#content ✎ answers

[unrealization]

Violette puts a red flower in ashlynn's hair ♥ "It matches your eyes!"

@styxisms | Unprompted

Try as she might, she still didn't like it when anyone touched her. Violette had pushed that boundary several times in the past, and she'd more or less accepted that this was how she was. The Miqo'te's hand was always gentle. She knew rationally that there was no harm in it. But her body wanted to react. To flinch away. She fought that feeling. Embraced it. A brief moment of extreme discomfort, that gave way to a warm feeling in her heart.

She relaxed, a soft smile spreading across her face. Maybe tomorrow, the world would hang in the balance. Maybe she would have to bloody her sword for the greater good.

Not today. Today she was alive, sharing a moment with her first friend. Violette, whose small gestures and simple kindness had saved her heart again and again. For now, everything was okay and life was worth living.

"We'll have to find one that matches yours, Vi. I might need your help, though."

[arcanusarchieves-if]

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

I've answered this question for Astoria here!

This very heavily depends on what a person considers to be a crush. If it's something that's primarily physical attraction, then yes - but only because Caspian is very willing to put himself out there for a fun time (so to speak). If it's an emotional attraction, then no. He tends to keep those feelings pretty close to his chest.

When he's in love Caspian doesn't actually change that much. I know, I know, that's not a particularly fun answer - but it is the truth. He wouldn't flirt around with other people anymore or go off and do whatever he wants but for the most part he's still an incredibly loyal and passionate person.

It's not obvious to anyone (including themself) when Solaine has a crush. Honestly, they probably wouldn't even realize they are attracted to someone until they are far too attached to actually do anything about it. If anything, people would assume that they despise their crush because of how annoyed with they are about their own feelings.

Out of everyone, Solaine changes the most when they are in love. It starts off as a subtle thing - they insult people less, don't get as frustrated as often. Then they'd start opening up a bit more and spending time with their S/O (and friends) instead of just locking themself up in their office. Eventually, they'd begin smiling and laughing more and before they know it their happier - more content - than they've ever been.

It's obvious when Maeve has a crush. Anybody within a twelve-mile radius would be able to pick up on it. She has a very short phase of distancing herself and being snippier before almost immediately going back to whatever her previous dynamic with her crush was but instead 100x more awkward. She's flustered and clumsy and starts laughing at things she doesn't actually find all that funny - it's horrible for her reputation, really.

When Maeve falls in love she slows down. Not calms down, obviously, that goes against her very nature, but she's more content to just...accept things. Not everything has to be an argument or a challenge - sometimes the adventure can just be living her life with her loved ones and that's okay. It's okay to just exist. It doesn't have to be boring.

Do you really need me to answer this...? Yes, it's very noticeable when Jasper has a crush. He knows that he likes them, they know that he likes them - everyone in existence knows that he likes them. Honestly, he's the human equivalent of a flustered anime girl (said lovingly) - constantly stuttering, getting red in the face, tripping over himself. Funnily enough, out of everything, this is the most similar him and Maeve can get.

When Jasper's in love, he's much more confident and self-assured. Don't get me wrong, he'll never be like Caspian or Astoria, but he isn't as...insecure(?). He's more willing to speak up about what he is and isn't okay with and feels comfortable expressing his more negative thoughts and opinions. He's really the type to flourish once he's found the right person!

[softaestluv]

Nine Lives

Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want and you answer.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! Reader

Tags: fluff, short n’ sweet, eventual romance/smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 4 Pt. 5, last part | ao3 | mlist✎ᝰ.ᐟ

It has to be some form of trauma. A hallucination. A dream. Anything but that stupid fawn-colored cat outside his door.

Scratching. Meowing. Terrorizing him.

He ignores it for as long as he possibly will. Turns the volume of his TV up, washes clothes to drown out the sound, pretends for a while longer that he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him just outside his wooden door. That it doesn’t have a tail and four legs.

But he can’t push it away forever, he’s a man for fucks sake. He doesn’t flee and cower in the face of a threat. A small one at that, curled on his skull mat, waiting for the moment he accepts his fate and opens his damn door. A hostage in his own home.

So, he cracks his door open— just a smidge.

Looks to see if the animal is really there or if the voices, cats, inside his head are playing a cruel joke on him. And sure enough, there it is, licking its paws leisurely as if it fucking belongs there.

A part of him had been hoping he was going crazy, that he was just imagining the high-pitched meow. He could deal with crazy, preferred it actually.

What he couldn’t deal with was the cat outside who seemed convinced he was its home. He’s grateful he hasn’t deleted your contact yet, for multiple reasons now.

It’s easy to ignore the cat, even easier to shut his door in its face, deny it access to his home. Now, as he remembers the events of last week, he thinks he should bring it inside. He’s not entirely fond of the idea, but he’s even less fond of roaming the neighborhood for a second time for the cat.

This is how he finds himself staring at it with a scrutinizing squint and crossed arms on his kitchen counter. It stretches, two front legs reaching out while its hind raises in the air. Simon has to ignore the fact that it’s dirty paws are on his kitchen counter and that it’s fur doesn’t fly in the air as it shimmies itself into a sitting position. He’ll have to bleach the spot and purge the area of any remnants of the pest.

The cat doesn’t seem to sense his aversion because it just stares back, slowly blinking, tail whipping behind it like it’s happy, content. Staring affectionately at him like he hasn’t spent the last several months doing everything in his power to get rid of it.

When you arrive, he begrudgingly takes it into his arms, opens the door to an anxious smile and more fuzzy socks. He dangles it between the two of you with both hands around its torso.

You squeal at the sight, “Churro! What are you doing here, huh? It’s a long distance, pretty lady! It must have been a very dangerous adventure.”

Simon watches you talk to the cat like it can understand you, watches the way your brows pinch, and a small frown forms on your lips in actual concern for its safety. It’s confusing that you would care so deeply for such a thing, but it makes the corners of his lips twitch.

Churro just meows, rubbing her nose and forehead against your cheek. This makes you coo, smiling gently at her, pressing your cheek against hers in turn.

You haven’t even turned your focus to him for a second, no ‘thank you for watching the demon,’ no ‘hi, how are you?’ Just more kisses and sugar-spun words to your precious kitty.

“Was the big scary man mean to you?” You ask, staring at it with beady eyes, “Did he call you the devil again?”

Oh really, cat lady? That’s how it’s going to be? He supposes teasing is better than you being terrified of him.

He scoffs, “Did no such thing.”

You finally look at him, giggling softly as you pull Churro back against your chest, “I’m sure you were nothing but generous to her.”

“I was. Treated the damn thing like royalty.” He grumbles because he was. Carried it into his home even though he wanted to do the complete opposite just so you could have your bloody cat back. And all he has to show for it is you ignoring him for the likes of the cat.

“Well,” You say, nodding your head, “I’m sorry you had to deal with her again. I left her inside before leaving for work, I’m not sure how she managed to get out.”

That was the first time it happened, and of course, it wasn’t the last. Nothing seemed that way with ‘Churro’ because the following week she made her appearance at his house again.

It became a routine. Once a week Churro made her way over to Simon’s like she was visiting him, Simon messaged you— ‘The demon is here.’

Sat Churro on his counter and watched her with pinpointed eyes while he waited. Then you arrived shortly with snuggles and apologies. A new explanation each time; you closed all the windows, checked twice, even locked them! Same with your doors, there was no way for her to get out, but somehow she always managed to escape.

Simon didn’t entirely mind the whole ordeal. Didn’t mind you, quite frankly, he liked opening his door to Tasman slippers, a glimmer in your eyes, and a soft noise of excitement. Pretended as if it was because of seeing him and not the stupid cat in his hands.

Except somewhere along the lines, Simon’s hatred for Churro morphed into something else completely. Ignoring her for as long as he could turned into letting her in after the first scratch. A glowering scowl shifted to furrowed brows. Crossed arms and balled fists became relaxed and loosened at his side. Helicopter supervision simmered into free access, let Churro roam his house while they waited for you.

That wasn’t to say he liked the damn cat because he didn’t. Tolerated her at most. For you, at least.

Irritation still burnt his lungs when he watched you coddle her, when you ignored him as you took her into your arms and rocked her back and forth, when you cuddled her close to your chest and hummed tender words to her instead of him.

Simon wasn’t exactly sure what it was or what it meant. Not when he deprived himself of anything of the sort, thought he had buried it six feet under and sealed it with a cross. But that was the thing, he couldn’t exactly mourn the loss of something when he hadn’t fully committed to severing it of himself completely, held on to it with a thin thread.

It became painfully apparent when he texted you not to come to pick up Churro one day; it was pouring rain, storming, and as much as he didn’t want to have the damn cat overnight, he’d much rather keep you from being stuck in a storm. Still, he opened the door to drenched clothes, shaking fingers, and chattering teeth. His temples pinched, ushering you inside instantly.

Maybe he shouldn’t care, shouldn’t invite you inside, but he does anyways.

“Bird,” He sighed, “Told you to stay home.”

“I know,” You shivered, petting Churro with a wet palm, “But I felt guilty. I know you don’t want Churro here and we’re just inconveniencing you.”

“Not an inconvenience, I don’t mind doing it for you,” He grumbled, “Stay right here. You’re not going back until the storm stops.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, mouth parting slightly, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, leaving you standing there in shock before bringing back dry clothes for you, a black sweater, and gray sweats.

“Here,” He grunted, handing you the clothes, “You can change in my bathroom.”

“Oh no! It’s okay, I can just go home,” You argued, attempting to push the clothes back in his grasp.

Simon levels you with a sharp look, makes you pull the clothes to your chest because he won’t take no as an answer for your safety.

“Okay, yeah,” You nod your head, “Yeah.”

He makes tea on the stove while waiting for you, Churro jumps on the counter in the meantime, with a soft chirp, plopping her way over to rub her body against his forearm.

“Oy, be careful,” He chastises, pushing her away, “Stove’s bloody hot.”

“So you do care about her!”

Simon turns around to find you standing in the doorway of his kitchen. There’s a smug look on your face, but he doesn’t focus on that, can’t focus on anything other than how you look in his clothes. You swim in the material, sweater sleeves hiding your hands completely, sweats pooling at your sock-clad feet. He has to pinch the inside of his cheek to hide his smile at the sight.

It’s cute. Endearing. Makes his teeth ache in his mouth, fingers twitching against the pot on the stove in a strangely possessive way. He doesn’t even care that he’s been caught caring for the damn pest when something warms curls in his chest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lies.

You laugh, padding your way over to his side, “Oh, whatever. Now I know why she keeps coming over here to see you.”

“And why’s that? I can’t for the life of me figure out why she won’t stop botherin’ me.”

“Maybe she has a crush on you,” You joke, cupping Churro’s face in your palms, “Huh, pretty lady? Do you have a crush on the big scary man?”

He snorts, “Not likely.”

You lean towards him as he hands you a cup of tea, “Maybe she thinks you’re her dad.”

Simon stares at you a little dumbfounded, watches you turn to talk to Churro again, asking if she thinks Simon is her dad. He tries to submerge the overwhelming feeling underwater, drown it, and wash away the insinuation, but it’s almost impossible when you’re adorned in his clothes, oversized fabric hanging off your smaller frame.

Excuses himself by clearing his throat, throwing your soaked clothes in the dryer to distract himself from the drowning.

The storm lasts for a little while, so you sit on his couch with Churro curled in your lap, purring quietly to sleep. Simon tries to scavenge a meal for you, but he doesn’t have much in his fridge, wishes this was planned, so he could cook you something worth eating. You don’t mind, shushing him when he apologizes with an assortment of snacks on a tray, giggling softly at his poor attempt to feed you.

“It’s okay,” You reassure, smiling pleased at him, “I’m not really hungry anyways. Next time we can prepare more.”

Yeah, next time.

When the storm relents, the two of you are preoccupied, finishing a movie you wanted to watch. Some rom-com, he doesn’t entirely know, can’t focus much when he’s sitting next to you on his couch. There’s a measly cushion separating the two of you, sitting on either end of the couch, but it still claws at the back of his mind no matter how much he tries to rationalize it.

In his home. Sat on his couch. Wearing his clothes.

He tries not to be greedy, claim you as his own, but it only gets worse when you pull your feet up, leaning your head against the back of the cushion, snuggling deeper into his couch, and making yourself comfortable. He’s sure you don’t even realize that the storm ended or when you turn towards him and ask if he liked the movie.

He doesn’t mind that you stayed after the rain stopped, doesn’t even mind that Churro made her way to his lap halfway through the rom-com. You don’t point it out either, just flicker your eyes with a knowing smile.

Did he like the movie? He honestly can’t recall a single line.

@lighthousebats @cococococ @sai-int @tessakate @starboykel @imrandomstuffsblog @your-internet-tenshi @glossy01 @orangegreensun @uriahs-barn @ye-olde-trash-panda @akkahelenaa

thank you to my sweet @bunnybeaches for the cat name ‘Churro.’ 🐇🤍

[suguann]

FUCK IT, I WANT YOU—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦

✎. jjk men who are infatuated with you. | wc. 2.4k+

tags. fem!reader, bsf sister, cockwarming, slightly rough sex, best friends to lovers, exhibitionism, breast f*cking, domestic nanami, pet names, praise, mild dark content, dubcon, stepcest, stuckage

featuring. gojo, higuruma, nanami, geto, sukuna

an. banner is from hare kon okawari | masterlist

↬ GOJO

He shouldn’t even entertain the thought of wanting you—somewhere in the world, there’s a book of rules that says you shouldn’t develop a crush on your best friend’s little sister. 

It doesn’t stop him from letting you talk him into shopping (as if he’d ever tell you no) and watching you try on tiny, flowy sundresses that make his jaw ache, how he’s just on the side of too-weak for those low-scooped tops you’re always wearing whenever he’s at your house. 

At first, Gojo wonders if you do it on purpose—the bashful smiles and bumping shoulders if he’s close by—but you’re painfully shy for that to be the case. It’s why a smirk tugs at his mouth after leaving love bites across your chest when he finally gets you alone in his room so that he might see the adorable little face you make as you try to cover them up afterward. 

He has you perched in his lap on the bed with an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you rooted on his cock buried deep inside the hot-wet heat between your legs. His mouth sucks marks into your skin wherever he can reach, deep groans rumbling in his chest every time your pussy clenches down on him—a sweet reminder that he hasn’t let you move for a while.

“Toru, not there,” you squeak, fingers knotting in the hair at his nape to gently pull him away. “People will see.” 

But he doesn’t listen as he rolls a nipple between his fingers, mesmerized by the sight of it pebbling into a tight peak—your thighs shaking around him when he pinches too hard.

“So fucking pretty,” he growls, biting his lip as he finally looks up at you. “Just let me play with them a bit more, and then I’ll fuck you. I promise.”

A white lie, but he’s done and said worse, and this isn’t that. This is him savoring a victory he never knew he had until you fluttered those long lashes and asked for a kiss.

You’re gasping and writhing, unable to do anything except sit there while he overstimulates you with his mouth and fingers. When he finally rolls you over onto your back, you’ve already cum twice, but that doesn’t stop him, greedy hips churning against yours and stealing another.

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, loving how you quiver underneath him, your soft socks slipping where they try to rest around his waist. “You’re so sensitive, huh, baby?” he rasps, nosing the soft swell of your breast as he crowds you underneath him. 

You mewl out a broken version of his name, hot pants against his neck that make you sound so desperate—not really answering him as your nails bite into his shoulders—and he can’t get over the way you look right now, how you sound. He’ll never be able to go back to pretending that you’re Geto’s annoying little sister (as if he ever thought you were) as Gojo watches drool trail from the side of your mouth from how good he’s fucking you. 

“Do you know how filthy you look right now?” he grits between his teeth. “Been thinking about this for so long—fuck—can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

↬ HIGURUMA

It’s an accident the first time it happens. 

You’re at the beach, playing with him in the water, when a wave hits you and washes your bikini top away. You squeal, and because he’s your best friend and has always looked out for you, he doesn’t realize right away he used his hands to shield your bare breasts from everyone else on the beach—eyes round when Higuruma does.

It’s innocent—his intent—yet alarm bells are ringing in his ears.

He expects you to shove him away—you don’t. Instead, you give him a sweet smile with a soft, muttered thank you and let him carry you back to the towels. 

He’s still reeling at how you fit perfectly in his palms, skin against skin in a way he’s only ever shamefully imagined alone with his fist around his dick. It has him shifting his trunks uncomfortably, and he wants—no, needs (a definite need) more.

Higuruma spreads you out on your towel under the canopy of the large beach umbrella, the shirt he gave you pushed up and held out of the way under your chin as you watch him. His shoulders block out anybody from really seeing how he’s teasing your nipples into his mouth—your fingers digging into the hair at his nape to keep him there. 

He never thought he’d get this far after years of watching you dance around the periphery of his life without ever really being his. How seeing you like this—whimpering his name under your breath, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks, and grinding onto his thigh pressed up between yours—only ever existed in a fantasy or two. 

There’s nothing to do but watch as the lines of an eight-year friendship crumble into the sand with your soft squeaks of more, and his low groans fuck, and he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than a small flame doused in kerosene. 

If this is the sacrifice for holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your sweat-slick skin, he’ll gladly burn.

He’d keep you like this forever if he could, and the way you look at him, pleading with your eyes, makes him think you’d let him if he asked (or maybe he wouldn’t have to).

He releases your nipple and smiles when your shirt falls from your teeth with a whine, your foot stomping against the towel in a way that’s too fucking cute.

“Why’d you stop?”

All the blood and heat in his body rush to his dick at how needy you sound—for him, all for him—and his breath fans across your spit-slick skin shakily, pent up and overflowing with nerves he’s held onto for as long as he can remember. “Sweetheart, you have to be quiet.”

You nod eagerly, your grip tightening in his hair to bring him back towards you. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be quiet. Just please don’t stop.”

Never. 

When your leg brushes the tent in his trunks, it feels like his eyes roll into the back of his head from the contact. He greedily takes your tight, sensitive peak back into his mouth again—hardly paying attention to the wanton moans you fail to suppress as you continue grinding onto his thigh.

↬ NANAMI

Nanami stares at you more often than usual after you have his son—at how your chest fills out every top you wear, and your hips become the perfect place for his hands—a strange new obsession that develops overnight without a manual or an off switch.

One day, you’re his beautiful wife. The next, you’re his beautiful wife holding his baby, and suddenly, he’s seeing the world through a clear lens, and he can’t stop looking.

His hands are always on you just to curb the constant ache that never really fades, brushing hair out of your face, massaging your lower back, shamelessly letting them wander too close to the underside of your breasts whenever he can. Sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and sometimes it’s all he can think to do.

Some days, after a stressful work day, he’ll lay atop your chest and pepper kisses against whatever skin he can reach, wandering, eager hands getting their fill until he falls asleep. On other days, he stays up long enough—baby tucked away in his crib and the monitor softly humming on the coffee table—to peel your clothes out of the way to get the full picture.

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, watching where you’re kneeled between his legs, unable to take his eyes off the way his leaky tip peeks out from between your soft, bare breasts. 

You stick out your tongue to lick away the pearl of white drooling out of his slit, only to spit it back onto his cock to help aid your up and down movements. It has him throbbing at how messy it is, liquid-hot heat pooling in his stomach at how good it feels. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he’s torn on whether or not to stop you or let you keep going.

“How does it feel?” you peer up at him through long lashes like you don’t already know what you’re doing to him.

“‘Good, darling. So fucking good—fuck, keep going—pretty little wife on her knees for me,” he curses, hips shuddering when he thrusts up, watching his length disappear and reappear again and again.

The delicate smile that adorns your lips makes his heart flutter, and balls draw up to his body. “Yeah? You gonna cum, Kento?”

“I don’t—I, fuck, yes.” He’d much rather finish with his face buried in your tits, but he’s already too far gone to pull away, to shove you down onto the couch.

You hum softly. “I want you to cum on me. Please.”

That’s his final undoing, groaning at the thought of him marking those cute tits that take up his every spare thought, cumming unexpectedly in a rush of white-hot pleasure before he can stop it. His cock jerks until viscous streaks of white paint your chest, and it makes everything sticky and sloppy, sending a weak burst of liquid pleasure rushing up his spine before he slumps against the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

↬ GETO

He loves it when you’re like this. Soft and pliant beneath him, eyelashes spiked with tears.

He doesn’t know where to look—can’t decide between the smattering of possessive marks littering the inside of your thighs or the ones that travel across your chest. 

A decision easily made for him when he presses the tip of his sensitive cock back into your fluttering cunt, unable to tear his eyes away from how your breasts bounce with every one of his harsh, desperate thrusts. His thumb smooths over a peaked nipple—bitten raw and pinched tight—and he curses under his breath at the feel of you clenching on him like a vice.

You tell him how good he feels under a hitched breath, and his chest tightens because he can’t remember the last time someone used an adjective like that to describe him. Good. It’s weird how such a simple word can make Geto’s head spin and make him feel like anything other than the man he is outside your bed.

He ducks his head down to suck another little bruise right above your nipple, the corners of his mouth curling slightly, knowing that he’ll be the only one that’ll know it exists. 

“Prettiest fucking girl I know,” he breathes harshly, already close. “I wish you could see how perfect you look.”

Geto slips his fingers between you, playing over the tiny, sensitive bud at the peak of your thighs.

“Oh.” A soft sigh.

“Maybe I should take a picture, huh? Would you let me? So I can look at you like this,” —he thrusts deep, making sure you’ll be able to feel him afterward— “all damn day, every fucking day.”

And like a tightrope snapping loose, you fall apart around him, practically choking his cock, and he fills up your cunt for the second time that night.

↬ SUKUNA

You're cleaning the apartment you share with your step-brother until it's spotless because the guy you’ve kind of had a crush on since the start of the semester is coming over today to study, and the butterflies in your belly tell you today is the day he’s finally going to ask you out. 

What you don’t anticipate—between throwing away Sukuna’s collection of energy drinks on the coffee table and doing a load of laundry—is the possibility of getting stuck in the too-small dryer while reaching for a sock or that your brother would be the one to find you bent over with your shorts riding up your legs.

You suppress a groan at the sound of Sukuna's patronizing voice behind you. "What do we have here?"

"Don't just stand there, idiot," you hiss. "Help me."

He chuckles in that mean, condescending way that always sets your teeth on edge. "You're really bossy for someone with their ass hanging out of a dryer. Maybe I should leave you here and wait for Mick—”

“His name’s Mitch—”

“—to find you."

"No!" you say almost too loudly, wincing as your voice echoes around the dryer. With a small sigh, your head hanging, you add, "Please help me."

"That's better." 

It's quiet for a moment, and you start fidgeting again to free yourself until you feel a pair of large hands palming your hips, and you can't stop the squeak that escapes the back of your throat—not expecting the terrible-hot-wrongness of it to feel so good.

A feeling stirs in your belly that you’d tucked away long ago, and only returning to under the safety of the baby blue twinkle string lights in your room—hand in your sleep shorts and teeth digging an imprint into the palm of your hand to hold back the name you only chant in your head.

“You’re s-supposed to be helping,” your voice wavers, dizzy with what’s transpiring in that cramped laundry room.

He huffs a soft laugh behind you, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine where your shirt rode up. “Give me a minute.”

It's embarrassing when you feel wetness pooling in the seat of your underwear, heat rushing from the roots of your hair and down to your toes when his hands travel over the swell of your ass in your tiny shorts. 

You're almost compelled to tell him you’ll get out on your own because it’s the right thing to do—to put a stop to something that shouldn’t happen except in cheap porn. Then his hand comes down against your backside, hard, and every single thought in your head scrambles like an egg on hot pavement.

You whimper, the force of his slap jolting you further into the dryer, sweaty hands scrambling against the metal walls to keep your face from crashing into it.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to do that,” he breathes before tugging the crotch of your shorts and panties out of the way, and you feel something wet and slick drip against your cunt. "Maybe I'll just keep you here for a bit. What do you say, sis?"

His thumb runs along your slit and presses inside you.

“Ah. W-wai—”

“Shh. Just—fuck, so fucking tight—just let me enjoy this pussy, huh?” And quieter, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You shiver and swallow around the words threatening to escape: me, too.

[velvetsserenity]

they call me firecracker

client!sevika x brothelworker!reader

✎ word count: 2k

꩜ content warnings: nsfw, rough strap-on sex, overstimulation, choking, hair pulling, degradation, humiliation, possessive behavior, objectification, power imbalance, client x sex worker dynamic, biting, bruising, smoking, dubious consent themes, lack of aftercare

The hallway hushes the moment her boots hit the floor.

Not fast—just slow, deliberate steps on the creaking wood. Heavy enough to feel through the soles of your shoes. You don't need to look. You know it's her. Everyone does. Her shadow hits the velvet wall just seconds before she rounds the corner, and every other girl either looks away or pretends not to notice.

She doesn’t stop for anyone. She never does.

The madam gives a barely visible nod, already stepping aside, and then Sevika’s eyes find yours through the half-curtained doorframe.

She doesn’t knock. She never has. Just presses a gloved hand to the doorframe, pushes it open like she owns the place, and steps in with a drag of smoke trailing behind her.

You’re on your knees, arranging your just washed lingerie, your back arched just enough to make a point—and her gaze catches. Lingers.

“Didn’t expect you tonight,” you say, without turning.

“You should’ve,” she replies. Her voice is rough. Cigarette low in her mouth, hand already unfastening the top clasp of her coat.

“I was scheduled with someone else.”

She takes a long drag, then flicks the ash onto your floor. “Not anymore.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Did you pay for that?”

Her coat hits the armchair. She doesn’t answer. She never does.

She steps behind you, boots slow, measured, as you stay on your knees. You should get up. You should say something sharp. But the energy shifts the moment she’s behind you, thick and warm and sharp around the edges. Her gloved hand grabs the back of your neck, as she leans over your frame, and tilts your head to the side.

“That tone,” she mutters, fingers flexing, “you only use it with me.”

You hum, lips parted. “Maybe I only need it with you.” you sigh loudly.

You shouldn’t tease her. Not when she’s like this—coiled and quiet and dark around the edges. But you like the consequences. You like the way she handles you when she’s had a bad day. You like knowing the others can hear your breath hitch when she bites your ear just hard enough to leave a mark.

She presses her feetbetween your thighs from behind, boot pushing you open on the soft carpet. "Still pretending you're not waiting for me every night?"

“Still pretending I’m just a hole for hire?”

You feel her smile before you hear it. A low, dangerous sound against your jaw. Both knowing you literally are.

“Take your clothes off.”

You go slow on purpose. Pull your robe open one inch at a time. She watches. You feel her eyes drag across every inch of exposed skin like a burn. By the time you’re fully bare, she’s behind you again, bare hand now at your throat, lifting you up, pulling your back to her chest, her mechanical fingers cold on your waist.

“You think about me?” she asks, voice low, teeth grazing your neck.

You don’t answer.

Wrong move.

Her fingers close just enough around your throat to make your breath pause.

“I asked you a question.”

You tilt your head back, daring her. “Not feeding your ego, Sevika.”

She doesn’t kiss you. Sevika doesn’t do soft. She bites. Her mouth is on your collarbone before the words are cold in the air, and you gasp, digging your nails into her arm just to stay upright. She growls, pushes you forward onto the mattress, chest down, ass up.

“Need you to remember something,” she says, positioning herself behind you, voice almost too calm. “You’re not paid to want me.”

She shrugs out of her harness vest with a practiced roll of her shoulders, letting it fall with a dull thunk to the floor. You hear the unbuckle of her belt next—real this time, heavy, metal sliding through loops. But instead of dropping it, she opens her coat wider and pulls the strap-on from inside, worn leather and dark silicone already slick with lube.

You go still, throat dry.

She straps it on without a word, slow and precise. Tightens the buckles across her hips. Adjusts the fit like she’s done it a hundred times in the dark. She probably has.

Her gaze flicks up to find you watching.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she mutters, gloved hand gripping the base. “You knew what you were begging for.”

You bury your face in the sheets, groaning. She always brings it. You just forget how big it looks when she straps it on. How heavy her presence becomes the second she has it between her legs.

“Look at you,” she mutters, voice dark with something between amusement and hunger. “Back arched like a fucking pet. You wait like this for everyone?”

You groan, breath shaky. “If they pay right.”

“Tch.”

She steps in close, metal hand gripping your hip, thumb digging into the curve of your ass. Her other hand slips down between your thighs, bare fingers grazing your folds like it’s nothing—just a test. You jerk at the contact, slick already clinging to her skin.

She hums low. “Dripping.”

You whimper, shifting, but her grip tightens.

“Stay still.”

You breathe through your teeth. Her fingers slide up, unhurried, and rub circles into your clit, slow and mean. You whimper. The sensation burns—it’s teasing and humiliating and hot. Her other hand grabs a fistful of your ass, holding you wide open for her.

“You know what happens when you act like a brat?” she asks, slipping one thick finger inside without warning.

You moan into the mattress.

She adds a second, rough and deep. Your hips jerk forward. She pulls you back.

“Answer me.”

“Y-you make me beg,” you choke out.

She curls her fingers slow, angling just right.

“And you’re gonna,” she breathes.

Her hand fucks you lazily, fingers thick, knuckles grinding against your slick heat. She doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t let you chase it. Just holds you there, trembling and stuffed full, using your body like it belongs to her.

Your knees shake.

“You close already?” she murmurs, sounding almost bored. “Fucking pathetic.”

She slips her fingers out with a wet sound and wipes them on the inside of your thigh.

Then she reaches for the strap-on—worn leather and slick black silicone, her hand fitting around it, navigating it.

“You ready to take it?”

“Yes,” you whisper, wrecked.

She palms your ass, leans in close.

“Too bad.”

The cock presses between your folds, not entering yet—just dragging through your wetness, thick and heavy and deliberate. She lets it rest there, makes you feel it. Makes you ache for it.

She continues the movement for a bit, teasing both of you. Watching the strap-on disappear and reappear betwen your clenched thighs.

And then—

She thrusts in. Deep. Unforgiving. You cry out, the sound muffled by the mattress, legs trembling under the weight of her hips slamming into you.

“Too quiet,” Sevika growls, grabbing your hair and yanking your head up just enough to hear you better. “I said let them hear.”

You moan louder, and she rewards you with another thrust, harder this time. Deep enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

“Good girl.”

The words shouldn’t make you clench the way they do. But they do.

She sets a pace that’s brutal from the start, hips slamming into your ass, the sound of flesh on flesh sharp and wet and endless. Her cock drags against that sensitive spot inside you over and over, your thighs shaking, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you cling to the sheets for something, anything, to hold you together.

Your body aches, slick dripping down your thighs, heart pounding like it’s trying to run from her—like you could. You can’t. You don’t even want to.

She leans down, her weight pressing against your back, one hand on your throat again not choking, just holding. Just reminding you.

“I could fuck you like this all night,” she growls. “Don’t need breaks. Don’t need softness. Just need to hear you cry.”

You go limp, arms sliding out from under you.

That’s when she grabs your hips and lifts them back into place.

“Don’t drop,” she growls. “We’re not done.”

You whine. It’s all you can manage. But you let her reposition you. You let her keep going.

She’s panting now. Not from exhaustion—she never fucks like she’s tired—but from focus. Like she’s working something out of herself. Like the only way to feel right is to break you.

And fuck—you're breaking.

She digs her fingers into your hips, thrusting deep, rhythm precise. Not frantic. Not desperate. Just relentless. Her control is terrifying. There’s no slip in her pace, no mercy in her grip.

“You feel that?” she rasps, cock buried to the hilt inside you. “No one else makes you feel this full. No one else fucks you this deep.”

You nod against the mattress, half-conscious, mouth open.

She slaps your ass again, harder than before. “Use your words.”

“Only you,” you cry out, body trembling. “Fuck—only you.”

She exhales sharp through her nose like that does something to her. Her hand slides under you now, rough fingers working your clit in fast, cruel circles while she keeps pounding into you from behind.

Her voice is dark now, strained, like she’s fighting something in her own chest. Like this is no longer just about making you fall apart but about proving something. To you. To herself.

She rubs harder, faster, until your legs buckle completely and your scream rips through the room.

You don’t even feel your body collapse. You just hear her breathing—heavy, steady, satisfied.

She finally slows. Pulls out slow, the strap slick and soaked with you, shining in the low light. You’re twitching under her, legs still spread, cunt pulsing with aftershocks.

And for a second—you think she might stay.

You think she might press a hand to your back and whisper something. Something that means something.

But no.

She steps back. Unbuckles the strap. Wipes it off with a cloth from her coat. Buckles her belt again with that same practiced efficiency.

You don’t turn to look. You couldn’t if you tried. Your body’s still face-down, barely functioning, and she doesn’t help you up.

She lights a cigarette like nothing happened. Walks to the corner chair. Sits.

Watches you.

“Same time next week?” she asks flatly.

You want to spit. You want to say no. You want to say something that matters.

But your body says yes before your mouth does. Because you know it. And she knows it.

You’ll be on your knees again the moment her boots hit the hallway.

a/n: 'hole for hire'' haha, get it? ok..

★ plagarism not authorized ★

[with-my-calamitous-love]

for you, i would ruin myself / a million little times

o. dazai x reader

dazai reads poetry to you after sex ・❥・mentions of sex / physical intimacy (nothing specified) and aftercare

✎ headcanon i’ve had for a while and wanted to write on it <3 here you go.

special tag for: @osamucide because i love you (im sorry this took 86 years)

song: illicit affairs

dazai, obviously, loves to fuck you. feeling your skin pressed against his, lips embedded against yours lazily while he finds different ways to draw pleasure on your body. for him, its a point of distraction. you’re too busy feeling good to feel empty, even if its for a moment.

but its that moment after the high, the returning back to earth, he especially loves. almost reluctantly, he removes himself from you, slowly easing with gentleness you’d expect from him. he was never one for brash, brawny movements. just quiet intimacy with quiet thoughts that speak volumes. he catches his breath with you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you sink into the pillows beneath him. he tentatively lifts his head from your shoulder as he collapses next to you.

he waits a few minutes. if you fall asleep, he’ll fall asleep next to you. if you’re still awake, he’ll throw some sweatpants on and grab you some water and take a shower. if you haven’t had enough, he’ll invite you to join him.

but it seems unlikely, since right now, you’re still reeling from it. stars and clouds swirl around in your eyes as he stares, lips curved with content. while he waits, he grabs a book from the nightstand.

the pages are browned and worn out. corners of pages have been folded as crude bookmarks, and the last few pages are wrinkled from the time atsushi knocked over a cup of water on his desk. though he offered to replace it, dazai never seemed to mind the way it aged, like the book itself mattered more. almost as if it were a gift from an old friend.

he sees you shift over to face him in his peripheral vision. instinctively, he extends an arm to you so you can sit up next to him against the headboard.

you don’t normally look through his things. though he wouldn’t mind- he doesn’t have much to hide, anyway. the things dazai does keep hidden are things he doesn’t have to worry about you stumbling across. he has quite a large collection of books, and seemingly, he’ll read or has read, anything. biographies, manuals, tales of clandestine meetings or stolen stares. surely, there should be something in that pile you would enjoy. some titles have peaked your interest, but you’ve never picked one up for yourself.

perhaps its because nothing could match the way dazai reads to you.

so you prompt him, though you both already know the answer: “what are you reading?”

he smiles as your voice, scratched from your previous activities hits his ear. the blankets pool around his waist, gaining all the warmth he needs simply by being next to you. “what do you want to hear?”

he gives you the choice because, to him, all poems, with even a small hint of love, in some way, shape, or form, were about you.

which is why he loves your answer so much: “anything, ‘samu.”

his fingers flip to a random page. 113.

brown eyes skim over the words, softening in recognition once he reaches the final verse. he clears his throat, his adam’s apple sitting beneath the skin you’ve kissed and touched many times before.

Leave the perfume on the shelf

That you picked only for him

Leave no trace behind

Because you don't even exist

A dwindling, mercurial high

illicit affairs

clandestine meetings, stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie, and lie, and lie

A million little times.

his voice is soft, sanguine. he’s never putting on a grandiose performance but never flattening out the words into boredom. he delivers each syllable with justice, with poised pronunciation but a witty flare that is uniquely his.

you can see in his eyes the words resonate with something he’d like to believe he buried. something about betrayal. about feeling betrayed when you have no reason to feel that way, or simply because they left. or about remembering someone for longer than you’ve known them.

but he shoves it down with a question. “do you like that one?”

his cologne has worn off. his hair, though it was never exactly neat, is feathering over his shoulders in coffee-brown tangles. you can see that flushed hint of red on his lips, beginning to swell from kissing too hard. his sleek clothes are somewhere on the floor, and you can feel- from his arm wrapped around you- residual sweat.

still, he notices how you look at him like he’s the entire world, even after reading the poem that brought up so many pushed-down things for him. you see colours in him you can’t see with anyone else.

he gazes at that colour in you, while he awaits your answer.

“i liked it.” you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“thats all?”

“osamu, you could read a grocery list and i’d listen.”

you get a soft laugh out of him.

he presses his lips against your forehead, coaxing you to sleep as he lays you down. he only reads a few more poems in his head, though he may as well have the letters memorized.

a grocery list. he thinks to himself. there was a time in his life grocery lists were the furthest from his head. death and destruction seem to take up a majority of your mind, and groceries are left on the back burner.

oh, but with you? he can spend every sunday morning unpacking expensive, store bought ingredients with you, and momentarily forget about everything else in the world.

for as long as his heart remains beating, he’ll savour all of it. a million little times.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka jake's love language is physical affection, words of affirmation...& mild desperation.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 880 ⌗ comfort, fluff, skinship, slice of life!, kissing (making out?), they're deeply in love my honor </3 (also jake is literally just a freaking loser in this one it's actually almost sad but we love loser!jake in this household so .)

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── EVERYONE . there's only two official parts left of this series...IM EMOTIONAL dont play with me rn ... can't believe we're almost at the end...but i do have a few requests for jakeyn in my inbox that i will definitely get to! so stay tuned for those hehe :D

Like always—it’s late.

Jake had begged you to watch Star Wars with him for movie night, and the result?

Here you are:

Three movies in.

One YouTube theory video later.

And freshly done giving a very dramatic, very passionate speech on why he absolutely does not need to make a PowerPoint explaining the lore to you.

Long story short: it’s stupidly late.

You’re stupidly tired.

And you’re 98% sure going to dream about baby Yoda and Kylo Ren at this point.

Oh, well. Whatever makes him happy, you guess.

The bedroom is quiet, save for the sound of your breathing trying to settle and the occasional shuffle Jake makes whenever he tugs you closer to him every time you shift in your spot. His arm wraps lazily around your waist, his legs tangled with your own under the ridiculous mountain of blankets you insist on sleeping with (and yet he never complains about), and his face is buried somewhere in your hair, his lips smushed warm against your temple.

It’s warm. It’s tight. It’s a little suffocating.

It’s perfect.

You let out a quiet sigh—soft, sleepy, content—your hand moving up to rest against Jake’s chest as you tuck your head further into the crook of his neck.

“Goodnight, pretty,” Jake whispers, voice low and soft, barely brushing your skin. His fingers comb through your hair absentmindedly, his familiar touch yet leaving a trail of goosebumps every time you feel him. “I love you.”

You smile.

You always do—especially when he says it like that.

Soft, cracked at the edges. Carrying all his emotions and spilling them into those three simple words for you—only for you.

“Mmm,” you hum, sleepily teasing, burrowing deeper into him without answering.

Jake pauses.

You feel his arms tighten around you. His head lifts. His breath hitches.

“Y/N,” he whines, so small and so broken you nearly start laughing into his shirt. “You can’t do that. You can’t not say it back. That’s so evil…you have to say it too.”

He’s fidgeting now, his hand frantically smoothing down your arm like it’ll somehow get the words out of you, “Baby, seriously—I’m not letting you fall asleep without hearing it. Please. Y/N.”

His voice is higher now. The sweet mix of desperation and affection. You swear he might cry.

Or make a PowerPoint.

You pull back just enough to look at him, a smirk on your face and his own expression too pitiful to ignore—eyes wide, pleading, his lips in a pout, and what you swear is a little spark of panic in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” you giggle. “You’re so whipped, Jakey.”

Your fingers reach up to cup his face as you pull up slightly just to get a better look at him. His pout only deepens, and you let out another laugh.

“No, no, baby,” he insists, shaking his head as your thumb brushes his cheek. “I’m not joking. Say it. Just once. Please.”

And then his arms curl tighter around you again, as if holding on for his dear life. And it’s so Jake—the voice, the pout, the way he can’t stand the idea of not hearing you say it back, as if you haven’t said it a million times before.

So completely dorky. So utterly pathetic.

And it makes your heart thump a little harder.

You pretend to think for a second. And then—

“I love you, Jake.”

The words will always slip from your mouth as naturally as breathing.

Soft, warm, and entirely his.

His face instantly lights up, his eyes widening just a little, and you’d think you’d just given him the world (and frankly—you did).

And before you can even process—

Jake immediately pulls you into him, his lips crashing into yours with an intensity that’s almost too much for an easy goodnight kiss.

You giggle against his lips, grabbing onto his shirt for balance, but he’s not having it. He moves his hands to cup your face, desperately holding onto you like he’s going to open his eyes and watch you disappear in an instant.

“Say it again,” his pants, voice a little breathless now, already kissing you again. “Please, please, please—say it again.”

You let out another laugh, pulling back to see how he looks at you with those soft, lovestruck eyes, how his voice is so heartfelt, how he holds you like he can’t get enough of you.

“I love you,” you whisper again. Slow and soft—only meant for him.

He lets out a soft groan before his hand slips to the back of your neck as he kisses you again. Slower this time, more gently—as if savoring this moment.

“I’m so in love with you,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with emotion as he finally stops to rest his forehead against yours.

“You’re so dumb,” you whisper, smiling as you kiss him again, quick and so full of love.

“I’m not dumb,” he protests. Another kiss.

“Okay…you’re so whipped,” you tease again, your fingers brushing through his hair as he looks at you with that stupid, goofy smile that you can’t resist.

Jake grins, his eyes crinkling, his hand back to rubbing slow circles on your hip as he holds you impossibly close.

“That I am. And I’m never going to stop.”

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[redcherrykook]

──── ๋࣭ ⭑ irish coffee ! ( s & c )

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

↳ part of 𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ

❝ [ husband!Jungkoook universe] ¡! ❞

✎ summary: a whiskey fueled coffee cocktail thats the perfect mix of caffeine and numbness to relieve your stress

or- jungkook eats you out because you're overworked. kisses, body worship, comforting jungkook

note from cherry: #needthat also... surpirse!! (not proofread)

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

the front door of your house - shared, freshly furnished house- slams shut.

"rough day baby?" your husband asks, painted in the light of your kitchen's illuminating bulb, a small scowl runs through your expression

"horrible. everyone is late on deadlines and i'm being blamed for not having the reports ready" you sigh, ridding yourself of the thick winter coat that's appropriate to shield you from seoul's januruary tempretures

his steps grow closer, as you set your shoes aside, jungkook's large palms find the curve of your hips,

"you need a break ma, been doin' so much" he mutters, rubbing up and down your figure with care,

"gonna let me take care of you won't you?" content sighs leave your lips while his dance along your jawline, creating a trail down to your delicate neck, skilming the soft skin with healing open mouth kisses

"hm.. want you to relax" he adds, the cold metal reminder of your joined life grazes your cheekbone, his knuckles soothing that stressed look into lust- love, and slowly everything bad evaporates into nothingness

"c'mon, jump f'me baby" following, he grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his hips, immediately he walks toward your bedroom, big round eyes growing darker in their chocolate brown, desire floods him- the desire to please you, relieve your worries into moans of his name

"you're so good to me" you speak for the first time since his hands landed on you, watching his pierced lip curl into a small smile, your now bra clad back meets the cotton cushions,

"gotta be, you're my wife, my precious lil' wifey" you chuckle softly- letting him feel up all over you, wandering to caress every tense inch of you- shoudlers, arms, hips, stomach, chest and soon you can't even remeber what you were so stressed about- not when he unclips your bra and takes your nipple in between his lips

"kook.." you trail off, closing your lids to feel the extend of his love, he flicks his tongue over it- rolling the pebbled nub with his wet muscle to hear your little moan. simultaneously his fingers take the other swell into his hands, rubbing it gently,

"such a pretty girl baby.. so perfect" the air blown out of his words raises tingles on your skin, jungkook takes his time to love on you, addicted to watching your lips part after he flicks harder, captivated by the whine of his name whe he pinches the opposite nipple in his fingers

"need to take good care of this beautiful body baby, hear me?" now kissing down the valley between your breasts, his gaze finds your half lidded eyes, "mhm.." you hum in response,

"yeah? gonna kiss and soothe every ache of yours ma, make you feel so good" he whispers, gliding his tongue along with the slow, intense kisses that find your stomach, his hands accompany them by grazing his fingers along your waistline, down to rub small circles on your hips

your fingers fly into his dark hair in a heartbeat- the real ache now pulsating between your legs, drooling with the need to be cared for, "baby.. feels so good" you tell him, fixated on his button nose that presses against your panty covered clit, nuzzling into it with his eyes closed in pleasure

"you're so perfect, my poor thing, so stressed.. gonna let your husband take care of you hm? make you cum and let it all go?" you moan is answer enough for him, he continues to suck and kiss further down, on your right thigh, caressing the left.

jungkook groans in satisfaction with every slow, heated kiss that leaves wet trails on you, inching further to the evident stain on your panties, he can smell your arousal, his cock twitches at the smell of it, so so needy, so ready to be loved

"my hands feel good on you baby? like how i kiss all your worries away?"

"being so good for me, letting me love all on this gorgeous body"

"way too cute to be stressed like this"

he mutters while finally pushing the soaked tiny piece of fabric down your thighs, it pools at your ankles, collecting there to reveal your seashell

he bites into his pink bottom lip to supress a loud moan that would have escaped at the sight- so dewy, clit so puffy and loud for attention that he wastes no time giving in to

"fuck kook, just like this" you can't help but praise the way his tongue runs flat against your clit, slowly flicks at it with the tip only to lapp up everything that's spiling from your folds, teasing you as much as he is patient- takes his sweet sweet time to lazily circle your clit, suck at it only with a little amount of pressure

its driving you crazy, oh so crazy how good his sensual groans vibrate on your skin,

"mhmm.. taste so sweet baby" he speaks into you, bringing his large palms to hook your legs over his shoulders without the time to register his change of heart- he's burrying his tongue inside of your cunt, licking fat stripes up to flick your clit faster, harder and goes right back to fucking you with his tongue

"shit- shit yes yes oh-" you ramble, clenching your eyes so tight you can feel the sparks of color appear right in front of you, the loud buzzing inside your eardrums had long dissolved into fragments of jungkook's pleasure, now going to quiet down every nerve in your body- with the exception of the ones hes sucking on while having burried two of his long digits into your tightness

"gonna come for me aren't you baby? make a mess on my fingers?" he asks, strumming your insides with deep strokes that refrence a "come here" motion, you nod pathetically between the parting of your lips and breathy- barely audible whines that are tumbling out senselessly

"yeah? you will? what a good girl.. come on, let it all go" his soft bur growly words of encouragement are enough for you to collapse into exctasy at the next deep stroke and hungry kiss to your sensitive clit, he lets you feel it all out, slowing down his pace until your thighs have returned to normal, until he can see your pretty- big eyes innocently staring down at him

he withdraws his fingers entirely, immediately shoving them down his mouth to gather your relieve in his mouth, humming contently as it hits him

"did so good f'me ma" jungkook rasps, patting your thighs with his hands before pulling you on top of his hard chest, nestling one of his fingers to your scalp,

"you have a way to make everything easier. even if its sometimes.. well, this" you giggle shyly, rubbing the tip of your nose to his neck- the scent of belonging floats into your mind

"yeah? so you feel better hm?" he questions- leaving a kiss to the top of your head, his other arm secures you even closer to him as he smiles- "so much better. why was i tense again?"

jungkook laughs in that silly chuckle that you feel in love with long ago,

"exactly. wanna take a bath and watch your show? the 4th season just came out"

you wouldn't wanna be married to anyone else.

[night-raven-tattler]

Just... Just Mc asking Jamil, Trey, Idia and Sebek to do the "painting your nails with your s\o eye color"

I'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS AND WOULD BE SO CUTE IN YOUR WRITING (。´Д⊂)

-🌙

Hello 🌙! This is an adorable request and Mx Tattly lives for this kind of romantic fluff. Thank you for your request!

Nailing that new look!

Characters: Trey, Jamil, Idia, Sebek × GN!Reader (romantic, separate)

Warnings: minor chapter 6 spoilers, mentions of food in Trey's part, implied body issues in Idia's part

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Trey was hard at work, his hands kneeding into the dough and his arms flexing with strain

Despite his physical effort, he was in high spirits, smiling to himself as he looked at the dough in his hands- or, better said, his hands in the dough

His nails were, for the first time in his life, adorning nail polish

But not any nail polish, but one the color of your eyes

Cater was there when you showed Trey a thread on Magicam that showed a cute trend, lovers painting their nails with the color of each other's eyes, and how much you seemed to enjoy the idea

But you didn't dare to ask outright - maybe Trey wasn't comfortable with that kind of thing, which you respected

Yet, the moment you were gone, Trey turned towards Cater and asked him to help find nail polish that matched your eyes and his eyes...

Trey's smile grew even fonder at the memory as he finished with the dough, putting it aside to rest

He was working on some rolls he could hopefully greet you with later...

"Someone's been in a good, spoiling mood lately."

Your voice rung pleasantly in the wing and in Trey's mind as you took a bite out of his rolls

"They're my favorite flavor, too. How did you know?"

Trey grinned as he saw you wipe your mouth the cream with a tissue, his eye color complimenting your nails quite nicely

"I guess I was really lucky this time, huh?"

You huffed in amusement at his answer, both of you knowing he was not honest

But he was smiling in content with the way you almost seemed to show off your nails whenever he looked at you

And you also looved very pleased with yourself when he reached to wipe some cream off your face with his thumb, his nails clearly showing off the color of your eyes

Despite it being a trend, it was like a secret between the two of you

A discreet exchange of words of love between the two of you

『••✎••』

The Scarabia boy didn't really keep up with trends, and internet culture memes usually flew over his head

But you never cared about that, and always explained things to Jamil in group settings so he wouldn't feel too out of the loop

Yet, he kept hearing you talk about this one trend with your friends, a trend you yet had to explain to him, which made him curios enough to look it up himself

As he was reading the first article that popped up, a small devious grin started adorning his face

The master of always being one step ahead of you was cooking up a new way to surprise you...

A usual, silent cuddle session in the evening turned into him taking your hand and bringing it to his lip

His lips on your knuckles brought a small stutter to your heart, making it forget how to beat for a second

You could swear Jamil was a cuddlebug the moment every window and door was closed, and he seemed to get high off of the feeling of having you all to himself

"Your hands are very different than mine."

If your entire attention weren't focused on Jamil, you almost would've missed his words

"Really? How so?"

As to show you the differences, Jamil brought your hands in front of you, putting his palm and aligning his fingers to fit yours

His hands were more calloused, his fingers were quite longer, and his nails were well taken care of

"...When did you start painting your nails, love?"

He smiled at your, a mix of affection and mischief

"Only recently. I felt the need to try something new. Something... different."

It was a peculiar color choice for nail polish, and it didn't go with his general aesthetic at all

"Maybe we should paint our nails together. What do you think?"

His question caught you off guard, but you excitedly accepted his offer

Jamil was a very skilled person, and he definitely knew how to do nails properly

Much to your surprise, he simply reached towards his nightstand and took a small bottle out of his drawer

"You have the color picked and everything, huh? You little..."

Your tease died on your throat when you saw the color of the polish, and suddenly it clicked into your mind

You looked at Jamil, affection and admiratyion and amusement all dancing in your eyes together

"How did you know...?"

He only gave you a satisfied grin, making you blush slightly

Jamil has his way of always surprising you, if always catching you off guard in one way or another, but this was beyond what you expected

Jamil was always so thoightful, so careful with you, and it made your heart swell

...and the payback in kisses almost infinite

『••✎••』

The Shroud family was forced to carry a curse, a punishment extending through generations for the mistakes of just one reckless Shroud

The overly fast blot dissolution leads to his trademark fire-like blue hair, and the blue coloration of his lips, his nails and fingertips

Looking down at his hands and seeing that blue can be hard sometimes, seeing that blue and the weight he's been forced to carry

But the first time he looked down and saw a differently color he kind of jumped until he remembered what happened

He saw every single one of the Magicam videos you sent him, and he has been aware of the trend way before you were

"You can't say that this isn't a bit cringe..."

He pouts as his left hand is receiving a much needed manicure from you while he does his dailies on his phone

"Maybe a little bit, but you still agreed to it."

Your smooth hands hold his gently as you apply the nail polish of your eye color, while you already have that golden hue adorning your nails

Idia grumbled to himself a little bit, his hair glowing more pink the longer you held his hand

Once the first hand was done, you let it go and pushed it towards him

"Careful to not smudge it. What do you think?"

Idia took a few moments to examine his newly painted nails, trying to will his brain into not finding it weird to not see his natural, blue tinted nails

Now they carried a color he could only describe as full of life, as full of something other than dread

And, somehow, they made his hands look more... appealing, like he didn't see the same weirdly long, boney fingers attached to a palm way too narrow

Of course the color of you looked weird on his fingers, but it was the kind of weird that was quirky more than anything

He pursed his lips, his hair turning more pink as he struggled to find the words to say

"...This is the kind of cringe I can get behind."

His voice came out as more of a mumble, a small admission instead of his sigh of defeat whenever you got him to do something coupley like this

You offered him a small smile, pulling his phone out of his other hand and resting it on his lap as you worked on his other hand

"Glad to hear that."

『••✎••』

"Why would I want to paint my nails in the color of your eyes?"

His question sounded rude to some, even as if he was questioning why he'd want to indulge in something so silly

But by this point in your relationship you knew Sebek well enough to know he was simply genuinely confused by the trend you just showed him

"It's a form of... showing devotion, I suppose. We paint each other's nails as the color of each other's eyes to show that, no matter what, we carry a small part of the other with us at all times."

Sebek let those words sink in before he nodded

"So this is why you want to do this with me?"

You nodded as both of your cheeks grew rosy at the small proposal

"I also thought it would be really cute, you know..."

You added, and Sebek mumbled something about "not needing to do cute as a guard", but he loved to see you happy, so he relented

The next day, you were in town, shopping for the nail polish

And, to your surprise, you had to help Sebek make the difference between crimson and emerald... huh

Once you picked the colors, you were ready to leave, yet...

Your eyes lingered on a certain color, a shade of lime that came close to yellow, vibrant that reminded you of a certain heir

"Hey, Sebek."

Sebek hummed at you when you caught his attention, looking down at the bottle you picked up

"This shade is close enough to Malleus' eye color, don't you think?"

It took a few moments for him to catch on, and he was... taken aback by your consideration

And the two of you left the shop as he sung your praises for your observation and quick thinking

Sebek was the type of person who enjoyed symmetry, a clean and neat look

Belief that lately has been contradicted by his mismatched nail polish

When anyone asks, he gets slightly embarassed and stuttery, but to him it's a proud display of devotion

The eye color of his liege adorns his left hand, the hand with which he yields his sword, his baton, his magic

And your eye color adorns his right hand, the hand you always hold when he's busy so he isn't preoccupied, the hand he reaches towards you in moments of danger to push you behind him, offering you protection

[unrealization]

Throws a rock at Ekko 💔

He dodged the rock effortlessly.

"Nice try."

Mysteriously, there is a visible bruise on his forehead that wasn't there before.

[arcanusarchieves-if]

*Hoot Hoot*

Y'know, owl sounds? Because the ask had "send an owl" written and those are owl sounds- 

....You know what, I'll just leave the question here and go away

—

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

I’m going to be completely honest and admit that this question sent me down a rabbit-hole where I spent an undisclosed amount of time researching the different possible flower languages! I hope I got all their meanings correct but feel free to let me know if I got something wrong!

Astoria’s Bouquet

Bluebells: Loyalty, Constancy, Humility & Gratitude

Eye-Brights: Joy, Mental Clarity, Psychic Powers

Sage: Health, Wisdom, and Respect

Caspian’s Bouquet

Alcea Rosea (Common Hollyhock): Remembrance, Nostalgia

Delphinium: Levity, Fun, Generosity, Attachment, Joy

Crocus: Friendship in Adversity

Solaine’s Bouquet

Black Velvet Petunias: Anger and Resentment

Clematis: Mental Strength and Intelligence

Asphodels: Death, Underworld, Mourning

Maeve’s Bouquet

Gladiolus: Strength, Victory, and Pride

Spider Lilies: Beauty and Loss

Chrysanthemums: Long life and Rebirth

Jasper’s Bouquet

Lilies of the Valley: Purity, Joy, Love, Sincerity, Happiness and Luck

Azaleas: Taking care of those around you

Black-Eyed-Susans: Justice

[chuluoyi]

✎ protect

- gojo satoru x reader

the word “protect” now means so much more to him

genre: soft and playful gojo, sugary dump fluff, pregnant!reader

note: anyone craving some soft gojo? :3 based on a suggestion by an anon who needs a soft gojo a while back, thank you!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

When he was 16, Gojo Satoru thought that protecting other people was a pain, and didn't take it seriously.

Later, when he realized that even non-sorcerers deserve to live their lives in peace, he dedicated himself to becoming stronger so that he would be capable to protect them more. However, even then, he didn't perceive their worth as significant.

But when you entered the picture, that measly, glorified word suddenly became so much more.

Usually people would only care about whether he had succeeded his mission or not. His formidable reputation as the epitome of strength means no one is genuinely interested in his wellbeing—no one after Suguru, to be exact—until you did.

After a whirlwind romance of attraction and banters, Satoru reached the conclusion that he wanted you, the only person left who actually made him feel like a human, to stay happy and safe. He would do it with his own hands, even if it meant reshaping this cruel world to be kinder for you with him as your shield.

And the word “protect” gained an entirely new meaning years later, when he rested his head on your swollen belly—the place where his new cherished treasure was growing.

“When will he come out~?” he asked in a whiny tone and a blissful smile, even though he clearly knew the answer.

You shook your head with playful resignation, unable to conceal your smile. "In three weeks. Now help me get comfortable, you dork."

He helped you turn over and fetched a pillow to place under your aching spine. Then, with a mischievous grin, he lightly poked your belly with two fingers, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Don't poke me! You're poking your child!"

To that, Satoru merely threw his head back and snickered like the dumbass he was. He then tenderly rested his hand on the taut skin of your belly, gently massaging it, smiling with ardent happiness.

"Can't really believe it," he sighed, brimming with the purest sense of contentment. "A mini Gojo, huh... You're really doing a honorable work."

A child of his and yours. He had always wondered how he would be after seeing him firsthand—would he laugh just like he had been doing now, or will it be the first instance that move him to the point of shedding tears? One of the reasons he eagerly anticipated his son's birth was just to discover how he would react.

Seeing the weight of his baby growing within you, making you rounder and fuller, stirred a deep well of warm emotions in him with each passing day though.

"I am," you retorted cheekily, rolling your eyes. "In fact, you should be revering and worshipping me for carrying your spawn."

He merely hummed in a childlike manner, feeling his baby move around under his touch. You were about to roast him again with something funny when he leaned down and planted a kiss on your tummy, whispering to it.

"Please come out already~ Papa wants to meet you!"

Your heart swelled with warmth at that moment. Gojo Satoru was many things, but he wasn't typically known for his softness—he was often seen as this all-perfect being, and so witnessing him acting purely on his human emotions brought you a sense of happiness.

“Who do you think he’ll take after?” you mused.

“Hmmm. Me, obviously. He'll be hot just like me!” he quipped proudly, and you playfully smacked him on the arm.

Satoru caught your hand and kissed it tenderly amidst his grin. "But I want him to have your personality. I'd hate to see him be a show-off."

"So you do realize that you're actually a menace."

He laughed out loud, patting the generous swell of your belly again with a smug look on his face.

"I know, but I'm your menace, and that's all that matters."

And when his adorable son was born less than three weeks later and you passed out due to sheer exhaustion, Satoru vowed by everything in the heavens and the earth that he wouldn't spare anything to protect you and his child from this curse-filled world.

Epilogue - on the night of the birth -

“Satoru—” you panted, grimacing, head jerking back as your womb throbbed and pulsed in order to bring forth your child into the world. “I… feel like I’m going to faint…”

Worry etched his face as you leaned on him. “Hey, hey… Calm down sweetheart, relax and catch up on your breath, okay? Don’t worry, he’ll come out soon.”

Somehow his words rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hahh—this… is because of you! This happened because you shoved your stick into me! You horny bas—aahh!”

“Well, hey! Last I remembered, you begged me to put it into you! And I'm not—pfft—”

“Then what are you?!”

“Hmmm, nothing but a man who got you pregnant, sweetheart~”

“If I bleed out and die, it’s going to be your fault, you evil, wretched sorcerer!”

[lily-bisque]

✎ a lesson in love

series masterlist ! ៹ (teaser below)

synopsis: your bestfriend, satoru gojo, has always been the smartest. yet, when he begins to question his true feelings for you after unwanted sparks of jealousy ignite in him, he wonders how exactly he’ll manage to make you fall, too.

contents: fluff, slow burn, kinda love triangle (insert ino takuma), angst, trauma, grief/mourning, substance abuse, and my duty to present nerdjo.

a/n: been slowly working on this bad boy since march and i've got it posted on my archive and thought 'hey, why not give my tumblr bbys some love too.' i hope you lovies enjoy this.

wc: 23k+

part 1 - flutterings

part 2 - stars for you

part 3 - memoriam

part 4 - intentions

part 5 - waltz

part 6 - aquamarine

part 7 - ???

comment to be on the taglist for all parts (open)

> @bobateea @sylusonlylove @aporcelainphantom @kay-the-ghost @misalea @not-aya @k-kkiana @p-playboi @stinkinstuffie

art credit to @to00fu

teaser !

“Sup’ sweets,” he drawled out, ruffling your hair and setting his books down on the library table, directly beside you. “Someone decided to sleep in today.”

His large figure began to shove into your space, to which you rolled your eyes at when his bulking thigh pushed against yours. “Shut up. I had a late study night.” You weren’t going to endure his teasing.

“Ah. You mean studying the intricacies and characteristics of the male lead of whatever Hallmark movie you found last night? I see.”

Smacking his bicep, you scolded him, “No. I actually did my work last night, can’t be falling behind you and having to suffer your giant ego.”

He slid his pen on top of his ear then propped his laptop open. “Really? Don’t you already do that?”

After over 2 decades of being victim to his teasing, he still managed to bait you every time. “Gojo. I’m going to shove this pencil somewhere extremely private if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

That had him chuckling and sliding his earbuds on.

The next couple of hours, the two of you continued your studying side by side. He had packed you a tuna sandwich, cut just the way you liked, along with some yogurt, granola and a packet of candy.

You had a hard time studying if you were hungry or eating poorly so he took the time out of his day to make these for you. A complain never even left your lips when he’d steal your candy before you even had the chance to get to it, entirely too grateful for the presence of it in the first place.

Nudging his shoulder to get his attention, “Do you have the answer for number twelve?” You asked.

Peering over your notes, he skimmed it over before pointing out exactly how to answer it. He knew how to explain this one to you with an analogy to simplify it and it clicked for you rather quickly, returning to your notes and jotting down the solution once you’d figured it out.

“So nice having a personal search engine and calculator,” you giggled under your breath.

“Oh. So that’s how I’m appreciated here,” he scoffed, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh definitely. Only thing you're good for, really.”

He lifted a hand to his chest and feigned injury. “You wound me. And I’m actually good for one more thing.”

Looking up from your notes, you gave him a quirk of your eyebrow. “Is that so? Don’t be shy, I’m all ears,” you smirked, cupping a hand over your ear.

He leaned forward, breath tickling your cartilage as he whispered. “Your pockets.”

៹

[fumiliar]

birthday wish- kento nanami

✎...pre-established relationship, kento nanami is head over heels, fluff, angst, post shibuya, nanami is the sweetest bf, no pronouns mentioned

kento is a punctual man. he is never ever late. he hates procrastinating, he get everything done as fast as possible.

for every birthday in the 3 years while you were together, his presents always came on time. he intricately prepares months beforehand, every single gift perfectly encapsulating your wants.

in your first year, you were in shock. he showed up at your doorstep, ringing the bell exactly at 00:00. as you opened the door half asleep, you were fully awakened with kento's presence. there he was, in front of your doorstep with flowers, your favourite cake flavour and a box full of gifts, he even wore those paper party hats with a party blower in his mouth.

"hewphy bwithdey y/n *priutt*," the party blower in his mouth prohibiting him from speaking properly, his compromise was to spit the paper blower out, earning a giggle from you. "give me another chance," he closes his eyes as he mentally prepares himself. "happiest happy birthday to you, my beloved y/n," a soft smile crept on his face as he brought the cake closer to your face. "make a wish."

you closed your eyes to make a wish, i wish that kento and me would last forever. you opened your eyes and blew the candles. "what did you wish for?" kento asked. "i won't tell you or it won't come true!" you giggled, swiping the frosting on the cake on his nose.

on your second year, kento was staying at your place. you didn't expect anything the night before, as he had already sent you an invitation to your birthday dinner at some fancy restaurant. but, you were so wrong. as the clock striked 00.00, you were sitting on the sofa watching a movie while kento was in the toilet, or so you thought. he came out of your hallway with another cake, a money bouquet and another box of gifts.

"happiest happy birthday y/n," he learnt from last year, no party blower, but the same paper hat was still on his head, as crooked as ever, it looked like he was in a rush. he walked over to the sofa, setting down the box filled with your presents. "make a wish."

you closed your eyes once more, i wish that kento and me would last forever. once again, you opened your eyes and blew out the candles. "what's your wish this year?" kento asked once more. "again, i won't tell you or it won't come true!" you fixed his crooked party hat, giving him a kiss. "thank you ken, you are truly the best boyfriend anyone could ever hope for."

on the third year, you had lived in the same apartment. deciding to take the next step in your relationship, you knew he was the one. over the following months, you've tried spying on kento, trying to see what surprise he had for you. but, you always failed, he would always catch you in the act.

this year was the same as any year. as the clock struck 00:00, a doorbell rang. kento was asleep on the couch, so you had gotten up to answer the door. as you answered the door, there was nobody. you looked left and right but there was nothing. you were about to close the door, but then you saw the gift on your doorstep. another box of gifts with flowers on the side. as you turned around to wake up kento, he was already behind you with a cake. "happiest happy birthday y/n," a content smile was present on kento's face. he pulled it off once more, surprising you again. "make a wish."

you closed your eyes to wish once more, i wish that kento and me would last forever. you opened your eyes and blew out the candles. "are you gonna tell me your wish this year?" kento prodded once more, maybe the third time would work. "so curious ken," you pulled him down to give him a kiss on his cheek. but when you were finished, your grip did not falter, instead your head slowly moved to land near his ear. "i wished that you and me would last forever," you whispered in his ear earning a chuckle from the man. "i hope the wish comes true y/n."

on the fourth year, you had laid on your empty couch. as the clock striked 00:00, the doorbell rang once more. as you opened the door, you saw a box full of gifts and a bouquet with a postcard and a box. as you took the postcard and the box in your hands, it was kento's handwriting. "i promise to stay by your side forever," you opened the box and there it was. the prettiest ring you had ever seen, it was all your pinterest boards combined into one masterpiece. you turned around to thank kento, but he was not there.

he wasn't there. he wasn't in your living room, neither your kitchen, nor your bedroom, he wasn't in your shared apartment. no, he's not in your world anymore.

your hands trembled as the box dropped to the floor, salty tears escaped your eyes. kento is gone, he has been gone for the past 3 months. all these presents you've received, but the most important one was gone, kento.

you never cared for these gifts, all you ever cared for was kento. so why was he not here? why has he gone to the other side. why would he make a promise he couldn't keep. why is there a gift on your doorstep but not him in your world. oh how you would trade anything for kento to surprise you once more, but no, the world is a gruellingly cruel place. oh how you wished to turn back time, oh how you wished you didn't tell kento your wish, maybe just maybe it would've came true.

[planet-hwa]

THE REMEDY TO RESISTANCE – 우영

✎ summary without regret — the last thought before falling asleep next to your best friend after finally giving into temptations, so why did you feel so strange the next morning? it wasn’t regret but an unknown emotion; unexplainable and underlying with anxious thoughts and over thought questions… maybe you should’ve stayed in your content state of immunity and denial, then you wouldn’t be fighting yourself to avoid him.

pairing fratboy!wooyoung x reader genre angsty best friends to lovers… and of course with smut *kiss kiss* word count 6.5k

warnings MDNI overthinking/anxiety, mentions of a hangover, mentions of jealousy, hickeys/marking, dry humping, nipple/breast play, fingering, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, overstimulation, one line of degrading but mostly praising, begging, blowjob, hair pulling, gagging/choking, slight cockwarming, unprotected sex [no go irl], slight ruined orgasm

❝ the look of love, the rush of blood ❞ 🎧 now playing   no. 1 party anthem ; arctic monkeys

. . . ⇢ part one : immunity to my charms

Without regret.

After all the years of avoiding flirtatious remarks, repressing your non-platonic feelings and staying content in a complete state of denial, you finally fell into temptation — all because Wooyoung threatened to hook up with a girl you didn’t like, the jealousy of it boiling over you. You never thought it would happen, holding a remaining belief of it. And yet, here you were, a week into avoiding him for no apparent reason. Multiple texts ignored, missed phone calls piling up in your voicemail, all from one very confused person.

_________________________ Saturday morning

The morning after the party was quiet, not filled with the usual morning rustles of the frat house. The sunlight glimmered through the cracks of the curtains, setting the room with an orange tinge. You swivelled your head and peaked over your shoulder at the digital clock on his night stand: 8:59 which quickly flicked to 9:00. Considering the exciting night you had last, you expected yourself to be waking up closer to noon.

The sheets shuffled next to you, turning your head to watch as Wooyoung had flipped to his side and was now facing you, still in a deep slumber and softly snoring. His hair fell across his face and his expression was peaceful. You observed as his facial muscles slightly twitched every few minutes, similar to how a cat does when they’re dreaming. A soft smile grew on your face as you thought about the events of last night, not the party but what happened once the two of you left.

You finally gave in to your temptations for Wooyoung, after always being so adamant that you would never hook up with your best friend, or even admit that you had feelings for him to him. But when he reciprocated those feelings? It was like fireworks burst in your heart, every ounce of love you had for him — platonic and romantic — exploded and shot through your entire body. No man had ever made you feel like that, no matter how much you were interested in them.

The peaceful state of mind was ruined as sudden thoughts of anxiety began flooding your brain, conversations that were blurred by the hangover and unknown to you if they were real or not. 

“Is that why you looked so mad just now? Because I was hooking up with her?” Wooyoung scoffed, pushing his hair back with his hand just for the front strands to fall back to covering his face. The emphasis on the last word proved he already knew the answer. He knew how you felt about her and how she felt about you. He knew that you usually didn’t care about his hookups, but because it was with her; you cared. He knew that you being upset wasn’t just because of her.

“Why would you even go for her when you could get any girl you want?”

“Because the girl I want doesn’t seem to want me back.” He slowly drifted towards you, settling himself in between your knees and resting his hands on your thighs. “Don’t you?”

Did this actually happen, was I dreaming it?

“You know,” He purred, petaling kisses from your chest and down to your belly, falling lower and lower until he sat between your legs. “I’ve always dreamt about this; how you’d look… how you’d feel… how you’d taste.”

Did he actually say that, or was I blinded by orgasmic bliss?

A nausea swelled in the pit of your stomach, fueled by anxiety and the lingering effects of alcohol in your system. You needed to get out of there, right now, before you mentally broke down. Quickly gathering your clothes and throwing them on, but still wearing the shirt Wooyoung gave you to sleep in, you silently left his room and tip-toed down the stairs into a pitiful escape.

_________________________ Thursday midday

Your exam results sat on the table next to you, staring at you in torment. San sat across from you, stuffing a sub into his mouth whilst watching as you glared at the unopened papers, his brows furrowed in confusion to your hesitation. This was one of the things you had been thinking about all week, not particularly excited for it. 

The other thing on your mind? 

Jung Wooyoung.

Wooyoung who has been your best friend since the start of college. Wooyoung who you would never have feelings that exceeded your friendship. Wooyoung who you gave in to and hooked up with, only to leave in a hurry in the morning out of sheer anxiety, embarrassment, disgust in yourself, guilt. Wooyoung who you had successfully, but with extreme challenge, managed to avoid all week — leading you to be glued to San and your girlfriends all week. He didn’t mind of course, he adored being around you, but he was definitely curious. He noticed how any time Wooyoung would walk by, your eyes would shift. It was even more obvious when you would turn away after noticing him walking in your direction. San even tried talking to him, asking what the tension between the two of you was, but Wooyoung would brush it off as a small disagreement and swiftly change the subject — because he too was unsure of the tension between you.

San watched your eyes burn holes through the paper, frankly getting sick of the silent until he plucked up the courage to break it. “Can I ask you a question-”

“I’m gonna open it.” The rope of anxiety and slight anger snapped within you, causing your tone to be more aggressive than intended which you noticed and hurriedly apologised for.

“I wasn’t gonna ask that, but that’s okay.” A light chuckle left him as he took another bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What’s going on with you and Wooyoung?”

The mention of the name caused your eyes to widen and shoot up at him, a look of slight shock sat on San’s face at your expression. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just noticed that you guys have sort of… avoided each other, all week.” Taking a final bite of his sandwich and violently chewing the big piece, almost choking on it. “I mean, the last time I saw you guys talk was at the party, so did something happen there?”

“Did you guys hook up or something?” He let out a small laugh at the ridiculous idea, it immediately dropped as he noticed your face glow a bright red. “Oh my god, you did.”

You began to shuffle in your seat, avoiding all eye contact and feeling your face grow more flushed by the second, the exam papers suddenly becoming of extreme interest to you.

“About damn time.”

“Wait…what?” Confusion furrowed between your eyebrows as you stared at the boy, him only looking at you with an innocent face as if he didn’t just drop the most open-ended statement. He rolled his eyes as he realised you weren’t playing dumb, you were actually dumb. Dumb enough to not notice the obvious looks of love from Wooyoung all these years, the remarks of flirtatious with evident intent, the physical touches that were held for longer amounts of time to be just friends.

You were completely oblivious to all of it.

Well… you chose to be.

Because in reality: you did notice all of these things. But you had pushed down your own feelings from the day you met due to insecurity and uncertainty. Of course, there was always the hope of Wooyoung’s intent to be true, but what if it was just pure friendship and you made a move causing the awkward end of it. Dealing with rejection was hard enough, but losing a best friend in the process of it? That would be unbearable.

“Wow, you really are an oblivious idiot.” San laughed, your lips curling into a small pout. “He talks about you all the time, it’s actually a little annoying.” You kick him lightly under the table, his eyes turning into crescent moons while he’s giggling.

“I mean, I was never truly sure until the first time we hooked up. After you left, he kept questioning me on it and I could tell he was jealous even when he denied it. And it happened after every time we hung out.”

A small smile curled at the corners of your lips, the thought of Wooyoung being jealous over you sending soft flutters to your heart. San also mentioned how one time Wooyoung had gotten so bitter over you spending time together that he almost fought San over it, the information increasing the butterflies that grew within your stomach.

“Come to the movie night tonight, he’ll be there and maybe you guys can talk.” San suggested as he began to pack his stuff in his bag and ready to go to his next lecture.

Even with the newly discovered information on Wooyoung’s thoughts on you, anxiety still bubbled inside you at the possibility of rejection. “I don’t know, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“He will want to, he’s been trying to. You’re the one that has been avoiding him, remember?”

The sudden reality check hit you like a bus. It truly was all in your head, Wooyoung avoiding you, when it was your fault the entire time. Before you can give him a definite answer, your phone buzzes to alarm you of your class in five minutes.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The living room was filled with bean bags and pillows — a setup made by the oldest frat member, Seonghwa — a variety of snacks and drinks lay on the coffee table in the middle. Yunho and Mingi sat on the floor, attempting to throw popcorn and catch it in their mouths, ultimately getting scolded by Seonghwa every time they missed and how he was not cleaning up their mess again. He was snuggled into a bean bag since you and San stole the couch, his arm flung comfortably over your shoulders, the rest of the frat members being out: including Wooyoung.

Although it took some convincing, San eventually managed to persuade you to join the movie nights like you usually would. This was also his attempt to break some of the tension between you and Wooyoung, hoping that you would go off somewhere and talk. But fortunately for you: he wasn’t there, though you held some hope that he would be. You did want to talk to him, to confide in him like you usually would when you were stuck in a cycle of overthinking, but it was hard since he was the reason for it. But due to him not being there, it would have to wait until another time.

The night had grown darker as the tv continued flipping through action scenes, the light setting a dim glow across the room. Mingi, now passed out, was lightly snoring into Yunho’s shoulder, the tallest boy being used to the younger boy’s clinginess and it not bothering him. Seonghwa was immersed in the movie, it being his favourite from the Star Wars franchise, whilst stuffing his face with cold pizza. Your head now rested on San’s lap, his fingers intertwined and playing with your hair softly, his other hand occupied by silent scrolling through tiktok. He didn’t have much interest in Star Wars but still paid attention by glancing up for a few minutes and right back down to his phone.

The click of the front door sounded through the room, opening with a slight squeak. The tv was blocking your vision so you couldn’t exactly tell who it was-

“Wooyoung!” Yunho cheered, accidentally jolting a sleepy Mingi awake.

A small smile grew on your face as you look up at the boy who walks in, soon followed by a blonde girl. 

Her.

The one he left at the party to be with you was now standing next to him, hands interlinked with each other. Wooyoung sends a quick hello through the room, as does she when she catches your eye, a sly smirk growing on her face as she pulls him up the stairs in a haste. Before he was ushered away, he caught a glimpse of familiar saddened eyes that rested on San’s lap, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. A feeling of regret fell over him. He hadn’t seen you in almost a week, noticing how you avoided the glances he’d send your way or how you’d walked around corners after noticing him in your line of travel. All he wanted to do was talk to you and hug you deeply. And now here he was: willingly taking the girl who you hated and who inevitably was the cause for the two of you to hookup, upstairs to his room for the same thing right in front of you.

And god did it hurt you.

“Wooyoung, come dance with me again!” She whined pathetically. Her gaze — turned to a glare — went to your connected hands, face screwing at the sight. 

“Not interested sweetheart.” Wooyoung dismissed and continued up the stairs, ignoring her scoffs.

“You’re not seriously gonna hook up with this whore, are you? She wouldn’t be as good as me and you know it-”

“I said fuck off, didn’t I?”

The girl came bolting down the stairs ten minutes later, sending curses throughout the house before swiftly leaving. Wooyoung was quick to follow her down, instantly met with curious looks from the rest of the group. Seonghwa grabbed the remote and paused the movie to watch the boy, a slightly distressed mask sat upon his face.

“Damn, couldn’t get it up?” Yunho chuckled but was quickly silenced by the sharp daggers that Wooyoung shot at him. His gaze moved around the room, noticing the absence of someone.

“Where’s Y/N?” His eyebrows were furrowed, concern lacing his voice.

“She left about ten minutes ago.” San sighed and shook his head, a look of disappointment sent towards Wooyoung’s direction. Without hesitation, Wooyoung grabbed his car keys and sped off down the road towards the university dorms, pushing through the speed limits to get to you.

_________________________

Curled up under your covers, tears stained your cheeks as you sobbed into the pillow. The thought that he had already moved on, and with his original hook up plan, was too much. It hurt more than any argument you had between each other, your heart aching hopelessly in your chest. But what did you expect, really? You guys made a huge mistake by pushing the friendship boundaries to more, now suffering the consequences of unresolved feelings. Even if you were ready to talk about it, you were too late.

As soon as he was upstairs and out of sight, you got up and left in a hurry. San tried to calm you down but ultimately let you go once your eyes met and he saw the waterworks begin to well up in them. If you had stayed just a little longer, you would’ve realised that the girl left shortly after arriving, that Wooyoung looked for you as soon as she left and when realising you were gone, rushed towards you as fast as he possibly could. But if you had stayed, he wouldn’t be knocking desperately on your dorm door right now.

Wiping your burning cheeks of any reminiscence of tears, you shuffled towards the door, eyes blowing in shock to see the man standing in front of you. Panting heavily and leaning his hand against the door frame, his eyes met yours which caused his breath to ease back to normal, just by the small amount of eye contact. Moving out of the way, you let him in, instantly taking his usual spot on your bed as you got him some water from your mini fridge, which he gulped down in no more than a few seconds.

“Did you run here or something?” A soft chuckle leaving you as you watch the boy choke down the liquid.

“Only up the stairs.” He panted through the water bottle breaks. “Why is that elevator always broken-”

“Why are you here, Wooyoung?”

His attempt at breaking any awkward tension was quickly shut down, a serious look masking your face as he looked up at you. The first thing he noticed was your tear-stained face, the puffiness of your cheeks and the red rim in your eyes. His heart broke thinking he was the reason that made you cry. His hands cupped your face gently as he stood up, finger tips tracing the tears, saddened puppy eyes looking down at you.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke no higher than a whisper, almost inaudible. You weren’t really sure why he was apologising considering you were the avoidant one. “I think we need to talk about what happened…” You moved his hands from your face before leading him over to sit on your bed. An awkward silence fell between the two of you, both of you unsure of how to start the conversation before Wooyoung spoke.

“Why have you been avoiding me all week?” He muttered, surprising you with his straightforwardness, but he couldn’t wait any longer — desperate for answers. “Do you… regret it?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why avoid me?” The silence was deafening, the mumble of ‘I don’t know’ floating in the air. Your brain racked through every possible explanation but couldn’t find one, maybe because you weren’t entirely sure why you were avoiding him. He hadn’t given you any reason to, it was just your overthinking and anxious thoughts on the situation that caused you to be distant from Wooyoung, without true meaning behind it. Everytime you tried to explain yourself, the words would get stuck in your throat, leaving you to sit in an extended silence. He was sick of it.

“Look Y/N, I know how you get with stuff like this, how you overthink everything,” He held your hands in his lap, the gentle touch causing butterflies to form in your stomach as your eyes caught each other. 

“I love you, as a friend and as more. As soon as she entered my room, I knew it wasn’t what I wanted… who I wanted. Because, truthfully, all I want is you. All I’ve ever wanted is you, and I was always too scared to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin-”

His sentence was cut short by connecting your lips with his in a soft and gentle kiss. The sparks of built up tension over the years burst between you as you melted into each other’s touch, his hand moving to the nape of your neck. Pulling away, you watched as his gaze softened in yours, cupping his cheek with a delicate touch.

“I love you too.” You breathed in the broken kiss before he hastily reconnected your lips, feeling the smirk on his face whilst his tongue swiped at the bottom of your lip. Your lips parted and his tongue slipped in, the kiss firing with passion the moment your muscles danced together.

Lips pashing together and hands lingering had pushed your back to the bed, Wooyoung now hovering over you with the look of love filtered in his eyes. His tongue traced every part of your mouth, tangling itself between your teeth. His lips were plump and glistened in a coat of saliva, as did yours. As the kiss grew more lustful, you felt your core become more tense, a wet patch growing within your panties. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips, watching as your face flushed a rosy pink and your eyes grew darker. He was losing all sense of control at the sight, leaning down to place soft kisses on your jawline and neck. You turned to grant his easier access to your neck, his lips finding that sweet sensitive spot within seconds and beginning to suckle lightly on it, eliciting a soft moan to fall from your parted lips. His pants tightened around him at the sound, holding in a groan of his own as he sucked harsh enough to begin to leave a pretty purple mark: one that, next morning, would let everyone know you were his.

Kissing his way back up your jawline, his breath hovered over your lips before attaching them back to yours. The kiss was filled with fire, tongues swirling and teeth clashing as you groaned hopelessly into each other’s mouths. Unconsciously, you rolled your hips upwards to feel friction at your wanting core, eliciting a deep moan from the back of Wooyoung’s throat as you grinded into the hardening bulge in his pants. Desperate for more friction, he slowly began rutting his hips into you, deliciously hitting the heat in your pants. You whined at the feeling, your hips matching his movements and begging for more. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, your lips breaking as he removed it then moving to remove your own. To his glad surprise, your breasts bounced out of your top and showed the lack of coverage, only returned with a sly smirk from Wooyoung.

He lent down and curled his tongue around your hardened nipple, his fingers pinching the other one. He sucked harshly on the bud, tongue swirling around it and nipping it between his teeth. A painful pleasure surged through your nerves, throwing your head back with a whine. His other hand palmed at the soft skin, rolling the bud between his fingers and sending shivers through your body. The teasing motions were expected by him, but he was agonisingly slow with them. He wanted to savour every moment with you, but the wetness growing within your pants was begging him to be inside of you. Almost as if he could read your body like a book, he kissed his way down your stomach and tugged your sweatpants off quickly. His eyes were instantly drawn to the visible wet patch that coated your panties, dragging his finger over it and watching as your body jolted to his touch.

“So wet for me, love.” He placed a soft kiss over your covered clit, you bit your lip to hold the moan that tried to escape you. A devious smirk curled at the corners of his lips as he continued to pepper delicate kisses over your heated core. Your hips moved upwards to chase more friction, but were met with a teasing laugh at your desperation.

“Please Woo… I need you…” You begged pathetically, but he was even more desperate to hear the pretty noises you were trying to contain.

Hooking his fingers underneath the band of your panties, he slowly pulled them down to reveal your glittering soaked folds. He dipped his tongue out to wet his lips as he looked at you, your face flushed with a crimson red and painted with a begging expression. He kissed your upper thighs and around your core, never making contact with where you wanted him most — until he had you begging for it.

Sliding his tongue slowly through your folds, flicking up on your sensitive bud, your arousal collecting on the tip of his tongue. He watched as your body shivered under his touch, soft moans falling through parted lips as he swirled his muscle around your clit. Hungry eyes stared up from between your legs, pupils blown with lust and desire, you didn’t think you could get any wetter but he just proved you wrong. Twisting and twirling his tongue through your heated core, your quiet moans morphing to louder whimpers as his actions increased in speed. It shocked you the way he could drive you so close to the edge of bliss so quickly, feeling your stomach pulse in pleasure and your orgasm getting ready to crash. He watched as your breaths grew hitched and your hips began to lightly grind into his mouth, feeling how close you were to falling off the edge.

“Woo… ‘gonna cum- ahh” You looked down at him as your orgasm was torn away, a smug smirk and hooded eyes glared back at you. A pout turned at your lips, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the loss of sensation, your hips attempting to chase it but being held down by a rough hand.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go that easy, did you?” A condescending laugh left him as he watched you. “You ignore me all week and think you’re not getting any punishment for it? Wow, you spoiled little slut.”

He ran the pad of his thumb over your extra sensitive bundle of nerves, your body instantly reacting with a jolt and a whine leaving your lips. Waiting for your breath to return to normal, chest bouncing less than before, he reconnected his swollen lips to your clit. Without warning, he began harshly sucking at it, your hand running to grip into his hair which returned you with a moan vibrating through your core and adding extra sensations to the overstimulation. One hand was pushed gently on your lower stomach as his other preoccupied itself with two fingers, toying with your clenching hole before slowly pushing them in. The sensation of his two fingers pumping deep within you had your gummy walls hopelessly constricting, the curling of them pushing against that special spongy spot was driving you closer to another high.

“P-please Woo, I’m so close.” You believed you would never beg a man for anything, but here you were, pathetically whining for Wooyoung to let you cum as your high grew closer. He smirked into your heat, pumping his digits deeper and earning a loud moan to vibrate through the air. The clench was immediate and he knew you were close again. He swirled his tongue at immense speeds, lewd slurping noises filled the room as he hungrily devoured your juicy folds like it was his last meal, your voice forming incoherent words that turned to moans. 

But again, just before the band in your stomach snapped, Wooyoung pulled himself away and laughed as you growled in annoyance.

“Stop teasing me!” You huffed out, exasperation lacing your voice as you caught your breath back. Wooyoung couldn’t help but find you adorable: your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips from biting them, the death glare you sent his way.

“Come on love, don’t be so greedy.” He chuckled, his body moving up yours until he hovered over you once more. You hadn’t noticed that he removed his hands, but the prominent bulge in his boxers that poked at your thigh made you well aware.

He began peppering your face and jawline with delicate kisses, the soft demeanor change started turning your brain to fog. His lips moved over your jawline and neck, tracing the already formed hickeys from earlier.

“Beg for it.” He seductively whispered in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. Lifting his head from your neck, his eye contact was instant, intense and filled with taunting desire.

“Please…” A breathy whine spilled from your lips. “I’m begging… please”

Unhesitating, Wooyoung crawled back down your body and swiftly rekindled his way between your legs, the sharp sting of his tongue hitting your overstimulated bud coursed pleasure through your veins. He pushed your legs up and ordered you to hold yourself by the knees, giving his easier access. The sponginess of his tongue was quickly met with your gummy walls, pumping his muscle in and out and covering it in your built up arousal. Your moans filtered his ears and encouraged him for more, digging his nose into your clit whilst his tongue continued to pound your tight hole.

You could already feel your orgasm about to burst once more, disordered moans and begs purified the air, praying that Wooyoung would finally finish you. Your legs started to shake, even with your hands holding them and knuckles growing white from the intense grip. He groans deeply into your seeping core as you clenched around his tongue once more, your orgasm snapping in your stomach and spilling out — more intensely than expected. Wooyoung drank up every ounce of arousal that leaked out of you, the taste becoming his new favourite beverage.

As you rode out your high, your hips slowly stopped any grinded movements and breath returned to normal, you looked between your legs and eyes widened in shock. Wooyoung’s face was dripping wet, the front strands of his hair slightly sticking to his forehead and not from sweat. You saw the soaked patch that sat between you on your sheets, a wave of embarrassment crashing over you. He only chuckled lowly, licking his lips of your essence and wiping the droplets escaping his chin. Climbing back up your body, he uncovered your hands from your face and placed a gentle yet lustful kiss on your swollen lips, the taste of your arousal mixed in both your mouths as your tongues danced.

He gripped your hips tightly before flipping you over, with you now straddling his waist and lips still connected. You wanted to return the favour, kissing down his neck and chest to meet with the hard-on beneath his boxers. Pulling them down, his dick bounced out and lightly hit his abdomen, the tip swollen and red and leaking with pre-cum. He pulled his hands behind his bed, cockily watching you as you stared at his very hard, very large cock, a large smirk claiming his face.

All of his arrogance was gone the moment your hand wrapped around the base and slowly pumped, your tongue tracing the underside vein. Your lips wrapped around his swollen tip, tongue swiping over the slit and sending chills through his entire body.

You began to gather your hair, holding it up with your free hand before it was replaced with Wooyoung’s grip. He sent you a small wink as you looked up at him, encouraging and assuring you to keep going. He had never seen a hotter sight than your pretty mouth wrapped around his length. You steadily started to bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue over the tip every few bobs, your hand pumping the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He growled deeply at the sensation, throwing his head back against the wall and tightening the grip on your hair. The pull at your head made you dizzy with pleasure once more, a moan trembling within your voice and down Wooyoung’s cock. His hips began to buck upwards and match your rhythm, chasing more friction as you continued to pump.

“Fuuck love, you’re doing so good.” He groaned, his voice had a gravelly accent to it.

You could feel his body tensing underneath you, showing you he was about to crack. You slowed down the bobbing of your head, stopping at the tip and suckling it lightly before pushing your mouth down his entire length, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Wooyoung moaned louder than before, the grip on your hair tightening before pulling you up and watching you pant softly.

“Y/N baby, do that again…” Practically whining your name, his dick twitching in your hands, more pre-cum desperately dripping out of it and mixing with your saliva coating. 

And you did exactly what he asked, wrapping your lips around him once again and deep throating the length with every nod.

His moans grew higher with every motion, his abs tensing every time his cock smacked at the back of your throat. Orgasm just sitting on the edge, he clasped your hair with force and encouraged your motions to speed up. Your hand’s grip tensed around his base as his high crashed into him like a tidal wave, his hand holding you down on him causing you to gag around his length — ultimately sending extra sensations for him. His white ropes spilled out into your mouth, leaking from the sides and down your chin as he held you in place, milking him of every string drop. After the final spur of his high calmed, his grip ceased and you lifted your head, swallowing his juice as he watched with a smirk.

A smirk that told you, you weren’t finished.

He grabbed you by the wrist, guiding you up to straddle his waist before watching as you lined yourself up with him. You ran his — still extremely hard — cock through your folds, flinching as the tip hit your clit. Lining yourself up, his hands moved to your hips and helped lower yourself on him, both moaning in unison as the burning sensation. Your walls constricted around him like a python, the feeling of him hitting your gummy spot as he bottomed out was delectable. You started to move your hips before the grip on them tightened.

“Wait love,” Concern instantly washed over your face, only answered by a small hoarse chuckle. “If you move, it’ll be over too quickly.”

You could only giggle in response, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. There was no time before gentle kisses turned into a passionate makeout, whimpering into each other’s mouths as your tongues twirled together. His hands moved around your entire body, grasping and pinching every inch he could reach. The simple passion quickly escalated once more to pure desire. Wooyoung began to buck his hips upwards, a moan falling through you at the sudden penetration, causing you to disconnect your lips. Desperate for more friction, you sat up and began to rise and fall on him, his hands finding their place on your hips once more.

He guided your motions with a hard grip, hard enough to bruise, but you didn’t care. The pleasure of him was all that mattered to you. You threw your head back as your moans grew higher and bounces became sloppier. How he could get you so close to an orgasm so quickly was beyond you, yet you felt the similar band prepare itself to snap. 

The room was mixing with the scent of sex and the sound of hopeless moans and slaps of skin, both bodies glistened with a sheen of sweat. People who lived in the dorms were certainly aware of the ceremony happening…

Wooyoung watched as you jumped up and down like a bunny, your belly tightening as your orgasm neared. Releasing his grip on one side of your hips, his hand hastily moved you where you were joint, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your over sensitive bud. Within seconds, your hips jolted and walls clenched as your orgasm hit you like bricks. He halted his own high to follow yours, overstimulating your clit with his finger, the restriction around him cursing him to finish himself. Through hooded eyes he watched as you came down from waves of pleasure, waiting for you to calm before his hand quickly circled your waist and flipped you over in seconds. He buried his head in your neck, low groans filtering your ears as he thrusted sloppy and hopelessly into you, biting down on your shoulder. It was seconds before his white ropes spilled into you and filled you up with warmth, his dick twitching as your over sensitive walls clenched around him, bleeding him dry.

Both panting as you calmed from your highs, he started kissing his way back up to your face, peppering your lips with fragile and soft kisses. You wrapped your arms around him and cuddled into his neck, breathing in the cologne scent that drove you insane. Sitting in a comfortable silence, the setting was tranquil and undisturbed as you enjoyed the solidarity of each other’s company before cleaning yourself up and falling asleep.

_________________________

The morning warmth spat through the small window in your dormitory, an orange glow overlaying the room and reflecting off the mirror on the back of your door — directing in your line of vision. Your eyes flickered open attempting to adjust to the bright sensation. In a state of semi-wake, you began to stretch your body before an arm tightened around your waist, followed by an annoyed groan.

“Don’t move, I’m comfortable.” He breathed into your ear, the air warm against your skin as he nestled his head back into your shoulder, lips resting against it.

“You… stayed?” You whispered, slightly turning your head to look at the boy in your bed.

“Of course,” Lifting his head to meet your eyes, a soft smile curled at his lips before he placed a delicate kiss on your cheek. “I don’t just pack up my stuff and leave.”

The not-so-subtle dig earned him a slap to the shoulder, sheepishly giggling before littering your face with kisses. Compared to the intensity of the previous night, he was so soft and full of love in the morning — not expecting any extra pleasure but just enjoying the morning bliss of affection. He wrapped his arms around your waist securely, not wanting to let go before pulling you into his chest. Wrapping a leg around his waist, one hand rested on your thigh whilst the other played with your hair almost sending you back to sleep.

The morning was nice: peaceful.

No guilt or regret travelled from the night before, instead filtered with love and adoration.

However, overthinking still sat in the back of your mind.

“So, what do we do now?” You whispered into his chest, the silence that followed made you unsure if he heard you.

“I’m not sure.” Wooyoung finally breathed out, the calm pattern of his chest rising and falling doing little to calm you.

“I don’t think we can go back to… just being friends.” Mumbling quieter this time, uncertainty laced within your voice. Wooyoung could sense that you were nervous, overthinking the situation like you usually would.

More silence followed, the atmosphere growing slightly awkward.

“I don’t want to go back to that.”

You looked up at him, instantly met with the eye contact he sent down through a sleepy haze. Although you were an abid overthinker, you could see through his hooded eyes that he was genuine.

“Y/N love, I want to be yours: only yours. And I want you to be only mine.” He cupped your face lightly with his cheek, the instant flush to your cheeks obvious to him and causing a small chuckle to fall through his lips before continuing. 

“We should try being together, and if that doesn’t work — even though I’m certain it will — we can go back to being friends and laugh about this whole situation in the future when we’re old and decrepit.”

His humoured seriousness caused you to laugh, hiding yourself in his neck and he ran his fingers through your hair once more.

“Let’s try it.” You whispered into his neck, the instant validation causing Wooyoung to grab your face and stare at you in a shocked bliss: he definitely expected you to distant yourself again and say no. He smiled brightly before pulling you into a tight kiss, hands tangled in your hair and around your body so you wouldn’t disappear.

Without the knowledge of each other’s wishes for a romance, you both granted them together.

author's note hey lovelies !! i hope you enjoy chapter two, sorry it took me so long i had writers block for a bit on this. hopefully it's alright ('>.<') ୨୧ san x reader side will be in the works but probably won't be posted for a while since i have requests and other drafts to catch up on

✉ taglist @morethingsfandom @dreamsoffanfics @butterflydemons @youmeandwords @hwascutewife @e3ellie @hoe4kpop @moonlight-hwa @dawn-iscozy @chososho3 @dejatiny @betda @woozit @mystery-girl227 @likeathunderoverflow @santineez @rachs-words @imlonelydontsendhelp @wooyoungjung99 @anonn0n

written by planet-hwa™

[velvetsserenity]

a servant’s privilege

ambessa medarda x servant!reader

✎ word count: 1k

꩜ content warnings: mutually consensual free use, slow dominance, rough use, light degradation, strap, deep control, power imbalance, explicit sexual content, light choking, objectification, strap-on sex, mouth use, possessive dynamics

The first time she used you, you didn’t even realize it was happening.

Not until hours later, when you stood in the scullery scrubbing blood from her uniform and realized you could still feel her fingers inside you. Gloved. Precise. Unbothered.

She hadn’t looked at you once while doing it.

Just kept her eyes on the map of Noxian territory, murmuring to a general in the corner, until you came so hard you almost collapsed against the carved table leg.

Now, it’s normal.

Expected.

She doesn’t need to say a word anymore.

If you're not carrying something, cleaning something, or otherwise indisposed, your body is hers. To use. To ignore. To dress or undress. To fuck or not fuck. It doesn't matter.

You agreed, once. Quietly. Kneeling between her thighs in the low candlelight of her quarters.

She had asked if you understood what it meant to be hers.

You said yes.

And now you live with that answer.

Tonight, she returns from the war room late.

Boots heavy, gloves still on, eyes sharp from whatever small battle she just won without lifting a weapon.

You’re already waiting in her quarters. Kneeling beside the hearth, half-dressed in your servant uniform. Thin slip. Bare thighs. Collarbones visible. She likes when you look available, even when she doesn’t touch you.

She passes you by.

Doesn’t glance down. Doesn’t say hello.

Just removes her coat with one arm and tosses it toward the rack, missing it entirely. It lands in a heap near your knees.

You crawl—quietly—and pick it up. You fold it across your arms, pressing your nose to the inner lining before rising to hang it properly.

Behind you, the sound of leather gloves being pulled off.

Then the thud of her sitting.

You don’t turn around unless summoned.

But you feel her eyes on you now.

Still, she says nothing.

The quiet stretches until it aches.

Then: “Come here.”

You do.

Kneel between her legs, palms flat on your thighs. She’s seated in the high-backed chair near the window, legs spread, half a cigar burning between two fingers. Her gaze drops to your lips.

But she doesn’t offer it to you.

Doesn’t give you the satisfaction.

Instead, she leans forward. Slides the cigar between your lips herself. You hold it steady as she watches the smoke curl from your mouth.

“Don’t swallow.”

You don’t.

She leans back again. Takes the cigar back. Watches you exhale slowly through your nose, eyes watering slightly.

"Good girl."

No reward. No touch. Just that.

She shifts in the chair and opens a leather-bound report folder on the side table. Pages turn. She reads while you kneel in silence, pulse thrumming at the thought of being so near, so visible, and still untouched.

You ache. But you don’t move.

Not until she raises a hand and crooks her finger.

That’s all it takes.

You rise.

Walk silently behind her.

She’s still reading when you undo the buttons of her vest. Her blouse beneath it. Peel both off slowly, exposing the line of muscle along her arms, the curve of her shoulder. You run your fingers over each inch as if it's part of your job.

Maybe it is.

You’ve never been told otherwise.

When she leans back again, you know to step around.

She pulls your wrist without looking and guides your hand between her legs.

Her trousers are still on.

You unbutton them. Slide them down just enough. She’s not wearing anything underneath.

Of course she’s not.

She spreads her legs wider, not to offer herself—no, she doesn’t offer.

She expects.

You sink to your knees.

Your mouth replaces your hand.

She continues reading.

For ten minutes, maybe twenty. You lick and suck and stay quiet, drinking down every twitch of her hips, every breath she allows you to feel.

Her thigh presses to your cheek.

You moan against her slit when her hand tightens in your hair.

“Finish it,” she mutters.

You do.

You lick her through it, suck her through the trembling, sharp waves of her climax, your face soaked and your fingers curled into the rug as she holds you there.

When she finally lets go, you sit back, face flushed, lips swollen.

She closes the folder.

“Desk.”

One word, spoken with no heat.

You move.

You don’t hesitate. You know which way to bend, how far to part your thighs, how to arch until your ass is just high enough to be tempting without looking desperate.

The drawer opens behind you.

Her strap is black leather. Thick. Smooth. She doesn’t use it every night.

Only when she’s in a mood.

And tonight, apparently, she is.

You hear her spit in her hand. Rub it along the length of it. No lube otherwise. Just that, and you.

She lines up.

Pushes in slow. All the way.

You bite your lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Still so tight,” she growls. One hand wraps around your throat from behind as her hips slam forward again, dragging a noise out of your chest that doesn’t sound real.

Her hips find rhythm. Brutal. Unchanging.

She fucks you like it’s punishment.

Like she wants to make you forget your own name.

The desk creaks.

You hold on, cheek pressed to the wood, one hand reaching back to spread yourself wider for her.

She likes that.

“Whose cunt is this?” she asks, tone casual, bored.

“Y-Yours,” you gasp.

“Say it again.”

“Yours, General—yours—”

She grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs hard, forcing your back to arch.

“I could take you in front of anyone,” she hisses in your ear. “They wouldn’t dare look.”

You whine.

She’s right.

She’s always right.

This is what you agreed to complete access. Complete surrender. The privilege of being used.

Your thighs tremble as her thrusts get deeper.

You’re close.

So close.

But you don’t come until she tells you to.

When she finally says now, you fall apart so hard your knees buckle. You sob through it, her name tangled in your mouth.

She doesn’t stop until she’s done.

And when she’s done, she leaves you there.

Used. Gasping. Slick dripping down your legs onto the floor.

Eventually, you clean the desk.

Fold her trousers. Polish her boots.

And when she lies back in bed, arms behind her head, she lifts one finger.

You crawl into her sheets and settle between her thighs.

Because tomorrow, she might not touch you at all.

But tonight, you’re hers.

Over and over again.

★ plagarism not authorized ★