezing around nothing— before slamming back in so brutally you cried out.

"what else?" he hissed against your throat.

"i—i'm just a stupid bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about," you sobbed, face burning hot.

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied, so cruel.

"that's right," he murmured. "a stupid little whore who can't stop begging for the cock she said was too small."

you whimpered, broken, humiliated beyond repair. and still—your body clung to him, desperate for more. you realized with a sick twist in your gut that you would do anything—say anything—just to have him fuck you harder.

and jake knew it too.

he leaned down close, mouth brushing yours cruelly.

"beg," he whispered. "beg me to ruin you."

you could barely think. your body was burning, trembling, stretched tight around him— your mind a broken mess of shame and need. and still jake kept fucking you deep, rough, relentless.

his hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, your throat, your jaw—manhandling you like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use.

you whimpered when he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

"beg," he ordered again, voice dark, breathless with lust. "beg me to ruin you, slut."

you shook your head at first, a broken little sob tearing from your throat. he growled low, slammed into you even harder—your back arching, a scream ripping from your lips.

"you don't get to say no," he hissed. "you wanted this." tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling violently.

"please," you gasped out, the word slipping before you could even think. "please jake..ruin me, use me. fuck me however you want—"

he laughed, so fucking smug, dragging his cock out slow just to make you whine. "good fucking girl," he murmured. "finally learning your place."

you babbled desperate nonsense, sobbing into the sheets, your pride shattered into dust.and jake fucked you through it all—using you like a fleshlight, pounding into you until your legs gave out, until your voice was wrecked and broken.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he sneered, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a sting. "to get fucked dumb? to get put in your place like the stupid little whore you are?"

you nodded frantically, gasping, sobbing, brain completely mush. "can't even speak anymore," he muttered, mocking. "just a cockdrunk mess." your nails clawed helplessly at the sheets, your cunt squeezing him so tight he groaned.

you felt another orgasm building—sharp, unbearable—but you were too gone to even ask permission. you just sobbed and gasped and let him take everything from you.

"yeah, that's right," he growled, voice thick with pleasure. "cum all over my cock, slut. make a fucking mess."

you shattered, your whole body convulsing around him, screaming his name like a prayer, a curse, a broken confession. and jake fucked you through it, dragging every last bit of your pride and resistance out of you, until there was nothing left but a crying, ruined mess on his cock.

you were shaking. your body was limp, wrecked, trembling under the weight of everything he made you feel.

and jake still wasn't satisfied.

he kept moving, grinding his cock deep inside your overstimulated cunt—mocking every broken sob that fell from your lips.

"what's wrong?" he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "too much?"

you could only whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. he grabbed your face again, rough, forcing your glassy eyes to meet his.

"you wanted to run your mouth so bad," he sneered. "now you can fucking thank me." your brain barely processed the words, too fogged with shame and pleasure. he slapped your cheek lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back.

"say it," he barked. "say thank you."

you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"th-thank you," you stammered, voice barely a whisper.

he smirked, cruel and satisfied.

"louder," he ordered, snapping his hips forward viciously, making you cry out. "thank you!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and broken.

he chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down your throat, pressing lightly just enough to make your head spin.

"thank me for ruining you," he muttered, rolling his hips slow and deep, dragging another helpless moan from your lips.

your pride was turned into ash, your mind gone.

"thank you for ruining me," you gasped out, shaking uncontrollably, completely destroyed. he groaned, clearly getting off on how ruined you were—your body slack, twitching, drooling, your cunt spasming weakly around him.

"pathetic," he muttered against your ear. "look at you." you could feel how wet and messy everything was—your thighs sticky, the sheets underneath you soaked.

and still—still—he wasn't finished.

"gonna fill you up," he rasped, voice rough with the effort of holding back. "gonna fuck you so full you'll be leaking for days."

you sobbed, the humiliation sinking deeper into your bones.

"please," you whispered, because you didn't know what else to say anymore. he grunted low in his chest, thrusting faster, chasing his release. he could feel that familiar tinge in his stomach, he was close.

"such a good little cumdump," he growled. "just a hole for me to use." you broke again, another weak orgasm rolling through your abused body.

and jake finally spilled inside you—deep, hot, filling you up exactly like he promised.

he didn't pull out immediately. he stayed pressed deep, making sure you felt every drop. when he finally did pull out, you collapsed completely, a ruined, twitching, crying mess.

and jake just chuckled, so fucking smug. running his fingers down your slit before plugging your fluttering hole, making sure that his cum stays in you for as long as it could.

"maybe next time you'll think twice before running your mouth about me," he said, releasing your wrists before he gets off the bed. he left you there, spread open, dripping, humiliated beyond repair.

and you realized with a sick twist of your gut— you liked it.

you fucking loved every humiliating second of it.

✎﹏﹏

your body aches.

not in the romantic, soft-lit, post-orgasm kind of way.

no. it's raw. it's degrading. it's embarrassing.

your legs are trembling so badly you have to lean on the sink just to stay upright. your thighs sticky, sore. your throat dry and stretched thin from the pathetic, wrecked sounds he pulled out of you.

you yank your clothes back on as fast as your shaking hands allow, muttering curses under your breath. you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. because you know what you'll see: the ruined, wrecked version of yourself jake created.

and you hate him.

you hate how smug he looks when you finally stumble back into the room—hair mussed, shirt untucked, standing like he didn't just break you open with nothing but his cock and his fucking mouth. you hate how he leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a look that says he's already won.

you hate that he was right.

and you really, really hate that you liked it.

you roll your shoulders back, force yourself to stand straight even if your body is begging you to drop.

"that what you wanted?" you rasp out, voice wrecked and scratchy. "you win. congrats. want a trophy or something?"

jake doesn't say a word. he just watches. calm. amused. smug.

and it pisses you off. burns you alive from the inside.

"you got what you wanted. you ruined my pride," you snarl, stepping closer even though your knees are ready to give. "so what now? supposed to kneel and thank you? beg you to keep ruining me?"

he cocks his head slightly, lips twitching.

you hate how unbothered he looks. you hate it so much it makes you reckless.

"you don't actually believe i meant all that, right?" you spit. "you really think i meant it when i said you're big? when i cried about how good you fucked me?"

you scoff, shaking your head with a cold, sharp laugh.

"you're pathetic. you got played because i moaned a little."

and that's when everything shifts.

because jake steps forward—smooth, controlled—grabbing your jaw so hard you gasp, slamming your back against the wall without even looking like he's trying. his face is inches from yours, breath warm, eyes dark and furious.

"still lying?" he murmurs.

your heart pounds wildly. you try to twist away but his grip on your jaw tightens, bruising.

"you begged for my cock," he hisses, thumb dragging across your trembling bottom lip. "you fucking cried for it. and you're gonna stand there and lie to my face?"

you choke on your words, humiliation pouring down your spine in cold waves.

he laughs bitterly, the sound vibrating low in his chest. "guess you really are as dumb as you look."

you flinch.

and jake leans in closer, voice dropping lower, meaner. "you wanna pretend you're still in control?" he taunts, dragging his fingers down your throat slow, almost tender. "you wanna act like you didn't cum so fucking hard you couldn't even say my name?"

you tremble.

but you don't back down—not yet. pride and fear tangled up, keeping you frozen.

he chuckles darkly.

"fine," he says, voice a low threat. "i'll remind you."

his hand snakes between your thighs, shoving your jeans down again, your underwear dragging with it, baring you completely in seconds. you gasp, struggling—but he's too strong, too fast. he grabs you by the hips, throws you onto the bed like you're weightless.

and then he's on you.

he presses your wrists to the mattress with one hand again, his weight pinning you down, his other hand roughly forcing your legs apart.

you barely have time to gasp before he's inside you again—deep, brutal, fucking the defiance out of you one savage thrust at a time.

you cry out, throat raw. he fucks you like he's furious, every slam of his hips meant to punish. "not so fucking smug now, huh?" he pants against your ear.

you whimper, broken sounds spilling out without permission.

"what happened to all that fake confidence, princess?" he mocks, rolling his hips harder, forcing your body to take every inch. "thought you said you could handle it."

you sob, writhing under him, but he doesn't let up. he leans down, dragging his teeth across your jaw, making you shudder helplessly.

"gonna make you beg again," he growls. "gonna make you say it like you fucking mean it."

you try to shake your head—but you're drowning. he's everywhere. he's everything. and no matter how much you try to cling to your pride, it crumbles between your shaking hands.

you're crying now—humiliated tears streaking down your flushed face—as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"please," you choke out, voice cracking.

he chuckles, cruel and satisfied.

"please what, baby?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to a deep, punishing grind that makes your whole body twitch and seize.

"please," you sob again, shame burning you alive. "please let me cum."

he leans back slightly to look at you—hair a mess, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"you don't deserve to cum," he says, voice mocking. "whores who lie don't get rewards."

you whimper, hips stuttering against his, desperate, broken.

"but," he adds slowly, almost lazily, "if you beg real nice... maybe i'll consider it."

you sob harder, pride shattered into dust. and then—you beg.

you beg like a good little whore.

"please, jake," you cry, voice wrecked and hoarse. "i need it—i need to cum—please, please—"

he grins, dark and cruel, and finally—finally—lets you fall apart again, your body convulsing, cunt clenching around him helplessly as he fucks you through the brutal, soul-crushing orgasm. and you barely have a second to breathe before he's moving again—pulling out, grabbing your face in both hands, forcing your mouth open.

"open wide," he orders.

you're so wrecked you don't even think to disobey. you just open—lips trembling, eyes wide and glassy.

and jake leans over—spits straight into your mouth, thick and wet and humiliating.

you gag slightly, tears burning your eyes.

"swallow," he commands sharply.

you do.

you obey without even thinking.

and he smirks—grabbing his phone, flipping open the recording he just made of your pathetic begging, letting you hear it on loop while you lie there ruined, body trembling, throat raw.

he tucks his phone into his pocket, grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. "remember this next time you wanna talk shit," he says, voice low and smug.

he kisses you—mocking and possessive—and leaves you there: used, wrecked, humiliated, and so thoroughly owned that you can't even pretend anymore.

jake sim ruined you and there's no taking it back.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

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thepencilnerd · 3 months ago

Text

Feels Like Trouble

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3

It started at the nurses’ station.

You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.

"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"

You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."

He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.

"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."

Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."

"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.

Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"

Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."

Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.

At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.

Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.

Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.

Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.

Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.

Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.

Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.

But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.

It was you.

You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.

Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.

You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.

But not to Robby. Never to Robby.

He noticed everything.

The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.

He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.

Because he already knew. He just... knew.

Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.

Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.

And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.

You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.

You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.

"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"

You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.

"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."

You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.

Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.

From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—

"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.

You turned and there he was.

Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.

"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."

You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."

You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"

You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"

Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."

You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."

You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"

His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."

You blinked. "You’re jealous?"

"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."

You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."

"He was twelve."

"He's definitely at least twenty-six."

Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."

Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.

Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.

His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked.

"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."

You smacked his arm, giggling.

"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."

He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."

Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."

His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."

You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.

Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"This is not over," he muttered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"

Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."

You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."

He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.

"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."

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