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tonycries · 6 months ago

Text

Like a Dog!

Synopsis. Jealous? How cute. He’s yours - and he’ll fúck you until you won’t forget it.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, jealousy s, marathons, NÉEDY BOYS, dúmbifícation, proposals, creampíes, praise, GOJO’S POWERS, márking, they’re YOURS, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s tattoos, cervíx kíssing, fitting it, talking you through it, p slápping, p talking, ex-husband!Toji, spítting, comfort, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Wedding vows!

“Soooo…” Toji’s sneaking long, languid drags of his fat thumb up and down your sappy folds. And it makes your breath hitch, your thighs quivering just in time for him to sidle two staggering palms underneath and stretch. Wide open. “-still...jealous, doll?”

Ruining you for what seemed like copious hours upon hours non-stop, that very same question left Toji’s scarred lips in cloudy little pants like a smug mantra.

The bed was recklessly creaky at this point, splinters cracking with every sloppy pound that had your sanity doing much the same.

And Toji’s crushing you against the clammy mounds of his Herculean pecs, heaving. Gasping. So, so needy that just about all you can do at this point is bumble out an embarrassed little, “Wh-why?”

“Because m’yours, mama.” Whining as his sheeny-lathered lips snicker from right beside your tender ear, and his mushroomy tip grazes right down his favorite target of your treacly slit. Slow. Steady. “And I hafta prove it.”

Nevermind the fact that he was talking like he wasn’t your ex-husband of just a few days.

Nevermind the fact that you’re sure the pulpy depths of your poor cunt was already utterly bruised and battered with the exact bulky circumference of Toji’s proud crownhead. Because Toji Fushiguro could never dream of being with another.

He’s tugging you even more pliably into this mean full nelson of his, squeezing out a thick few dewdrops of buttery pre that lather your puckered hole. Rotund, curvaceous mound of his fattened head swirling patterned circles at your snug hole around and around-

“Don’ tell me this pretty pussy’s hngh- forgotten about me already?” He’s murking out, planting exactly three simpering swats! to your slick-flooded entrance before sinking in- “Heh- yeahhh that’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

Because your drooling cunt was always so greedy for him - your bloated pussy lips struggling and hungry being opened oh-so-widely agape. It made your slackened maw lather with a fresh wave of saliva at the sheerly raw stretch.

“Good girl- good fuckin’ girl takin’ all of me.” Toji’s huffing out, head tilting sleazily to the side to take in every inch of the heavenly bouquet envisioned right below him. “Bet ya missed me all deep inside, huh? S’that why you’re gettin’ all jealous over some rando?”

But, of course, the silent treatment never worked on Toji - and you’re finding him cooing, “Awww, c’mon my wife-” Such pointed, loving emphasis, “-talk to me. Lemme hear those pretty noises.”

And you hate the way that his rumbling baritone tilts into something mockingly higher. You hate the way that his bludgeoning tip rims around your gooey slick-filled entrance and makes your voice crack.

“T-talking about ah- jealous-” You’re managing out, and Toji’s willowy eyes widen ever-so-slightly at the way you can manage out coherent syllables even through each punctuating drill. “-but I ngh- saw the way you looked at my coworker, you green-eyed m-monster.”

He’s scoffing, spanking your overstuffed pussy once. Twice. Thrice just for good measure. “Feisty, aren’t you, mama?”

And every minute wiggle is dampered helplessly by the way that he’d curled two large forearms - muscular and veiny - around your legs to embrace you tightly. Chin rested over your head, “He was only bein’ nice-”

“And nice isn’t gonna get your hngh- cute cunt sucking like as slut like this.” Toji’s rolling his eyes, “Don’t joke with me now, doll, spread those pretty hngh- legs n’ lemme see her. No need to be shy.”

Massively engulfing hands of his crown the topped curve of your dangling knees and mold you to every one of Toji’s lecherous whims until you almost do feel shy. But there was absolutely nothing shy about the way that he was now leering at you.

Hot breath wafting with the sound of a low whistle, “Shiiiit- pretty lil’ thing, huh? Don’tcha know how much m’weak for ya? Why the fuck would I ever wan’ anyone else? Silly girl…”

“S-stop- staring—” You’re whining out, fingers tangling through the tresses of Toji’s darkly silken bangs and pulling. A blasphemous little action that earns you a heavy-handed thud of his bloated head into your soppy cervix.

“How can I not stare, mama- she’s mine, isn’t she?” And there was something in his tone, something…edged and rough- and you swear that Toji was the one that sounded somewhat jealous. Sounded gone. “And I’m yours, of course.”

Ruined every time his ruddied tip was skimming past the syrupy adhesive-like maze of your insides and thumping right into the targeted bullseye of your cervix.

He’s so hot underneath you - feverish. The ridged ladders of his washboard abs slipping and sliding a lewd massage underneath your back. And the feeling is so heavenly that you’re wondering why you ever signed those divorce papers in Higuruma’s office in the first place.

“No needa worry- M’yours, doll-” Grit out. Harsh. Punishing as much as his deep strokes were messing up your poor insides. Making sure that you won’t forget. Voice seeping with something wild, “H-heh. Divorced or not- a d-divorce which won’t last for ngh- long anyway- I got every part of ya ah- fucking memorized, y’know? Think I’d do that for hngh- anyone else?”

“E-every?” Your legs and voice are wobbling like jelly at his words.

“Every.”

As if to prove his point, he’s thumbing gluttonously over the rounded outline of where he was rummaging your sodden walls. Shooting out a few wiry spatters of pre that almost fill you up to the brim - so much of it - once he’s gliding over with a few cocky touches.

“My favorite spot s’always here-” The tremors of his recoiling bounces into your spongy womb rattle your melty mind. You feel the jitters of his thick thigh muscles when he arches into a curve up, up, up. “-knock knock.”

“S-so…” Mumbling, shit- Toji was fucking you like he couldn’t get enough of you. “-filthy.”

He’s rolling his eyes at that little comment - you like it, anyway if that warm geyser streaming from between your mushy folds told him anything.

“N’ I remember that your hngh- favorite spot was here…” Oh, you knew what he was doing - you knew exactly the way in which Toji’s dark brows would scrunch with rude delight when his strawberry divot slurs right past that magical spot. “Orrrrr…here-” Ramming resoundingly with his left-leaning girth in exactly the opposite way from the spot that only he could reach so well. Toji’s tongue pops out to lap at his sneaky dribble of saliva - he was loving this. “Whoops…maybe-”

“F-fuck-” You’re all but begging, your whimpers going straight to that forevermore bloated shaft of his. Pumping in a few horny ounces that make him grow even thicker, “-fine- fuck! Please-”

“Hm…” Toji’s tutting, bangs sticking to the plane of his prespired forehead as he shakes his head understandingly. Mockingly so. “What’s that?”

“Please-”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

He’s lolling out his tongue to lap at the salty pearls of tears beginning to waterfall from your fluttering eyes, “Say ‘please- husband.’”

The embarrassment and pure irritation curdling in your veins was strong, but your need - your throb from the wet patch between your legs, and that spot was even stronger. Shit, you needed him. “P-please…my husband.”

Ah, the words are barely spilling from your mouth, barely even reaching our own ears before Toji’s making you see white-hot pleasure flickering behind your lids. A drawling keen dragging out from your throat as soon as his curvaceous cockhead nuzzles up in a sweet, sweet hug into your g-spot.

And your ears can only thunder with your heartbeat, your spine bowing as your husband plaps his fat cock into your most candied spots over and over and over-

“One more thing.” Something cool touches your face, and only seconds later do you recognize it to be a phone. Your phone. “Tell that lil’ loser of a coworker that yer hgh- married. And-” Another deafening pap! “-expecting.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Yours, always.

“I…I’m sorry, my love.” Nanami hisses - he heaves the moment his buttery-topped tip was sinking past your puckered entrance. And there’s a dangerous furrow between his neat, blond brows, “But I can’t have ya sayin’ anything bad about my wife.”

And he was so serious - seriously in love with the way you were gaping up with spit-flooded lips when one of his thick, calloused digits massage over your eagerly peaked clit with the chillingly golden band of his wedding ring. Matching with yours.

Your fingers dig into the plane of your husband’s unfairly broad shoulders underneath his blue button-up, all rippling muscles and sheer dripping sex appeal. He hadn’t even bothered to take his office clothes before helping you…feel better. “Kento, I-I’m just sayin’ your new c-coworker is so much prettier-”

Thwack!

Only for him to cut you off with a heavy-handed spank to your treacly cunt, and a rumbling growl - rasping from beneath his stern lips once Nanami grants you with a filthy, filthy glissade of a French kiss. And you could taste him - taste yourself from his makeout with your slobbery pussy just before.

Your sticky slick lacquering his gummy lips in a candied glaze, slipping and sliding all the way down the dimpled edges of his grin, his chin, down below between his cushiony pecs-

It was like a badge of honor, and Nanami Kento gladly and proudly adorned it.

You’re just leaking from that gooey spot between your legs when he’s back to pressing peck after peck on both your lips and your cushy g-spot. Dribbles of translucent slick drenching Nanami’s tawny happy trail - and his ring.

One that’s pushed between your lecherously parted lips to swirl around that whiny cavern of your mouth, making you just shut up-

“G-gonna-” Clawing at his strong forearms, shocked that you were being halfway choked by your dear, gentle husband. “-gonna get dirty this way, K-Ken-”

“No, don’t mind getting…dirty if it’s you.” You’re hearing Nanami gasp from above you, murky pants of his shooting out in a rasping ah! ah! ah! And his droopily half-lidded eyes just bore into yours with sweet connection, “And I hate disrespectin’ my ngh- wife, this way but…but m’not gonna go easy on you tonight, darlin’.”

Fuck.

The bed sings out splintering creaks with every thud! of Nanami’s fatly bloated tip smooching up against your spongy cervix. Every bouncy bludgeon spurting out the most dewy ribbons of his precum from the very tip of his rounded crownhead. Proud and ruthless.

You can only wring your fingers through Nanami’s golden strands, unsticking stray locks from his prespired forehead. Babbles upon babbles spill from your lips, “I-fuck! Kentoooo- it f-feels so good.”

“Good, hm? Th-tha’s right-” Freely thumbing away a few puddly gumdrops of saliva that’d begun just spilling from the corners of your maw with every hit after hit-

And every clashing pivot of his toned hipbones sting, heat blossoming up your spine in this sloppy mess of a mating press that Nanami had manhandled you into. But he needed more- more more more-

“S-shoooo good, Ken- right there-” Lewd little strings of hiccups are bubbling from your chest and wafting up between the bustling fingers still toying with your mouth and making you suck. Tongue swirling up the cold engraved metal of his ring as if your favorite honeyed lolly, “Always feels so ngh- good havin’ you inside me-”

Too good.

Unable to help yourself from greedily clasping onto that dangling yellowy tie sticking to your sweat-simmered tits and pulling-

And oh, this makes Nanami gasp- free hand slamming! down onto the timber bedframe. This makes his hips hammer forward with a loudly ringing pap! Plummy, split cockhead probing into your cervix hard.

Never slowing down, never stopping- hell, he doesn’t think he even could right now.

“H-heh, my clever girl.” A kiss against your forehead. “My needy girl.” Your cheeks. Each side. “My ngh- beautiful girl- most beautiful girl in this world.”

There’s such utter and true loving in his foggy mahogany eyes that you almost feel shy. “D-don’t look at me like that, Kento.”

“Y’know I only h-have eyes for you, my love…” Accompanied by the digits rummaging deep inside your sultry mouth to reel back with a sodden plap! And dip down to caressingly pinch your plump clit, “C’mon- tighter. Mark me up. Tight.”

And there’s nothing you can do but listen to what he says.

How could you not?

Not when the ever-sensible Nanami Kento was begging - pleading - down at you to choke his velveteen tie even tighter around his attractive throat. Adam’s apple bobbing at your increasing strain, lightning bolts of veins thumping when you squeeze.

“Yeahhh- don’ be shy. Let everyone know- fuuuuck-” Bleary head falling back with every adhesive-like cling of your elastic walls - or, at least, trying to if it wasn’t for your chokehold with his tie. Nanami’s lips curl into an oh-so-feral snarl, head tilting to the side to chafe his own flesh with the ropey bruises of your actions. “-mark me up s-so that the whole office knows m’yours. And I…”

Fuck, you looked so cute fucked dumb and drooling on his fat dick like this.

Nanami’s thick muscular thighs are shivering at this point, shovelling your own further and further upon the more he could feel himself losing his fucking mind.

“And I’m gonna m-marry you.” Bumbling out over and over like a mantra now, Nanami was so pussydrunk that his rotund tip wasn’t even kissing up against the bullseye of your g-spot directly anymore. Breath hitching, “Gonna marry- hngh- needa marry. B-be your husband- and-” Just dragging out achy massages of his swollen length to lustre every gooey inch of you with layers on top of voluminous layers of his- cum? “Sh-shit.”

Because Nanami was cumming and he couldn’t stop.

Heaps of weighty ropes splatter across your elastic channel, it’s swashing around in thick masses every time he’s fucking it back deeply into you. “I love you.”

CRACK!

At this moment, you’re sure that it’s your mind splintering into a million pieces, and only many, many hours later do you realize that it’s your poor broken bedframe. Because you’re overspilling with drooling dredges of pearlescent seed and bliss when that finally pushes you over the edge, too. “K-Kentoooo-”

“Shhh sh sh- m’here Hold onto me-” he’s rasping out. Airy. Depraved. Like Nanami doesn’t even know that the words are leaving his lips. “So perfect…wanna marry you, darling.”

You can only blurt out a drunken giggle, “Ken- we’re ngh- already married.”

“Oh…then…you already know m’yours…” Nuzzling his face into his favorite hideout at the crook of your neck, Nanami’s words are almost cracking into a whine - a plea for the very first time in his life. “-body and soul.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - XOXO

“Why hello to you, too.” You flinch when Geto snickers once his sneaking fingers massage downwards to pry open your thoroughly puckered and drooling pussy lips. He wasn’t talking to you. “Wanna help me make my girl all happy again?”

And he’s humming along, throwing your pliable legs easily over his sculptured shoulders with an understanding nod. “Mmmm- needy one, aren’tcha?”

“You’re s-such a tease.” You’re huffing out, brows knitting in a way that only made the pretty man above you kiss away.

“And you’re such a green-eyed lil’ monster.” He’s purring back, a rasping growl leaking its way into Geto’s teasing words. “And as much as I love that ah- jealous pout on ya, gorgeous, better know it only makes me…harder.”

Geto’s snaking a hand to pry your drunkenly lolling head to veer downwards, chuckling at the way your droopy eyes widen when you’re taking note of his staggeringly bloated cock laid right there between your legs. Red and angry. So ready to pump the heated geyser between your legs full of his inches, that he can’t help but bawl out a ribbony string of pre smearing across your tummy. Enough so that you can almost taste it-

“What? What happened to my heh- snappy girl, huh?” Inky bangs mussing up when he’s cocking his head to simply leer. Such a sleazy look of depravity taking over all of his features, “Too big?”

You’re shaking your head - gasping, “Y-yes but I want it- want you hck! inside me so badly, Suguru—”

“Say m’name like that n’ I’ll cum.” He’s rolling his eyes, truly unabashed and greedy. With a sopping wet plap! Geto’s planting your treacly slit with a spank, only for you to be presented with the big beefy expanse of his pale forearm before you can even make a whiny noise. “Now, bite down and take it.”

You think you could sob when every long, girthy inch of his fills you up to your very brim. Bulky globular tip kissing past your gluey lips and mazing you open so widely around him, until your elastic walls were tautly stretched till you could feel every ridge, every thumping vein, every goopy spurt of warm pre that showered your melty insides.

“Heh.” Fuck, Geto’s heart just lurches with something warm at that heart-eyed cross of your pupils. Such a pretty picture. “Can ya count how many inches f’me, gorgeous?”

Ah, you couldn’t think much less count with just how battering Geto was with his mindless ruts just to fit inside. Washboard abs flexing with every push, push, push-

You’re letting go of his heated flesh with a soppy pwah! bursting from your lungs. “E-eight?” Only to be hit with a messy thud! of his thick cockhead dragging down your mushy walls, throbbing veins thumping at your tenderized spots in time with your very heartbeat. Oh. “Nine?”

“Atta girl.” The calloused mountains of his palms covet underneath your thighs and manhandle you even closer to lock them around his neck. Tighter. “Got a whole nine inches j-just for you, alllll for this pretty pussy right here.”

You can’t help but feel like a fucking toy at the merciless hands of Geto Suguru - and he’s more than happy to pliantly jerk you around until you were halfway through sobbing at the sheer pounds after pounds.

Your glossed lips can only part open when he’s punctuating each thrust with a tug on the precious hood of your clit, and Geto was always the best with his fingers. Dipping and swirling them around dexterously to make you see flashing stars, “Sugu, it- It feels- so-”

“Louder.”

“S-Sugu-”

“Ah ah- louder.” Mahogany headboard clattering against the walls, about to break. To snap. Just as much as he was right about now. “Don’ hold back any fuck- pretty noises from me. The entire ah- place hasn’t heard ya yet.”

“Mhmm, does it feel hah- good when big bad Sugu is fucking you stupid?” Leaving a sweet little pap! of his blushing red tip particularly hard into your g-spot, you swear you could taste the bliss of his bumpy veins branding into your tenderized orifices. “When ya don’t have to think about ngh- aaaany of those silly things?”

And you couldn’t worry about anything - not that too-flirty new member of the association, not your jealousy - not when Geto was fucking each and every thought out of your poor mind.

Barely even registering it even once one engulfing hand curls gently at the back of your neck to hide away your prespired face into the clammy crook of his neck. So pretty and supple when he’s guiding you to bite, “C’mon then- heh- mark me. Use me. Show off that m’yours.”

“Y-you’re enjoying this-” you’re whining, though, nosing away to pinprick littering bites that blossom and bloom, and show off even if he had his traditional robes on.

“And you’re turned on.” He’s finishing off your never-ending mewls, head lolling backwards drunkenly to give you an even bigger canvas to work with. “Feeling me all deep inside-” Splaying out a palm along your tummy to feel for that cylindrical outline of something hard. Aching. Bumping up in wet smooches into your deepest spots. “Such a possessive lil’ thing milkin’ me. I need you to fuck me. Fuh-fuck me.”

Muttering, “Ngh- should- should fuck you in front of the whole cult to l-let them know.” Your murky huffs are laced with something grumbling that makes his fattened tip twitch.

It’s only then and there that you hear notorious clan leader Geto Suguru whimper. For the first time ever in his life, breaking at the seams when your nails rake pretty red valleys down the mountainous expanse of his Adonis-like back.

Flexing and rippling and fuck-

Fuck, Geto thinks he could almost cum right then and there at the awe-strucken expression smeared all over your face. The way your lips were curling with trickling rivulets of drool and you barely even realize.

“That’s right-” He’s cooing at your nonsensical babbling like it was his favorite conversation, and you’ve never seen him so fucked. So much like putty underneath your hands as you leave marks for days. Maw slagging open with a smirk, heady lids so heavy and hypnotized that they’re practically closed. “That’s right, that’s riiiight- That can be arranged.”

Your greedy fingerpads tangle with his silken locks and jerk in shock, syrupy sap leaking sobbing between your pursed lips and forming a little ring right at Geto’s hulking base once you’re registering what he said. “Can be- arranged?”

And ah- Geto knows he loves you. He really, really loves you. Marked and yours, he’s whispering, “Anything for my girl. Because m’yours and yours forever and ever.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “I-I’m yours…”

And not even the way that poor Choso was buried vulgarly deep into every syrupy nook and cranny of your pretty pussy would stop him from rambling those whimpering words. In fact, it was the opposite.

He was so thoroughly pussydrunk that just a few sloppy sucks of our glutinous walls makes Choso’s heaving chest stutter mid-fuck. Drooling maw falling pathetically open at the sheen sprays formulating around his swollen, rose-pink shaft.

So glossy and pretty that he feels hypnotized.

“Cho…” Only snapping half-awake once your trembly fingers dive into Choso’s slightly dampened chestnut locks. And the flutters of his long lashes are so adorable, “D’you ngh- mean that?”

“Of course! Don’t be silly, my baby–” And he can’t even believe what he’s hearing - you? The light of his life? Fucking jealous over a too-flirty sorcerer? God, if it wasn’t for the way that his breath hitches at the dewy cling of your mushy walls exactly around his sensitive underside, then Choso would’ve thought that he was dreaming. “You know you’re the ah! only one for me.”

And he meant it with every pound after papping pound of his plumpened, ruddy crownhead drawing spattered gashes into your rubbery channel.

Rubbing over one slender thumb to trailway the peak of your buttony clit, Choso can’t hold back his keening whine at just how much wetter that makes your already-slobbering pussy. Swirling pressurized gyrations over and over, he’s muttering away, “G-gonna prove it- g’na make you cum- ngh- have to- ah fuck-”

“Oh- shit- B-baby, I can’t stop-” You’re whispering at the fountained squirt of your slick flooding the sultry non-existent space between you two - you’re so responsive today, and Choso thinks he could cum just from this.

“Fuck me-” he’s dribbling through roughly parted lips, nose crinkling with utter bliss. “Fuck me- ngh- Yeah yeah yeah, milk me and make me yours, baby- only ever want you to milk me.”

You’re snickering with such utter loving in your eyes that it makes him shy. “H-heh, so cute when you’re fucking yourself so hah- deep in me like this, baby.”

He could whine, could beg your cute cunt for more. Could feel not even a mere inkling of embarrassment as his tongue lolls out like such a slut to slide glazy digits all the way into the back of his greedy throat. Dewy eyes shuttering at the sugarcoated taste of your sweet, sweet juices-

“Oh, but you sh-shouldn’t ever need to be jealous. I w-wanna…” he’s starting off with a tremoring wobble of his jutted, strawberry-pink lips. Thickly viscous coatings of saliva and your slick hanging off of them like a sticky second skin, “-wanna s-stuff my face between your pretty legs forever and ever, baby–”

And Choso couldn’t fucking believe the words were spilling from his mouth - he was supposed to be making his poor girl feel better. Supposed to be comforting you.

But these are so sinful that it makes your beloved boyfriend burn a bright blossoming red, such a pretty flush eating one the apples of his cheeks. One you can’t help but cup, “S’that all?”

Shit, Choso can feel his buttery pre coil out in a few soppy splotches that puddle at the end of your pulpy cervix, split-ended shaft making such a mess. His hefty breeder balls clench tautly at the teasing tone of your voice- dammit. He can’t cum before you.

“N-no.” Pearly white teeth sinking into his gummy bottom lip, Choso chews away as if it was his favorite candy. Trying so-very-hard to hold himself back. “Wanna fuck her- ngh-” And just one look– just one sneaking spy down at where he was disappearing back and forth always left him stupidly speechless. “-her…p-pretty lips until I…die. Think m’ngh- addicted, baby—”

He was so precious.

Tear-streaked face nuzzling the crook of your neck, dexterous fingers knotting around the bulky base of his length. And the only thing that Choso’s heavy tongue can jumble out is a mixture of your name and please- please please-

“Aww, Cho–” You’re prying his sweaty face away to gaze down ravenously into yours, and just the sweet eye contact is enough to make his skin even more feverishly blushing pink. “Are you close?”

“N-no…”

A lie - and both of you knew it.

Because Choso’s streaks of thumping veins down his sensitive cock always throbbed so much harder when it was building up. His dark lashes lacquering with a salty layer of tears, sculptured abs flexing and pulling tight when his sloppy hips pap! pap! pap! into your fleshy mounds like such an animal.

Choso has never felt more out of control - more and more like his sanity was fraying away with every bumpy nudge of his dewdropping rotund tip into your bouncy sweet spots. With every drag of your raking nails down his scalp in a way that makes him think he would fucking purr if he could-

“I…I lied.” He’s confessing like his greatest sin, one arm wrangling around your waist to smush your naked tits against his cushy pecs. Cozy. “M’gonna cum-”

“Cum f’me, Choso.”

Biting back a shrilling mewl at the lecherous use of his full name, he’s already feeling the white-hot shockwaves of his tightly teetering orgasm swirling around in his thwacking balls. Urgently latching two soft-padded fingertips onto your clit, Choso pinches-

And then you’re both cumming.

You don’t know who was first - but in the depths of your lust-filmed mind, you’re sure you tied for the hardest. Because you’re seeing ivory - or make that was just the thickly viscous globs of seed that verspilled from your knotted cunt.

“Fuh-fuck me-” he’s gurgling out, reeling you into his glimmering, toned body so tightly. Usually so conscious of crushing you with his weight, but now you’re being pinned to the soaked sheets with every ounce of him. He’s melting into you, abs against your tummy, thighs against your own, head dripping into your throat to bite. “Love you- love you love you love- love being yours. And yours o-only.”

Clingy wads of seed sloshing out of you with every sensitive buck, Choso’s still fucking you through your high. Fucking you like he can’t stop the steaming hot piles of cum being poured out into your cozy pussy until you were flooded to the brim.

And through your black-tinged vision you can make out the hypnotized figure of him dipping down two ravaging fingers to smear the clingfilm of lustrous creamy white. Swabbing a generous helping before popping them into his dribbling mouth-

“Baby, did you know curses mate for life?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Cross my heart

“Hah- what was that again, silly human?” Sukuna’s crossing over his big beefy arms exactly how he knew you liked, and the way you’re ogling the powerful flexes of his biceps is just so darn cute. “Jealous? Repeat that f’me- for your king.”

As if you could.

As if Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just fucking you stupid right now - for what seemed like hours and hours and hours. The fat globe of his bawling cockhead drawing a few trickles of sap down your battered g-spot each and every time. Every vicious rut arching perfectly off of his luxurious throne to leave wet plap! after plap! after plap! on your poor stinging mounds of flesh.

You were supposed to be riding him - but, of course, the king of curses had to steal your thunder. Had to shut up your shrilling whines by bumping his hips into you mercilessly.

“Oi oi-” Two dark-nailed digits are slicking in front of your deliciously crossed eyes to snap you out of your cockdrunken little haze, and with a sharp snap! your pulpy cervix is being bludgeoned with three thick drags of one strawberry-ruby tip. He’s fisting his other matchingly swollen length with fat fingers, thumbing down those lightning bolted veins mouth-wateringly. “Don’t tell me yer tappin’ out ngh- already?”

Your mewls come out candied and so, so needy. Bonelessly jittery arms curling around Sukuna’s thick neck, to jerk your hips mere sultry inches down his soppily glazed shafts. “I-I’m- not- I was just…”

“And now yer fuckin’ running away.” He’s drawling out, and oh, you could tell that he was enjoying this. Monstrous mouth on his stomach spilling out a few greedy puddles of saliva at that oh-so-desperate pout on your face. Grinning. “Can’t talk but- ya can ah- run away? Where are ya going, huh? Lemme escort ya, brat.”

Before you can even blink, he’s baring you with such a feral grin. Plumpish lips pulled back to show off those elongated canines, rumbling snickers shooting out from between them the very moment Sukuna’s curling a staggering arm around the small of your back. Hard.

Crushing you against the sweat-simmers mountains of his cushiony pecs, you’re at the perfect deepened angle for his second mouth to just dote on the weep tip of your clit.

“Sh-shit-” Your head tumbles airily backwards at the roughened smooch of his oversized tastebuds down your neglected clit, so hot and greedy that it makes you see stars. Mumbles slurring with every syllable, “Kuna i-it feels so good-”

“Well, duh.” Sukuna has no qualms rolling those glowingly demon-red eyes, plumpened cock swiping copious syrupy dewdrops around and around your puckered hole. “Dunno why ya think of all this- ngh! fuck- stupid shit…Ya really think I make jus’ anyone ah- feel like this?”

You’re huffing, knowing exactly the stupid conversation that got you here. “Not m-my fault- everyone in your court is always trying to be ngh! fuuuck- a-all over you and I just got a little jeal-”

“No shit, woman.” Fuck- you should’ve expected the punishing little pinch of his plushy fingerpads around your beaded nipples. And Sukuna can only tut, “Gettin’ jealous over low-lives for ngh- what? How m’I gonna get that cute lil’ brain of yours to f-finally understand, hm?”

And it’s like he was trying to drill that idea into you. In many ways.

Sukuna’s letting a third of his massive palms pucker up your swollen pussylips. Lecherously so.

Dancing his heated fingertips up and down up and down those saturatedly puffed-up edges before letting the hefty hilt of his stacked shaft fall in a weighty smack! Once. Just enough to make you sound out a shocked yelp at the messy French snog of his second cock down your treacly slit.

Slow and languid - the complete opposite of how vigorously he was now filling you up with those exact inches. “My jealous girl- ngh- one’s not ‘nough, right? Good thing your Kuna has two.”

Yeah, his size was incredible.

Your parted lips couldn’t stop quivering, couldn’t stop streaming out geysers of cockdrunk spit at just how close you felt to bursting.

Because his girths were plugging you mind-numbingly full, thumping veins massaging in sweet little glissades down the most treasured sweet spots of your walls. Two of Sukuna’s fingers dip downwards to spread your bulging lips, using every ounce from years upon years of battle just to buck. Up, up, up-

“Sh-shit—” he’s hissing underneath his headily cloudy breath, jaw clenching at the velvety slide of himself stuffing you doubly full. And if Sukuna thought that he wasn’t handling this well, then he wasn’t ready to gaze with glazed eyes up at you. “So- tight. Look at that bulge. Feelin’ full, brat?”

Yes. You could almost sob, pulling on those bubblegum curls at the base of Sukuna’s neck when he’s only pivoting to sink in even deeper. Yes yes yes yes-

“Good. G-gonna make a biiiig mess- here-” You’re whimpering brokenly at the sharp throb of one index of his probing about halfway down your tummy, where Sukuna’s sweltering hot tips were scouring. “-maybe then ya won’t forget who’s yours.”

“M-mine?” You’re blinking your droopy eyes up at him, and shit- he can feel his regal cheekbones burn at the pretty sight.

Drooly little squelches are wafting off from underneath you after every battering ram of an innocent peck up into your goopy depths. And Sukuna only matches the slurping sounds back up above when he latches his lips onto yours.

“Kiss me- kiss me proper.” Your maw dangles open drunkenly with a prying tug from one of his thumbs, “Lick-” And it’s so fucking filthy that you can feel your slobbering pussy lacquer with another candied wave of slick, flooding between your legs and helping you slip and slide in lewd gyrations of his lap. A mess that his excess mouth gladly laps up. “Spit.”

You do - letting the gleaming thick wad splatter onto Sukuna’s eagerly awaiting tongue and lather his mouth even wetter. And you right along with-

With your orgasm taking you by surprise - fuck. Right at the moment your dripping cunt pecks his twin hilts.

You hadn’t even noticed the way it was building up and up and up- not until you’re letting your eyes sprint to the sluggish back of your head with a moan.

“I-I’m-” Barely able to stutter out, stomach piling hotly with the shockwave of your high and the pleasurably liquidly masses of Sukuna’s buttery pre. Even more as he watched you fall apart. “-cumming—!”

“I know I know, nasty girl. Fuckin’ filthy.” He’s planting heavy-duty pound after pound to permanently brand all those spots, your cervix, everywhere and anywhere with the rounded circumference of his bloated cockheads. Swiping off those miniscule splatters of remnants, grumbling - with such a content smile. “Gotta work on your h-heh aim, though. Notice anything, brat?”

Notice? What was there to notice? You muse you could barely even think - barely even breathe with the way that your mind was still jolted with your orgasm. With the way that Sukuna’s bustling cocks were stretching your gluey walls permanently open and-

Oh.

That’s when your lust-filmed eyes see it - the tattoo. Nothing out of the ordinary to see Sukuna with a cursed marking on his tongue, but what came right after was what had you gasping…your name. Inked right on his flesh.

“Next time ya get- tch…jealous, m’ngh- tattooing your name here-” Drifting down his clawed digits from your hips and over to his own. And then up to his heart. He was dead serious. Planting your agape mouth with a sappy kiss, “-and fuckin’ ya in front of the whole court, my silly human.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Casual?!

Sure, this arrangement with you was supposed to be casual but…one simple hangout with friends later and Ino Takuma knows you’re the only one he’d ever want to see walk down that damn aisle. He knows.

Because you’ve got your trembly legs practically padlocked greedily around the slender curve of his toned waist, your slobbery folds greedily drooling down every curvaceous inch of him. And oh, he can’t help but let off a quiet whine at the grumpy furrow in your brows, “W-wan’ more, Taku–!”

More.

More more more that made his peachy-pink tip drivel out a few slippery douses of pre down your rubbery walls like your favorite sort of icing. Only adding to the complete and utter mess he’d already made-

“Are ya sure?” Ino’s drawling out, mean hips angling to skim just past the bruised and battered orifice of your g-spot. Slowly puckering up in a French kiss against your cervix, he’s catching a thumb down the eager globs of cum from just before that were now sloshing out of you. Teasing it into his mouth, “Yer already so f-full, pretty- Hmmmm, maybe we should just hngh- rest now-”

Ah, he knew exactly what would happen.

Exactly how it would only take three curls of his fat thumb up and down the lustrous layers of buttery seed that were staining your puffy pussylips for you to snap. To let out a cloudy pant of swears before planting your quivering feet flat on the plush mattress and flip the two of you over.

Ino’s leaving a stinging spank once the mound of your ass rests right up against the tight curve of his rounded balls, slobbering a glossy snail trail all over his heated skin in a way that make him groan. “Ohhh, love it when yer rough w’me like this.”

“Just one more…” He’s not even sure if you knew just how lethal that pout of yours was, fingers digging into his scalp to pull on his silky chestnut locks. And Ino lets you. Fuck- he lets you. “Want to be s-sure that next time, everyone knows you’re mine.”

Oh. Ino can feel his neat brows raising, hips rummaging upwards into your gluey depths with a mindless slam! “Holy shit. I-is that what this is- you’re ngh- jealous?” Latching onto the pivoting motions of your hips, “That’s so fucking hot.”

Indeed, and who knew that a flirty waitress would leave you fucking the sanity out of him like this.

Ino’s finding himself keening at the smaller digits of yours staking your nails and your claim all over his pretty tawny hair, his throat, his pecs. Marks upon marks upon marks-

“Hah- fuuuuck- you jus’ feel so ngh- good, baby—” you’re practically purring, jerking your hips to mush his fattened mushroom tip into your sweetest spot with practice. Up and down and Ino can’t look away. “Makes me wanna k-keep ya all to myself.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s quirking up one brow, and you can’t help but find it so rawly sexy the way he does it. “S’that what you hngh- want? Wanna keep me until ya-” Both of you hissing when he’s grazing his soft fingertips across the creamy wads of cum spilling from your soppy slit. Before pushing it back in- “-until ya milk me dry, pretty?”

He was always so mean with his mouth - but the way that Ino was arching his spine the perfect curvature off of the drenched sheets was even meaner.

Choking out through long, unsteady heaves of his pronounced pecs, “Shit, greedy girl. D-don’t know if I even can cum anymore, y’know?”

“Just one more?”

“Dammit…dammit! Ya know I can’t- ah- resist ya.” He’s tutting, “Just oooone more for m’girl?”

Deep, vulgar strokes plap! plap! plapping! against your own sloppy staccato. Vicious. Hard enough that the excess ribbons of cum smear and sludge all inside your tight entrance. It feels so completely lecherous that you don’t even hesitate before craning one set of fingers behind your back to graze over his puckered ballsack.

Tender touch making Ino’s jaw drop with a whine - a whine.

“Y-you vixen–” Soft hair splaying out across the pillowcase like a halo when he’s throwing his head alllll the way back, matching the way his eyes slide behind until all you can see are those ivory whites. “Fucking take it then, always ruinin’ me with this p-pretty pussy o’ yours.”

“S’that so?” You’re musing, teeth sinking into the tender spot right at his left earlobe. And Ino’s face is so sweaty and flushed nuzzling into yours, streaked with a cherry-red blush that looks oh-so-cute. “No need to be shy about it, Taku–”

“F-fuuuck- don’ say my ngh- name like that.” And there’s something in the way he giggles all pussydrunkenly, “Gonna make me- cum again- Fuuuck, only you could m-make me like this.”

Oh?

So very drunk off of you and the clingy smooches your sloppy cunt was leaving on his rock-hard length that he just couldn’t stop babbling. Faster. Couldn’t stop running his kiss-bruised mouth with every thwacking thrash! against your magical spots, dotting gumdrops of dangerous pre with every single jackhammer. Sloppier.

And that smile on your face is heavenly. “Say that again, baby?” But your words are devilish.

As if to whisper his deepest darkest secrets in hoarse, breaking whimpers into your ear, Ino’s curling his dextrous inches of fingers around your throat. Hauling you greedy centimeters closer until his heady breath was bouncing in warm puffs off of your features, in awe taking you in. Drooling. Blushing. Syllables drowning in embarrassment, “Only you can ah- fuck me stupid like this- o-only you…m’yours.”

“Gonna hafta let hngh- everyone know then-” you’re humming, voice so silky smooth but Ino’s ruddied cock could feel the sweltering hot gushes as you only got wetter. “-I’ll be ah- showing you off then-”

“Mhmm– yeah- yeah, whatever you say, sweetness.” He’s sighing underneath his breath when your bounces only grow more vicious. “Proper name, place name…backtory stuff.” Face drooping into the strained crook of his neck and- oh.

And then you bite him and Ino thinks he sees the gates of heaven.

With you, straddling him right then and there like the angel you are. Your needy pussy swallowing up torrential ounces and ounces and ounces of his ribbony cum. The sappy masses mixing and meshing with the already-filthy puddle that he’d made before.

There’s just so much spilling from that strawberry pink divot peaking at his crownhead, that Ino’s entire body hunches over. Sweat-dampened forehead sticking to yours, shivers sprinting down his spine to where he was maintaining a vice-like grip plugging you full of his swirling cum.

Bleeding into his words when he’s muttering up at you through long, fluttering lashes, “C-can we hold hands when we go out now?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - WEAK

“M’not weak.” He’s spitting out, long snowy lashes fluttering with every sheeny glissade of your puckered pussy lips rovering up and down his achy, overused cock. Up and down up and down up and- “So ngh- m-mark me up.”

And it was just about the only thing that Gojo Satoru wanted - the only thing he yearned for - right after proving to you and everyone else that he was yours.

He’d just finished smearing your prettily puckered lips with a thick lipstain of sappy cum, before manhandling you on top of him to ride him for hours and hours and hours. You’re so gorgeous milking his fucking soul, with Gojo’s own velvety blindfold dangling off of your neck.

Planting a long, exaggerated snog of his plump rosy lips on your sodden mouth, Gojo’s pulling away with a dramatic pout. “Wan’ to show them how the ah- strongest fucks. For everyone t-to know how well you- hngh!”

You’re proving exactly his point with a clingy clench of your glutinous walls hugging his rummaging cockhead. Slipping and sliding between his leaky mushroom tip between your saturated lips oh-so-easily with just how soaked you were.

With a stinging smack! of his slender, six-inch fingers onto the arched curve of yours ass, Gojo’s helping your bulging lips swallow up every one of his fucking inches. Greedily.

“Why?” You’re huffing out a clouded pant, hitting Gojo’s playfully loving features. Words taking on a whiny tone that you only ever saw used by your boyfriend himself, “S-so that even more girls could flirt with you when m’right ngh- there-”

Swat!

Once. Twice. Thrice until Gojo was sure that your sharp mouth was reduced to flooding with nothing but needy whines at his punishing little thwacks.

Reminding you of how he’d turned down anyone and everyone else that flocked to him.

You can only watch when he’s curling one big, beefy forearm around the pivoting small of your back. Sapphire eyes rolling up at you, “Girl, as much as I hah- looove that feisty hngh- mouth o’ yours. You think just anyone s’gonna make the st-strongest theirs?”

Before you can answer, he’s swabbing out a caramelized wad of translucent saliva, dipping down to your neglected clit and leaving off a pressurized spank.

“Silly lil’ thing. The answer is- no-” He’s humming away, like he wasn’t just driving your body oh-so-feral right about now. Prattles of praises dripping with every dousing dab of his globular tip opening up your gooey depths, “-so no complainin’ now, my girl.”

And it was so true.

With a few copious more kisses lingering on your tongue, Gojo’s blessing your tastebuds with a wet thwack! of his drooly saliva. Pecking away the overspilling spatters beading at the corners of your lips, “See how well ya take it? So no need ta get ngh- jealous, sweetheart.”

And maybe it was high time that you’re asking for a break, high time that you’re breathing in heaving gulps of air to try and organize your dazed mind.

But the only thing you find yourself doing is carressing your palms to give Gojo’s bulging pecs a good firm squeeze. Digging your nails into the plush muscle in a way that makes his nose crinkle with a whimper.

“C-can’t help it, Toru–” Head throwing back with the roaring pap! of his clammy skin sticking to yours with each bounce, you’re stuffing your snug cunt so unbearably full with his massively large inches. And it only makes you want more more more- “-you’re just so pretty…”

Oh.

“Yeah?” Gojo’s letting his head splay-out into the pillow with a woozy grin smeared all over his ruined features. One set of his biceps rippling when he’s resting it sexily behind him, the other twitching when he’s curling one finger underneath the blindfold at your neck and dragging you until you’re mere sultry inches away. “Ya think m’pretty, huh?”

Your blood curdles in your vein with embarrassment at what you’d just babbled away cockdrunkenly - what you were still babbling out. “Y-yes. Unfairly pretty.”

Fuck, Gojo was just twitching his bulked rotund tip into your goopiest depths. Still so sensitive. Earning you a low whine puffing from between his lips, and the sweetest of kisses against that tender g-spot.

“H-heh…” And if you were in a better state of mind, you’d have sworn that the great Gojo Satoru’s suave voice trembled with such an obvious crack. “M’gonna marry ya- I swear.”

And that massive diamond ring bunched up in his drawer to be mentioned later, you’re feeling the burning sting of his pampered fingernails raking bruising lines down the curvaceous arch of your spine. The sheer bend of it sending Gojo licking his lips, eyes craning to admire the bumpy pathways of his perfect work.

You’re hissing your own crescents drawing the very same thing all over Gojo’s Herculean front the very moment his jackhammers get too much. Strawberry red lines against his peachy flush. Plummy split-end probing deeply into all your treasure trove of geysers that it felt like just the slightest bit of recoil parting your gluey flesh made him mad.

“Ohhh, girl-” The smile you’re bared with is so wild - unrestrained. Showing off his sharpened canines like such an animal, drooling and gleaming with mouth-watered sap. Breaths staggering out in hot pants, “-the way you hah- stake your claim on me is sooo sexy. Because m’yours, huh?”

And maybe if this was any other time then you’re sure you’d be embarrassed at how quickly you’re hurtling into your orgasm headfirst with just those words and the bruising twang of his fingers pinching your clit.

Yet, it feels so good - Gojo Satoru was always the best at whatever he did.

And right now you can feel your throat burn with the wrenching call of Toru— your hips stuttering down into his almost-thunderously. Riotous, vicious drags to plumpen your favorite spots with the curved angle of his thick cock, so drag out your high for far too long-

But Gojo wasn’t done. Of course, he wasn’t.

Not until spearheading few determinedly roughened thrashes up into your soppy cervix with a gritted slash of his mouth.

“Yeah yeahh- y-you can handle it, girlie-” Swab after swab after swab that made your second and third orgasms cash into one. “Gotta s-suck me ngh- dry now, m’kay? Make aaaaall of Toyko lose their fuckin’ electrcity- ah- instead of worryin’ that pretty lil’ head with stupid things. Okay?” Final, heaving slopes of his thrusts- “Gotta take eeeverything th-this big cock takes like a champ, m’kay? Because it’s all yours heh…”

And then you’re milking him and you’re milking him until he’s gone. Ruined.

The strongest reduced to nothing but a lecherous mess of whimpers and feral twitches of his ruby-red tip. Flooding your poor cunt over and over with waterfalls of his creamy sap, so fucking overstimulated that he can feel his footfalls planting down firmly on the mattress. Eyes watering, spine hunching-

CRACK!

Ah, Gojo’s cracking his leaky lids open to a dim bedroom, air murky with sex and buzzing jujutsu. Exactly how he wanted it - for everyone in every ward of Tokyo to know who made him feel this way. So good. To know how he was yours.

Gojo looks up at you, cock jerking ever-so-slightly at your heaving figure straddling him and oh, he’s in love. “Let’s take out the lights in all of Japan this time.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Soulmates.

“Cummin’ on my haaaah- cock for the fourth time and still not ‘nough?” And perhaps for the first time ever in his life, the ever-stoic Higuruma Hiromi sounded breathless. Words hitching into a needy lilt of his voice, “-still want fuckin’ more, greedy girl?”

Yes. The answer was yes yes yes yes - and it was bleeding into your every action.

Steadying your precarious hands on the cool mahogany plane of his office desk. Important law documents rustle and fall with every single motion of your hips pivoting backwards against Higuruma’s toned ones, wrenching out resounding paps! of clammy skin-on-skin. Saturated lips puckering up around every solid, girthy inch he could give, “...J-jus’ want you, Hiromi.”

“Hm, s’that right, angel?” Planting a sudden spank of his thick digits down onto the jiggling mound of your ass. And if you crane your head over your shoulder just right, you’d catch that simpering dimple at the end of his curling grin. “Such a needy girl- bet ya can’t stop thinkin’ about me, huh?”

And- shit, Higuruma wasn’t expecting his lovely angel to actually nod.

To let your head tumble up and downwards like you were out of control, mewling out affirmative yeses.

Without a second thought, he’s tugging the tattered rest of your tight silken skirt cleanly off. Engulfing palms smoothing over your stinging flesh and spreading your puffed-up pussy lips so wiiidely agape.

Your squirmy hips are being pinned down with one of his strong arms, and the forever-deepening angle of Higuruma hiking up a singular thick thigh. Neat black garter only digging into his supple leg muscles and making them look even bigger. “Take this fuckin’ cock now- no need to be shy.”

What a pretty sight.

Of your sheen-slicked folds struggling and yearning to take up more more more of him. Slobbering out sweltering hot geysers of sickly sweet slick that drizzle between his digits and down to that neat, black happy trail. You were so needy right now and Higuruma has never loved anything more - well, other than his love for simply you, of course.

“Not a single ngh- inch left- hah- ya really are made f’me, huh? All this for jus’ me?” He’s hissing out over the knocking thuds of your knees bumping into the wooden furniture with each pressurized thrust. But of course, Higuruma couldn’t have that- bending his legs with a grunt to lift your own boneless limbs ever-so-slightly midair. And you take it so fucking well- “M-maybe I hafta make ya ngh- jealous of overtime more often.”

You’re mumbling, “Hiromi—”

For which you’re shut up by the pads of his rounded fingertips rolling over your pulpy clit with a patterned heart. “Kidding- kidding, angel. But I wouldn’t s-say no to ya barging in my office n’ takin’ this fucking cock more ah- often.”

Pump and pump of his vigorous shaft, you feel like you can only perch your hips higher and take it.

All the while Higuruma’s babbling away pussydrunkenly like he doesn’t even realize it - and he doesn’t. He can’t. The only thing running through his saccharine sweet mind being you you you-

“Awww, nothin’ for ya to be worried about, dear–” Those overstimulated pearls of wet tears gathering at your droopy eyes are lazily wafted away by one of Higuruma’s thumbs. “M’a married fuckin’ man- not to my work. To you, my soulmate.”

“B-but–” Your lower lips juts out in a pout that makes his strawberry pink cockhead jolt like he’d been zapped with a million fucking volts of electricity. Mind too intoxicated to really even register what he said - married. “-makes me feel so lonely n’ jealous some ah- nights, baby–”

“My poor angel-” His face nuzzles into your tear-clammed cheeks, and the miniscule bristle of his five-o-clock shadow makes your trembling orifices only wetter. “-my poor, poor angel. Y’know what we can ngh- do?”

Blinking up dazedly, “What?”

“What if I…” And oh, he’s planing over the middle of your tummy, fingers teetering sensual little circles right above where his rummaging fat cock was making such a mess of your goopy insides. ‘-pumped ya alllll f-full right here.“ Just those sweetly tender words in your ear was enough to make your lips part parchedly, as dry as a desert. “N’ gave our little family a-another hah- member…or two.”

It’s as if as soon as the idea is dropped into your needy head, it’s all that you can think about.

“Wan– ah-” You’re mewling, “Want it- want it so bad. I-inside please–”

Plummeting your hips in an even sloppier slew of grinds against Higuruma’s, it’s no surprise that his sculptured skin where your ass is meeting and smacking into his is angry and red. But he doesn’t mind-

Fuck, in fact, it makes Higuruma even fucking harder. Every ounce of hot blood in his body bloating up to balloon his swollen crownhead even puffier, and he’s skimming over the sensory pads of his digits over and over your womb to feel for that nudge- that little probe of his ruthless shaft into your depths.

“Yeah? That sound good?” He can’t help but snicker in an uncharacteristically sleazy way at just how eagerly you’re nodding, “‘Course it does- my- ngh! good girl takes it all, doesn’t she?” He’s so filthy with his mouth, driving you closer and closer to the edge, even more so when he’s finally uttering. “N’ m’gonna give my all because m’yours, angel. All yours.”

He was fucking you all the way through your high like he meant it - and was driving the very message into both your gummy cunt and your stupefied mind.

Over and over in such salacious grounds of his bulky cylindrical shaft swirling into your pudgy cervix. Kissing you hello and goodbye each n’ every time until he can’t hold it in-

Can’t stop. Can’t even falter when the arm manhandling you flatly onto your front sags with the weight of his entirely powerful body. Hunching over with a low groan, Higuruma’s filling you up to the very brim. Even past that with the utter viscous volume of seed treacling past your puckered slit.

It’s so soppingly soaked that you’re feeling your thighs slip and slide past each other with every squeeze, lathered in a sugary frosting of his cum. Packed and plugged safely inside your goopy depths.

Higuruma can’t help but let his heart twist with utter pride at the way he could feel the matted masses cream and knot around his throbbing shaft inside of you. Ready to keep you locked up in here as long as possible for it to take.

Overtime be damned, he was on a mission to prove that he’s devoted - that he’s yours.

Which is what finds him sneakily tugging open the second drawer on his desk while you busy yourself trying to catch desperate breaths. To steady yourself. To fucking open your eyes after this thorough ruination of your insides - only to see something big, and glinting on your left ring finger.

A big, expensive diamond in exactly the design you’d off-handedly mentioned liking years and years ago.

Your mouth drops, and Higuruma’s crooks into a simpering smile. “If that didn’t prove m’all yours- maybe this will, my wife.”

A/N. WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOG SIS-

Plagiarism not authorized.

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kamitv · 5 months ago

Text

Tutor!Nanami who steadily became more of a private fuck for you instead of a tutor and utters things like, “If only you followed directions as well as you take my cock.” while he's fucking you over the very desk you're supposed to be studying on.

Tutor!Nanami who's been sick of how awful you are at following his overly simple directions whenever he tries to go over course materials with you so, he figured he'd have to fuck these lessons into that pretty head of yours.

Tutor!Nanami who wasn't even the one to suggest this kinda thing. He just went along with the way your eyes focused more on the tight blue-collar shirt and khaki-colored slacks he wore on a day to day basis instead of the notes he was reading to you. You made it so painfully obvious that you only agreed to these tutoring sessions so that you'd have an excuse to ogle him.

Tutor!Nanami who, after fucking you that first time, decided to use the sex as more of a reward for every time you studied properly with him. If you could last an entire session without your eyes lingering elsewhere, he'd reward you by laying you out against the desk and eating you out like a man starved.

Tutor!Nanami who groans into your sopping cunt about how, "This is what happens when you focus on your work instead of," pausing, simply to reel back and shoot at messy wad of spit right in between your slippery folds, "Thinkin' about filth all day."

Tutor!Nanami who kisses just about every inch of skin his lips can reach as he fingers you 'til your legs are shaking around his hand and your fingers are curling around his wrist, pushing at him to give you a break.

Your back is arching up off the desk and moan after moan of his name is slipping off of your tongue whilst you writhe beneath the skillful curl and twist of his thick fingers inside you.

Tutor!Nanami who praises you like it second nature to do so, all against your ear with his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and his slightly fogged glasses brushing up against you as he tips his head every which way just to get different looks at you.

Tutor!Nanami who promises to fuck you how you really wanna be fucked as long as you ace your next test. And when you come to him a few days later with that gorgeous A printed atop your paper, he's left to completely and truly live up to his own promises to you.

Tutor!Nanami who's mouth is filthier than you could've ever imagined once he's got you at his place. Fast forward past all the sloppy make-outs that led you to where you are now and here you are standing before him with soaked panties and heavy lungs as he unbuckles that thick belt of his.

Clank after clank and you're nibbling on your lower lip in pure anticipation, awaiting the moment he tugs that belt through its annoying loops and tosses it to the side.

But of course, Tutor!Nanami still has you anxious at every given moment because suddenly he's tipping his head to the side and nodding his chin toward your legs, “Bend over n’ show her to me."

You've never moved faster in your life--tugging off what little clothing you have on, discarding it to the floor and doing exactly as he's instructed you to by bending over his bed and leaving your cunt on full display for the man.

Tutor!Nanami smirks and runs his smooth textured fingers over the curve of your ass first before settling his greedy palms on your hips and leaning over just to whisper to you. "I wanna see if this pussy’s worth taking my cock exactly the way she wants it,” He tells you with a mean emphasis of his straining bulge against your exposed cunt.

You're unintentionally drooling all over him, and no, not by your mouth at all.

It only takes a bit of messy grinds back against him before Tutor!Nanami gets the idea that you're growing impatient. He was trying to drag this whole thing out with you, truly. But how can he possibly do that when you're turning your head back and begging him to fuck you??

Yeah, this is Tutor!Nanami who gives you exactly what you want and feeds your eager cunt with his fat cock after only a short while of listening to you beg for him.

Tutor!Nanami who fucks you better than anyone else ever has, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and your fingers curl into the expensive sheets below.

Tutor!Nanami who's naturally the best at aftercare, and returns to his usual composed and stoic state not too long after fucking you to tears. Treats you the way he did when you first started studying with him and even asks you if you're gonna ace all your tests after this...

Of course, he only asked that because he want you to do well academically. Not because he wants to do this again.

3K notes · View notes

liinos · 2 years ago

Text

also one thing about dubs they will not pronounce names correctly and it bothers me so much. like at least try

#like there's no effort it's just full americanization of the pronunciation makes me 🤢 bc the names are never too hard to say correctly #and i'm not talking the nuances of pronunciation i mean like. emphasis on stuff or literally just saying the name somewhat right #idk maybe it's the lifetime of having my name mispronounced but it's such a massive pet peeve of mine i can't stand it

0 notes

hxxsxxng · 1 year ago

Text

Past Wounds, Present Hearts P.SH

「Pairing」 : exbully!sunghoon x fem!reader

「Word Count」 : 10.5k

「Genre」 : smut, angst, somewhat fluff, college au

「Summary」 : you have felt resentment for sunghoon ever since the hell he put you through in middle school. now you find out he goes to your university.... and he's kinda hot?

「Warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! mentions of bullying, lower quality of life due to bullying, self doubt, mentions of drinking alcohol, implied intoxication in some scenes, college parties, sunghoon calls reader petnames, kissing, sharing a bed, nipple play, fingering, titty sucking, handjob, sunghoon turns out to be a sweetheart, cum eating, falling asleep together, and more

「Authors Note」 : i originally intended for the story to have a different ending but i changed my mind half way though and it would have been too fast paced for the word count given, i will definitely make a part two if enough people ask! not proofread

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I hate him. The smug look on his face when I walk pass him in the main campus hall. All of the girls clawing on to his shoulder, begging for his attention without knowing what fucking loser he is. The way all of the professors are so impressed with him for doing practically nothing in class. Getting a full ride scholarship for basketball to this school. I have grown sick of it.

Park Sunghoon. The name still twists my stomach after all these years. Middle school was when my hatred started for Him. He was my middle school bully. Always teasing me in front of the whole class, or making comments behind my back. What hurts the most is that he doesn’t seem to care that he used to act this way, or maybe he thinks I have forgotten. The truth is, I will never forget. It sits at the back of my mind all of the time. The people who know me from middle school still view me as this ‘disgusting’ girl who was unlikeable, because of the things that Sunghoon would do to me.

It took years for me to build myself back up, so when I saw that he was planning on going to the same university as me last fall, I was more than worried. But this wasn’t middle school anymore. I can’t let him get away with treating me like an outcast who doesn’t deserve friends.First semester of university is always scary, I was always afraid to come out my shell and meet new people. I wanted to stay on top of acedemics. My best friend Yuqi was the complete opposite. Any opportunity she got to go out and party, she would be there. And, she would surprisingly maintain decent grades as well. Now that I think about it, I have never been a party goer, not even in highschool. Then again, there weren’t too many parties that either sounded interesting, or that I was invited to.

“Kappa Alpha is having a party this Friday, you in?” Yuqi suggested. She always gets the same response. “No, you already know I can’t, we have finals next week” I shrugged. “But Kappaaaaaa!” Yuqi whined, her voice getting higher every passing second. We were walking down the hallway towards our classes. A few students looked over, but quickly decided that they didn’t want to look any further. “I hear that Kappa Alpha has the best Christmas parties every year. You have to come” Yuqi insisted, grabbing onto my arm. I rolled my eyes. “Yuqi… You don’t actually think I’m going to attend one of their parties?” Yuqi gave me a confused stare, trying to read through my expression. “Why not?” “Sunghoon is in that frat, I’m pretty sure he lives in the frat house as well. You would catch me dead before seeing me step foot into that trashy hell hole” I explained, crossing my arm defensively. She knows how he treated me in middle school, she was there to witness it.

“What? He can’t be, out of all the parties I have gone to there, I have not seen him a singular time” Yuqi said with her eyebrows furrowed, putting emphasis into each word.. I tried to tell her that yes, he is the type of guy to hide out in the frat house and not attend, but she had no idea. After some debate, she eventually gave up asking me.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above me. Yuqi's words echoed in my mind, mixing with memories I'd rather forget. The Christmas lights strung across my dorm room cast a soft glow, but they did little to brighten my mood.

I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow close. Why did Sunghoon have to be here, at my university, in my space? It wasn't fair. I'd worked so hard to leave that part of my life behind, to become someone new. Someone stronger.

But was I really stronger if I was still letting him dictate my choices? I grabbed my phone, thumb hovering over Yuqi's contact. She was probably out somewhere, living it up like she always did. I envied her sometimes, her ability to just… exist without all this baggage.

"Maybe I should go," I whispered to the empty room. The words felt foreign on my tongue. Me? At a Kappa Alpha party? It was absurd.

I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair. Yuqi would be ecstatic if I went. And isn't that what college is supposed to be about? New experiences, stepping out of your comfort zone?

But then I imagined walking into that frat house, the pulsing music, the crowded rooms. And somewhere in there, Sunghoon. Everybody loving him not knowing the kind of cruel person he is on the inside. My stomach clenched at the thought.

"This is stupid," I muttered, flopping back onto my bed. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone."

But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. I did need to prove something - to myself. That I could face my past, that I could exist in the same space as Sunghoon without falling apart.

I picked up my phone again, this time opening my messages to Yuqi. "Hey," I typed, then paused. Was I really doing this? My finger hovered over the send button as doubt crept in. But then I thought of Yuqi's excited face, of the possibility of actually enjoying myself for once.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly typed out the rest of the message and hit send. "Hey. About that Kappa Alpha party… I think I might go after all." I set my phone down, my heart racing. What had I just agreed to?Yuqi didn’t see my message until the morning, but I can only imagine her physical reaction after reading her written one. “Really???? I never thought this day would come. I promise you will love it!!!” my screen read. Her overuse of punctuation was telling enough about she felt. It was Friday morning, meaning that the party was going to be later in tonight. If I plan my time correctly, we can leave my dorm around 8pm, and I would have had all of the studying done that at I needed to do for the night.

I couldn’t help feeling nervous at the thought of attending a party with Sunghoon, but I decided that this may be the perfect chance to get to know him better. Okay, not ‘get to know him better’ but maybe this could finally give him a chance to clear the air between us, to apologize properly for everything that he did to me. But the chances of him apologizing are slim to none. When I see him in campus he seems to be the snobby type, unable to admit that they are wrong. Trust me, I have heard the stories going around campus.

I spent the rest of the day in a fog, my mind drifting between lectures and study sessions. The impending party loomed over me, a mix of dread and nervous anticipation.

By the time I returned to my dorm, the sun was already setting. I sat at my desk, attempting to review my notes, but the words blurred together. My phone buzzed - another excited text from Yuqi about outfit choices. I sighed, closing my textbook. There was no point in pretending to study anymore.

~~~~~

At 7:00, a knock at my door announced Yuqi's arrival. She entered with her usual whirlwind energy, arms full of clothes and makeup. "Okay," she said, dumping everything onto my bed. "Let's make you look amazing."

I eyed the pile warily. "Yuqi, I'm not trying to impress anyone. Especially not Sunghoon." She paused, giving me a soft look. "This isn't about him. It's about you feeling good about yourself. Now, let's start with this sweater."

For the next half hour, we sifted through outfits. Yuqi was patient, letting me veto anything too revealing or flashy. We finally settled on a soft, cropped sweater and high-waisted jeans - comfortable, but still party-appropriate.

As I changed, Yuqi chatted about her day, her excitement for the party. Her casual banter helped ease my nerves, reminding me why I'd agreed to this in the first place. This was about spending time with my best friend, not about Sunghoon.

We left my dorm at 8:15, the cool night air a welcome relief for my flushed cheeks. The walk to the frat house was short, but with each step, the butterflies in my stomach intensified. Music pulsed in the distance, growing louder as we approached.

Outside the house, we paused. Yuqi squeezed my hand. "You okay?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I took a deep breath, nodding. "Yeah. Let's do this."

We stepped inside, and I was immediately overwhelmed. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and too many bodies in too small a space. Yuqi leaned close, "I'm going to get us some drinks. Will you be okay for a minute?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. As she disappeared into the crowd, I stood there, taking in my surroundings. Groups of people clustered around, laughing and dancing. I recognized a few faces from classes, but no one I knew well.

And then, across the room, I saw him. Sunghoon, leaning against a wall, surrounded by his usual admirers. He was laughing at something someone said, his head thrown back. For a moment, I was transported back to middle school, hearing that laugh directed at me, mocking and cruel.

Our eyes met for a brief second, and I swear I saw something flicker in his expression. Surprise? Recognition? But before I could process it, someone bumped into me, breaking the moment.

I turned away, my heart pounding. What was I doing here? This was a mistake. I was about to head for the door when Yuqi reappeared, pressing a red cup into my hand.

"Here," she said with a smile. "It'll help you relax." I took a small sip, the unfamiliar burn of alcohol hitting the back of my throat. As we stood there, Yuqi chatting animatedly about the people around us, I felt myself slowly start to unwind. Maybe agreeing to come here wasn’t too bad of an idea.I was just starting to relax, the music and Yuqi's chatter creating a comfortable bubble around us, when I saw him approaching. Sunghoon, weaving through the crowd, his eyes fixed on... us? No, it couldn't be. But it was.

He stopped right in front of us, that infuriatingly perfect smile plastered on his face. "Hey, Yuqi," he said, his voice smooth as ever. Then his eyes slid to me. "And Y/N,… it's been a while, hasn't it?" I felt my body tense, my grip tightening on the red cup in my hand. Yuqi glanced between us, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of concern. "Sunghoon," I managed to say, my voice coming out colder than I'd intended. But then again, why should I care? He seemed unfazed by my tone. "I didn't expect to see you here. You're not usually the party type, right?" The casual way he said it, as if he knew me, as if we were old friends catching up, made my blood boil. How dare he act so nonchalant after everything? "People change," I replied curtly. "Not that you'd know anything about that." I avoided eye contact. I saw Yuqi wince beside me, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Sunghoon's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of... something passing across his face. Confusion? Hurt? Good.

"Right," he said, recovering quickly. Looking down at the ground with a half smile, he takes my snarky response as a que to leave. “I’ll see you around, (Y/N)” he scoffs and walks away.

“He is such an asshole” Yuqi complains, rubbing my back as a way to try to comfort me. “You responded well” I watched Sunghoon's tall, muscular figure get lost in the crowd, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me felt satisfied with how I'd handled the encounter, but another part felt... unsettled. I took a long swig from my cup, hoping the alcohol would dull the conflicting feelings. "Thanks," I mumbled to Yuqi, grateful for her support. She gave me a reassuring smile, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "Do you want to leave? We can if you're not comfortable." I considered it for a moment. The idea of going back to my dorm, burying myself in my blankets and pretending this night never happened, was tempting. But then I thought about how that's exactly what the old me would have done. The me that let Sunghoon's actions dictate her life.

"No," I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "I'm not leaving. I have just as much right to be here as he does." Yuqi's face broke into a wide grin. "That's my girl!" she cheered, linking her arm through mine. "Let's mingle a bit, shall we?" As we made our way through the crowded room, I couldn't help but notice Sunghoon's gaze following us. Every time I glanced in his direction, he looked away, but not before I caught a flicker of... something in his eyes. It wasn't the cruel amusement I remembered from our school days. It was something else, something I couldn't quite place.

Yuqi introduced me to a few of her friends, and I found myself actually enjoying the conversations. It felt... normal. Like maybe I could do this whole college social scene thing after all. But then, over someone's shoulder, I saw Sunghoon again. He was looking right at us, his expression unreadable. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I felt a jolt of... something. Before I could analyze it further, he quickly averted his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Wait, was Sunghoon blushing? I shook off the thought. It was probably just the alcohol playing tricks on my mind.

As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The alcohol helped, but it was more than that. Every minute I spent here, laughing with Yuqi and her friends, was a minute I was reclaiming for myself. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every so often, I'd catch Sunghoon looking in my direction. But it wasn't the mocking stare I was used to. There was something almost... wistful about it. Once, when our eyes met, he even offered a small, hesitant smile before quickly turning the other way. I don’t understand why he is trying to smile at me. It was confusing, to say the least. This wasn't the Sunghoon I remember. The Sunghoon who had made my life miserable. This Sunghoon seemed... different. Unsure. Almost vulnerable. As Yuqi and I were preparing to leave, I excused myself to use the bathroom. On my way back, I quite literally bumped into Sunghoon in the hallway. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, steadying me with a hand on my arm. The touch sent an unexpected jolt through me. "You okay?" I nodded, unsureness in my voice. We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence stretching between us. "Listen, Y/N," he started, then paused, running a hand through his jet black hair. "I... I'm glad you came tonight. It was good to see you."

Before I could respond, he quickly walked away, leaving me standing there, completely baffled. It wasn't until much later, as Yuqi and I were stumbling back to our dorms, arms linked and giggling about nothing in particular, that I realized something. For the first time in years, I'd spent an entire evening in the same space as Sunghoon without letting it ruin my night. And more than that, I was left with the strangest feeling that maybe there was more to Sunghoon than I'd allowed myself to see. As I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted but oddly content, I couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. I wasn't naive enough to think one party had erased years of hurt and resentment. But maybe it was a start.

~~~~~

The next morning I woke up disoriented, borderline hungover. Roll over to the side to check the time on my phone. 11:09AM? It honestly felt like I slept for three days with how many drinks I consumed. I look further down the screen to see the notifications:

1:18 AM: @prksnghn02 started following you!

1:19 AM: @prksnghn02 Liked your post!

I must have fallen asleep to quickly too see this last night, but that was definitely right after we left the party.

I scroll through the conversation, smiling slightly at the messages

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 Hey! You still here?

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 I get it if you don’t want to speak to me.

Why was he messaging me. What gives him the right? I igonore the message and delete the message request. All that before my thumb hesitantly hovered over the follow button on his profile, eventually turning it grey. I spent the weekend as usual, going to my job at night and studying in the mornings. Though I had the awkward interaction with Sunghoon at one party, I think that I could see myself going with Yuqi to another party some time. Not soon though because finals start on Monday and I have to pass to keep my financial aid. That’s another thing that pisses me off. I work day and night to pay for my schooling by myself, and Sunghoon gets it all handed to him for being okay at basketball. He teased me for growing up less wealthy than him, but if he were in my shoes, he wouldn’t have thought it was so funny.

Monday morning I was walking through the main hall on campus, where they have to coffee shop that I occasionally stop by. Of course this time when I went, Sunghoon was standing at the bookstore across the walk way, talking to his girl-toys. It took everything in me to not make things awkward by looking in his direction, but for the split second I looked that way, he was already eyeing me down. I pretended to not notice, continuing into the coffee shop line as I would do normally. The line was fairly short. I looked down at my phone to distract myself until it was my turn to order. “I am sorry (Y/N)” a familiar voice says behind me, him lightly grazing my shoulder.

My eyes immediately snap to the owner of the voice. His brown eyes were staring directly into mine as if he could tell exactly what I was thinking just by looking at me. And I know he can. ‘Hey’ he seems to say, flashing me the smallest of smirks as his hand rests on the counter to my left. I scoff in disbelief. He really is serious now isn’t he. I try to ignore him and continue with my order, but Sunghoon stops me in my tracks. My heart starts hammering harder in my chest as I glance around to make sure no one overheard. “Hey (Y/N),” he repeats, giving me his infamous smirk. “I really am sorry” he continues. He’s watching me with a curious tilt to his head as he waits for my response.

“Can I buy you a drink? Maybe we can talk some more?” For a fraction of a moment, it’s hard to believe what’s happening.

“Whatever you are trying to do, I don’t want any part of it” I said sternly, trying to shoo him away. I know he could see the annoyance on my face but that wasn’t enough to get him to leave. “Please, I want to make things right” he begged with a hint of charm in his voice. He reaches out to hold my wrist but this time instead of swatting him away, I let him. If anyone deserves an apology it should be me. He takes a step closer to me, tilting his head slightly. “Fine I guess, but do not expect to get anything out of me” I agreed hesitantly. His facial expression completely changed from worried to… relieved? We ordered together in line while I tried my best to ignore him. His scent was a distraction. It was captivating. It was comparable to mohagany and mint. Admittedly, he is tall and handsome, even when we were in middle school he had always been cute. But I would never say that out loud. Eventually, his named was called and we both went up to grab our drinks. “Thank you Sunghoon” I said while looking down, trying to get out of the situation as soon a possible. “Wait” he says before I get to far away. “I will text you” he added. I half way smiled and walked away.

~~~~~

At lunch, I found myself leaning against Yuqi as we sat at one of our tables outside. “How do you feel?” she asked. “Better” I admitted. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I’m doing better” She nodded, seemingly satisfied by my reply.

“Yuqi?” I spoke again once I had my full attention back on her. She turned her attention towards me expectantly.

“Why don’t you give him another chance?” she sighed, rolling her neck around. “I mean, he seems like he is genuinely trying to make it up to you.”

“Yes he is putting in the effort now, but the pain that he put me through doesn’t just go away in an instant, it will take time for me to trust him”

“I understand” she muttered.

~~~~~

A few days had passed but I had never received a message from Sunghoon. Maybe he forgot or maybe he was scared…. I don’t know. But I can’t help but to think that I was maybe looking forward to that message. Yuqi was right, maybe he does deserve another chance. The library was my number one studying location. It was quiet, I could focus, and nobody bothers me. I actually have some time to myself. I have tested out every study area here and the to floor is by far my favorite. I press the 5 on the elevator control pad, and as the doors start closing, someone’s hand is placed between the doors, causing them to shoot back open. It was Sunghoon. I awkwardly scoot to the edge of the confined space to make sure there was more than enough room between us. His eyes light up when he realizes I was the one in the elevator.

“Would it be a problem if I rode with you?” he asked hesitatingly with an awkward smile.

“No, why would there be a problem?” I replied quickly. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds after my answer, and then I heard the elevator ding and the doors slowly start closing again. God, being around him gave me mixed emotions. His aura is so captivating, but his personality is the opposite. And not to mention that mohagany scent again. We rode to the fifth floor in total silence and exited the elevator once it stopped. When we both made way out of the elevator to walk our own directions, He gently grazed my shoulder and said “Good luck with finals” and walked the other direction.

Later that same evening while I was still on the library, my phone pinged with a new notification.

prksnghn02: Hey are you available?

prksnghn02: I know I said I was sorry but I really want you to know how I feel. I can’t do it over text.

I think this is the message that I have been waiting to see. I would appreciate to see him and have him fully apologize, though I don’t think this is the right time. It’s the middle of finals week and lord knows I am already struggling as is. I look up from my phone, observing my surroundings, and spot Sunghoon across the almost empty room lounging on a library bean-bag. Alone. That’s a first considering his royalty equivalent status on campus. He was clearly looking at me when I opened his message.

yourusername: Hey, sorry. I really need to study for this Sociology final. I can definitely carve out a time to meet next week.

I look up at him and point at my phone, making a frowny face and his expression mirrors mine.

prksnghn02: Who is the professor? I aced my sociology class I took over the summer. If you need any help lmk.

He looks at me with a thumbs up. His offer seems tempting, but what would I do? Sit there and hear him lecture me? It would already be hard enough to pay attention given how his arms are looking in that black fitted top.

yourusername: I will think about it.

I try to focus on my sociology notes, but my eyes keep drifting back to Sunghoon. He's still lounging on the bean bag, but now he has a textbook open on his lap. Every so often, he glances up, catching my eye before we both quickly look away. The tension is palpable, even from across the room. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This is getting ridiculous. I'm here to study, not to play this weird game of cat and mouse with my former bully turned... what? Potential friend? The thought makes me uncomfortable. I make a split second decision on impulse and grab my phone, maybe regretting my decision later.

yourusername: Okay fine, come help me.

I witness Sunghoon look at his phone and shoot up out of his seat within the span of 3 seconds. Impressive. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as Sunghoon practically skidded to a stop in front of my desk. It was a stark contrast to his usual nonchalance. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, I was back in middle school, his laughter echoing in the halls, the same laughter that used to sting.

“So, sociology huh?” he said with the most awkward tone possible. “What do you need help with” he continues, signaling his hand towards my messy notes. My notebook has definitely seen better days. I sighed, shoving my phone into the abyss of my backpack.

"Everything feels like gibberish. Professor Ramirez throws these massive lectures at us, and it all just blends together." Surprised laughter rumbled out of him.

"Ramirez? Yeah, he can be a bit much. But trust me, sociology isn't actually that complicated. Let's see your notes." Tentatively, I slid my well-worn notebook across the desk. He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing in concentration. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of turning paper. I snuck a peek at him. His features were softened by a focus I wouldn't have expected. "Okay," he finally said, looking up. "This isn't so bad. You've got the basic concepts down. I think you're just getting overwhelmed by the details."

Relief flooded me. Maybe I wasn't completely incompetent after all. He settled into the chair across from me, his arm brushing mine for a moment as he reached for a pen. He continued to sort through my notes, trying to piece together what I may not be understanding. He was surprisingly patient with me, and even created examples for me to try and understand better. Not to mention that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him as he spoke. His black hair falling loosely in front of his dark brown eyes and black glasses was so sexy.

"So basically, social stratification is like the ranking system within a society?" I summarized, feeling a flicker of accomplishment. Sunghoon grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Exactly! See, you were getting it all along." He paused, then reached for a specific page in my notes.

"Now, let's talk about power structures and how they influence social mobility…" Time melted away as Sunghoon patiently guided me through the sociological knowledge. I peppered him with questions, surprised by my own comfort level.

He answered them all with good humor and a surprising depth of knowledge that made him seem worlds apart from the bully I knew in middle school and the jock he is now. I looked at his face once again, admiring the way he furrowed his eye brows when he concentrated. I am snapped out of my trance with

“What?” Sunghoon questioned me, tilting his face to the side. I couldn’t even comprehend what had happened until a second or two later.

“Nothing! It’s nothing. Go on with what you were saying” I averted my eyes towards the table to try and hide the blood in my cheeks. “Heh, Okay….” he chuckles fiddling with the ring on his finger. He pauses for a few seconds and picks up with “You should get home soon. You don’t wanna have late nights, right?”

He looks me dead in the eye as he says this, a hint of playfulness in his gaze. I glanced at my phone, startled to see it was already 1 AM. We'd been studying for hours without realizing it. The library, usually bustling with stressed students, was now eerily quiet.

"Oh wow, I didn't realize how late it got," I mumbled, hastily gathering my notes. Sunghoon stretched, his shirt riding up slightly. I pretended not to notice.

"Yeah, time flies when you're having fun with sociology, right?" he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Right, because power structures are just a barrel of laughs." As we packed up our things, Sunghoon hesitated, then asked, "Hey, um, would you like me to walk you back to your dorm? It's pretty late." I paused, considering. The old me would have immediately refused, not wanting to spend an extra second with him.

But now... "Sure," I found myself saying. "That would be nice." We stepped out into the cool night air, the campus very quiet around us. For a moment, we walked in silence, the only sound our footsteps on the pavement.

"So," Sunghoon started, breaking the silence. "Did you find the study session helpful?" I nodded, surprised by my own honesty.

"Yeah, actually. You explain things... differently than I expected." He raised an eyebrow.

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different good," I admitted. "You're more... patient than I thought you'd be." Sunghoon chuckled softly. "Well, don't sound so surprised. Im not just a handsome face ya know.” I felt a retort forming on my lips, but bit it back.

“Yeah yeah, don’t flatter yourself.” As we walked, I couldn't help but sneak glances at him. In the soft glow of the street lamps, he looked... different. Softer somehow. Less like the arrogant boy I'd built up in my mind and more like... well, just a guy. "You know," he said suddenly, his voice quiet. "I meant what I said before. About being sorry." I felt my body tense. "Sunghoon, we don't have to-"

"No, please," he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. I turned to face him, surprised by the earnestness in his eyes. "I was a jerk in middle school. More than a jerk. I was cruel, and I've regretted it for years. I just... I want you to know that. I am sorry." I stood there, stunned. This vulnerability was so at odds with the Sunghoon I thought I knew.

"I... thank you," were the only words that were able to come out of my mouth. - I turned to face towards him as we reached the enterance of my dorm building. “Okay, I guess I can take it from here” I said, grabbing my key card out of my backpack.

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.” I entered the building and the door was already halfway closed before Sunghoon grabbed it and called out behind me, "Wait!” I stopped mid step and turned to meet his curious gaze, confused by what he could possibly want to say. I gave him a questioning look as he approached me slowly. His hands fidgeted nervously, and he took one last glance around, making sure no one was watching before reaching up to touch my cheek hesitantly. His thumb brushed the area under my eye lightly, his hand moving downwards slowly until he rested his palm flat on my jaw. I was somehow okay with this, despite the butterflies in my stomach.

My heart thudded loudly against my chest as I stared at his hand resting gently on my skin, unable to tear my gaze away from his. There was something magnetic about the way his eyes bore into me with an intensity I have never felt. “Have a good night, (Y/N)” he said softly, grazing my bottom lip with his thumb. He leaned down slowly while gazing into my eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. My breath hitched as he brought his other hand up and cradled my cheek, brushing some loose strands of hair out of my face. “You too, Sunghoon”

~~~~~

The end of finals week had finally come and I am not exaggerating when I say that this is the most relieved I have ever been in my life. I was lounging on my bed scrolling through tik tok and I saw a message pop up at the top of my screen.

prksnghn02: Hey! A few of us are having a small get-together at the frat house to celebrate surviving finals. You and Yuqi should come.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. A month ago, I would've immediately declined. But now… things were different. The study session with Sunghoon, our late-night walk, the way he'd touched my face before saying goodnight - it all swirled in my mind, a confusing mix of old resentment and new… something.

yourusername: Let me check with Yuqi. What time?

His response was almost immediate.

prksnghn02: Around 8? It's just a few people, nothing crazy. Promise it won't be like last time.

I couldn't help but smile at that. The last party had been a turning point, in a way.

yourusername: Okay, I'll let you know.

I rolled over, dialing Yuqi's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Please tell me you're calling to drag me out of this post-finals funk," she groaned.

I laughed. "Actually, yeah. Sunghoon invited us to a small thing at the frat house. You in?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Sunghoon, huh? You two seem to be getting along better."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "We're… working on it," I admitted. "So, you coming or what?"

"Obviously," she said. "I'll be at yours in an hour. We need to talk about this Sunghoon situation, by the way."

I groaned. "There's no 'situation', Yuqi."

"Uh-huh. Sure. See you soon!"

She hung up before I could protest further. I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

An hour later, Yuqi was sprawled on my bed, watching me rummage through my closet.

"So," she said, drawing out the word. "You and Sunghoon, huh?"

I threw a shirt at her. "There's no 'me and Sunghoon'. We're just… I don't know. Not enemies anymore, I guess."

Yuqi sat up, her expression serious. "Look, I know he was awful to you in middle school. But people change, you know? And he seems to be really trying."

I sighed, sitting down next to her. "I know. It's just… complicated."

She bumped my shoulder with hers. "Life's complicated. Doesn't mean you can't give it a chance."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Yuqi always had a way of cutting through my defenses.

"Now," she said, her tone lightening. "Let's find you something cute to wear. Just because it's not a 'situation' doesn't mean you can't look hot."

I rolled my eyes, but let her pull me back to the closet.The frat house was quieter than I'd ever seen it. No pulsing music, no crowds of people. Just the soft murmur of conversation and laughter drifting from the back patio. Sunghoon met us at the door, his face lighting up when he saw us. "Hey! You made it." he said, ushering us inside. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. "Drinks are in the kitchen, we're all out back."

As we followed him through the house, I couldn't help but notice how different he seemed here, in his element. Relaxed, open, a far cry from the popular Sunghoon I was used to seeing on campus. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but somehow he made it look effortlessly attractive. The back patio was strung with fairy lights, casting a warm glow over the small group gathered there. I recognized a few faces from classes, but it was indeed a much smaller crowd than the usual frat parties.

Yuqi immediately gravitated towards a group she knew, leaving me standing awkwardly by the door. Sunghoon appeared at my side, two red cups in hand. "Here," he said, offering me one. "It's just punch, but fair warning - Heeseung made it, so it's probably stronger than it tastes." I took a sip, the sweetness masking the unmistakable burn of alcohol. "Thanks for inviting us," I said, surprised by how much I meant it. Sunghoon's smile was soft, almost shy. "I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure if you would." "Honestly? I wasn't sure either," I admitted. He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you did. Come on, let me introduce you to some people." As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The punch was indeed strong, but the warm buzz it provided was pleasant.

Sunghoon stayed close, always making sure I was included in conversations, laughing at my jokes, his hand occasionally brushing against mine in a way that seemed both accidental and deliberate. I found myself studying him when he wasn't looking. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the gestures he made when he was explaining something he was passionate about. It was hard to reconcile this Sunghoon with the boy who had tormented me in middle school. At some point, Yuqi caught my eye from across the patio and gave me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. I rolled my eyes at her, but I couldn't help the smile that subtly appears on my face.

As the night progressed, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Yuqi had gotten into an intense discussion about some TV show with a guy from her psych class, leaving Sunghoon and me alone on a small bench near the edge of the patio. The fairy lights cast a soft glow on his features, and I found myself staring longer than I should have. "You know," Sunghoon said, his words slightly slurred, "I never thought we'd be here like this." I raised an eyebrow. "What, drunk on your frat house patio?" He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "No, I mean... talking. Like friends."

His hand found mine on the bench between us, his fingers intertwining with mine. The touch sent a jolt through me, but I didn't pull away. "I was such an ass to you in middle school," he continued, his voice dropping low. "I... I didn't know how to deal with how I felt about you back then." I froze, my heart suddenly pounding. "What do you mean?" Sunghoon turned to face me, his eyes intense even in their alcohol-glazed state. "I had the biggest crush on you," he admitted. "But I was too stupid and insecure to know how to handle it. So I lashed out instead." I sat there, stunned.

The Sunghoon I knew in middle school, the one who had made my life miserable, had a crush on me? It didn't make sense, and yet... "That doesn't excuse what I did," he continued, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Nothing excuses that. But I want you to know how sorry I am. And how glad I am that you're giving me a chance to make it right."

I looked at our intertwined hands, then back up at Sunghoon's face. The vulnerability in his expression took my breath away. "I... I don't know what to say," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured, leaning in slightly. "I just wanted you to know." We sat there for a moment, the air between us charged with possibility. Then, without thinking, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our lips met softly, hesitantly at first. Then Sunghoon's free hand came up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

It was sweet and a little clumsy, tasting of punch with a hint of alcohol. His lips were softer than I'd imagined - not that I'd been imagining it, of course. When we broke apart, I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Sunghoon's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite name.

"I... wow," he breathed, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. Before I could respond, the patio door slid open and Yuqi's voice rang out. "Y/N? You out here?" Sunghoon and I sprang apart, but not before Yuqi caught sight of us. Her facial expression completely changed, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" she asked, her tone teasing. I stood up quickly, nearly losing my balance. Sunghoon steadied me with a hand on my arm, the touch sending another jolt through me. "We were just... talking," I managed to say, knowing how unconvincing it sounded. Yuqi's grin widened. "Uh-huh. 'Talking.' Got it. Well, hate to break up this... conversation, but it's getting late. We should probably head out." I nodded, suddenly feeling very sober. "Right. Yeah. Let's go."

As we made our way back through the house, I could feel Sunghoon's eyes on me. At the front door, he caught my hand. "Text me when you get home safe?" he asked, his voice low. I nodded, words not being able to leave my mouth. He squeezed my hand once before letting go. - The walk back to the dorms was quiet, Yuqi mercifully holding back her questions until we were safely in my room. "Okay," she said, flopping onto my bed. "Spill. Everything. Now." I sank into my desk chair, my mind replaying the kiss over and over. "I... I don't even know where to start," I admitted.

Yuqi's expression softened. "Start at the beginning. And don't leave anything out."

~~~~~

Going over to Sunghoons frat house became a frequent thing over the winter break. About twice a week I would go with Yuqi and kick back with a few of his friends, the same ones that were there the first time.

During those times, we'd always end up hanging out in Sunghoons backyard, or playing in his pool. He definitely acted a lot different around his friends than I expected. More relaxed, open, less guarded. In turn he opened up to me a bit too.

“If I beat you in a round of pool, you have take a shot with me” Sunghoon said chuckling, nudging his elbow against my arm. “Come on, that’s fair!”

“I guess, but what do I get it I win?”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You know what, I can think of something…” He moved closer to me, the tip of his nose inches away from mine. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to resist the urge to pull away. Instead, I remained still, watching nervously as his mouth slowly drew closer and closer. “I think you might like it” he said teasingly.

“I guess I should just let you win then” I sighed sarcastically, trying to ignore the butterflies built up in my stomach.

He scoffs “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t bite” he said, moving back just enough so he could meet my eyes. His voice was low and husky, sending a ripple of heat through my body.

“So, what kind of shot?” I asked lightly, trying to ignore the way my voice shook as I spoke.

“I think I have some Don Julio” he mused, running a hand along the back of his neck.

Sunghoon it first to break all of the pool balls apart, declaring him as solids. Drinking beer between each of our turns and chatting about family and work, Sunghoon was a lot better at pool than he originally let on, because soon enough he had only 2 solid balls left, while I still had 5 stripes.

I was expecting him to have already won at this point. When he set his cue on the edge, lining up to hit one of the solids into a hole, the 8 ball shoots across the board, into the hole closest to me.

“Aw shit, I guess you won” He said with a fake defeated look.

I laughed, setting my bottle aside. “Looks like it. Thanks for letting me have a couple extra rounds” I said, winking at him. I missed my cue stick by mere centimeters, but didn’t care. My eyes were locked on Sunghoon; his hair stuck up everywhere, his skin glistening with sweat after his game, his shirt clung tightly to his frame.

A loud bang echoed off the walls, making us both jump slightly. Sunghoon’s eyes snapped towards the window behind me, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Someone just slammed the garage door shut” he whispered. “Did they close up for the night?”

We had spent so much time playing pool, we didn’t realize that slowly, one by one, people started to go home. This meaning that Yuqi probably caught a ride home with someone and the only people left here are the 3 frat guys staying in the house over the break.

“It’s getting late, I should probably call an Uber” I said, rubbing my eyes for focus.

“Why leave so soon? Doing Uber this late at night could be dangerous, you never know what kind of people could be out there.”

“What other option do I have? Yuqi went home already” I replied, grabbing my phone.

“You can stay here, you can sleep on my bed and I will set up a bed on the floor” he offered.

“I don’t know if that is the best idea” I muttered, staring at my feet.

“Just sleep here. Don’t waste money on an Uber, and I promise I can take great care of you.” he urged me, placing his hand under my chin so that I would finally look at him. “Do you really believe that I would let you get into a strangers car right now?”

I hesitated before nodding. “Fine, but only because I trust you.”

We pack up all of our stuff from outside, including my purse and all of the extra alcohol. There are so many room in the frat house and I have never been upstairs, I have no idea which one is Sunghoons. As the two of us climb the stairs up to his room, we both silently agree not to mention the previous events from the other night.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why I kissed him, And I don’t know why he kissed me. Even though he did tell me a little about the reason behind our relationship, it wouldn’t matter, he was too far gone for it to change anything anyway.

The moment we step into his room, he tosses his backpack onto the floor and gestures to the large queen sized bed sitting in the corner of the room.

“I didn’t bring anything to sleep in, I can’t sleep wearing jeans and a tank top” I said, gesturing to my jeans.

“Don’t worry about it, I can lend you something” he said, walking over to a laundry basket of clothes lying on the floor near the wardrobe. “I haven’t gotten the chance to put up my laundry, let me find something” he explains, rummaging through the basket.

He pulls out a large black t-shirt and some basketball shorts. “Here, try these on” and walked over, handing them to me, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“Look away!” I playfully shouted while waving my hand to shoo him. “

“Oh my gosh, okay” he covers his eyes like a cartoon character.

Luckily I was wearing some spandex shorts and a sports bra underneath, so even if he did sneak a peek, which I’m sure he did, nothing too important would have been exposed. On him the clothes look normal size, but on me, the shirt fit like a dress and the shorts touched half way down my shins. “I guess I have no choice” I shrugged.

I crawl into his bed while he went to fetch an extra blanket for me out of his closet. At this point, he was already in his sleep attire. No shirt and some basketball shorts. It was hard to concentrate when he was standing there wearing nothing but shorts. I admit that maybe I was staring a bit longer than appropriate.

“You like what you see?” he says in a cocky tone, chuckling at my embarrassment.

“Shut up, you are so annoying” I scoff and roll my eyes, laying back down on the bed.

“Haha okay…” he smirks as he stands up from the closed with the blanket in his hand. “Hopefully this will keep you warm enough” he said, covering me with the big piece of fabric.

“Thank you, Sunghoon” I said, turning over to attempt to catch some sleep. He set up a little bed on the floor with a blanket and a pillow right next to the bed and layer down as well.

After sometime of just listening to the sound of the crickets outside, the quiet noises of the street, cars passing by, the occasional chirp of a bird. The atmosphere was rather peaceful, comfortable almost. I couldn't help the small smile forming on my face as I lay my head on my arm.

My brain kept drifting away from sleep, my thoughts constantly drifting back to Sunghoon. My heart rate was rising with every second that passed, I tried desperately to calm myself down, not wanting to give any indication that I was starting to get aroused. The more I listened to the sounds outside, the more I felt the overwhelming desire to be wrapped up in his arms. Just to feel him hold me.

I sigh deeply, rolling over onto my side and facing him. The soft glow of moonlight illuminating the entire room, casting light patterns on his sleeping features. If this was any other day, I would definitely stare at him until dawn, taking in every minute detail of him.

I scooted over to the edge of the bed, just close enough for me to nudge Sunghoon with my foot. “Hoon, are you awake” I whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the moonlight leaking through the blinds. “Yeah” he clears his throat. “Why?”

“Can you lay with me?” I whispered again.

He stared at me for a second, trying to understand what was going through my mind. Eventually, he crawled onto the bed, lying down next to me. His body was hot against mine, making goosebumps erupt throughout my skin, but the feeling was comforting nevertheless. We laid like that in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Eventually, it became too awkward and I had to move closer into Sunghoon, cuddling up next to him. “I like this” I say quietly, resting my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his faint scent. He chuckled slightly, positioning himself to where his fingers could comb though my hair.

I mumble, wrapping my arm around his torso. His fingers stopped their ministrations then, hesitating for a moment. I looked up at him from my position on his chest, curious as to what made him stop. I met his deep brown eyes that were focused solely on me. His gaze was soft, yet intimidating at the same time. Slowly, carefully, he lifted my head off his body and held it between his hands. Then he brought his lips to meet mine softly.

He pulled me in closer, gently running his fingertips along my jawline, making my heartbeat pick up in pace. His kisses were slow and sweet, the most tender kiss I've ever had. After several seconds of pure bliss, he pulled away slowly, watching me as if waiting for some sort of reaction. When my eyes fluttered open I met with his eyes, gazing deeply into each others’. A smile formed on my lips, making Sunghoon lean in to reconnect our lips again.

He placed his hands on the sides of my neck, holding me close to him, deepening the kiss, our tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. Our bodies pressed closely together, moving together rhythmically. His hands lifted up my oversized shorts and began roaming across my bare thighs, tracing up the hem of my shirt. We kept getting tangled in each other’s clothing as we continued kissing.

He reached my breasts, pushing up my sports bra to give them an affectionate squeeze, causing me to gasp in response. My hands moved down from his shoulders and ran up the backs of his arms to his neck, pulling on his short hairs slightly. Pulling on the strands of hair caused him to release a low growl and deepen the kiss, pulling his tongue into my mouth. Suddenly I felt his teeth graze my bottom lip, causing me to whimper slightly at the unexpected pain. When he released my lower lip, he sucked on it, sucking on it harder and harder with his sharp canine teeth. “Fuck…” I moan, gripping tightly onto the ends of his dark brown locks.

He took the opportunity to slide his hands under my shirt, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples lightly, causing my stomach muscles to tense up involuntarily. A slight smirk crept onto his lips as he noticed this, but then he proceeded to push the crop top further up on my shoulders before placing soft gentle kisses along my collar bone. He sprinkled kissed on my shoulders and chest and then moved down towards my waistline, placing soft soft kisses along my belly button. His hand started to work its way downwards, slowly caressing the insides of my thighs.

He latched one of my nipples into his mouth, gently suckling the tight swollen bud of flesh with his teeth and tongue. As his hand reached down and slid his middle finger along the underside of my left thigh, causing me to grind against his hand.

He trailed his hand back up to the bottom of my shirts and bunched it up in his hand “Can I take this off?” he leaned next to my ear and whispered. My breath hitched at how sensual he sounded.

“Please” I managed to speak out. He didn’t reply immediately, only gave me a reassuring smile before pulling it over my head, only leaving my bra. His lips found their way back up to mine, sending a surge of electricity through me. His hands worked their way to bottom of my bra, lifting it up and throwing it to the side as well. The cool air on my bare stomach and chest suddenly sent tingles all over my body, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps all over my skin. He smiled at my reaction, continuing to caress my inner thigh.

“Is it okay if I take these off too?” he whispered, grazing the waistband of my shorts.

I let go of his arms and nodded my head yes, watching his expression change from relaxed to excited. I watched him pull those off and discard them as well, leaving only my thong on. “I hope this is okay” he smiled. He was still looking at me with those intense eyes, making it difficult for me to breathe properly.

He removed the last piece of clothing from me, both my spandex and the shorts he gave me, revealing my beautiful skin and perfectly plump curves underneath. He took a few seconds to appreciate every inch of my body before sliding his slim fingers between my legs. Instinctively my knees fell apart slightly, allowing him access to my core which caused his eyes to darken even more. As he gently traced circles around my bud, sending me into complete ecstasy, I moaned loudly, moaning in pleasure as my hips began grinding into his finger tips.

“God, you’re so pretty” he whispered, trailing kisses along my cheek. I bit my bottom lip to suppress the moans coming out of my mouth as he continued to stroke the wetness inside of my thighs. “So perfect.”

He spread my wetness all over his fingers and slid one finger inside of my desperate hole. At first, he started slowly, his thumb circling my clit while his middle finger slid in and out of my warm opening, slowly increasing the amount of pressure until I was gripping down onto his fingers with all of my strength. He increased the speed of his movements, adding another finger, pumping them hard into me. I closed my eyes and arched my back, trying my best to keep a good grip on his fingers.

“Shit, you’re so wet angel” he groans. He took his hand away to pull off his own shorts, with his boxers. His dick spring free, tip raging and dripping with precum. It was big, a lot bigger than I had expected.

I take all of his length into my fist as he continues contact with my folds. “Fuck, that feels good, baby” he says under his breath. I collect spit in my mouth and layer his tip and slide my hand up and down slowly.

I feel a familiar knot forming in my stomach as he keeps a consistent pace pumping his finger into my gushing pussy. “Agh yess” I moan on his cock, feeling the burning sensation building up. He leans down to place a tender kiss on the back of my shoulder, his warm breath fanning my sensitive skin, causing my back arch even higher. "Let go babygirl"he murmurs against my shoulder.

I let my hand rest against his erection, stroking him slowly, feeling the tip get longer by the moment. Soon enough, I can no longer contain myself as I let the orgasm rip out of me. His name came spilling out of my mouth, followed by a loud moan “Fuck Sunghoon, just like that.” I continue to hold on to him as the wave of pleasure takes over me, feeling my muscles start to seize up and my vision starting to blur.

As I'm regaining my composure, he pulls out of me, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. “You taste so good, princess” he praises, with sweat droplets forming in his forehead.My face turns red with embarrassment. I cover my face with my palms as I try to control my breathing. Sunghoon chuckles and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from my blushing face and places them on his cheeks instead. “Don’t be embarrassed, babygirl. That was hot” he says. My blush gets stronger by the second.

“Let me get you cleaned up” he suggested, getting out of the bed to go to his bathroom where he kept his extra cloths. He came back with a small smile on his face. He runs the rag between my legs and said “I am really happy you decided to spend the night”

“Me too Sunghoon” my smile only visible by the moonlight. He went back into the bathroom to put the cloth into the dirty clothes hamper.

“Now come here…” He brings his lips to meet mine once more. He wraps his arms around my sore body, making my face bury into his chest. Our bare skin resting against eachother was so relaxing. His skin was soft, and he was perfectly toned to my liking. He runs his fingers through my hair and begins to massage my scalp, making my whole body tremble. “It’s really late, sweetheart, let’s get some rest” he whispers and kisses my forehead, then rests his chin on the top of my head. As I lay there in Sunghoons embrace, feeling the warmth radiating off him, my eyes gradually fall shut.

「Taglist」 : @sngleehee - @capri-cuntz - @namdeyuoi - @jaysupremacy - @tobiosbbyghorl - @hoonie-zzz - @jayhoonvroom - @mumeimei - @skaterhoonie - @nat123c - @branchrkive - @simpjay - @parksunghoonsgf - @jakeflvrz - @alienqbrain - @mitmit01 - @simhinata - @eternality - @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby - @jakesangel - @yjwsgf - @diorsyun - @en-ner-jay - @yeonzzzn - @hoonieesm - @hoonheepretty - @jaysupremacy - @cherry-park - @heeslomll - @alvojake - @taeghi - @dollyyun - @sumzysworld - @rikislady - @heeheeswifey - @chlorinecake - @flwrhoes - @hollyoongs - @simpjay - @sjylouvre - @starboimoon - @sjyunnsworld - @blurryriki - @yzzyhee - @sincerelyrki - @hoonven - @fatalwon

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hoonieyun · 1 month ago

Text

interview with a vampire

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader genre: vampire!jake x talk show host reader, suspense/thriller, angst, supernatural, internet forum theme (?) warnings: mentions of blood, neck biting and other vampire activities lol, reader is a skeptic and a bit mean, jake is a vampire so you know... kissing, suggestive, 18+ not proofread lol

synopsis: yn, the new face of late night tv has made a calling on centering her show on supernatural and paranormal activities and entities because of her skepticism. tonight, she faces a real life vampire on her show; intending to prove his existence: false.

wc: 3017

“places! filming in 3.. 2..” the director signals a hand that filming has begun and a bright red light turns on in the far corner that says, “filming in progress”.

“hello, everyone. my name is yn, the host of spooky skeptics and i’m going to cut all of this introduction bullshit and go straight into it– tonight, we have a special guest.” you said confidently, a flirty and sassy attitude wrapped around your tongue as you go through the introduction of your show.

“as you can see, our usual live studio audience is empty and that’s because we have a real life ‘vampire’ in the studio tonight. he’s been alive, or i guess, dead? –for thousands of years, allegedly, and has taken time out of his busy schedule of being an undead creature to come onto my little show.” you continued, putting emphasis on certain words like vampire, allegedly, and undead to push the narrative that you’re very skeptical and find none of this to be true.

that was the premise of your show after all.

spooky skeptics first started out as a little youtube show, you’d make video essays on paranormal and supernatural events and creatures which eventually led to you going insanely viral on the internet, landing you a gig as a tv show host.

what started off as you being, in all honesty, a hater on the internet, turned into a full blown production on a tv set and filming lot.

“i know there isn’t an audience tonight but we are streaming live to all of you at home, so… everyone watching at home please give a warm welcome to jaeyun..” you said, with a barely warm tone as you welcomed him on your show. his aura is strong as he steps onto the stage, he’s wearing a beige suit, hair slicked, and features sharp but he has a warm smile on his face.

it was like he was overjoyed to be there.

“hi, jaeyun. welcome to spooky skeptics; i’m– yn.. i know.” he says, cutting you off when you attempt to introduce yourself. it catches you a bit off guard but you don’t fully let it show because inside, you know it was just an attempt to throw you off.

“please introduce yourself.”

“hello world, i’m sim jaeyun; but all of you can just call me, jake.” he says, a mysterious smile on his face as he looks into the camera.

“wait! let’s cut! sorry we’re having weird transmission issues, give us a second.” a staff member calls from the back and everyone cuts. the light in the back is now green, indicating that filming has paused. you drop your cards with your script on the table with a bit of an aggravted sigh, slightly slouching into your chair as they try to figure out what’s going on.

“you look a bit tired.. are you alright?” jake asks, turning his head towards you but his body remains still in position.

you look up at jake and blink at him, not expecting the question.

“what is that accent? australian?” you ask and he nods.

you pout and nod at his response.

“um.. no i’m not tired– well kinda. we did have to film pretty late today, per your request, but anything for the show, right?” you tilt your head, a bit of a condescending smile on your face as you answer him.

jake had several requests before making his appearance on your show.

1: limited witnesses, right now there was only you, the director, and 3 other staff members.

2: filming would take place after midnight because you know… he’s a “vampire”

3: for you to be open to him even if you’re skeptical of his existence

you had followed all of these rules, maybe the third one not as much, but you tried your best not to be so strong with your skepticism.

“you're..” jake says, eyes boring into yours.

“what?” you ask, not completely sure of what you heard.

“okay! we’ve got it situated, let’s run it back.” the cameraman says and soon filming restarts, picking up where you left off. completely forgetting the small conversation you were just having with jake.

filming goes on and you ask jake several questions, a regular interview routine, and he seems to answer them with a sense of grace and maturity; not completely playing into your games. you weren’t completely sure if jake was just toying with you but his answers seemed to run in circles just enough so that it sounds fundamental but doesn’t have an actual answer within it.

as much as you wanted to take this seriously it felt like he treated this interview as if it was a joke. he didn’t give definitive answers, often responded with questions of his own, and tried his best to make you look like a fool for not believing in him.

“okay– none of this even makes sense. if we go off of basic vampire rules and such, then none of it is correct. we can see you on the cameras and mirrors; and quite frankly, i actually had garlic wafted through our ventilation system and you seem completely fine.

jakey.. can i call you that? jakey– i’m sorry but i don’t think you’re a real life vampire because vampires. don’t. exist.” you say with a shrug punching each word at the end– a smug expression on your face as you grill into him for the false narrative that he’s presented on your show.

“everyone at home, i’m going to be honest… this episode is a bust and– give.” jake interrupts you with a single word and your face instantly turns towards him.

you give him a puzzled expression, head slightly tilted to one side.

“what did you say?”

jake shakes his head with a pout as if he hadn’t said anything and when you look towards your team, they’re all exchanging glances with each other like you were crazy. seemingly enough, they hadn’t heard anything the way you had.

maybe it was because they weren’t sitting right next to him.

“um.. anyways. okay, please give me and our viewers at home a bit of a run down on what it’s like being a ‘vampire’.” you say, putting air quotes around the word vampire.

jake chuckles with a scoff, a half smirk on his face as he looks down before looking directly into the camera to speak. “you know, being a vampire isn’t all it's cut out to be. i have to remain hidden, nonexistent, and constantly waiting.

i wish i could be like you, all of you, living my life the way i want to. indulging in my cravings the way you all do. give into temptations. unleashing my desires for the world to see.”

his voice is low but clear. he speaks with a cadence similar to a tune; like a lullaby almost. you’d be lying if you didn’t feel like you were in a bit of trance as you listened to him speak but you shook that feeling off when he looked back at you before he finished speaking.

“mine.”

once again, you look at him with a puzzled look but you choose not to address it. you for sure heard him clearly, he had said mine but the word was out of place from his previous statement. your eyes are narrowed at him as you slowly pull up your cue cards, almost like a shield, however not one that is effective.

“right.. um.” you start to stutter a bit, like the longer you’re in the presence of jake, the harder it gets to remain focused. you weren’t sure if it was because you were getting tired of the interview or if it was due to jake’s unnerving aura.

he wasn’t even doing anything but his lack of energy was replaced with a certain ambience that shifted as soon as he stepped in front of the camera. jake was merely sitting on the small couch in front of your desk, one leg crossed over the other with his shoulders back and posture upright. he was looking directly at the camera in front of him and would only look at you when he was speaking to you.

you couldn’t help but take in his features. despite claiming to be a vampire, his features were soft. he had big round eyes, one of like a puppy, plump lips that look like they’re stained by strawberries, and a tall nose that grounded all of his features together.

if you weren’t trying to prove this man as a farce, you would’ve complimented his looks, but you had a character to uphold.

“to..”

he speaks before you get a chance to read the next thing on your card.

“what?”

jake doesn’t move or respond so you decide to continue.

“um– so, tell us jake. is there anything you want the world to know about being a vampire? not that i totally believe you are one.” you added, widening your eyes in doubt.

“i exist.” jake looks straight into the camera with a stoic expression. his face barely even contorts when he speaks, like a statue or a puppet of some sort. your cameraman had his camera focused on your guest, eyes glued onto him as he watched the alluring man in front of the camera.

“ah, shit!” the cameraman exclaims out of nowhere.

“is everything alright?” you ask

“yourself..”

jake’s words don’t register in your mind as your focus is on your team. “fuck– my nose is bleeding. sorry guys, give me a moment.” the cameraman excuses himself, hands around his face as blood begins to drip from his nose, covering his hands in crimson.

small droplets fall onto the floor, trailing behind him.

jake swallows the lump in his throat, forcing himself to remain unphased– but deep inside he wanted nothing more than to jump from his seat and chase down your cameraman and drain him of all the blood in his body until he’s become shriveled up– nothing but bones and skin left behind.

you clear your throat before continuing.

“let’s cut.” you suggest and everyone takes a break but because the main cameraman was dealing with his bloody nose, no one shut off his camera. “you know, my goal isn’t to convince you that i’m real, right?” jake speaks up as you’re taking a sip of your coffee.

“then what is your goal?”

“yourself..”

“what? your goal is.. me?”

jake slowly turns his head towards you, gaze piercing into your own as you get a full view of his face. your bottom lip starts to tremble as you battle and try your best to hold his gaze. jake doesn’t speak for a second, almost like he’s challenging you in a staredown. his dark orbs were like a blackhole and the longer you looked into them the more you felt yourself getting pulled in.

“me..”

and suddenly jake is rising from his seat on the couch and sauntering over to you. like he was floating almost. you begin to lean back into your chair so much, wishing it would just swallow you whole as you watch jake get closer and closer.

“what are you doing?” your voice falters as you question him.

but jake doesn’t answer. each step he takes makes your heart thud louder. all the while, jake can hear it 100x more than you can. the blood rushing through your veins and coursing through your body is like a lullaby to him. drawing him closer and closer.

you look to your team for help but suddenly there isn’t anyone there. the director sitting in his chair was gone, everyone behind the cameras and lights, gone. nothing but stale air and a slight ringing in the atmosphere as your eyes wander.

jake slamming his hands on your wooden desk and throwing it away with a crash causes you to flinch. the loud sound and aggressive action startled you as jake was now towering over your shaking body. you tried not to look him directly in the eyes but when you turn away, jake’s hand flies to your chin and pulls your face towards his.

“don’t look away now love, didn’t you want to know if i was real.” he says, his voice was still low but it felt different. before, he sounded calm and reserved, sometimes his inflection would raise but now it was like a whole other person had stepped into his body. he sounded playful, almost like he was toying with you.

“do i look real to you?” jake says, lowering his face closer to yours. so close that you could feel his breath on your skin.

you swallowed the dryness in your throat, frozen against his touch. jake’s skin was freezing. not just cold, but freezing. you felt your body’s temperature fall several degrees when you felt his hand touch your face. so cold that the room itself began to feel like there was a constant chill wafting in the studio.

you were able to spit out a small no through your quivering lips but jake’s grip on your chin only gets tighter as you try to fight him off. he brings his face even closer, his cheek slightly grazing yours as he brings his lips closer to your ears.

“what about now?” he whispers into your ear, lips ever so lightly brushing against the shell of your ear as his words pool inside of your head. before you could answer, sharp fangs elongate inside of jake’s mouth and a searing pain in your neck causes you to gasp, an agonizing moan escapes from your lips.

jake was indulging in your blood and you could feel all of your blood swimming towards his lips that are attached to your neck. you begin to get light headed, the studio lights above you getting brighter and brighter the longer jake sucks onto the supple skin of your neck. the fear rages through you and it only makes jake’s meal taste even sweeter.

he smiles into your skin before pulling away.

blood drips from his mouth as he looks down at you, eyes drooping and head bobbing around, trying your best to stay conscious– but you eventually succumb to the feeling.

“delicious.” jake whispers.

he stands up straight, fingers gently trailing over your lips before he dusts off his blazer. later wiping the blood off of his face and sucking the excess blood off of his skin. red, staining his face as your sweet and vibrant blood is smeared across his chin. his head slowly turns to the camera like an owl.

a sinister smile slowly spreads across his face as the cameras suddenly cut, nothing left on the screen’s of the viewer’s watching at home.

⸸

r/Supernatural Did you guys see this week’s episode of Spooky Skeptics? WTF was that? submitted by: QuackPuma PrettyFoxPrince I saw it!! That was so crazy?? You think it was real? I doubt it, then we’d hear all about it on the news right? OrangeCatNyaaa That was so fake. I love YN and Spooky Skeptics but that episode was so whack. BambiBoy God, that was insane. I hope YN is fine and that this was all a prank or something. Anyone find any updates on that guy by the way? I tried looking into him but I didn’t get anything besides some articles from the 1600s that were in a random ass language. PrettyFoxPrince in reply to BambiBoy I tried to look him up too and didn’t get anything. I even tried reverse image searching him with a screenshot from the stream and I swear it gave me a virus or something. The words on my computer turned into random characters and when I refreshed the page it just said error. IcePenguin Did you guys catch this? Whenever he’d say a random word, YN would look hella confused and I watched back the stream and put the words together. It took a bit of time but I was able to mix the words around and came up with this, “You’re mine. Give yourself to me.” Fucking weird dude. BlackCatShadow in reply to IcePenguin Bro, what the fuck!! I just tried to rewatch the stream and it fucking crashed midway and when I refreshed it was gone. Someone needs to check in on them. QuackPuma [NEW] Guys, I got an update. This is so fucked… I can’t believe it. Article Linked: Late Night TV Show Host and staff found slaughtered on their TV set. Footage from cameras and security cameras on the premesis have been wiped. OrangeCatNyaaa in reply to QuackPuma What? That makes no sense, there’s a whole stream of it. IcePenguin in reply to QuackPuma Yeah, that weirdo vampire guy named Jake did it?? Why is no one talking about him?? He’s a fucking murderer!! PrettyFoxPrince in reply to IcePenguin Who is Jake? That stream literally doesn’t have anyone on the screen besides YN?? She was probably tweaking the whole time and made it all up. BlackCatShadow in reply to IcePenguin Bro, you’re tripping. I just watched the stream again and it’s just YN talking to an empty couch. Are you sure you aren’t behind this too? This is probably a publicity stunt or some shit. LAME! BambiBoy in reply to IcePenguin Ain’t shit there bro. YN probably hired you to come up with this hoax because her show was starting to flop. Click the link QuackPuma sent, they literally talk about a wild animal breaking onto their set.

That was the very last episode of Spooky Skeptics. YN’s show on YouTube had 100 videos and her Late Night Show lasted for 2 seasons.

The episode titled “Interview with a Vampire” was only up for one hour after the stream ended, suddenly disappearing from the internet– and when it returned at exactly 6am, the footage only shows YN seemingly interviewing nobody when static interference cuts the interview for 27 minutes before returning to normal. The sight of the aftermath of the slaughter remains on the screen for the rest of the playback before the screen goes black.

⸸

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

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minutelyfreaked · 2 days ago

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simon riley x fem!reader smut blurb. nsfw below. mdni.

so, simon is a big guy.

like hugeeeeee in every sense of the word.

he takes a huge pride in towering over you, finding the way you peer up at him endearing. he loves to grip your chin and guide your lips to his for a deep kiss. his large hands are almost always on you, traveling long paths across your figure. his hand engulfs yours as he threads your fingers together. he always finds a way to press his large stature against your back, reminding you of how big he is.

something about how much bigger he is than you just really gets him going.

even as he presses your bare front into the mattress, cock pressing lightly at the entrance of your cervix, the position put an emphasis on the size difference between the two of you. his legs trapped yours as he looped his arms under your body. his head was tucked next to your ear as he pressed deeper.

he's been at it for hours, manhandling you into several different positions as he collect numerous orgasms from your overwhelmed cunt. he abused your clit with his tongue as he prepped your vice like hole for his girthy dick. once he fully stuffed his cock in your pussy, he was a goner. he just held you down and memorized the feeling of your warm, soft, cunt wrapped around him.

"is here 'bout right, lovie?" simon muttered into your ear, groping at your bare skin. he was pressed against the spot that caused your toes to curl and eyes to roll back. one of your hands was wrapped around his wrist as you weakly tried to escape the deepness of his thrust.

"simon-simon, i can't..." you tried, but couldn't quite get out the full sentence because of his depth.

"can't what, hm? gotta be a little more specific," he responded, palming over the slight bulge in your stomach. this called you to cry out his name as tears welled in your eyes.

"you're so big, si. 's almost too big," you slurred out as his cock stirred in your guts. he all but moans at your words, lips marking the side of your neck.

"'s neva' too big," he mumbled with a gruff snort, one of his hands slowly slid down your front, making its way to your overstimulated bundle of nerves. his slow circles had your back arching deeper into the mattress, his front pressing further into your back.

he was everywhere. he was all you could smell, hear, think of, and feel. his touch set your nerves into a frenzy, causing your senses to go haywire. you couldn't move away even if you wanted to as he held you firmly in his grip.

his thrusts began to turn brutal as he pressed most of his weight onto you, properly fucking you. his pace was nothing if not consistent, each thrust as quick and deep as the last. your thighs shook as another shattering orgasm ripped through you, juices coating both of your lower halves as simon finally chased his high. he nearly sent you into overstimulation before he came, painting your velvet walls white.

he allowed the two of you a few moments to calm down. he moved to massage your hips and lower back as you laid there, exhausted from his thorough fucking. you could feel his release dripping out of your worn pussy, painting your folds a milky white. simon hums at the sight, overly pleased with himself as he moved to massaging your thighs.

he sat between them, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs while watching his drip from your center. one of his hands left your thigh in favor of scooping his cum on to his fingers and pushing them deep into your cunt. he scissored his fingers a couple of times before pulling his fingers away, stuffing them into his awaiting mouth. the flavor brought a lustful spark to simon's eye as he gripped your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the bed.

"what'd ya say to one more round, love? just one and i'll leave you be," he said, already kneeling to be eye level with your core.

and who were you to say no?

�� writing smut is a lot harder than i thought it would be omg.

( sincerely, gwen. )

#◡̈ — typewriter of the year.#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod x black!reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley imagine

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astrstqr · 4 months ago

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FAME         𓏲          THINGS TO             ! SCRIPT

yoncé speaks: more scripting ideas !! and there’s a lot too lol

and this is part 1

✶　im not underestimated for my talents and abilities

✶　people don't think im "boring"

✶　i don't get overly tired during long performances

✶　always have the best concepts

✶　my performances are considered 100% worth it to go to because i am one of the best performers the industry as seen

✶　i’m always in sync

✶　people become mesmerized by my uniqueness

✶　i have amazing stage presence and facial expressions

✶　no rookie mistakes (bumping into into other dancers, singing other lines etc. etc.)

✶　i learn choreography and lyrics fast

✶　i have my own style musically, dance, and clothing that is hard to copy but easy to recognize

✶　fans never get tired of my music

✶　people love and support me even if they're not a fan of me

✶　never mess up during interviews

✶　no one mispronounces my name

✶　everyone thinks i deserve my fame

✶　i can come up with songs and beats easily

✶　my teasers are good and don’t spoil too much

✶　poses come naturally during photo shoots

✶　all my stage outfits are iconic

✶　no scandals i get in are serious (e.g., accusations, bullying etc. etc.)

✶　all my songs sound good in any language

✶　my voice sounds the same from the studio version to the live version

✶　despite my immense success, i remain down-to-earthand approacable, endering myself to fans through genunie humility

✶　nothing ruins my reputation

✶　my fan cams are always good and in 4k

✶　i have time to breathe after each lyric/line

✶　my outfits are always unique

✶　i win every award i’m nominated for

✶　i never have ugly stage outfits

✶　never gets a black ocean

✶　i can sing, rap, and dance stable on stage even with hard choreography

✶　my stylist knows how style me

✶　i never strain my voice

✶　i can belt effortlessly

✶　i don't get infection / damage to my vocal cords

✶　i have a connected head voice

✶　i can support a large range of notes

✶　i sound good when singing high and low registers

✶　switching pitches isn't hard for me

✶　my high notes aren't strained

✶　can't hear my breathing / huffing through my mics when singing

✶　i have smooth runs

✶　my voice fit every style/ theme

✶　i know have to hit whistle notes

✶　i can hit any note with ease

✶　my voice is never boring to listen to

✶　my voice is supported / resonated

✶　my vocal cords are healthy

✶　singing isn’t hard for me but the opposite

✶　doesn’t take long to finish vocal warm up, because of how controlled my voice already is

✶　i have good stamina and breath control while singing and dancing

✶　i don’t nastily when we sing

✶　my words rhyme easily

✶　i write and produce my own music

✶　my pronunciation when rapping is easy to understand

✶　my raps aren’t weird

✶　i am allowed to cuss in my songs

✶　i don’t slip on our words

✶　my rap lines fit very well in my songs

✶　i have perfect word play

✶　i’m good at freestyle rapping

✶　i can rap in any genre and tone

✶　i have natural raw rapping talent

✶　i have a captivating and distinctive voice full of energy, emphasis and swag

✶　i have incredible flow, speed, and delivery

✶　rapping, singing, and dancing comes easily

✶　i can rap without break for a long time

✶　i can do every singing, rapping, and dance style

✶　my lyrics aren’t cringe

✶　i never stutter

✶　my dancing is satisfying to watch because our moves are smooth, sharp, and fluid

✶　i’m not stiff when dancing

✶　i’m good at dance breakdancing

✶　i don’t feel pressured

✶　i’m comfortable with talking to crowds etc.

✶　i always look gorgeous while dancing and after dancing

✶　i have good footwork

✶　i have good coordination

✶　i never look sloppy when preforming

✶　i have perfect body control

✶　i’m confident when i dance, rap, sing, and preform

✶　i can dance in any clothes and shoes

✶　freestyle dancing come easy to me

✶　i have perfect balance

✶　i’m are never off beat

✶　i don’t have sickled feet

✶　i never hurt myself while dancing

✶　my choreo is always unique

✶　my music videos are always enjoyable, and people love to watch them

✶　my music videos never look cheap, and have great quality

✶　my nerves never get to me

✶　im truly admired as an idol , and its not just a label - theres a genuine reason behind it. among idols, i stand out as someone who geuinely deserves the title

yoncé speaks 2: also sorry for late night post lol, i be bored

#yonce ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏★#my dr things 𓈒 𑁯 ⁀ ִ ۫#things to script #dr scripting #scripting ideas #shifting script #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting community #shifting #shifters #desired reality #shifting motivation #kpop shifting #fame dr

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nan-not-found · 16 days ago

Text

“You Coming or What?”

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader Word Count: 815

You were halfway through folding laundry in your living room when three quick, aggressive knocks slammed into your front door like they were trying to pick a fight.

You blinked at it. “...What the hell?”

When you opened the door, Katsuki Bakugou stood there, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a second motorcycle helmet.

His usual scowl was in place, but his eyes—sharp and focused—were locked directly on you. His black riding jacket was already zipped up halfway, his ash-blonde hair slightly windblown.

“Get your shoes,” he said, holding out the spare helmet like it was obvious. “We’re goin’ for a ride.”

You stared at him.

Then down at the helmet.

Then back at him.

“You just show up at my place without a text or a call and demand I jump on a bike with you?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Didn’t think I needed to make a damn appointment.”

You folded your arms across your chest, trying not to let the way he looked in that jacket—or the way your name sounded in his voice—get to you. “What if I was busy?”

“You were folding socks. I saw through the window.”

“Excuse me for trying to have a productive Sunday.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t budge. Just held the helmet out again, this time with a little more emphasis.

“You said you liked bikes. Said you’d never been on one,” he muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. “So I’m fixing that. You coming or not?”

Your heart did a quiet somersault.

Bakugou wasn’t one for soft declarations or planned-out dates. When he did something, it was direct, no room for hesitation. So if he was standing here now, helmet in hand, it meant he’d been thinking about this. About you.

“...You brought a spare helmet,” you said softly, taking it from him.

“‘Course I did,” he grunted. “Ain’t gonna let you ride with me without it.”

You smiled a little. “Aw, you do care.”

He gave you a glare, but it didn’t quite land the way it used to. “Tch. Don’t start.”

Ten minutes later, you were holding onto Bakugou’s back, your arms wrapped tight around his torso as the bike rumbled beneath you.

You could feel the heat of him even through his jacket—solid, warm; the scent of his cologne and smoke lingering as he revved the engine and tore down the road.

City lights streaked past you like fireflies.

You’d never felt safer.

Bakugou didn’t say much during the ride. He didn’t need to. The way his gloved hand reached back once to squeeze your thigh—checking if you were okay, if you were still with him—spoke volumes.

He drove until the city faded behind you, until all that was left was the quiet stretch of coastal road and the sound of waves crashing nearby.

When he finally pulled off into a secluded overlook, the sky above was streaked with deep oranges and purples—sunset in full bloom.

You climbed off, pulling off your helmet with a breathless laugh. “That was—okay, yeah, that was amazing.”

“Told you.” He smirked, hanging his own helmet on the handlebar before turning to lean against the bike. “You gripped me like you were gonna fly off.”

“I thought I was!” you shot back playfully, walking toward him. “That thing moves like hell.”

He snorted. “You’ll get used to it.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The ocean breeze was soft, the light turning his hair gold at the edges. He was watching you carefully now—quiet, unreadable.

You nudged his side. “Why today, Bakugou?”

He looked away for a second, then shrugged, jaw tight. “Just felt like it.”

Your brow rose. “Right. And you just happened to bring a spare helmet you’ve probably had sitting around for a while?”

He gave you a dry look. “You gonna keep talkin’ or you gonna thank me properly?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Dumbass,” he muttered, voice dropping to something softer. “I wanted to spend time with you. Thought this was a good way to do it. You said you liked when I let you in on stuff I don't show everyone else.”

Something shifted in his expression then—open vulnerability trying hard to disguise itself as irritation.

Your heart twisted.

You stepped closer, until the toes of your shoes bumped his boots. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not being sweet.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t sweet. Just not a shitty boyfriend.”

You blinked again. “Wait… boyfriend?”

Bakugou froze.

Shit.

But before he could try to backtrack, you leaned in, arms looping around his neck. “Good. Because I didn’t wanna be the only one thinking that’s where we were heading.”

His red eyes widened just slightly, the lines of tension easing in his shoulders as he looked at you.

“...Yeah?” he asked.

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Then you kissed him.

And this time, he didn’t need to say anything at all.

thank you @invisiboom12 for the idea 😉

Masterlist

#mha #bnha #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo x you #nannotfound

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colouredbyd · 2 months ago

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"If you look closely, you'll see them!"

Regulus Black x fem!reader

synopsis: you swear regulus has dimples but no one believes you, not until he walks in and finds you with his eyes. the room stills, and for a breathless moment, they begin to see what you always have.

warnings: pure fluff, mentions of cold deameanor, some mild language, grumpy x sunshine kinda?

w/c: 3k

a/n: my headcanon is that regulus has dimples!!! i said what i said guys, argue with me !! also this has been in my drafts for a good 7 months </3

masterlist

"Regulus Black does not have dimples!"

Sirius declares for the third time that afternoon, sprawled across the common room sofa with his legs thrown carelessly over James’s lap, his voice carrying that unbothered arrogance he wielded like a second skin.

"You’re hallucinating."

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand firm before the Marauders, unyielding in your defiance. Mary is nestled against Remus’s shoulder, her eyes glimmering with barely-contained amusement as if she knows something the others don’t.

"I am not hallucinating," you retort, voice dripping with indignation, hands finding your hips in a stance that borders on stubbornness. "I’ve seen them! They’re right here."

You jab your own cheeks for emphasis, fingers pressing into the softness just beneath your eyes, and the room erupts into snorts and muffled laughter, your so-called friends delighting in your apparent delusion.

But you know the truth. You have seen them—the delicate crescents that carve themselves into his cheeks when he smiles in that unguarded way, soft and fleeting, like moonlight filtering through darkened leaves. It is a secret you hold close to your heart, something sacred and untouched, for Regulus Black is not supposed to smile like that. Not according to them.

To everyone else, he is sharp lines and cold eyes, distant and unyielding, a boy forged from winter’s breath and brittle starlight. His name drips from their tongues like a warning, a reminder of ancient bloodlines and whispered expectations. But you know better. You have seen the way his eyes soften when you laugh, the way his hands hesitate before touching yours as if afraid he might shatter something precious.

Regulus Black, to you, is soft edges and hidden warmth, tenderness folded into the corners of his smile, something gentle and achingly beautiful beneath the surface. They could not see it, would not believe it, but you did. You always did.

"Darling," James begins, slipping into his most condescending tone as he tilts his glasses down the bridge of his nose to peer at you properly, eyes alight with mischief. "I’ve known Reggie since fourth year, and not once have I ever seen a dimple. Not even a suggestion of one."

He is wrong, you think, pressing your lips together to keep the secret tucked safely in your heart.

They do not know the way Regulus looks at you when no one is watching, how his gaze softens like the edge of dawn, or how his laugh—rare and unbidden—blooms like a flower in the dark. They do not know that Regulus Black, for all his coldness, holds sunlight in his smile, and you are one of the very few who has ever been allowed to see it.

"That’s because you’re not paying attention," you shoot back, arms crossing defensively. "He does this little smile sometimes, it’s soft and kind of lopsided, and there’s this tiny dimple right here—" you poke your cheek again, more insistently, as if the physicality might convince them. "I swear, it’s like magic."

"Or madness," Remus suggests mildly, and Mary dissolves into laughter, her curls shaking as she leans further into him.

"I mean, we’re talking about Regulus Black here, right? My-face-is-carved-from-stone Regulus Black?"

"Maybe it’s just a shadow," Sirius chimes in, inspecting his nails with a grin that teeters on smugness. He hardly even glances up, as if the matter is too trivial for his full attention.

"A trick of the light. Or you’ve been hexed. Definitely hexed. I bet it’s a dimple jinx. You see fake dimples, fall madly in love." His grin widens, eyes glinting with mischief, and the others snicker at the notion.

"I have not been hexed!" you cry, voice pitching higher in your indignation, but your outburst only seems to spur their laughter further.

The sound spills into the room like the crackle of firewood, unrestrained and merry, and you stand at the center of it all, defiant and unyielding. "I’m telling you, I’ve seen them. He has dimples!"

"Right," James nods, his expression shifting to exaggerated seriousness as he claps a hand on your shoulder, eyes sparkling with that brand of Marauder mischief that rarely bodes well.

"And I’m secretly the heir to the Malfoy fortune."

"Stop it." you protest, your hands flying to your hips as if that might root your argument more firmly in truth.

"He has dimples. If you look closely, you’ll see them!"

They laugh again, the sound bubbling up like champagne flutes clinking together, indulgent and disbelieving. But you only hold your ground, chin tilted upward with all the stubbornness of someone who has glimpsed something magical and refuses to let it be reduced to smoke and shadows.

Because you know. You have seen the way Regulus’s face softens when he lets his guard slip, how those tiny, secret dimples blossom at the edges of his smile like something fragile and hidden from the rest of the world. It is not a trick of the light, not some fleeting mirage conjured by wishful thinking.

It is real. He is real. And maybe, just maybe, they have never looked closely enough.

"He does not," Sirius says flatly. "I would know. I’ve seen that miserable mug for seventeen years straight, and not once has it ever hinted at joy. If he’s smiling for you, you might want to check if he’s choking."

"You don’t know everything about him," you snap back, and it’s a bit more pointed than you intended, because Sirius’s expression shifts for the briefest moment, but then he’s back to smirking, one brow arched.

"Oh, I know enough. And I know that my miserable little brother is physically incapable of producing dimples. It would require smiling first. Which is practically illegal for him, by the way. Pretty sure he signed a contract with Death himself."

"He does smile," you argue. "Just... not around you lot."

Mary’s eyes light up at that, and she sits up a little straighter, nudging Remus. "Not around us, huh? Just around you?"

You hesitate, heat creeping up your neck. "Well… yeah. I suppose." At their expressions, you quickly add, "That’s not weird!"

"It’s a little weird," Remus says thoughtfully. "I mean, I’ve never seen him smile like that." He looks to Sirius for confirmation, who just shakes his head.

"Me neither," Sirius agrees. "And if he was going to be grinning like a lovesick idiot, I feel like I’d know. Or maybe you just have some sort of freaky dimple-seeing ability. Is that a thing? Can we get that checked?"

"Maybe he only smiles for her," Mary sing-songs, and you swat at her, cheeks blazing. "What? I’m just saying!"

You cross your arms tighter over your chest, frustration curling hot and sharp beneath your ribs. You know what you saw. It wasn’t magic or shadows or madness. It was Regulus, soft and unguarded in a way that felt almost secret. A piece of him reserved just for you, like a glimpse behind the curtain of a play only you were meant to watch.

But they wouldn’t believe you. They couldn’t. Because to them, Regulus was all sharp edges and cold stares, impenetrable as stone. But to you, he was something else entirely.

You saw the parts he kept hidden—the softness, the ache, the way his eyes would linger when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his fingers brushed yours just a bit too long when he handed you your books, the way he stood a little closer than necessary when you walked side by side. His dimples were proof of it. Proof of the parts of him that were gentle and real and yours.

"I’m not making it up," you murmur stubbornly, softer this time, almost like you’re telling it to yourself.

James leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You know, I almost want you to be right. I’ve never seen Regulus with dimples before. I think it would break my brain."

The room is still shaking with laughter when the portrait door swings open. It is a subtle thing, just the soft groan of hinges and the hush of movement, but you feel it like an echo in your bones. Your gaze snaps up before you can help it, the breath stalling in your lungs as if caught between heartbeats.

There he is, Regulus Black, framed in the doorway like he has stepped out of a painting, shadows and light playing across his features in sharp relief.

He is ice and elegance, his gaze sweeping over the room with cool detachment, the sort of look that makes even Sirius go still. His brother’s grin falters, an instinctual pause as if the air has been sucked from the room.

Regulus’s eyes flicker over them, James’s raised brow, Sirius’s smirk half-frozen in place, Remus’s unbothered calm, but there is nothing there, not even a nod of acknowledgment. His expression is marble-carved, beautiful and unyielding.

But then his gaze finds yours, and it softens, melts like snow beneath the first touch of spring. His eyes brighten, lips twitching at the corners, and suddenly it is like you are the only two people in the room. The change is breathtaking, the kind of transformation that feels like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

Without thinking, you are already moving, feet carrying you across the room as if pulled by some invisible thread.

"Regulus," you breathe, and the way his name falls from your lips feels like unspooling thread, like the first sigh of spring. His expression softens entirely, something delicate and aching sparking behind his eyes as you practically throw yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, arms winding around your waist, steady and certain, like he has been waiting for you his entire life.

Your hands are in his hair before you realize it, fingertips grazing the base of his neck as you pull back just enough to look at him properly. His smile is still there, still hovering at the edges, and it is soft and real and yours.

"I missed you," you whisper, half a confession, half a prayer, and as soon as the words leave your lips, it happens.

A tiny crease, delicate and almost imperceptible, blooms on his left cheek, like the first hint of dawn breaking over a dark horizon.

A dimple, soft and secret, there and gone in a heartbeat, as if it only exists for you.

"I missed you too, amour," he murmurs, his gaze flicking over your face like he is memorizing it. "You have no idea."

There is a tension in the room, thick and breathless, as if the very walls are leaning in to listen, the crackle of the fire muted under the weight of disbelief.

The Marauders and Mary are watching with wide eyes, suspended between fascination and utter incredulity, as if the scene before them is too tender, too impossibly soft to be real.

Regulus Black—aloof and unyielding, frost-kissed and sharp-edged—is holding you like something sacred, his arms wrapped around you with a gentleness that seems to contradict everything they thought they knew of him. His thumb brushes across your cheek, feather-light and reverent, as though you are made of something finer than bone and breath, something worth protecting.

And then he smiles—just a fraction more—but it is enough.

You do not even realize what you are doing; your body moves before your mind catches up, and you lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, quick and soft and so achingly familiar it feels like slipping into an old memory. He blinks, eyes flickering with surprise, but you do not pull away.

You lean in again, pressing your lips to his other cheek, right where his smile deepens, and it happens—a twin to the first, blooming on the opposite cheek as if coaxed into existence by your touch alone.

A second dimple, tender and unmistakable, carved into his pale skin like it had been waiting there all along, hidden just beneath the surface.

You are not the only one who notices.

Behind you, there is the unmistakable sound of someone choking on their own breath, followed by a very loud, "What the hell?" from James, his voice pitched somewhere between awe and utter disbelief.

Regulus glances up, his gaze catching on James, who is staring as if he has just witnessed stone turn to gold, like magic itself has unfolded right in front of him.

Sirius is uncharacteristically silent, eyes narrowed in something akin to suspicion or maybe even wonder, while James’s jaw is completely unhinged, glasses slipping precariously down the bridge of his nose.

Remus is blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear away a mirage, mouth slightly parted in surprise. And Mary—sweet, sharp-eyed Mary—looks positively gleeful, her grin spreading slow and wicked as she nudges Remus sharply in the ribs, her eyes dancing with triumph.

"I told you," she mouths, lips curving around each word with delight.

Because it is true.

There is no need to look closely, no need to squint or peer beneath shadows—Regulus Black’s dimples are right there, clear as daylight and twice as warm, so stunningly visible that they might as well have been carved out of starlight.

They blossom wide and unguarded, softening the sharp lines of his face, and for a heartbeat, he is not the boy forged from winter’s chill and midnight silence. He is something brighter, something softer, and it is plain to see that with you, he is allowed to be gentle.

"I told you!" you practically crow, turning back to face them while still locked in Regulus’s arms. "I told you he has dimples!"

Sirius remains silent, watching with something like suspicion, but James looks like he has seen a ghost.

James is still staring. "I think I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down," Remus points out.

"I think I need to sit down lower," James clarifies faintly.

But you are not paying attention to them anymore, because Regulus is looking at you with that same impossible smile, both dimples still lingering like promises.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking a gentle line across your skin. "You told them about my dimples?" he asks, voice low and edged with amusement.

You nod, breathless and unashamed. "I did. And they did not believe me."

His smile softens, stretching wider, and both dimples deepen like secret doorways to some hidden softness that only you are allowed to see.

He leans in, the space between you shrinking until his breath mingles with yours, and his voice drops to a low, velvety murmur meant only for you.

"You really should not spend so much time with Gryffindors," he whispers, his tone laced with quiet disdain that is more habit than heart, though his gaze remains warm and unyielding, crafted entirely for you. "I think they are starting to rub off on you." His eyes glimmer with amusement, but there is something else there too, something tender that settles in the quiet curve of his smile.

Your laughter spills out, bright and unrestrained, like the first crack of sunlight through winter clouds, and before you know it, your hands are tugging him closer, closing whatever space remains.

In that moment, it is just you and him, suspended in the fragile stillness that belongs only to the two of you, where the rest of the world feels distant and unimportant, something to be dealt with later.

For now, there is only this: his smile, his dimples carved like promises into his cheeks, and the gentle, unwavering warmth of his arms around you, holding you close as if he is terrified of letting go, as if this is a vow whispered into the spaces between heartbeats.

The truth is, Sirius had always known that Regulus had dimples.

He had known for years, had seen the faint creases carve themselves into his brother’s cheeks on the rarest of occasions, like fleeting whispers of a softer world beneath the ice.

But the thing is, those dimples only ever appeared when Regulus was around you, when your laughter spilled into the room like sunlight or when your name slipped from his mouth with that unguarded tenderness that seemed to unravel something deep and hidden in him.

It was as though the universe had woven this small, delicate fragment of softness solely for you to uncover, a secret threaded carefully into the very fabric of him, waiting patiently for your hands to find it, to hold it like something sacred and fragile and wholly yours.

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pedgito · 2 months ago

Text

ORBIT YOU ⋆⭒˚.⋆ CHAPTER TWO: SUN

↝ series masterlist | joel miller masterlist | full masterlist

summary — your relationship with joel only becomes more skewed over the course of your time back at college before summer break, spending most of the time communicating with him through a screen.

author's note — it's here! i don't have much to say other than if you read and enjoyed the first chapter, i'm glad you're back!!

content warning — 18+ MDNI, dbf!joel, virgin!reader, age gap (20s/40s), terms of endearment (kiddo, sweetheart), phone calls, old man!joel trying to figure out technology, video calls, mutual masturbation over facetime, dom!joel, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, some attention seeking behavior, handyman!joel, teasing the shit out of this man

word count — 8k

It took a month for you to cave and call Joel.

You had tried to put on a front, like…really tried.

But, something about him calmed you.

It started with texts.

Joel

Some idiot took a staple gun to his hand.

How’s the astro whatever going?

You

AstroPHYSICS.

Linear Algebra is kicking my ass.

Joel

Damn that sucks.

The wording of it is plain and obviously, monotone, but you know he means it.

He checks in on his own occasionally, not bothering to text back when he sees you’ve read it, only really needing a sign of life, but then boredom strikes and you call him one night.

But, you have a totally legit and valid reason.

There’s no greeting or pause, the moment you hear him pick up, the words spill out.

“So hypothetically, if someone was to…I don’t know, break a handle off from the inside, how fucked are they?” you ask, staring at the broken mechanism in your hand with your towel tucked tight around your body and still dripping wet from your shower.

You can hear a spoon clinking against ceramic on the other end, the beep of a machine in the background, “Depends, are they talkin’ to me right now?”

You glance at the time on your phone, nearing ten o’clock at night, “Are you drinking coffee this late?”

“Yup,” he answers easily, slurping for emphasis, “didja break your doorknob?”

“Yes,” you reply distantly, like you’ve placed your phone away from you.

You had, Joel realizes after a while, hearing some clambering and a curse on the other end.

“Joel, I’m fucking stuck and my roommate isn’t home. I’m going to die in this shitty bathroom and all I have on is a towel, oh god…I think I’m having a panic attack,” you begin to ramble, dropping the broken half of the doorknob in a panic as you reach for your phone and drop to the floor, sinking against the cool wall of the tub.

“Sweetheart, you could always hang up and call the fire department,” Joel offers, “I’m sure they deal with shit like this all the time.

“Joel, I’m practically naked—and it’s embarrassing.”

“Worse is you dyin’ and they find you in just a towel,” Joel offers lightly and you can’t help but laugh at his dry attempt at humoring you despite your worry, “listen, can you fit it back into the hole? Sometimes it’s just because of a loose screw, if you can get the mechanism to connect long enough to turn the lock back, you’ll be alright,”

“How do I do that?” you ask candidly, slowly reaching for the doorknob as you rise to your knees and move toward the door again, carefully placing your phone against the door and putting Joel on speakerphone, “do I just—”

There’s a long silence and Joel hears what he thinks is you working away at making your escape, but it is eventually followed by a yelp and Joel nearly jumps from his seat on his couch like it would do anything.

He’s shouting your name on the other end for a solid minute before you finally answer.

“Christ, kid,” he exclaims, “what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, my roommate showed up—I’m fine now,” you explain, “door is still definitely broken, though. I’m sorry for botherin’ you, I was freaking out a little,”

“Hey, nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel comforts you, “you gonna be alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you assure him, “uh—goodnight?”

Joel chuckles, slurping loudly at his coffee, “Goodnight.”

After a couple months, those calls turn into more.

You’re working through your term paper when Joel’s name flashes in the corner of your laptop screen.

It was a video call.

That was strange.

You were barely dressed, a shirt hanging low enough beyond your waist that it covers the underwear and lack of shorts you had on, a blanket draped loosely over your shoulders.

You answered it anyway.

“She ain’t gonna answer, Tommy,” Joel speaks to his brother, presumably out of frame, “kid’s after a hell of a major at college, she ain’t got time to chat with you like that,”

“Joel,” you interject amusedly, “Hi,”

“There she is!” Tommy has never lacked in warm greetings, his smile showing bright under his thick mustache, clamping his hands over his brother’s shoulders as he leans down and into frame, “Hey, sugar, how’ve you been?”

You subconsciously pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders and lean into frame, “I’m surviving—college sucks, ya know?”

“Uh, I don’t, but, I’ll take your word for it,” Tommy chuckles, “Joel’s over here braggin’ about you bein’ a genius, like we didn’t already know that.”

Joel rolls his eyes, chewing absentmindedly at the tip of his thumb to hide the flash of embarrassment that he had been bragging about you to his brother.

“S’nice seein’ you, kiddo,” Tommy says fondly, “You’ll have to come visit us in the summer, miss havin’ you around. It’s been too long,”

“I’ll try,” you half-promise, eyeing Joel with a creeping suspicion as his head tilts up to look at his brother as he waves at you, suddenly standing and disappearing from frame to walk Tommy out, at least, that was what you assumed.

When he returns, his fingers peek into frame first and his body follows, sinking into the dining room chair with a silent look of apology, “He’s been buggin’ to see ya,” Joel explains away.

“Uh huh,” you reply as you opened up another window on your laptop to begin typing in your notes from an earlier class, “surprised you know how to work that thing,”

“I don’t,” he admits, “Sarah had to walk me through it over the phone before I called you,”

“Old man can’t figure out technology,” you tease, “I’m shocked,”

Your hand presses against your chest with a sneaking smile before you continue to type swiftly, the clacking of the keyboard audible to Joel as he leans forward again, squinting, and you catch him in the corner of your screen, laughing softly.

“You need glasses,” Joel knows it, you know it—still, he waved you off.

“Alright, we’re done here,” he says abruptly, having heard a billion and one lectures about his eyesight, “goodnight, kiddo—m’sorry if I fucked up your studying,”

“All good,” you tell him honestly, “I’ll just go and die of boredom now.”

It was a slippery path to more, neither of you expecting it initially.

Joel was practiced in keeping you at a distance without completely losing you, despite what had transpired on the camping trip a couple months prior, almost like a fever dream when your mind slipped there now.

He’s fit you into his routine—Sarah, Ellie, then you.

But, of course, you push it as far as he’ll let you.

You

Can I call you? I had a test to study for and I’m falling asleep.

Joel sends a thumbs up, which makes you huff out a weak laugh.

You’re in a similar attire to the last time he called, but the blanket was balled up at the end of your bed and your room was empty for the night—most students were out partying on a Friday night, but you were burying your head in study about Quantum Mechanics.

Admittedly, Joel had saddled himself for his own source of entertainment for the night—or well, release. The ding of your message had startled him slightly, palm rubbing over his slowly swelling cock as he scrolled through his favorite site, mumbling out a faint “Shit,” as your name appeared and hastily deciding to respond, not much critical thinking on his end.

“You’re my accountability for the night,” you tell him immediately, your face pulling up on the screen of his laptop as he clicks on the green ANSWER button, “alright?”

“Hello to you too,” Joel responds, catching a glimpse of his knee where he’s planted it up on his recliner, his elbow resting into the arm of the chair as he looks at you, face turned down as you flipped through a hefty pile of notes.

“Sorry, hi,” you correct yourself, offering a shy smile that Joel knows wasn’t that shy, “usually my roommate has music blaring and it keeps me awake but it’s too quiet, were you busy?”

Joel clears his throat, his erection not flagging in the slightest—shamefully, it had only gotten worse as he glanced at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin tank top, your bare nipples poking through the fabric and leaving very little to imagination.

“I’ll be alright,” Joel decides on, reaching for the remote to turn on his television, settling into a comfortable silence with you, “what’re you studyin’ tonight?”

“Quantum Mechanics,” you reply simply and Joel’s eyebrows raises in question, not prepared for the spillage of information on that topic, you look up at the exact moment he makes a face and giggle, “I’ll save your ears, don’t worry—so…you were busy?”

“You’re doin’ a lot of talking for someone who should be workin’,” Joel reprimands and the way your body reacts isn’t a surprise at all—maybe this was a bad choice.

“Quiet as a mouse,” you promise, shaking out your drying pen as you scribble it on the paper but it does nothing, without thinking, you stand, snug underwear on full display.

These are brightly colored and nearly see-through, hugging tight at your hips as Joel stares, entranced, at the curve of your ass and how perfectly it sits in frame as you lean around your desk to reach for a new pen, not even realizing what you had done until after sitting back down.

His eyes are wide before he can fix his face, “I—sorry, I’m rarely dressed when I’m in my room. I didn’t even think—” Joel hates how quickly his cock rises to full attention, adjusting himself further down the frame, and he makes a dismissive noise as his face morphs into a scowl, his default setting.

It hadn’t been intentional, but you’ve begun to notice something about Joel.

You spotted it back at camp, the night at the picnic table, and even now.

His gaze drifts, even without trying. He’s forcing himself to look at your face, the green light shining beside his camera, anywhere but the sight of your tits on his screen, but his self-control was severely lacking around you as of late.

And, you weren’t focusing that well, anyways.

You fake it, scribbling down some mindless nonsense in place of what should be your notes before you fake your pen drying out again and Joel had started to scroll quietly through his phone when he sees the shift on screen, but instead of turning out of frame you’re standing dead center, leaning over to reach the back of your desk.

He can see a sliver of your stomach where your shirt has raised, thighs pressing into the edge of the desk, where your panties tuck against your inner thighs, the outline of your pussy staring him down through the fuzzy camera lens and Joel jerks so hard at the sight that his camera shakes, biting away the silent laughter that fills your chest as he curses under his breath.

“Sorry, shitty pens,” you excuse lamely, returning to your seat, “what’s keepin’ you busy?”

“Answerin’ emails,” he lies, “tryin’ to get the contract for this next job figured out,”

Because, no, he hadn’t been scrolling through a list of videos to find something to interest him, subconsciously searching for anything that reminded him of you or resembled you, frustrated with how prevalent you had been on his mind since the camping trip but too pathetic to admit it to himself.

Avoidance was always the easier route.

“Riveting,” you smile kindly and survey him from across the screen, feigning a chill as you turn in your chair to spot the blanket on your bed, but Joel’s words come first.

“You’ve gotta stop gettin’ up, kiddo,” Joel pleads, face turned down but his eyes fixated on you.

You tilt your head and smile devilishly, but instead of getting up, you push your chair back to reach for the blanket—somehow, it was worse for Joel this way.

He watches you curled up in your chair, clearly enjoying that effect you had on him even from miles away, every inch of skin on display save for the few clothes you had on and it brings him back to the tent, flashes of your blissed out expression as you had listened to him so easily, bent yourself to fulfill his fucked up obsession with control over you in that moment.

The difference now is that you had the upper hand, knowing he’d never step out of place on his own, but with enough torture, Joel would inevitably break.

“He invited me out for drinks this weekend,” Joel says suddenly, desperate to distract himself, clicking his phone shut and shifting his gaze to his hands, still placed over his aching cock but unmoving, almost like punishment for viewing you this way.

You shrug the blanket around your shoulders and snap your textbook shut, trading it out for another place out of view, “You haven’t spoken to him since, have you?”

His non-answer is obvious, glazing sideways toward the front of his house in the exact direction of your childhood home and you shake your head with a dismissive smirk.

“You think he’ll take one look at you and know?” you inquire and Joel shifts back to you, eyes narrow slightly, and you add salt to the wound by mimicking him, “Sorry, I’m gonna have to skip out on drinks. I fucked around with your daughter and now I’m feelin’ guilty about it.”

“It ain’t guilt,” Joel argues.

“Isn’t it?” you challenge, “s’all well and good until you gotta face reality, right?”

You sigh deeply and snap the textbook shut, stack your papers neatly before you push them aside, “I interrupted you, didn’t I?” you ask him, glancing up at the picture frame placed behind Joel that showed the glare of the screen, the small rectangle that housed your face in the corner but the browser open and brandished with a popular adult site, slowly, you grin, “How do I compare?”

You’re being coy and it was fraying every nerve that Joel had left with you.

“See,” you begin, “the thing about technology like this—we’re miles away, but somehow it still feels like you’re right here with me,” Joel’s dick twitches at the sound of your voice, watching you lean back in your chair, the blanket falling from your shoulders, “but, it just isn’t enough.”

“We’re not doin’ this again,” Joel forces out, voice gruff and hard.

Still, his hand presses down against his cock to soothe the growing ache.

“Then hang up,” you say dismissively, pulling your straps down your shoulders, his eyes stuck like glue to the screen despite his words, “no?”

Joel shakes his head and you laugh softly at him, nodding in understanding.

“I wish I was there,” you tell him, voice softer, “wish you were here—” your fingers pull at the fabric of your top until your breasts spill out, hands cupping them together and squeezing, “and here,” your eye him, half-lidded, watching the subtle but visible movement of his hand as his laptop had readjusted purely by accident, working himself over with a rough squeeze through his pants.

Joel feels his throat swell, like he’s committing the ultimate sin.

Seeing you like this is different, vulnerable, baring yourself before him without an ounce of hesitation—only for him, not out of defiance or an itch to prove a point.

You’re needy, wanting, and he can see it in the way your mouth parts with a sharp breath as your fingers drag slowly over your nipples, trading one hand to trail further down your chest and out of frame, “mostly here, though,” he can’t see it, but your hands dip under the fabric of your panties, fingers spreading through the wetness that had gathered there, just from looking at him, knowing the effect you were having on him, “is that where you wanna be?”

Joel nods despite his mind searching for a reason to stall this from happening, palming his cock more noticeably through his sweats, and instead, he blames you, “This is all your fault,” he grits out, but you know he isn’t talking about the depravity at hand, rather the sizable bulge, then he was shifting his hand under the waistband of his pants to grab at his cock, knowing that first touch would seal his fate.

You two were already well-invested in the situation at hand, there was no end in sight.

“Is it?” you ask curiously, gasping as you dip two of your fingers inside of you and curl, squeezing tightly at your breast.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath, hand working vigorously now under the fabric as he leaned adjusted his laptop to the arm of the chair more securely, sweetening the angle as his face strains out of frame but it gives you the perfect view of his heaving chest under his shirt, the thumb of his free hand curling over the waistband of his pants, giving you an enticing view of the trail of hair that led down to the base of his cock, desperate to taste him, “You can’t keep doin’ this to me.”

His gaze is locked onto the screen, pupils blown wide with a mix of desire and desperation as he watches you explore yourself, though all you can catch is the way his mouth hangs open, hastily shoving his shirt up.

“Let me see,” you beg, needy, “fuck—I miss it, miss you.”

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he mutters under his breath, and you can see him shifting in his chair as if contemplating his next move. “You’re pushin’ me.”

Regardless, he listens.

He shifts the material down his legs with a sharp, messy tug until he can kick the clothing away, his cock at center frame and painfully hard, balls drawn tight as he fists his cock swiftly, tugging alongside your breathy moans.

Normally, you’d drag this out and make use of the expensive toys you’ve kept so near and dear, but Joel was beyond worked up, teetering the line of busting his load, and you were impatient.

“Go on,” Joel encourages with a grunt, “since you’ve been teasin’ me all night,”

You reach forwardly quickly and angle your screen down slightly, still keeping yourself in frame but remove your panties, tantalizingly slow as you spread your legs apart, your fingers driving down the center of your folds as you circle your fingers through the copious slick that had grown in such a short amount of time, the glint of it visible even with the shitty laptop camera.

Joel chokes on a breath, dragging his thumb over the head of his cock and around, circling the sensitive tip as he traded glances between you and his throbbing length, "Show me how much you miss this," Joel breathes, his voice straining with every syllable.

Your fingers move expertly, teasing and exploring yourself with a sense of urgency. The heat between your bodies grows palpable, words exchanged through lust-laden breaths alone, your fingers circling over your clit desperately.

His hand works faster, the slick sounds of his arousal mixing with the echo of your moans.

You can see him struggling to keep his eyes on you, but every flick of your fingers sends him closer to the edge. Your body arches away from the chair, the soft glow from your screen highlighting every curve as you give in to the heat that was coiling in your gut, breathing heavily.

“I wish you would just touch me,” you say breathlessly, “— jus’ take care of me like you always have,”

Joel’s hands tighten around himself at the thought of you—how soft you would feel wrapped around him, how perfectly you’d fit with him, “You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, “you’re fuckin’ kill me—”

“You could be here, Joel,” you whimper, voice thick with desire. “I could be there with you. We could take our time…”

“Sweetheart,” it was warning, watching his fist work furiously around his cock, open-mouthed and strung out groans as he rocker his hips up into his grip, “I’m with ya, I’m right here—”

“S’not good enough,” you say truthfully, body shuddering as your orgasm was clawing at the edge of your sanity, “I wanna feel you so bad, want you to–fuck me—”

“C’mon sweetheart,” He groans, “make yourself come while I watch,”

You let out a whimper at his words, feeling the weight of his gaze on you despite only half of his face being visible. You lean back in your chair, spreading your legs wider, giving him a full view of your glistening core as you press two fingers deeper inside alongside your fingers that work over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Just like that,” he urges, his voice low, “Let me see how much you want it.”

You nod, breathless, feeling the pressure building within you like a coiled spring ready to pop, “Come with me,” you murmur between gasps, the distinct sound of skin sliding against skin echoing through the call, “please…please…”

Joel spills over his fist with a noisy grunt as you come, letting out a muffled cry through your palm as you hand clasps over your mouth, watching his cum spray against his stomach and drip over his fist, his breathing slowing as the moment passes.

He grimaces at the mess and you giggle, easing your shaky legs down to retrieve your underwear, leaning in close to the screen as he adjusts until his face is back in view, your tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you look at him, full seriousness, “I bet you wish I was there to clean up the mess now, huh?”

He shoots you a glare, though his scowl is visibly softer.

He cleans up hastily, watching you organize your things away quietly, collected, like you hadn’t just come apart from the sound of his voice and his leaking cock and Joel has the sense that this was always the plan, like you were always one step ahead of him, even when he wasn’t planning.

“Did you actually need to study?” Joel asks after a beat, “Or am I that gullible?”

“I found that experience…very knowledgeable, actually,” you joke, adjusting your shirt back into place and never amiss to the way Joel eyes your breasts hungrily.

Joel chuckles, the sound deep and throaty, raw, “A hell of a way to kill time on a Friday night,”

You nod knowingly, “Goodnight, I guess?”

Joel snorts out another quiet chuckle and nods, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

–

If only it had remained that easy.

Joel goes radio silent soon after—maybe busy, maybe torn up from the guilt that always seemed to creep back in after talking to you lately, but it worried you.

That, and, Joel listened.

He listened when no one else really did.

When you ace your semester final, there’s no one to tell.

Your father never answered his phone, a voicemail box full that he refused to empty, and a devastatingly lackluster response when you were able to reach him for something. Only when you were in town did his effort feel genuine, but even then, it was sparse.

It was little things—small things that seemed unimportant to others but that you knew Joel would treat as if they were bigger than life, a warm feeling you never felt with anyone but him.

Tommy, too—but with Joel, it was substantially different.

And when you get desperate, you get reckless.

You weren’t sure how he was going to react, but you snapped the picture anyway.

You had your breasts spilling over the edge of the lacy bra, hand resting on your hip as you framed yourself in the mirror, cutting off just at the tip of your hips and the way your finger hooked into the fabric.

It takes you too long, going back and forth over this being a terrible idea or a genius one, momentarily scrolling over your father’s name with worry, knowing that even with his lack of caring, he’d still send a message after a length of time, even if it was one-word.

Then you scroll to Joel’s name, scrolling through the various back and forth calls that had taken place over the span of a month or two, feeling a sinking in your gut that pulls the courage away.

It doesn’t return until later that night, conflicting thoughts in your head as you lay half awake and scrolling through your phone again that you find the brevity, swiftly scrolling through your contacts with blurry eyes to send the photo before you second guess yourself.

You succumb to sleep quickly after, avoiding the anxiety that creeps into your chest but returns the moment your eyes open, checking your phone with not a notification or response back in sight, half-tempted to drive back to Austin in search of answers.

But, on a whim, you scroll, checking through your messages and finding your father at the top, figuring that it should be Joel, but it wasn’t—then, it dawns on you.

“Oh, fuck,” you curse, quickly opening the message to exactly what you’re suspecting as the realization washes over, the scandalous picture on full display and SENT under your father’s contact name.

You scramble, rising to your knees in bed as you panicked to text Joel a simple 911 and pray that he picked up—fortunately, he does.

You try to stifle the anger that boils to the surface at how easily he answers after radio silence for so long.

“I’m going to ignore that you’ve been ignoring me,” you interject quickly before he can speak, “but please tell me you’re home or at least close to home,”

“I broke my phone a couple weekends ago, I’ve been waiting for the new one to come in,” Joel explains passively, but he hears the panic in your voice, “why—what’s goin’ on?”

“Are you home?” you ask again.

“I’m walkin’ out my front door,” Joel begins, hearing the door click shut.

“I need you to get my dad’s phone,” you explain vaguely.

“Alright,” he sounds unconvinced, answering slowly, “and why is that?”

“I sent him something by accident,” you rush out, heart racing as panic rises in your throat.

“Wait, what? What did you send?” Joel asks, the concern in his voice palpable.

You can hear him moving quickly down the steps, the sound of his boots hitting the pavement echoing in your ear and you send the photo over without any preamble or explanation, hearing his keys fall to the pavement.

“It was supposed to go to you,” you admit, feeling heat in your cheeks despite the distance between you, already suspecting the frozen look on his face, “I wanted you to answer me.”

“Kiddo, I’ve just been busy,”

“It’s been a month, you said you’ve been trying to get a new phone for a couple weeks,”

“We’re really arguin’ about this right now?” Joel asks, already heading toward your father’s house across the street, hastily coming up with a plan in his head, “You can’t do this shit.”

He leaves you on the phone as he shoves you in his back pocket, coming up with a bullshit excuse as he asks your dad for his phone, hearing how it had been dead all morning and hadn’t had a chance to check his text from you, specifically, hearing the uptick in Joel’s tone as he urges him to hand the phone over.

You can vaguely hear something about Joel needing to add his new number, even though it clearly hadn’t changed at all, your dad reciting his code as Joel attempts to make idle conversation to distract your father, assuming he’d accomplished what he came to do, you hear the brief goodbye and then loud shuffling in your ear.

“....what happened?”

“I took care of it,” Joel tells you, before swiftly switching gears, “do you have classes today?”

“No,” you answer hesitantly, “why?”

“I’ll be there in a couple hours,” You’re not sure why the admission makes you panic.

“Joel—”

“That was real fuckin’ stupid, you know?” Joel starts,

“What? Are you gonna rush down here to punish me over it?” You retort, a tinge of frustration in your tone.

“Is that what you need?” Joel counters.

There’s a heaviness to the silence that neither of you address.

“Just be ready,” Joel says with finality.

–

“I was ignoring you.”

He’d taken you to a diner further into town, wordless upon arrival, his hands tight on the steering wheel. The moment you two receive your food, he speaks, despite how you had been staring him down the entire ride there and while you waited for your meal.

“No shit,” your laugh is hollow, arms crossed over your chest, “you remember how I gave you an out and you still said no?”

The guilt is evident, flashing across his face as he eats, pointing toward your own to urge you to do the same, halfway through the meal he wipes his mouth and continues.

“It was a couple weeks, but I couldn’t stop fuckin’ thinking about it,” not you—it, whatever had been transpiring between you two, “I’m tryin’ to hold a damn meeting over zoom about scheduling and all I can think about is how you sound,”

“Then why ignore me?” you press him, “Why?”

“Because I should care about you the same way I care about my girls,” Joel admits, twisting idly at the watch on his wrist, arms settling against the table, “I do—but you’re not…mine,”

“What does that even mean?” you ask, increasingly irritated.

“I don’t want you thinkin’ you owe any of this to me. You ain’t my daughter and I never tried to be your father, we’ll never be that,” Joel explains and while he had filled a void that was lacking, you could recognize the difference, “but me and you, doin’ all that—I mean look at you, sending that shit to him, even accidentally—”

You weren’t thinking, only acting on desire that wasn’t even fully returned.

It was your turn to sit in silence, looking briefly out the window to the passing cars.

“The other two weeks weren’t that—I dropped it on site during my break and it got ran over, tore it to shreds. I had to replace it. You’re fuckin’ lucky I picked up, saved your ass…”

“So, what was your plan here?” you ask, impatient, “Lecture me? Discipline me?”

“Neither,” Joel decides, throwing a dirtied napkin on his empty plate before he nods to leave, placing a wad of cash onto the table to pay for the ticket.

–

Joel was unsettlingly silent, still tense from the meal you had shared, but he keeps making turns and you’re becoming more and more annoyed as time drags on.

“Don’t think I forgot about your birthday,” Joel quips, turning down a darker road with no street lights, leading to a building shrouded with darkness and surrounded by a thick, metal gate, “I’ve been tryin’ to find the right time to bring you out here, been buildin’ it for the past six months and Ellie thought you’d like it, mighta…brought it up to her,”

It’s giving you emotional whiplash the way he slides back into the comforting man he always has been in your life, physical and mental feelings aside, he’s always been good at it.

The concern is etched on your face as you squint to see through the darkness, wondering how many laws you were breaking as you passed the NO TRESPASSING sign, quickly snapping your head over to look at Joel.

“I’m headin’ the project, ain’t nothin’ for you to worry about,” Joel soothes, “now you ain’t gotta forgive me and you can go back to hatin’ me after this—”

“Easy,” you reply quickly, feeling the car pull to a stop as Joel cuts the engine and removes the keys, “you know—my birthday isn’t for another few weeks, so you’re a little early,”

Nitpicky, but you had nothing else to bite at him with.

Joel grins and beckons you out of the truck, shoving his key into the lock on the gate as you approach close by, snaking under his arm as he raises it to pry the gate apart, following in close behind.

“Lately we’ve been stickin’ to residentials but,” the door opens, hefty and solid metal as Joel urges you inside, “ain’t never built an observatory before, first time for everything ya know?”

Your eyes widen at the sheer size of the inside, the roof expanding high above your head to accommodate the large telescope that sat in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with intricate diagrams of celestial bodies, constellations mapped out with careful precision, and the ambient light was soft but inviting, casting a gentle glow over the room.

It felt like stepping into a sanctuary dedicated to the stars and space.

“Wow,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, taking in the sight of the observatory with an honest, authentic surprise before you pause, peering at Joel with a slight hint of worry, “—this is…breaking at least a few rules, isn’t it?”

Joel nods admittedly.

You walk around aimlessly, admiring the craftsmanship before your fingers trail along the lens of the telescope, dancing around the question without asking.

“All yours,” Joel tells you.

“Did you like it?” you ask suddenly, squinting to peer through the open slat of the ceiling and into the sky, astounded by the detail it shown, frozen for a stretch of time before Joel makes a noise, something between a huff and laugh, looking back over to find his hands settled against his hips, eyes squinting as if he’s searching his mind for the right answer to your question.

“Don’t lie,” you tell him, “I just…thought that you would like it. I’ve never taken one before, for anyone…”

“Look,” Joel starts, his tone growing serious as he moves closer to you, “I don’t think you need me to answer because you already know—you just wanna hear me say it,”

Damn, he was good.

You turn slowly on your heels to meet his approach, arms crossing tightly over his chest to close himself off to you, but you only step closer.

“Then say it,” you challenge him smugly, watching him swallow quietly under your gaze.

“We’re not—”

“Oh, save it,” you interrupt in a snarky tone, “I know the moment you get home you’re gonna jerk off to it and then try to pretend you’re better than all this,”

“It ain’t that,” Joel says defensively, “when the fuck are you gonna understand that?”

“Pull it up,” you demand him, nodding your chin toward the phone buried in his pocket.

Joel sets his jaw and yanks his phone from his pocket, realizing that his phone was still open to the exact photo you had sent him earlier, eyes lingering on the photo before you press a finger against his chest, “It would kill you, you know, to admit that you might want me,”

You casually lean over to click on the message, promptly deleting it.

“Is that all you’re worried about?” Joel asks, “You’re reckless, you don’t think about the consequences of shit like this? If your daddy had seen that photo—”

“Take me back to my dorm.”

“What?”

“Where do you draw the line, Joel? Is it only the thought of fucking me that repulses you? Oh, but telling me how to get myself off isn’t off the table, letting me jerk you off in the middle of the night and lick up your cum, that’s fine, right?”

His jaw clenches at your words, the tension thick in the air between you two.

You can see the struggle in his eyes as he fights against the pull towards you, his mind racing with conflicting feelings and thoughts.

“Stop,” he commands, though his voice lacks conviction.

He takes a step back, but you follow, closing the distance between your bodies.

“Why?” you ask defiantly, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze, “Why should I stop when you’re clearly thinking about it?”

“This ain’t the place for that,” he mutters, but even as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your lips, and there’s a primal hunger lurking just beneath the surface before he grabs your biceps and hauls you back out and to his truck, opening the passenger side door with a less than gentle manner as you climb inside, closing the door when you’re safely inside before slipping into the driver’s seat, silence settling.

He shifts in his seat, a growl of frustration escaping his lips. “This ain’t a game,” he warns, but his eyes betray him—showing a flicker of interest as they devour you whole, “if you can’t understand that—this, it can’t happen.”

“I think you really underestimate me,” you retort.

“No, I’m fuckin’ terrified of you,” Joel admits suddenly, “and how you’re makin’ me feel.”

Empathy has always been your weakness, but you’re hesitant with him now.

Guarded.

“If you didn’t want this I’d rather you say it instead of draggin’ this along,” you tell him.

Joel's gaze hardens, the tension between you thickening as you challenge him.

He was caught in your web, and he knew it.

“I want you,” he finally admits, the admission hangs in the air like a charged storm cloud ready to strike lightning down on the cab of his truck.

“Then stop fighting it,” you breathe into him, moving closer now but still keeping a distance, his face melting against your touch as you turn his head to look at you, “I can keep your secrets, Joel.”

He doesn’t answer with words, but he looks at you.

Right at you, eyes stuck on the way your lips part, taking in a shaky breath.

“I’m still wearing it,” you admit, voice raising a subtle octave higher with a sudden nervousness, “if you wanna see?”

Joel’s eyes drag to your chest instinctually, looking around quickly to survey the area.

He knew there wasn’t anything to worry about out here, covered in a thick shadow of darkness save the gentle light of the moon and he nodded, the weakest you’ve ever seen him.

Your heart races as you slowly lift the fabric of your shirt, revealing the delicate lace of the bra beneath. The air thickens with a hunger that washes over Joel’s gaze, his hand slowly drifting to rest against the knee that had shifted over his spread leg

“Fuck,” he breathes, as if he can barely contain himself. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

It was the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him at this moment that sends a thrill down your spine. You continue to tease, inching the straps of your bra down over your shoulders, as your fingers curl over the lacy cups and pull down.

“You can have a taste,” you whisper, your breath catching in your throat, “if you’re willing to get over that no-touch rule,” you notice the way his hand has already seemed to bypass it, squeezing at your knee gently before his fingers slowly curl around the side of your waist, pushing and pulling at the same time until your chest is presented to him, his eyes lingering on you for a brief moment before he places kiss at the center of your chest.

The warmth of his lips leave a sting as he trails, each side of your collarbone, your shoulders, down your chest again, the gentle contact sending shivers racing through your body.

You gasped softly, arching your chest further toward him, craving more and willing him to close the distance. “More,” you urged breathlessly, your hands finding their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer.

Joel’s mouth moved lower, kissing down your torso with a fervor that made your heart race.

His lips trailed over your abdomen, hot and possessive, as his fingers tugged at the fabric until it folded over, hanging uselessly under your breasts.

He paused for only a moment before lifting his gaze to meet yours again—his eyes dark with desire before you’re moving, quick and sudden as you spread yourself out over his lap, gasping at the feeling of his teeth dragging over your nipple, his tongue swirling around the skin as it hardened in his mouth.

Your back arches in response, thighs pressing tightly against him as you let out a low moan, watching him place gentle, but sloppy kisses as he looked up at you, gauging your response.

Your eyes are heavy, weighted down with pleasure as you sigh, head falling back in response.

“You have me,” you tell him, like a mantra, repeating with every touch of his lips.

Joel wasn’t planning on letting you go.

–

Joel watches you through the tiny screen of your phone as you fiddle with the new doorknob a day later, face contorted in concentration as you twist the screw into the fitted hole, “If this doesn’t work I’m kicking this door down,” you sigh, giving the screw one last tight turn before it clatters to the floor.

“I just walked you through, step by step,” Joel argues, “I’m startin’ to think you just don’t trust my advice…”

“Jury’s still out,” you respond absently, rising to your feet as you wiggle the doorknob to ensure it was secure before closing the door and opening it a few times, feeling satisfied went it doesn’t wobble when you pull, “....alright, you did good,”

Joel snorts tiredly, his camera fuzzy and badly lit as he laid in the dark, glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose as he looked at you through the screen of his phone.

He listened, clearly. You had nagged him over his terrible eyesight for years.

“You should be paying me for my expertise,” he jokes, a lazy grin creeping onto his face despite the late hour and you smile at his growing openness to flirt with you.

“Is that right?” You ask, slowly lowering yourself onto your bed, “What would you charge for a handyman like you?”

“For you, pro bono,” Joel says softly, rounded out by a yawn.

“I know something you can bone,” it was so bad it made Joel groan in disgusted amusement.

“Go to bed, sweetheart,” He urges, and the words have never sounded sweeter.

–

A couple days later, you’re holding up his work for a much needed opinion.

The dress hugs your figure perfectly, but you’re still undecided.

“I like the green one more,” Joel adds, his backdrop dull and grey, blank aside from the scattered post-its—he was calling you from work, which was new.

“You just said you liked the purple more,” you argue, easily stripping the dress over your head and walking toward the camera topless, his gaze flicking up cautiously out of habit even if he was protected on all sides.

You fit the green, pattern embroidered dress over your body and examine yourself through the screen, not quite sold, and neither is Joel.

“If you say you like the purple one again,” you warn him, “I’m blocking your number.”

“Can’t help it, kiddo,” he shrugs, “M’just feelin’ indecisive.”

Most of your interactions had been held purely over phone calls or video chats lately, desperately awaiting the end of your semester before summer break, attempting to make the best of the situation despite Joel’s still…occasional weariness about your relationship.

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop—knowing that no matter what good he had in his life, something was bound to fuck it up.

“Guess I’ll just go naked,” you decide, pulling the dress off in frustration before tossing it into the pile of clothes at the foot of your bed,

“Say that again,” Joel orders, his actions pausing on the other end as he stares you down.

“I guess I’ll go naked,” you say with emphasis, pushing your phone back slightly to prop against your pillow as your breasts push together by the force of your arms as they press into your mattress.

“Don’t joke like that,” Joel threatens, though his intention is empty. The tension crackles between you, thick and electric, a mixture of anticipation that never fails to send your heart racing.

You smirk, teasing him with a playful shrug as you lay out on your stomach, chin resting against your curled fist, “What are you gonna do? Drive down here and stop me?” Your tone is light and playful, but Joel isn’t finding it amusing.

“You keep actin’ like a brat—” you’ve never seen him so serious, immediately pulling back on your teasing, “then yeah, I will.”

“Jeez, sorry,” you laugh slightly, “I’ll cool off then.”

“You wouldn’t listen to me even if I begged,” Joel says decisively, “so fuckin’ hardheaded,”

“I can,” you argue playfully, “for you, yeah.”

“Touch yourself,” he orders suddenly, your eyes widening at the command.

But, he waits, not a single ounce of wavering on his end.

“You’re serious?” you ask incredulously, half-laughing.

“Dead serious,” he replies quickly, “I’m not playin’ with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you consider it, the thrill of submission sending a rush of warmth through your body. You adjust your position slightly, arching your back to subtly tease him before slowly slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Go on,” he encourages, “play with yourself, sweetheart.”

Admittedly, it was too easy.

Having him there, stern gaze stuck on you as your fingers circled your clit with a newfound urgency, free hand fisting into the sheets so hard you think the stitching might rip.

“Keep goin’,” Joel speaks distantly, “look up at me, kiddo,”

You do, embarrassed at how desperate your expression read through the camera, teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your hips rocked against the hurried movement of your fingers.

“Yeah, you close?” Joel asks, watching you stifle a moan into your arm.

You nod frantically and release a sharp, shaky breath.

“Stop,” he demands suddenly, your body listening so intensely that you don’t even think when your fingers stop moving, they just do.

“What the fuck, Joel?”

“Hands off ‘til summer,” Joel orders—it wasn’t that far, but enough that you scoff, which Joel takes as an act of defiance and raises an eyebrow in question, “that a problem?”

Shamefully, you shake your head.

“A couple weeks won’t kill you,” Joel assures you, “but if I find out you have…”

“I won’t,” you promise him, meaning it.

“Green, by the way,” Joel adds casually, “I like the green.”

You roll your eyes playfully at that, hearing his muffled but sincere goodbye as you hang up on him, your airy giggle like a melody as it sings through his speaker.

If only he could hold himself to the same damn rule.

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divider credit: @/saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #x reader #reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dbf!joel #my writing #fic: orbit you

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sixeyesonathiel · 2 months ago

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infinite void? more like infinite errands!

being married to the strongest sorcerer has its perks—like teleporting across continents for pudding at 3am—but for gojo satoru, nothing could have prepared him for the emotional rollercoaster that is your cravings. between taho diplomacy, gummy-related interrogations, and gelato-fueled meltdowns, he faces his most terrifying foe yet: love, in its most hormonal, snack-obsessed form.

a/n: enjoy the 6k words of satoru suffering, simping, teleporting, and getting emotionally whiplashed by the love of his life <3 i’m literally dozing off while formatting and proofreading this, if you see any error pls tell... i sleep now 😪

even gojo satoru—the strongest sorcerer alive—trembles before the wrath of his pregnant wife’s 3am food demands.

the curtains are drawn shut, casting a warm, drowsy amber across the bedroom. outside, the soft hum of cicadas lingers in the summer air. inside, you’re nestled in a fortress of pillows like some spoiled, slightly overcooked bao bun, one leg propped atop a plush bolster and the other tucked under a heating pad. the air smells faintly of lavender balm and something vaguely sugary—leftover cravings from the previous night.

satoru sits at the edge of the bed, thumbing through a baby names book with one hand and absentmindedly holding your ankle in the other, gently massaging in slow, practiced circles. he’s wearing a navy blue hoodie with the sleeves bunched up around his elbows, silver hair mussed from sleep and sticking up like the petals of a windswept flower. his blindfold is pushed up into his hair, revealing the full brilliance of his eyes, which scan the pages with a kind of amused seriousness. the light catches on his long eyelashes as he blinks, casting delicate shadows on his cheekbones.

“how about... ‘tangerine’? no? okay, okay—‘yuzu’?” he glances up at you with a teasing glint in his eye, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as his thumb draws a gentle circle around your ankle bone.

you don’t even open your eyes. “that’s a fruit.” your voice is muffled, cheek squished against a pillow, a strand of hair stuck to your slightly parted lips.

“so’s our baby, technically,” he grins, pushing his thumb slightly deeper into a sore spot near your heel. “a little fruit of our loins—” his eyebrows dance mischievously as he speaks, fingers drumming playfully against your skin.

“satoru.” you scrunch your nose in mock annoyance, shifting slightly against the pillows.

“right, sorry. sacred temple. your womb is a sacred temple.” he straightens his posture dramatically, placing his free hand over his heart with exaggerated reverence.

you groan into the pillow, but your toes curl at the ankle massage. then suddenly you bolt upright, eyes flashing. “did you just compare our CHILD to FRUIT?” your hair falls messily around your face as you rise, one sleeve of your oversized t-shirt slipping off your shoulder.

he freezes, thumb mid-massage, his confident smile faltering. “i—well, technically the size comparison apps do that all the—” he swallows visibly, adam’s apple bobbing as he realizes his tactical error, fingers stilling on your ankle.

“our baby is NOT an AVOCADO!” you shriek, tears already forming, your lower lip quivering dangerously as you clutch the nearest pillow to your chest.

“of course not!” he backtracks frantically, dropping the book with a soft thud onto the carpet. “more like... a sacred vessel? a divine manifestation? the culmination of—” his hands gesture wildly in the air, silver rings catching the light as he searches for appropriate words.

“i want taho,” you interrupt, mood switching instantly, voice honey-sweet again, batting your eyelashes as you tilt your head to one side.

“taho,” he repeats, relieved for the simple request, shoulders visibly relaxing as he brushes a strand of hair from his forehead.

“but not from the vendor on the main street,” you continue, your expression dead serious, finger wagging for emphasis. “it has to be from the old man who sets up by the mango trees. and only if he’s using the special brown sugar from his cousin’s farm, not the store-bought kind. you can tell by the smell—it’s more molasses-y. and make sure he gives you extra arnibal, but not too extra, like three tablespoons extra, not four. and the tofu needs to be from this morning’s batch—if it’s from yesterday, it’ll be too firm. the silken texture should wobble EXACTLY three times when you shake the container gently. oh, and ask him to put the sago pearls on the side, not mixed in, so they don’t get too soft on the journey back. and the container needs to be warm but not hot, like exactly the temperature of a baby’s bath water.” you count each requirement on your fingers, leaning forward with increasing intensity.

he’s gone before you finish the sentence, a soft whoosh of cursed energy rippling through the room, leaving behind the faintest crackle in the air and the subtle displacement of the bedsheets where he once sat. no sparkles or dramatic flair—just quiet efficiency. he’s done this too many times to make a show of it anymore.

five minutes later, he’s back, hair tousled by wind, hoodie now zipped halfway up and clinging to him like he’d been sprinting through alleys. his cheeks are slightly pink from the sun, a thin film of sweat glistening at his temples.

“manong said i looked too pale to be out in the sun,” he mutters, placing the warm taho container in your waiting hands with reverence, his long fingers brushing against yours. “he gave me extra arnibal out of pity.” he smooths down his windblown hair with quick, slightly embarrassed movements.

you sit up, eyes half-lidded with sleep but sparkling with delight. “tell him your wife’s a goddess carrying divine offspring next time.” you wiggle your eyebrows, accepting the container with grabby hands.

“i did,” he says, dropping to sit beside you and poking a straw into the taho, his knee bumping playfully against yours. “he gave me a thumbs up and told me to ‘hang in there, hijo.’” he mimics the old vendor’s gravelly voice, complete with a sage nod.

you snort, mouth full of silky tofu and syrup. “you’ve become a local.” a small dribble of syrup escapes the corner of your mouth.

then you pause, straw halfway to your mouth. “wait. what did you tell him about me exactly?” your eyes narrow suspiciously, straw frozen in midair.

satoru looks up, sensing danger. “just that my beautiful wife is pregnant and craving taho?” he leans slightly away from you, instinctively creating distance as he senses the mood shift.

“did you tell him i’m enormous?” your eyes narrow further, nostrils flaring slightly. “did you make the universal ‘big belly’ gesture with your hands? did you MIME my WADDLE?”

“what? no!” his eyes widen in genuine panic, hands raised defensively. “i would never—” his rings catch the light as his fingers splay in protest.

“because i DO waddle,” you continue, lower lip trembling, your hands moving to cradle your belly protectively. “i waddle like a PENGUIN. a FAT penguin.” a tear slides dramatically down your cheek.

“you glide gracefully,” he insists, looking increasingly distressed, reaching for your hand with tentative movements. “like a... majestic... swan?” his voice rises at the end, betraying his uncertainty.

you burst into tears. “swans have LONG NECKS. are you saying my NECK is LONG?” you wail, shoulders shaking, sleeve slipping further down your arm.

“no! your neck is perfect! everything about you is perfect!” he’s practically pleading now, the mighty gojo satoru reduced to stammering, his usual composure completely shattered. “i love your waddle! i mean—your not-waddle! your walk! your everything!” he runs a hand through his hair in agitation, making it stand up even more wildly.

you take another sip of taho, suddenly calm again. “this is really good. thank you, baby.” you smile sweetly, all traces of distress vanishing as you delicately lick syrup from your lips.

he exhales slowly, shoulders slumping with visible relief, a hand pressed against his chest as if to calm his racing heart.

he leans in, stealing a bite with a second straw like you’re sharing a milkshake. his leg nudges against yours under the covers. “anything for my darling, my queen, my slightly hormonal ray of sunshine.” his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, the blue in them almost luminous in the amber light.

“i’m gonna cry.” your bottom lip wobbles dramatically, eyes immediately filling with tears again.

“is it the hormones or the taho?” he asks, thumb gently wiping a drop of syrup from your chin.

“yes.” you sniff loudly, leaning into his touch.

he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple, his fingers grazing the fine baby hairs at your nape. his palm moves to your belly, rubbing slow, warm circles through your oversized sleep shirt. “next craving, just say the word. i’ll be back before you can say ‘global import taxes.’” his breath is warm against your skin, his voice a low, comforting rumble.

“i want the sour rainbow gummy strips. the ones from that specific konbini in osaka. not the one near the train station—the one three blocks east with the cat that sits in the window. and it HAS to be the package with the blue corner, not the green one. the blue ones are more sour. and they need to be from the middle shelf, not the bottom one, because the bottom shelf ones get too warm from the heating vent. oh, and make sure they were stocked today, not yesterday. you can tell because the fresh ones have a slight bend in the plastic wrapper.” you count off each requirement on your fingers again, eyes bright with determination.

he exhales like a man being sent on a divine quest, but his eyes sparkle with determination. “for love, for honor, for vaguely sour artificial fruit flavors that meet seventeen specific criteria.” he gives a dramatic bow, hand flourishing over his heart.

and then—pop—he’s gone again, the air beside the bed displaced, your hair rustling slightly from the force.

you blink at the empty space where he’d been. then you sigh, deeply content. being married to the strongest sure has its perks.

thirty minutes later, he returns with a crinkly plastic bag and three different brands of rainbow gummies. his shirt is sticking to his back, and there’s a leaf tangled in his hair, which is now flattened on one side as if he’s been running his hand through it repeatedly.

“why did it take so long?” you raise a suspicious eyebrow, biting down on a chewy strip, your eyes narrowing as you examine his disheveled state.

he flops dramatically onto the bed, limbs splayed like a marionette cut from its strings. “turns out it’s a limited seasonal item. had to fight off three middle schoolers for the last pack. almost got arrested. worth it.” his chest rises and falls rapidly as he speaks, a thin sheen of sweat visible on his collarbone.

“you better have gotten me the fizzy ones.” you poke his side with your toe, examining the bag with critical eyes.

he holds them up like sacred relics, eyes sparkling with pride. “with extra sour powder. i had to charm the cashier.” he wiggles his eyebrows, a strand of hair falling across his forehead.

your expression shifts instantly from hunger to outright murderous. “you WHAT?” tears well up in your eyes faster than he can blink, your hands curling into claws. “so you’re just out there batting your pretty eyelashes at konbini girls while i’m here looking like a BEACHED WHALE?” your voice rises dramatically, one hand gesturing wildly at your belly.

“i—i didn’t mean—i just smiled i swear—!” he stammers, sitting up quickly, the leaf falling from his hair onto the bedspread.

“did she give you her number?” your voice rises an octave, hands curling into claws. “did you TAKE it?” your nostrils flare dangerously as you lean toward him.

“it was for the gummies!” he sputters, looking genuinely terrified for the first time since sukuna, pressing himself back against the headboard. “she was going to sell them to someone else!”

you burst into tears, full-on ugly crying now. “of course she was! everyone wants a piece of gojo satoru! meanwhile i can’t even see my own FEET!” you gesture dramatically at your legs, sleeves flapping with the motion.

he stares at you, bewildered and panicking. “love, darling, light of my—” his hands hover helplessly in the air between you, unsure whether touching you would help or make things worse.

you snatch the gummies from his hands and stuff three strips into your mouth at once. “i hope she was UGLY,” you mumble through your full mouth, tears still streaming, cheeks puffed out with candy.

“horrifically so,” he swears solemnly, though you both know he’s lying. “multiple heads. fangs. probably a curse in disguise.” he draws an X over his heart, eyes wide with false sincerity.

you narrow your eyes, then suddenly break into giggles, mood shifting like mercury. “you’re so full of shit.” a piece of candy falls from your mouth onto your shirt.

“you’re glowing with divine fury. it’s hot.” he grins, reaching out to brush the candy away, his fingers lingering on your shoulder.

“shut up and feed me before i change my mind about forgiving you.” you open your mouth like a baby bird, eyes challenging him.

he does, reverently. he even wipes the sugar dust from the corner of your lips with a soft tissue, fingertips lingering for half a second longer than necessary, like you might disappear if he doesn’t stay connected.

between bites, you mumble something about wanting a foot rub later. he nods solemnly like a knight accepting a royal decree, his hand already moving to your ankle.

the afternoon sun shifts through the curtains, painting gold across your shared bed. satoru has taken up his position at your feet again, thumbs working magic into your arches. you’ve half-dozed off, the sugar crash hitting hard after demolishing most of the gummies.

suddenly, you jolt awake. “i need pickles. but not just any pickles. i need the half-sour ones from that jewish deli in new york. the one with the red awning, not the blue one. and they have to come from the barrel on the left side, not the right side. the right side ones are too garlicky. and they need to have been brining for EXACTLY seven days—any less and they’re too cucumbery, any more and they’re too soft. and i need them sliced lengthwise, not in rounds. oh, and can you bring back some of their mustard too? but only if it’s the batch made on wednesday, because thursdays they add too much turmeric.” you sit up suddenly, hair wildly messy on one side, eyes bright with newfound purpose.

satoru blinks, trying to mentally record all these specifications, his brow furrowing in concentration. “anything else, my love?” he asks carefully, fingers pausing on your foot.

“yes. i need to dip them in chocolate pudding. not store-bought. it has to be the pudding from that café in paris with the blue chairs. the one that uses madagascar vanilla beans and that specific brand of dark chocolate that’s 73.5% cacao, not 70%, not 75%.” you clasp your hands together as if in prayer, eyes gleaming with devotion to this new craving.

he stares at you for a long moment, then simply nods, a lock of silver hair falling across his forehead. “pickles from new york, pudding from paris. got it.” he rises from the bed, stretching his long arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

“and satoru?” you call as he prepares to teleport, fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “don’t mix them before you get back. the pickle juice makes the pudding separate.”

pop.

you watch him through heavy eyelids as he focuses on your feet, his expression soft but concentrated. his hair falls forward, obscuring his eyes slightly. you’ve memorized every curve of his face, every microexpression, but somehow seeing him like this—so gentle, so devoted—makes your hormones riot. one second you’re overcome with love so intense it hurts, and the next you’re irrationally annoyed that he’s breathing too loudly.

“what if the baby has your eyes?” you murmur drowsily, tracing circles on your belly with your fingertip.

he looks up, startled by the question, his hands pausing momentarily. “let’s hope not. might be a handful at parent-teacher conferences.” a strand of hair falls across his eyes as he tilts his head thoughtfully.

“but they’re beautiful.” your voice softens, eyes meeting his with unexpected tenderness.

his cheeks color slightly, a rare show of bashfulness from the normally confident sorcerer. “flattery will get you nowhere, except perhaps another foot rub tomorrow.” he ducks his head, focusing intently on your feet again, but not before you catch the pleased smile tugging at his lips.

“i’ll take it.” you sink back into the pillows with a contented sigh.

three nights later, you bolt upright at 3:42 a.m. and slap his arm. “toru. TORU.” your hair is a wild nest around your face, eyes wide with urgent purpose.

he sits up with a start, hair standing on end like he just got electrocuted, blindfold askew across his forehead. “what? labor? demons? is it sukuna again? i’ll kill him with a slipper.” his hands are already forming a seal, cursed energy crackling faintly around his fingers.

“no. i want that specific grilled cheese sandwich from that diner in brooklyn. the one with the checkered floors, not the one with the neon sign. and it has to be made by the old guy with the mustache—not the young one, he uses too much butter. make sure they use the white cheddar, not the yellow, and the sourdough bread needs to be toasted for EXACTLY three and a half minutes so it’s golden brown but not dark brown. and tell them to cut it diagonally, not straight across, and to let it rest for exactly forty-five seconds before wrapping it so the cheese sets but doesn’t harden. oh, and NO pickles on the side—actually, yes pickles, but the half-sour ones from the jar under the counter, not the ones they put out for everyone else.” you grip his arm tightly, eyes shining with fevered intensity in the darkness.

he stares at you, groggy and incredulous, one eye half-closed, his silver hair flattened on one side. you stare back, eyes wide and a little watery, lower lip caught between your teeth.

“please?” you whisper, your lips puckering in a pout. your hands rest protectively over your belly, thumbs brushing together in circles, nightshirt stretched tight across your rounded form.

it works. it always works.

pop.

he’s back in twelve minutes, the scent of butter and garlic clinging to his hoodie. he places the sandwich in your lap like it’s a newborn, the white paper wrapping still warm to the touch.

“i tipped the guy a hundred dollars. he gave me his grandma’s pickles too.” he drops a small jar beside you, condensation beading on the glass, his movements slow with lingering sleepiness.

you grab the sandwich reverently, as if it’s the last meal on earth, inhaling its aroma with closed eyes. “you’re a good man.” your voice is almost solemn with gratitude.

“remind me of that when i’m sleep-deprived and covered in spit-up.” he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, stifling a yawn.

“you already look like someone who owns ten diaper bags.” you take a bite, a string of cheese stretching from your mouth to the sandwich.

“they’re color-coordinated. don’t underestimate me.” he flicks his wrist as if displaying an invisible catalog, slumping back against the headboard.

you eat in thoughtful silence, savoring each bite like it’s ambrosia, then suddenly burst into tears. “it’s so good,” you wail, mouth still full, a crumb catching on your lower lip. “why is cheese so BEAUTIFUL?”

satoru blinks rapidly, caught off guard by the emotional whiplash, his hand freezing halfway to your shoulder. “do you... want me to get another one?” he asks cautiously, weighing each word.

“NO!” you snap, then immediately reach for his hand with a desperate look, nearly knocking over the pickle jar. “yes? maybe? i don’t know what i want anymore!” your grip on his fingers is almost painful.

he watches you with a mixture of adoration, exhaustion, and mild terror, chin propped in his palm. the baby kicks, a sudden flurry of movement that makes you pause mid-emotional breakdown.

“active tonight,” you mumble through a mouthful of cheese, placing a hand where the kick landed.

satoru’s hand finds your belly without hesitation, his palm warm through your thin nightshirt. his eyes widen slightly as another kick meets his touch, lips parting in quiet wonder. “strong like their mother.”

“flatterer.” you roll your eyes but can’t stop your lips from curving into a smile.

“no, really,” he insists, voice uncommonly soft, fingers splaying gently across your rounded belly. “not even six continents of distance could keep you from your cravings. that’s power.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “power would be being able to get my own damn sandwiches without feeling like a beached whale.” you brush a crumb from your chest with exaggerated dignity.

he leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the dim light. “i’d cross every ocean for you. for both of you.” his breath is warm against your face, voice dropping to a whisper.

“even for pickle juice at four in the morning?” you tilt your head, eyes challenging despite their softness.

“especially then.” he presses a gentle kiss to your nose.

one week later, you demand gelato from venice. “and not the tourist kind. the real kind. specifically from that tiny shop on the corner of via garibaldi and that alley with the blue door—not the green door, the BLUE door. and only the pistachio flavor made by the old lady, not her son. he churns it too much and it gets icy. make sure they scrape it from the bottom left corner of the container because that’s where it’s creamiest. and it needs to be in the white paper cup, not the plastic one, because the plastic makes it taste different. oh, and if they offer you that wafer cookie thing on top, say no. unless it’s the rectangular one with the sugar crystals, not the round one.” you pace the bedroom as you speak, one hand supporting your lower back, the other gesturing emphatically.

“you want me to teleport to italy,” he repeats, eyebrows rising slowly, fingers pausing on the book he was reading. “at eleven at night.”

“don’t act like you haven’t done it for fun.” you narrow your eyes, hands moving to your hips.

“but that was pre-baby that was me being whimsical. this is you being a gremlin.” he marks his place in the book with a finger, head tilting to one side.

“this gremlin has swollen ankles and can end you with a look.” you point at your puffy feet for emphasis, toes wiggling ominously.

he sighs, closing his book with a soft snap. “you know what? fair.”

he disappears before you can finish your smug grin. twenty minutes later, you’re eating gelato while satoru rants about pigeons, his hands gesturing wildly, his normally perfect hair windswept and slightly damp from italian humidity.

“i tried to eat it there, for like, the whole experience,” he says, hands gesturing wildly, a smear of pistachio at the corner of his mouth. “but the pigeons. babe. the pigeons wanted blood.”

you lick the edge of your cup, then suddenly narrow your eyes. “wait. so you had time to sit down and try to eat there? while i was here SUFFERING?” you point your spoon at him accusingly, eyes widening dramatically.

his face falls, genuine distress flashing in his eyes. “it was—i thought—maybe thirty seconds?” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to indicate the tiny amount of time, shoulders hunching defensively.

“you went SIGHTSEEING?” your voice rises to glass-shattering pitch, spoon clattering to the floor. “i bet you took PICTURES for the MEMORIES!”

he swallows hard, looking like a man facing execution, adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “i just—you always say i should appreciate the moment and—” his fingers twist nervously in the hem of his shirt.

you burst into laughter so abruptly he physically startles, nearly falling off the edge of the bed. “your FACE! oh my god, you should see your face right now!” you continue giggling, one hand clutching your belly, then just as quickly, your expression turns somber. “this gelato needs chocolate sauce. why didn’t you think of chocolate sauce?” your lower lip juts out in dramatic disappointment.

his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “i... can go back?” he offers tentatively, already half-rising from the bed.

“no, it’s fine,” you sigh dramatically, gazing forlornly at your gelato, stirring it with slow, mournful movements. “i’ll just suffer. alone. with my inferior dessert.”

he looks genuinely pained, caught between panic and confusion, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “i’ll be right back—”

“NO!” you grab his wrist, suddenly desperate, nearly upending the gelato cup. “i was kidding! don’t leave me! what if the baby comes while you’re hunting for chocolate in venice?”

“it’s... week twenty-three,” he says carefully, like he’s disarming a bomb, eyes fixed on your grip on his wrist.

“anything could happen,” you whisper intensely, clutching your gelato protectively to your chest. “anything.” your eyes are wide and serious, a tiny dot of pistachio on the tip of your nose.

here's your text with straight quotation marks replaced by curly ones:

he hasn’t known peace since week sixteen.

some nights, when the cravings subside and the world grows quiet, you find him with his head resting against your belly, whispering stories about infinity and curses and all the places he’ll take them someday. sometimes you catch fragments—tales of mountains that touch the sky, oceans that glow in the dark, cities where time moves differently. his fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin as he speaks, his blindfold discarded, eyes soft in the dim light.

“did you just tell our unborn child about that time you beat sukuna’s ass at shinjuku?” you ask sleepily one night, fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

he doesn’t deny it, lips curving into a smile against your skin. “they should know their father is very cool.” he turns his head slightly to meet your gaze, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“tell them about the time you cried watching that documentary about penguins.” you tug gently at his hair, fighting a smile.

“betrayal,” he whispers, but his lips curve into a smile against your skin, his thumb drawing circles near your navel. “fine. i have many dimensions. emotional depth is sexy.”

“mmmm,” you hum, fingers threading through his silver hair, enjoying the silky texture between your fingers. “i liked when you said the penguin couples who stay together forever reminded you of us.”

even in the dark, you can tell he’s blushing, the tip of his ear turning pink where it peeks through his hair. “i was sleep-deprived.” he mumbles against your belly, hiding his face.

“you’re always sleep-deprived. occupational hazard of loving me.” you trace the shell of his ear with your fingertip.

his laugh is soft against your belly, breath warm through the thin fabric of your nightshirt. “worth it.”

by week twenty-five, he keeps a backpack by the door labeled ‘snack quest gear.’ inside are a passport, an umbrella, three currencies, spicy dried mangoes, a backup blindfold, and wet wipes. he updates it weekly like it’s a mission kit. sometimes you catch him restocking it with the focus of a soldier prepping for battle, his brow furrowed in concentration as he checks off an invisible list.

he has a spreadsheet for cravings. with timestamps. and detailed reviews. you rated the brooklyn grilled cheese 9/10 but deducted a point because he forgot the pickle slice on the side. he never made that mistake again. you’ve caught him studying the spreadsheet late at night, highlighting patterns like he’s tracking a particularly elusive curse.

sometimes he tries to guess your cravings before you say them. he warps in with takoyaki one afternoon while you’re quietly reading. you laugh so hard you cry, snorting inelegantly as you try to catch your breath.

“i just wanted ice,” you manage between hiccups, wiping tears from your cheeks.

he disappears and returns in thirty seconds with a cup of shaved ice in the shape of a swan, condensation beading on the outside of the glass. “do i win?” his eyes gleam with childlike hopefulness.

you nod, eyes glassy with laughter. “you win. you always win.” you accept the ice with both hands, your fingers brushing against his.

one morning you wake to find him gone, a note on his pillow: “emergency meeting. back soon. don’t have the baby without me.”

“HOW DARE HE,” you shriek to the empty room, suddenly and irrationally furious. you crumple the note into a ball and throw it across the room with surprising force. “he LEFT me. ABANDONED. in my CONDITION.”

the note bounces off the wall, leaving a tiny mark that you’ll definitely blame him for later. your hands shake with indignation as you grab your phone from the nightstand, nearly knocking over the glass of water satoru had carefully placed there last night.

you’re halfway through typing an all-caps text message about his betrayal when your mood flips entirely, and you’re suddenly overcome with guilt for being angry. tears spring to your eyes as you smooth out the crumpled note with trembling fingers.

“what if he never comes back?” you whisper dramatically to your belly, running your palm over the taut skin beneath your oversized t-shirt. “what if the love is gone? what if—”

your stomach growls, loudly, interrupting your spiral of despair.

“really?” you mutter to your belly. “now?”

you wait, hoping the feeling will pass, drumming your fingers impatiently against your swollen abdomen. it doesn’t. what you want—no, what you need—are those specific egg tarts from that tiny bakery in hong kong. the ones with the perfectly caramelized tops and the custard that’s somehow both firm and silky.

you reach for your phone, then pause, lower lip caught between your teeth. there’s something strangely satisfying about waiting, about knowing he’ll come back and immediately sense what you need.

two hours later, he bursts through the door looking harried, blindfold slightly askew, wisps of silver hair sticking out at odd angles. “sorry, sorry—gojo clan politics, you don’t want to know—” his long fingers adjust the blindfold, revealing a hint of that impossible blue beneath.

“i want egg tarts,” you interrupt, not bothering with hello. you shift your weight on the bed, one hand supporting your lower back. “the ones from mrs. chan’s bakery in hong kong, down the alley with the red lanterns. but ONLY if she made them after 10am today, because the morning batch uses eggs from the vendor who feeds his chickens fish meal and it changes the flavor. and make sure they’re from the third tray, not the first two—those are always undercooked in the center. they should be golden brown with EXACTLY seven visible burn spots on the crust, not six, not eight. and they need to still be warm, but not hot—exactly 27 minutes out of the oven. oh, and if she offers you the ones with the swirly tops, say no. i only want the ones with the flat tops, because the swirly ones have more air bubbles.”

satoru’s lips part slightly, his head tilting to one side in that way that makes your heart flutter despite your current state of hormonal chaos.

“how did you know?” you blink in surprise.

he taps his temple with a long, elegant finger, a smug smile playing at his lips. “twenty-seven weeks in. i’ve developed a sixth sense. i call it ‘pregnant spouse intuition.’”

your eyes immediately well with tears, your hands clasping together against your chest. “that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion.

he smiles, shoulders visibly relaxing, relief washing over his perfect face. “well, i—”

“or are you MOCKING me?” you snap, tears evaporating, eyes narrowing dangerously. you sit up straighter, nostrils flaring. “making fun of my PERFECTLY NORMAL cravings? laughing at my SUFFERING?”

his smile drops instantly, replaced by genuine alarm, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “no! never! i love your cravings! the more specific and geographically impossible, the better!”

your expression softens again, just as quickly, shoulders slumping as you rest one hand on your belly. “really? you’re not just saying that?”

he approaches cautiously, like someone trying not to startle a beautiful but unpredictable wild animal. his movements are fluid but hesitant, the fabric of his dark jeans whispering against his long legs. “i live to serve your every culinary whim,” he says with complete sincerity, a bead of sweat forming at his temple, catching the light as it slides down. “it’s my greatest joy in life.”

you beam at him, dimples appearing in both cheeks. “good. now go get my egg tarts before i burn this entire place down.”

pop.

forty minutes later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, box of egg tarts balanced on your belly, making indecent noises with each bite. satoru watches you with fond amusement, chin propped in his palm, the late afternoon light filtering through the blinds casting stripes across his impossibly perfect face.

“good?” he asks, already knowing the answer, one eyebrow arched above his blindfold.

you nod emphatically, flakes of pastry clinging to your lips. “she gave you extra?” you ask between bites, licking your fingers with unabashed pleasure.

“she thinks i’m part of a smuggling ring,” he admits, a dimple appearing in his right cheek as he smiles. “says nobody comes that far for egg tarts unless they’re selling them black market.”

“technically, i am a black market,” you gesture to your round belly with a sticky finger. “highest bidder gets premium goods.”

he climbs into bed next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, pulling the blanket over both your bodies, his long, graceful hand curving instinctively around your belly. his thumb moves in lazy arcs against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“when the baby’s born,” he murmurs into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp, “they’ll never believe the lengths i went for snacks.”

“they’ll know,” you whisper, eyelids drooping, nestling back against his solid chest. “they’ll have inherited the craving powers.”

“my legacy lives on.” his voice is a low rumble you can feel through your spine.

just before sleep claims you, you hear another quiet pop beside the bed.

he’s gone again.

he forgot the soy sauce for your rice crackers.

he returns in under a minute, face pale with urgency, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, clutching the soy sauce bottle like it might save his life.

“i’m sorry,” he gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his fitted black shirt, “i can’t believe i—”

“took so long?” you finish, voice dripping with sugar-sweet venom. you sit up straight, hair mussed from almost-sleep, eyes suddenly sharp and accusing. “were you chatting with someone prettier? someone NOT carrying thirty extra pounds of water weight?”

his eyes widen with genuine panic behind the blindfold, his knuckles whitening around the bottle. “it was forty-seven seconds! i counted!”

your bottom lip trembles dangerously, your fingers plucking nervously at the bedsheet. “you’ve never forgotten before. never.”

“i know,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly as he kneels beside the bed, offering the soy sauce like a penitent knight. a lock of silver hair falls across his forehead as he bows his head. “i’ve failed you. our sacred pact is broken.”

you snatch the bottle, still glaring, nostrils flared,

then suddenly beam at him with pure adoration, your entire face transforming in an instant. “thank you, baby. you’re the best husband ever.”

he blinks rapidly, emotional whiplash evident in his stunned expression. a muscle twitches in his jaw. he opens his mouth to speak, then seems to think better of it, slowly rising to his feet with the careful movements of someone who has just narrowly avoided catastrophe.

smart man.

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