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danysdaughter · 6 days ago

Text

I Thought We Were Already Dating

pairing | congressman!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 4k words

summary | you thought you were spiraling over a situationship—meanwhile, bucky barnes had been acting like your very committed, very oblivious boyfriend the entire time. one public meltdown, a congressional office full of witnesses, and a very intense kiss later… you're officially his girl (and he never doubted it).

tags | (18+) MDNI, unprotected sex, p in v, established situationship, mutual pining (but one of them doesn't know), miscommunication, public confession, soft!bucky, domestic chaos, comedy & angst, bucky barnes is your boyfriend (he just forgot to tell you), reader is unhinged (affectionate), FLUFF & SMUT, friends to lovers (but they skipped the "friends" and the "lovers" just happened), poor congressional staff, possessive!reader, love confession, bucky is so in love it hurts

a/n | based on this request. i love writing chaotic reader

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

Your back hit the mattress in a blur of limbs and low groans, Bucky’s mouth never leaving yours, his hands already sliding under the hem of your shirt like he needed to feel skin, all of it, immediately.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he breathed against your lips, voice rough from hours of holding back everything but this.

You barely managed to smile before his teeth grazed your jaw, his scruff dragging just enough to make you shiver. His body blanketed yours, warm and solid, pressing you down in the most intoxicating way.

“You saw me this morning,” you murmured, fingers curling into his hair.

“Not like this.”

The shirt came off.

Then his.

You didn’t stop him.

You never did.

Because being under Bucky Barnes like this—held like something he didn’t want to let go of—was the only time you felt whole. His touch, his mouth, his breath in your ear as he whispered how good you felt, how fucking perfect you were when you were under him like this.

It was all consuming.

He kissed his way down your chest, every inch of skin worshiped like he didn’t just want you—he needed you. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down, slow, like he loved the way you sounded when you gasped just from anticipation.

You watched him from above, chest heaving, skin flushed—and in that moment, something tight twisted in your stomach that had nothing to do with arousal.

It was the ache.

The quiet question in the back of your head that always came right before you let him *n.

What are we?

You didn’t ask.

You just let your legs fall open, let his body settle between them, and swallowed the question whole.

He looked down at you once more, eyes so soft they burned.

“You want me?” he asked, voice hushed, reverent.

You nodded.

“Say it,” he whispered, leaning down, lips brushing your collarbone.

“I want you,” you breathed.

He groaned, low and wrecked, and then he was inside you.

One thrust.

Slow. Deep.

Your back arched, your mouth parting in a gasp as he bottomed out, hands gripping your hips like he was anchoring himself in you.

He didn’t move at first.

Just breathed.

Pressed his forehead to yours.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “You always feel like home.”

You blinked.

Your heart stopped.

But then he started moving—hips rolling slow, dragging pleasure from your core in waves. Every stroke was measured, precise, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. Like he wasn’t just fucking you—he was holding you, claiming you without a single word about what it meant.

You let your nails scrape down his back, your thighs tightening around his waist, chasing every thrust like it could answer the questions you didn’t dare ask.

He kissed you again.

Not hungrily.

Not possessively.

Just soft.

Like a man who thought you already belonged to him.

His pace stayed slow at first—torturously so. Each thrust sank deep, dragging friction that had your nails pressing harder into his skin, a soft whimper caught at the back of your throat.

He was watching you now.

Eyes dark, focused, mouth parted like he was trying to memorize the way you looked when he was buried inside you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, and the way he said it—it was too soft. Too real. Like it meant something. Like you meant something.

You arched up to meet him, hips rising into each roll of his body, chasing that dizzying edge as the room dissolved around you. The only thing real was the heat building between your bodies, the slick slide of his skin against yours, the way he groaned every time your walls clenched around him.

You could feel your release winding tight, breath ragged, body shaking.

And then—

His hand cupped your cheek.

His lips found yours again, tender and aching as he whispered into your mouth, “That’s it. Let go. I’ve got you.”

It hit you like a wave.

You shattered underneath him, crying out as your body clamped down, orgasm tearing through you with a sharp, wet sound of skin against skin and your name on his tongue like it was sacred.

He fucked you through it, his thrusts faltering, rougher now, deeper, desperate.

“I can’t—baby, I’m gonna—fuck—” he groaned.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulled him tighter, wanted him closer.

“Inside,” you whispered, dazed.

His eyes locked on yours—wide, vulnerable, wrecked.

Then he was coming—hot and hard and raw, his whole body shaking as he buried his face in your neck and let himself fall apart in you.

His voice cracked.

“I love you,” he gasped, barely more than breath.

And you heard it.

Your body was still trembling. Your mind was still fogged.

But your heart?

It snapped to attention.

Because he said it like it was obvious.

Like he’d said it before. Like you knew.

His breathing had slowed.

His body lay heavy over yours, arms curled protectively around your waist, lips pressed to your collarbone in a lazy, half-conscious kiss. You could feel the weight of his affection in every touch—adoring, familiar, like this was just another Thursday night in the life of Bucky Barnes, the man who clearly thought you were his.

Because he said it.

He said I love you.

And not like it slipped.

Not like it was some heat-of-the-moment moan tangled in a climax.

He said it like he meant it.

Like he’d said it before.

Like he thought you already knew.

Your hand twitched on his back.

Your heartbeat, which had only just settled, started racing again—but not with pleasure. With full-blown panic.

Because—

What the actual fuck?

You stared up at the ceiling, body still bare, skin still warm from him, and yet—

Your brain screamed: WHAT ARE WE?

He shifted slightly, nuzzling closer, mumbling something incoherent as he pressed a kiss to your chest.

Meanwhile, your soul was clawing its way out of your skin.

Because if he thought this was that—you being his, this being real—then you’d missed a crucial piece of the plot somewhere back in act one.

He never asked.

There was never a “will you be my girlfriend?” conversation. No official status talk. No expectations. Just great sex, unholy chemistry, soft sleepovers, texts that made your stomach flip, and a drawer at his place you never questioned.

You suddenly wanted to sit up and scream.

But instead, you lay there frozen, blinking at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed you.

His hand rubbed slow circles on your hip.

You resisted the urge to launch yourself across the room.

What the fuck is going on.

Are we dating?

Is this real?

He sighed against your skin, content and sleepy.

You swallowed hard.

One Week Later

Your phone buzzed beside you on the kitchen counter.

It lit up with his name, the one you still hadn’t changed in your contacts—just “James 🇺🇸” with a dumb little flag emoji he’d added himself the first week you started… whatever this was.

James 🇺🇸:

On my way back—what do you want for takeout?

You stared at the screen for a second too long.

The question was simple. Casual. Routine.

And that’s what made your stomach twist.

Because it was routine.

The texts. The keys to your place. The way he dropped his jacket over your chair like he lived here. The way he smiled when he saw you, like everything else melted away.

You typed, deleted, typed again.

Finally, you sent:

You:

thai? the dumpling place. y'know the one.

Your phone buzzed two seconds later.

James 🇺🇸:

Already reading my mind, huh?

I’ll be there in 30.

Got you extra peanut sauce because I know you hoard it like a gremlin.

You huffed a small laugh, despite the weight still coiled in your chest.

Then you stared at that thread a little too long.

The little hearts you’d sent last week.

The blurry selfie he sent you from his office at midnight, captioned "Thinking about you and losing a vote at the same time 🫡”

The I love you that still echoed in your ears like a gunshot.

You set the phone down.

Walked into the bathroom.

And stared at yourself in the mirror.

You’d never called him your boyfriend.

He’d never asked.

But he acted like he was yours.

And the scary part?

You wanted him to be.

You just didn’t know if he knew that mattered.

The door creaked open with a familiar scrape—he still hadn’t fixed the hinge.

You turned from the couch, face carefully neutral.

He stepped inside in that unbuttoned suit jacket, tie half-loosened, hair tousled from a long day of pretending not to want to strangle half of Congress.

And he was smiling.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, like it was the most normal thing in the world, setting the takeout bags down on your kitchen counter without even looking.

Baby.

You froze.

Okay, he calls you that all the time.

Maybe he calls everyone that.

Does he call Sam that?

“Place was packed,” he continued, toeing off his shoes. “Some guy tried to skip the line and the little lady behind the counter threatened to beat him with a ladle. Reminded me of you.”

You stared.

He wandered to the fridge, pulled out your favorite seltzer—your specific lemon one—and cracked it open before sliding it your way.

You caught it on instinct, fingers brushing the condensation.

He hadn’t even asked.

Just knew.

Then, casually, he took off his jacket, draped it over the chair, and loosened his tie more, tossing it with a sigh. His white dress shirt stretched a little at the biceps. He was still talking—something about a subcommittee vote gone to hell—but you were barely hearing it.

Because now?

You were tracking everything.

The way he set down two sets of chopsticks like it was automatic. The way he separated the sauces—your peanut ones on your side, his spicier one near him. The way he snagged the remote and flopped down beside you like he lived here.

Like this was his couch.

Was it his couch?

Was he paying your utilities?

“I don’t know why I let them keep putting me in these budget meetings,” he muttered, cracking open a box of dumplings. “Every time I try to talk, someone from Indiana gives me a migraine.”

You nodded slowly.

Then: “Do you… have a toothbrush here?”

He blinked at you mid-chew.

“Yeah?” He swallowed. “Under the sink. Next to yours. Why?”

Your eye twitched.

“Do you… always leave a change of clothes here?”

He nodded again, popping another dumpling in his mouth. “Babe, half my henleys are in your closet. You know that.”

You did.

You just didn’t process it.

You turned toward him fully, food forgotten.

His arm was already around your shoulders, pulling you in.

You didn’t resist. You leaned in.

And then you stared blankly at the TV as he rested his chin on your head, warm and soft and so stupidly comfortable.

He sighed.

“I missed you today,” he murmured. “It was shit at the office.”

Your heart did a weird thing in your chest—flipped, twisted, frowned.

You blinked slowly.

“…Do you keep anything at anyone else’s place?” you asked, very casually. Too casually.

He snorted. “What?”

“Just wondering.”

He reached for a spring roll. “No? Why would I?”

“Just wondering,” you repeated, mechanically.

He made a soft mhmm noise and handed you a dumpling without looking, already distracted by the TV again, thumb grazing lazy circles against your arm like his body just knew where you were supposed to be.

Meanwhile, your brain was screaming.

Are we dating?

ARE WE DATING?!

And he just sat there, all warm and sleepy and Thai-food-happy beside you, like the man absolutely not at the center of an existential relationship spiral.

You chewed your dumpling, eyes narrow.

You were going to lose your mind.

A Few Days Later

The sky over Washington was a thick stretch of slate.

Fine rain fell in that soft, insistent way that made everything damp without ever fully raining. The streets were quiet, the air cool against your cheeks, and your lungs ached just enough to make you feel alive as your sneakers slapped against the wet pavement.

Beside you, Rachel kept pace effortlessly.

Of course she did.

She looked like she’d been born doing yoga on a yacht.

“I still don’t get how you convinced me to jog in this weather,” she said, breath easy, ponytail bouncing behind her. “You’re getting fit for a reason or just embracing the sad girl cardio?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, ignoring the sting in your ribs. “Trying to keep up with a guy who’s genetically engineered and built like a statue.”

She smirked. “Oh, right. The Bucky Barnes. Still a thing?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Your feet hit a puddle, splashing your ankles.

Rachel didn’t wait.

“I mean… it’s cute. Really. Him bringing you coffee, showing up to all your little gallery events, texting you like a golden retriever with a crush.”

You squinted through the mist. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”

She gave a mock innocent look. “No ‘but.’ I just think if he hasn’t made it official by now, he’s probably just riding the comfort wave. You know?”

Your stomach dropped—quiet, slow—like something sliding off a ledge in the dark.

“He’s… not like that,” you muttered.

Rachel made a noncommittal sound, the kind that sounded like “maybe” but meant “absolutely.”

“Sure,” she said lightly. “But a guy like that? Everyone wants him. Powerful, polished, and hot—but still gives off that ‘I could destroy you emotionally if I wanted’ vibe. It’s catnip.”

You bit your tongue.

She went on, like she didn’t just lob a grenade at your chest.

“I’m just saying. If I were dating him, I’d make damn sure everyone knew it. Otherwise…” She shrugged, smiling sweetly. “Kind of feels like letting a limited edition slip through your fingers.”

You slowed slightly, blinking rain from your lashes.

Rachel picked up her pace, unaware—or pretending to be.

Or maybe that was the point.

The worst part?

You didn’t even know what to say.

Because in your head, you were screaming: I don’t know if I’m dating him either.

You didn’t answer her.

You just picked up speed.

One second, you were jogging beside her—lungs aching, mind heavy—and the next, your legs were moving, not with purpose but with sheer emotional combustion.

“Wait—what the hell?” Rachel’s voice snapped from behind you, sharp with confusion. “Where are you going?”

You shouted over your shoulder, breath shallow, “Forgot—I left the oven on!”

It was a terrible excuse.

You hadn’t even used the oven that morning.

And Rachel, in all her smug, sculpted glory, definitely knew it.

But you didn’t care.

You turned down a side street without looking back, rain misting against your skin, hair sticking to your neck as you ran harder, faster, legs burning. You were vaguely aware of your own ridiculousness. You were sprinting through Capitol Hill in soaked leggings and adrenaline—not because of a fire, but because your chest was burning.

Because the words still a thing were still ringing in your ears.

Because her little smile made you want to scream.

And because deep down, you didn’t know how to answer her.

You didn’t know.

Your lungs ached, your sneakers skidded slightly on wet pavement as you turned a corner, and still—you kept going.

Toward the tall glass building you knew by heart now. The security desk that always smiled when you came in. The floor where the man who may or may not be your boyfriend spent hours arguing policy and quietly doodling in his tiny notebook between meetings.

You didn’t know what you were going to say when you got there.

You didn’t know what you wanted him to say.

But you knew this:

You couldn’t keep playing house in your head while the floor beneath it kept shifting.

You needed an answer.

Even if it hurt.

Even if Rachel ended up being right.

You just prayed she got splashed by a Metro bus on the way home.

The doors of the administrative wing slammed open with a bang.

You stumbled in, soaked from drizzle, cheeks flushed, ribs on fire, and about three seconds from a full cardiac event. Your leggings were clinging to your thighs, your hoodie had definitely seen better days, and your lungs were currently staging a mutiny.

Several staffers at their desks froze mid-keystroke.

Someone dropped a pen.

Bucky looked up from where he was speaking with a few of his aides, a file in one hand, coffee in the other—and blinked at you like you’d just teleported in from an alternate timeline.

“Hey—what—?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Silence.

Every single head in the room turned.

Bucky’s coffee cup paused halfway to his lips.

You pointed at him, panting. “Because—I think it’s time. I want to be your girlfriend. Officially. Like—not just sleepovers and emotional eye contact over takeout—I mean actual, real-life, ‘we’re together’ kind of thing.”

You sucked in another breath and barreled on before you lost your nerve.

“I know you’re busy, and, like, technically running half of Congress with your jawline, but I just—I need clarity, okay? Because I was jogging with Rachel, who’s a menace to society, and she said some stuff and I started spiraling and I just—I ran here. I ran. Here. For this.”

There was a beat of complete silence.

Bucky’s eyes were wide.

His aides?

They were riveted.

One woman actually had her hand over her mouth like this was her favorite telenovela.

You blinked at the room.

Your mouth opened. Closed. You slowly lowered your arm.

“Okay,” you said, breathless. “So clearly, that was… too much.”

You looked around at the awkward stares, then back at Bucky, your voice flattening with pure, defeated embarrassment.

“So maybe I was delusional. Maybe this isn’t what I thought. And that’s fine.”

You nodded to yourself, a slow descent into insanity.

“If I’m just some situationship moron who caught feelings and made a public scene at a congressional office,” you continued dryly, “I’m going to kill myself and take everyone in this room with me.”

You made eye contact with one aide near the door.

He flinched.

Then you sighed heavily and scanned the room, noting every wide-eyed aide pretending desperately to become one with their laptops.

Then you snapped.

“Show’s over, folks. Go home. Or back to your unpaid Excel spreadsheets or whatever.”

No one moved.

One intern coughed.

You groaned, dragging both hands over your face in slow, mortified defeat, mumbling through your fingers, “This is literally my villain origin story.”

You barely heard his footsteps as Bucky approached, but you felt him—warmth, presence, tall and steady as he stopped just a few feet in front of you.

“Hey,” he said gently, “can you look at me?”

You shook your head without moving your hands. “I’ll die.”

“No you won’t.”

“I might.”

He chuckled quietly, and something about it made your heart twist. Like this wasn’t the end of the world. Like maybe it wasn’t even close.

You slowly peeked between your fingers.

He smiled softly, eyes full of that same calm patience he used when trying to explain to you how Medicare reform worked.

He stepped closer, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. “It’s 2 o’clock,” he said, glancing around the room. “They all get off at five.”

You stared up at him.

“Oh,” you said blankly. “Cool.”

A pause.

Then, softly—almost hesitantly—he added, “I thought we were already dating.”

Your arms dropped from your face as your expression completely short-circuited.

“…What.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Yeah. For, like… a while now?”

You just stared at him.

Unmoving.

Mouth parted.

One eyebrow quirked in silent disbelief.

“…What.”

He blinked again.

Now he looked confused.

“You… didn’t think we were?”

“…No?”

He gave you the most innocent, baffled look known to man.

“I brought you to Sam's birthday party. You met his nephews. You wear my boxers. What part of this didn’t scream boyfriend to you?”

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

Then opened it again.

“I—You never asked me!” you accused, voice pitching.

“I didn’t think I had to!” he exclaimed.

You stared at him, absolutely scandalized. “How was I supposed to know then?”

Bucky blinked. “I—what do you mean? Everything I do is—”

“You’re from the 40s, James!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “You guys used to, like, wear suits and give flowers and do grand declarations and ask girls to go steady in a diner over milkshakes! I was waiting for that!”

His jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“I watched Grease with you last week!” you cried. “You don’t get to act brand new!”

He dragged a hand over his face, groaning. “Okay, no more old movies for you.”

You crossed your arms, still damp and out of breath, glaring at him like he’d personally invented confusion.

Then he stepped back.

Took a slow, deep breath.

Straightened his posture.

And said, “Okay. Fine.”

He cleared his throat, eyes locked with yours, serious as a heart attack. Then he said your name—your full name.

“Will you do me the incredible honor of officially being my girlfriend?”

The room went so quiet you could hear someone’s chair creak.

You stared at him.

Then slowly, a dumb smile spread across your face.

“Wow,” you said, blinking. “This is… so sudden.”

Bucky paused, squinting

You pressed a hand to your chest. “I mean… we’ve only been sleeping together, sharing hoodies, texting nonstop, and eating Thai food three times a week for a few months. You barely know me.”

His jaw clenched.

“Don’t.”

“I mean, I barely know me, James. Are you sure about this? How could I possibly say—?”

He said your name—a low, gravelly warning that made your smile bloom full force.

You grinned.

“Yes,” you said. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

And before he could react—before he could breathe—you launched yourself into his arms, hands gripping his shoulders, mouth crashing into his with every ounce of pent-up emotion and leftover adrenaline.

His arms instinctively caught you—one around your waist, the other beneath your thighs as your legs wrapped around him like you’d done this a hundred times before.

He kissed you back, hard and fast, like he’d been waiting for this moment—like maybe he needed it as badly as you did.

Somewhere behind you, someone definitely muttered, “What the fuck.”

Another staffer fumbled their phone like they were torn between reporting this to H.R. and posting this on the internet.

Bucky didn’t care.

He just kissed you deeper, right there in the middle of his office, as if the whole damn building hadn’t just watched him get emotionally hijacked by the woman he thought was already his.

Eventually, you pulled back, breath a little ragged, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, arms still looped lazily around his neck.

Bucky was wrecked—eyes dazed, mouth parted, chest rising and falling under you like he’d just run a marathon and won.

You leaned in once more, planted a sweet, casual kiss on his cheek, and whispered, “See you at home.”

You slid off his lap and smoothed your hoodie like you hadn’t just climbed him like a tree in front of half his professional staff.

Bucky blinked. “Wait—what? I was just about to go on break—”

You turned at the door, already tugging your hood up. “Yeah, no, I gotta find Rachel.”

He frowned, still catching up. “Why?”

“To tell her to her face that you’re mine now,” you said flatly. “And so hopefully, she dies of jealousy in front of my eyes.”

You opened the door and strode out like a woman on a mission.

Bucky watched you go, completely speechless, still half-hard in his slacks, shirt wrinkled from where you’d yanked on him like you were trying to break his will to serve.

His aides were frozen, stunned, borderline traumatized.

And then, slowly, that grin started to grow on his face.

A little crooked. A little stunned.

But proud.

Because that?

That was officially his girl.

And God help anyone who tried to say otherwise.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut

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lamefish · 5 months ago

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kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

#kento nanami smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami

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bluemoonbun · 5 months ago

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Reader is implied to like feminine things, though gender identity is kept ambiguous.

Damian was a good brother. That’s what he always told himself. He was a good brother, a good son. He was cold, rude, and erudite, but he was able and willing to help anyone who needed it.

When he arrived at Wayne manor, Bruce told him the general run down of why you were to be avoided when it came to anything vigilante related. You were still pure, a year younger than Damian but without any of the pain. The only one in the Wayne manor that could have a shot at becoming a normal person. Damian envied that, but kept it to himself. His anger often boiled to the top, drops of green venom dripping from his mouth when you tried to annoy him into spending time with you.

Your complaints of him ignoring you was scalding water on his already raw nerves. Why would you complain about not being the center of attention for five damn seconds? He would trade anything for the life you had. A life where you could lay around after school and never worry about a rogue bullet lodging itself in your arm, or a poisonous plant releasing psychedelic spores into an open wound.

You could and would never join the Robins. You were weak; it was in your blood. Always sickly, always the pacifist. You wouldn't survive a day in his life. And you weren't living his life; you were living his dream.

But apparently the effort the family was putting in wasn’t enough.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that the manor felt… off about two weeks before the fight with Joker. He couldn’t trace it for the life of him at first. When he realized by the second week that he hadn’t spoken to you in days, or really seen you around the manor at all, he wrote off the worms writhing in his stomach. You must’ve been busy with a class assignment and had little time to annoy him with your demands of time together.

After the fight, however, he was a war of a thousand emotions. How dare you leave them? Why would you turn away an easy life fat on nepotism for a group of murderers, con men, the dredges of Gotham’s society?

Were you truly that desperate to be acknowledged that you’d turn your back on the family who did everything for you? He hopes you’re happy there, since you were clearly so upset at not being given attention.

Over time, however, things start to change. A few days after Jason made a full recovery, Damian looked at one of the drones Tim managed to get a chunk of code from. It took a lot of trial and error, and the development of an entirely new program to grab some of the code before it bricked itself, and enough all nighters and energy drinks that any doctor would faint, but it was managed. The code was dense, optimized to work with the least bloat possible, well tagged variables, and even a handful of comments in the code.

//Buy Bane those Boston Donuts from the donut shop on 5th //Why does this code need to be here so it doesn’t auto brick itself. What is in the code protecting it from the wrath of God //Louie likes Texas barbecue ribs. Possible treat? //DO NOT FEED THEM WHOLE RIBS. COOKED BONES BAD. //SINCE WHEN WAS THIS VARIABLE A STRING??? IT WAS AN INT 5 LINES AGO //Help the hopeless lesbians get together. //Would Harley and Ivy dating make Harley my mom or Ivy my big sister? Both???

His eyes skimmed the retrieved comments, laughing at a few. It seems that Bane, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn were the most common subjects of the notes, though a few mentioning the Iceberg lounge asking what non-alchoholic drink you’d like added, or Riddler offering you another puzzle to keep your mind active. Even Joker was mentioned, though it seemed mostly transactional.

It was strange seeing you in this light. You seemed to have a lot of spice in you, but a heart made of gold. You were definitely surprised whenever one othe villains offered to take you on some trip to amusement parks, regular parks, even just willingly watching anime with you. It was odd to see. Surely someone at the house did those things with you? He didn’t but he was extremely busy with school and vigilantism. Jason was legally dead, so surely he had all the time in the world.

“How was I supposed to relate to them? They’re what, 12 and into shit like that one with the cat looking dog thing and the robot girl. I have shit to do. Y’know, managing Crime Alley?”

Well, Dick had come over to hang out plenty of times. Surely he’d spent at least a few hours with you every now and then? “I have an entire team and criminals to manage of in another city, Damian. I don’t have as much time as you think to do whatever it was with them they’d wanted to do”

Maybe Tim? “I have college and stuff, Damian. And I don’t have the energy to put into hanging around them. I’d probably just be sleeping most of the time.

Bruce? “I have to manage you, Gotham, and the Justice League, Damian. I barely have time for myself.”

… Alfred? “I tried, Master Damian. However I’m constantly pulled thin between so many tasks. Besides, all you have is school most days, and you’ve had summer vacations and weekends. Shouldn’t you’ve had plenty of time to spend with your younger sibling?”

… He did have the most time outside of vigilantism. And it took him a week to realize you were missing.

You had to realize that they were under extreme stress though, right?He couldn’t spend all his free time with you. He had his own friends to hang out with. How were you two even supposed to relate?

One day at dinner, the thoughts were thrashing in his head, slamming against soft tissue and tearing through brain matter. He aimlessly poked at the food on his plate.

“You alright, replacement?” Jason asked, pausing in his extremely rare dinners with everyone else. Alfred had promised him a tray of fudge to take home this time around, and nobody made fudge quite as good as he did.

“… They were gone for two weeks.”

Everyone stopped eating as he continued.

“Two weeks. Two full weeks before they showed up at that fight. Did anyone here even know? I only noticed after a week and assumed they were just holed up in their room with a class assignment or something.” He was rambling. Everyone was quiet and looking at each other. How did it manage to slip past everyone? They were detectives, for Christ’s sake.

They were your family.

—

Dinner ended with guilt wrapping around their throats and pulling.

Eventually, all of them found themselves in your room. It had been emptied, but showed no signs of struggle. All the small items, the comforter, and your clothes were gone. But what was taken left something behind. Copies of photos of you winning state level competitions, letters requesting your attendance at seminars, photos of gold medals and blue ribbons spread across the floor. Most damning of all was the most recent photo. A certificate by some big time tech company being handed to you. Edward Nashton stood behind you, a firm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

When had this happened? They never remembered hearing of something like this. A news clipping on the back told them it was maybe a week before you left.

“The Wayne prodigy stated that their family had more important things to see to than such an occasion. I can’t imagine something more important that either of my kids being recognized by a multi-million dollar tech company! I remember postponing an anniversary with my husband to celebrate our child placing second in the science fair. But I guess that’s just the Waynes for you!”

That’s just the Waynes to you.

But it’s ok. He can make it better. He can be a good big brother. He can spend time watching anime with you and decorating your room with lace and fairy lights and go makeup shopping with you. You just need to come home. Now.

---------------- Taglist! Ask to be added! Edit: It is now closed!

@jjsmeowthie , @jsprien213 , @ladyrosemone

#yandere jason todd x reader #platonic batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #batfam x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian x reader #Damian: God. How can they be so demanding? They have all the money and namebrand products they could want #Damian: What do you mean the person that spent the most time around them took a week to notice they're missing #moonie posts #moonie writes #Little Bishop!Reader

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cumironi · 8 months ago

Text

SHARING IS S★X CARING？’ s. geto ﹠ s. gojo

☆ sum. your boyfriend and his best friend are inseparable. they’ve shared everything; clothes, foods, money, games... you.

warning. non-sorcerer! au, smoke joint, shared-girlfriend, lube, anal, sēx toy, cūm-play, choking, petnames, cūnnilingus, squirting, creampied, unprotected sēx, fingērings, dōuble-penetration, oral ( m & f receiving ).

the first time you met suguru geto, he was with satoru gojo, and from that moment, it was clear that they were two halves of something dark and unbreakable. they weren’t just best friends; they were a single, inseparable force, bound together by something deeper and messier than loyalty. it was like an obsession, a need that bordered on suffocating. you could see it in the way they moved, like shadows mirroring each other, two predators perfectly synced, with eyes that dared anyone to come between them.

you thought that, maybe, as you got closer to geto, you’d become a part of that bond. you’d be something he could keep just for himself. but no—if geto was there, gojo would be, too, lurking like a phantom, a constant, mocking reminder that you’d never have all of geto. every private moment was contaminated by gojo’s presence, his eyes watching you both like he was daring you to try to shut him out. even when you craved a moment alone with geto, there was always a text, a knock at the door, or the sound of gojo’s voice somewhere close, a shadow neither of you could shake.

when you and geto finally started dating, you thought, foolishly, that it might change things. that somehow gojo would let him go, just a little. but instead, it was like he tightened his grip, pressing himself deeper into the space between you. every date, every whisper, every tender moment was never just yours and geto’s—it was shared, distorted by gojo’s smirking presence. even the way they looked at each other felt invasive, as though they had a silent language you couldn’t decode, one that excluded you completely.

it was toxic, twisted. they shared everything. their obsession ran so deep they blurred the boundaries between them, as if each were only half a person without the other. clothes? gojo would wear geto’s hoodies, his scent still lingering, just to make sure you knew he was part of every piece of geto’s life. food? if you made lunch for geto, gojo would sit down and eat it too, grinning as though daring you to say anything. money, games—it was like they fed off each other, this endless loop of dependence, this twisted codependency that they wore proudly.

and the worst part? they shared you, too. oh, they never said it out loud, but you could feel it in the way gojo looked at you, in the way he’d touch your shoulder a little too casually, leaning in with that mocking smile that dared you to protest. when you’d be alone with geto, just the two of you, you’d feel gojo’s shadow creeping in, like he was watching from somewhere, his presence twisting the intimacy into something poisoned. even in the way geto held you, there was a feeling that he was holding something back, something reserved only for gojo.

and sometimes, it felt like they were playing with you, like you were a toy they could toss back and forth. gojo would flirt, sometimes in front of geto, pushing boundaries just enough to make you question if it was all a game between them. they thrived off your discomfort, your jealousy. you’d catch the way they’d glance at each other when you reacted, a knowing, shared smile that reminded you of how close they were, how little you really meant in comparison.

it was sickening, this twisted love triangle where you were always the outsider. you knew you’d never be enough, not when they were so tangled up in each other, not when they held this dark, toxic bond over you like a noose. they didn’t need you; you were just another thing to share, another piece of amusement in their endless, consuming obsession with each other. and no matter how much you wanted to escape, you found yourself sinking deeper, drawn to the toxicity, addicted to the way they could pull you in and push you out, like they owned every part of you without ever letting you truly belong.

over time, you stopped fighting it—the reality that satoru gojo would always be woven into your relationship with suguru geto. resisting it felt pointless, like struggling against a tide that only grew stronger the more you tried to pull away. so instead, you started to let go, letting yourself sink into this twisted, shared intimacy they’d built around you, a dark bond that the three of you played into with a silent, unspoken understanding.

it started out innocently enough. one evening, the three of you were sprawled out on the couch in geto’s apartment, and on a whim, you let yourself settle onto gojo’s lap instead of your boyfriend’s. you felt gojo’s hand fall naturally to your waist, his touch a little too possessive, his fingers pressing against your skin with an assurance that told you he’d been waiting for this. there was a quiet thrill in it, a reckless satisfaction in the way gojo’s lips curved into a smirk when he felt you relax against him.

you stole a glance at geto, expecting something—jealousy, annoyance, maybe even anger. but instead, he simply looked back at you with an amused gleam in his eyes, a joint held lazily between his fingers as he took a slow drag, watching the two of you with a dark, knowing smile. he looked...pleased, as if this was all part of some game he and gojo had orchestrated, and you were playing into their hands exactly as they’d intended.

and you found yourself sinking deeper, almost against your own will. you’d started slipping on gojo’s clothes when you stayed over, oversized shirts that hung low on your shoulders, sleeves falling past your wrists, the fabric smelling faintly of his cologne, a scent that clung to your skin long after you took it off. and every time you caught geto’s gaze on you, that same amused smirk on his lips, you felt something tighten in your chest, a mix of surrender and thrill as his silent approval sank deeper into your bones.

the lines blurred more and more. when you’d reach for geto’s hand, gojo’s fingers would trace along your arm, his touch just a little too intimate, a little too possessive, his hands wandering over your skin in a way that left no room for boundaries. and geto never stopped him. he would watch, almost transfixed, his eyes dark and smoldering, a smirk curling up at the edges of his lips as he watched gojo’s hand slide down your arm, settling on your thigh, as if you were a part of something they both owned.

you felt trapped, yet strangely exhilarated, like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous and addictive, a line between control and surrender that blurred every time you were with them. this wasn’t love—not the way most people understood it. it was twisted, possessive, a toxic bond that fed off your willingness to fall deeper into their world, letting go of any illusion that this could be anything but theirs to shape, control, and consume.

you lay stretched across geto's bed, sheets tangled around your bare body, the coolness against your heated skin a stark contrast to the warmth that still lingered between you. the room felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and intimacy, and though the AC droned quietly, the air still seemed charged, electric.

your eyes trailed over geto as he moved across the room, his every step exuding that slow, effortless confidence that had always pulled you in. his skin glistened under the dim light, long black hair tumbling down his shoulders, framing his toned, sculpted body as he reached for the drawer, seemingly unfazed by his own nakedness. there was something about him—calm, composed, yet unnervingly intense, his gaze almost predatory, as if he knew he had you exactly where he wanted.

you hadn’t meant to ask, but the question fell from your lips anyway, barely above a whisper, hesitant yet laced with a strange anticipation. “baby, when will satoru come?”

he paused, glancing back at you with a small, dark smile that sent a jolt through you, an unspoken threat wrapped in that unreadable look. his eyes roamed over your exposed body, his gaze possessive, almost as if he was savoring your vulnerability, the way you lay waiting, asking for another man, even as you lay tangled in his sheets.

“he’ll be here soon, doll,” he replied, voice smooth but carrying an edge that made your pulse quicken. there was something chilling in his tone, as if he enjoyed the way you looked to gojo’s arrival, enjoyed that your desire for them was something they held, something they could control and twist as they pleased. you felt the weight of it—the way you had slipped into their world, no longer your own person, but a part of their twisted game, something they could pass between themselves, a secret thrill they both indulged in.

his words left a dark impression, a reminder that your place here was more than just between them—it was within the cage they had set up, one where you’d come to accept that neither of them would ever really let you go.

you hum softly, acknowledging his answer without another word, and let the silence settle around you both, an almost tangible tension filling the room. there was an ease in that quiet, twisted as it was—an acceptance of the strange rhythm you'd all fallen into.

you watched as geto moved towards the bed, his steps unhurried but deliberate. he tossed a pack of condoms onto the nightstand with a casual, careless thud, then reached into the drawer, pulling out a joint as if this were just another evening between the three of you. he lit it without a second glance, inhaling deeply, that calm intensity radiating off him.

just then, the door creaked open, and gojo’s voice filled the room, a mocking lilt in his words that was all too familiar. “it smells like sex in here,” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement. his eyes scanned the scene, taking in geto’s bare form standing by the bed, and he let out a low whistle, a playful grin spreading across his face.

geto rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke, but there was a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, a flicker of something darkly amused as he watched his best friend stride in without hesitation.

gojo’s sharp blue eyes found yours, and in that instant, the atmosphere shifted, charged with a new intensity. he looked at you with that familiar, arrogant gleam, his gaze trailing over you, unashamed and piercing, like he was assessing exactly what he was about to walk into. there was a possessiveness in his gaze, a twisted understanding between the three of you that none of you needed to say out loud—this was just the way things were, a silent pact wrapped in tension, indulgence, and the thrill of pushing boundaries that none of you cared to pull back from.

you looked over at him, watching the way he stepped inside without hesitation, his eyes glinting with that same twisted amusement as he took in the scene, as if he were right at home in this dark, tangled intimacy. he closed the door behind him, his gaze drifting between you and geto, a satisfied smirk on his face that promised more than just another night together—it was a reminder of the possessive, toxic hold the two of them shared over you, a shared addiction you were all too willing to sink into. “finished your class?” you ask as he waltz closer to bed, throwing his bag mindlessly to the floor.

gojo’s smile grew wider at your question, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped off his jacket and tossed it aside, his body moving with a careless, fluid grace that was as intimidating as it was captivating.

“you know how it is, doll,” he said, his voice a low, husky taunt. “just few more exams and i’m free for weeks,” he paused, his gaze flickering down, his eyes tracing the lines of your body just the way geto’s did, a hunger you found hard to resist.

“but now,” he continued, his smirk growing darker, “i’m all yours,” he finished for himself, his words a wicked promise as he finally climbed onto the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight. his gaze was fixed on yours, as if he were savoring the fact that for now, you were entirely at his mercy, a twisted game he and geto had both learned to play all too well.

you hummed softly, a quiet acknowledgment as you shifted, adjusting yourself to rest your head on geto’s bare, toned thighs. he had settled comfortably on the bed, back pressed against the headboard, completely unbothered by his lack of clothes, the cool confidence in his gaze unwavering as he looked down at you with a possessive sort of satisfaction. it was as if he reveled in the fact that both you and gojo seemed right where he wanted.

reaching up, you plucked the joint from his fingers, taking a slow drag as the haze filled your lungs, adding to the already charged atmosphere of the room. your other hand drifted upward, fingers tracing the edge of gojo’s collar, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as your eyes locked with his. there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze, a dark spark that told you he knew exactly what game the three of you were playing.

gojo’s eyes flickered with a familiar, playful amusement at your gesture, his gaze locked with yours as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow kiss. the joint passed from your fingers to his, a silent dance between your bodies. he took a leisurely drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that hung in the air before fading away, his hand sliding down to your throat, a gentle yet firm touch that had a dark thrill pooling inside you.

“you already started without me, huh?” he murmured, his voice a teasing reproach as his lips trailed from your mouth down to your neck, every touch a promise of more to come. “or is dollie here too impatient to wait?” he added, a slight hint of arrogant confidence in his tone, as if he knew exactly how intoxicating this game between the three of you was, and how helpless you were to resist. each word sent chills down your spine, his touch a potent mix of pleasure and danger, a dark thril only a man like gojo could provide.

you smirked, a playful glint in your eyes as you took the joint from gojo’s fingers, holding his gaze with a teasing challenge. inhaling deeply, you let the smoke settle before exhaling slowly, every move deliberate, as if to show him you were just as unbothered as he pretended to be.

“maybe i wanted to spend some time alone with my boyfriend,” you murmured, your tone laced with mischief as your fingers traced an idle pattern on geto’s thigh. “before a certain intruder decided to barge in and ruin our peace.” the words dripped with sarcasm, but there was no denying the thrill that sparked in your veins, knowing exactly how gojo would react to your challenge.

gojo raised a brow, his trademark smirk deepening as he leaned closer, undeterred by your taunt. his fingers trailed over your covered-with-hickeys-collarbone, brushing against your skin with a touch that was both mocking and possessive, as if to remind you that this game was one you willingly walked into.

beside you, geto chuckled, a dark, approving sound as he took the joint back from you, his hand steady as he brought it to his lips. his eyes glinted with amusement, enjoying the twisted banter between you and gojo, like he relished watching the two of you push and pull in this dangerous, addictive dance. the lines between you all had long since blurred, and in that moment, it was clear that none of you had any intention of stopping.

gojo’s hand slid down, teasingly tracing the edge of the thin sheet around your chest, a playful smile playing on his lips as he met your gaze. “spoil your peace, huh?” he taunted, his voice low and teasing. “doll, you make it sound like i’ve done nothing but ruin your life.”

a mock pout formed on his lips, his fingers still toying with the sheet, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “or,” he paused, his thumb suddenly brushing against your cleavage, hovering just upper your bare breast, “maybe you enjoy the chaos a little more than you’re letting on.”

his free hand toyed with your chin, tilting your face up to his with an affectionate touch, his eyes locked with yours with an almost predatory look—a glimmer of darker desire, as if he was savoring the way your breath hitched beneath his fingers.

“after all,” he murmured, his voice a low husky note, “your body certainly seems to respond quite well to my... intrusions.” he paused, and a sharp edge crept into his tone, his fingers lightly squeezing your throat. “maybe i should remind you that you’re the one who keeps coming back for more.”

a sly grin tugged at the corners of your lips, your eyes never leaving gojo’s as he teased you. you knew this game all too well—the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the subtle taunts in his words, the way he constantly pushed boundaries just because he could. it was as intoxicating as it was infuriating, an addictive mix of pleasure and pain that only he seemed to be able to provide.

his touch was a subtle dance between light and heavy, his fingers teasing at the sheet covering your body as he spoke, the fabric brushing against your sensitive skin with every flicker of his wrist.

“i’m coming back for my lovely boyfriend, over here,” you said, eyes momentarily flickering to your boyfriend before going back to gojo. “for your information,” you added.

a dark gleam flashed in gojo’s eyes, a smirk playing on his lips in response to your challenge. “well, doll,” he murmured, his fingers tightening possessively around your throat, “i wouldn’t want to disappoint your boyfriend by depriving you of him.” his lips brushed against yours, a slow, taunting kiss that carried a promise of darker desires and a twisted addiction that went far beyond mere lust.

his touch never relented, his fingers tracing the curves of your body, teasingly brushing against your sensitive spots, as he pressed himself against you, a silent reminder of his control in this moment, of the power he held with a single stroke or word. he broke the kiss with a playful nip at your bottom lip, his lips lingering close to yours in a taunting reminder of what had been.

geto snorted, rolling his eyes at gojo’s words, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he watched his best friend’s possessive display. bringing the joint to his lips, he took a slow, deliberate drag, his gaze never leaving the two of you, clearly entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him.

“you wish, satoru,” he murmured, a trace of mockery lacing his tone. his eyes glinted with a lazy confidence as he looked at gojo, as though he found the whole display a touch amusing, like he was the only one in on some private joke. he exhaled a cloud of smoke, letting it drift between you all, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“don’t flatter yourself too much, you are here, touching her because i let you,” he added, his voice low and almost taunting. with an unhurried ease, he leaned back, fingers tapping against his knee as he watched gojo’s grip on you. there was a quiet satisfaction in his gaze, like he was reveling in this twisted push and pull between the three of you, his best friend’s possessive game only fueling his amusement.

gojo shot geto a challenging glance, his grip on your throat tightening in response. “oh please,” he scoffed, a dangerous smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, “as if you have a choice, suguru. we both know she’s as much mine as yours,” his voice dropped, a dark edge in his tone as he leaned closer to you, as if sharing a secret.

“and besides, we both know you love...watching me make her fall apart.” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your cheek, a teasing brush that sent shivers down your spine.

your breath hitched, a soft, almost involuntary whimper slipping from your lips as gojo’s grip tightened around your throat, just enough to send a heady rush through your veins. you felt his words settle like a dark promise, the teasing graze of his lips against your cheek sparking a thrill and a twisted ache. but even as the sensation built, you noticed geto’s gaze on you, his eyes flicking from your flushed face to gojo, a silent warning embedded in his expression.

“not too tight, satoru,” geto’s voice cut in, low and edged with a possessive restraint, his words firm. the relaxed smirk was gone now, replaced with a flash of something darker, a reminder that his tolerance had its limits. he didn’t mind sharing you, letting gojo push and tease, but only within a boundary he alone dictated. there was a quiet jealousy simmering under his calm exterior—a need to protect what was originally his, even if he indulged in this dangerous game.

the tension in the room thickened as gojo met geto’s warning with a mischievous glint in his eyes, though he relented, loosening his grip just enough. his fingers softened against your throat, his smirk deepening as he brushed his thumb along your skin in a lingering, possessive touch, savoring the shiver he knew it caused. you could feel the silent power struggle between them—both claiming parts of you in their own ways, both determined not to let go.

“aww, what’s wrong, suguru?” gojo murmured, his tone teasing as he pulled back, his eyes fixed on geto’s, almost daring him to react. he could feel your breathing quicken beneath his touch, the quiet hitch in your throat sending a thrill through his veins.

he shifted, his other hand trailing down, tracing the curve of your jaw with almost casual possessiveness. “we both know she likes it when i’m a little... rough.” his voice was a deep, seductive purr, a challenge and a promise all at once.

and through it all, you remained caught in the middle of their twisted game, a pawn in their power struggle and a willing participant in their twisted desires. you could feel the heat from their touches, the possessive gazes that seemed to strip you bare and claim you at the same time.

“just a little bit tighter,” you heard yourself saying, the words leaving your lips before your brain could register their full meaning. they were both surprised, their eyes flashing with lust and dominance at your bold request. “i know i can take it,” you added, your voice husky and filled with a deep...

a dark gleam sparkled in gojo's eyes, a pleased grin spreading across his face at your bold words. “well, well, well,” he murmured, his tone amused and dangerous all at once, “if our little doll wants to play a bit rougher, who am i to deny her?” he paused, his grip tightening a bit more around your throat as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours.

“as long as suguru doesn’t mind sharing the fun, of course.” he teased, his gaze flickering to geto, challenging him to intervene.

a low, daring whisper left your lips, your words laced with a challenge of your own. “he won’t,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, yet filled with conviction. you tightened your hold on gojo, your legs slipping around his waist, pulling him even closer until there was barely any space left between you. a sly smile teased your lips as you watched that dangerous gleam in his eyes flare even brighter at your response.

with a deliberate slowness, you leaned in, your mouth brushing his, igniting a kiss that was as much a taunt as it was an invitation. the thrill of pushing the limits coursed through you, fueling the tension sparking between the three of you. you knew geto was watching, his silent, unyielding gaze never wavering. and yet, despite his possessiveness, he allowed it, that quiet permission hovering in the air, heightening every brush and press of gojo’s lips on yours.

your fingers tangled in gojo’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, each movement charged with a dark thrill. you knew this was exactly the kind of game they thrived on, the thrill of shared control, each boundary tested and savored.

a low, amused chuckle escaped gojo’s lips as you teased him, the feel of your legs around him sending a jolt of desire through him. “seems like somebody’s feeling awfully confident,” he murmured, his voice a soft taunt as he broke the kiss, leaving you yearning for more. he pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze wicked and intense, yet with a soft edge that softened his arrogance.

he leaned back, his hands falling from your body, letting go for a moment, but only for a moment, as he reached for something on the night stand.

geto’s eyes remained fixed on the scene unfolding before him, his expression unreadable behind the haze of smoke curling from his lips. the joint dangled forgotten between his fingers as he watched, transfixed, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. his free hand slid down his abdomen, tracing the lines of muscle before dipping lower, toward the growing arousal on his cock that already start to harden.

the room was heavy with tension, the air thick with the scent of sex and weed.

but the absence of gojo’s touch was short-lived, as his hand soon returned, a familiar bottle of lube held between his fingers. he smirked, his gaze locked with yours, as he flipped the lid open with a soft click, the sound echoing softly in the quiet room. “let’s see how confident you really are, doll,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he moved closer to you, his lips finding your ear.

you frowned, a hint of annoyance in your gaze as you looked up at gojo, catching his smirk as he held the bottle. “i told you i don’t like using lube,” you murmured, a defiant edge in your voice. there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he simply shrugged, as if undeterred by your words.

you felt geto’s warm hand rest gently on your head, his fingers threading softly through your hair in a silent reassurance. glancing up, you caught his calm gaze, that subtle smirk on his lips as he watched you, his quiet approval a steady contrast to gojo’s boldness. for a moment, you felt an odd balance between them—the steady, grounded touch of geto and the daring, relentless energy of gojo, already in the process of stripping down. your gaze shifted back to gojo, who seemed unfazed about your disapproval.

“tough luck, doll,” gojo said with a casual grin, his tone light and teasing, as if he wasn’t bothered by your disapproval at all. his eyes sparkled with lust and a touch of playfulness, his fingers moving to his belt to unfasten it, teasingly slow, almost as if making a show of it.

meanwhile, geto’s steady touch continued to provide you a silent assurance, his fingers soothing your hair with a gentle caress. he seemed relaxed yet amused at this unexpected turn of events, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he watched you and gojo.

gojo’s pants and underwear quickly followed, slipping off his fit frame and leaving him bare before you. he stepped forward, a cocky twist of his hips emphasizing his confidence as he came between your spread legs, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing manner.

you frowned, unable to hide your irritation as you shot gojo a pointed look. “you’re so cocky it’s annoying,” you quipped, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. despite your words, you found yourself instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. the moment your lips met, it was electric—his teasing grin melting into something deeper, more primal, as he responded eagerly to your kiss.

gojo’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, deepening the kiss with an intensity that set your pulse racing. despite your earlier protest, you felt a thrill coursing through you, the way he melted against you, how his body felt—so confident, so alive. it was intoxicating, that dance between annoyance and desire, and you couldn't help but lose yourself in it as the world around you faded away.

gojo’s hand moved in a swift, fluid motion, yanking the thin sheet away from your body, leaving your bare skin exposed to both his gaze and geto’s steady presence beside you. his blue eyes roamed over you, a mixture of admiration and possession flickering in their depths, as if he were taking in every inch of you, committing it to memory.

beside him, geto’s dark gaze was equally intense, filled with a quieter yet unmistakable pride as he watched you. there was something almost predatory in the way the two of them looked at you, as if they were both savoring the sight, each in their own distinct way. gojo’s hand reached out, brushing along your shoulder, then down, slow and deliberate, his fingertips grazing your skin with an expert familiarity that made your heart race.

“there she is,” gojo murmured, his voice a blend of tease and awe, his hand lingering on you as his gaze flicked briefly to geto, a silent acknowledgment between them. it was a moment that hung in the air, charged and heavy, a silent understanding of the unusual bond the three of you shared.

gojo’s breath hitched as he watched you pull him closer, his cock hardening against your thigh as he ground himself against you, the friction sending waves of pleasure through him. his hand trailed down your side, fingertips dancing along your curves, teasing and exploring every inch of your body. “fuck... you’re so goddamn hot,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

geto sat back, watching the scene unfold with rapt attention, his own arousal evident in the air. his hand moved slowly, stroking himself painfully slow as he took in the erotic display before him. “that’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. “show him what he’s been missing.”

gojo grinned wickedly, his hand slipping between your thighs, his fingers teasing your entrance, finding you wet and ready.

geto’s eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold before him, a hint of jealousy flickering across his features as gojo’s hands explored your body with such intimate familiarity. yet, beneath that flash of emotion, there was a sense of pride, a satisfaction in seeing you, his girlfriend respond so openly to gojo’s touches, his best friend.

his grip tightened ever so slightly on your hair, a silent reminder of his presence, his claim over you. his other hand trailed down his torso, fingers brushing lightly over his nipples before dipping lower, wrapping around his semi-hard shaft. he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, matching the languid pace of gojo’s movements above you.

geto’s breathing grew heavier as he watched, the haze of marijuana smoke curling around him adding to the surreal atmosphere before he let go of your hair, afraid he might get the ashes to your beautiful skin.

your breath caught as gojo’s fingers brushed against your entrance, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. you could feel the heat emanating from his body, his hardness pressing insistently against you, and it only fueled the fire within.

“please...” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. the plea was instinctive, a desperate need for more, for him to fill you, to claim you completely.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph and lust. “so impatient,” he purred. gojo’s smirk widened, eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of triumph and lust. “so impatient,” he purred, his tone a mocking whisper that sent a chill down your spine. with a slow, almost taunting motion, he flipped open the cap of the lube bottle, his gaze never leaving yours as he squeezed a small amount onto his fingers.

the cool sensation of it touched your skin, a stark contrast against the heat between the three of you. his fingers worked the slick liquid over your pussy, every movement purposeful, as if he were savoring the way your body responded to his touch. his smirk deepened, reveling in the power he held in this moment.

“i thought you didn’t like using lube,” gojo teased, a wicked glint in his eye as he rubbed the slippery substance over your sensitive flesh. his fingers circled your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch into his touch.

geto groaned appreciatively at the sight, his hand working slowly over his own straining erection before letting go. “she loves it, man,” he rumbled. “she just likes to pretend she doesn’t.”

gojo chuckled lowly, inserting one finger into your tight heat, marveling at how easily it slid inside thanks to the generous coating of lubricant. he pumped it in and out slowly, steadily building the tension coiling within you. “you’re dripping for me, angel,” he breathed. “don’t lie to yourself.”

geto observed quietly, puffing leisurely on his joint as he watched gojo work you open with his fingers. he admired the view of your cunt presented enticingly in front of him. geto’s eyes raked over your form greedily, devouring the sight of your voluptuous figure writhing under gojo’s ministrations. a part of him wanted to reach out and touch, to add his fingers alongside gojo’s in stretching you wide, but he stop himself, letting his best friend having his way with his girlfriend.

you gasped sharply as gojo’s finger pushed deeper inside you, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. the stretch burned deliciously, stoking the flames of your desire higher. “ah! f-fuck...” you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily, seeking more of that sweet friction.

geto’s heated gaze followed the line of your body, drinking in every twitch and shudder. he leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he spoke. “look at you, taking him so well,” he praised huskily, “such a good girl for us.”

the filthy words sent a fresh gush of arousal trickling down your thighs. you could feel how soaked you were getting, your juices mingling obscenely with the lube gojo kept pumping into you before he suddenly stopped and pulled away just a beat to open the drawer by the bed. gojo retrieved the vibrator, its sleek shape glinting in the dim light.

“shhh...” gojo whispered, his finger still buried deep inside you the heartbeat he felt your body tense., feeling your walls quiver around him. “just relax, baby.” he withdrew his digit with agonizing slowness, eliciting a needy whine from you. the toy buzzed to life, its vibrations sending tingles up your spine. gojo pressed it firmly against your swollen clit, holding it there while you thrashed beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure.

“that’s it,” he purred, watching your face contort in ecstasy. “let it take you.”

geto’s eyes drank in the debauched picture you made, your chest heaving and your thighs trembling as the toy worked its magic. he licked his lips hungrily, transfixed by the way your body responded to their ministrations.

gojo’s grin turned positively feral as he switched on the vibrator to next level, the buzzing filling the air, more intense. “let’s see how long you can last,” he challenged darkly, running the toy teasingly over your sensitive folds without directly touching where you needed it most.

geto inhaled deeply, savoring the rich taste of cannabis mixed with your sweet scent. “you’re playing with fire, bro, you’re about to ruin my girlfriend,” he drawled amusedly, noting the strained tension in your muscles as you tried not to beg shamelessly. he could tell gojo was thoroughly enjoying torturing you with need, pushing your boundaries. he can’t help but smirk while he takes another drag, filling his lung with smoke.

his eyes were glued to the erotic show, gojo now sliding two thick digits knuckle-deep inside your soaked cunt while the toy worked relentless circles around your swollen clit. “god damn, baby.”

the dual sensations of gojo's fingers plunging into your depths and the vibrator's relentless stimulation drove you to the brink of madness. your mind went blank, consumed entirely by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. all coherent thought fled, replaced by a primal urge to chase the peak of ecstasy looming just out of reach.

“please... oh fuck, please!” you begged, your voice cracking with desperation. the words spilled from your lips unbidden, a wanton plea for release. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pressure built, threatening to shatter you utterly.

geto’s low chuckle vibrated through you after he takes another drag, a dark promise of things to come. “she’s close,” he observed, his gaze locked on the way your body tensed and quivered. “i wonder how long we can keep her teetering on the edge.”

“oh, i don't know,” gojo replied with a wicked grin, his fingers curling inside you as he felt your inner walls clenching around them. “maybe until she screams,” he added, his voice dropping an octave lower, filled with dark intent.the vibrations of the toy intensified, becoming almost too much to bear. gojo watched, mesmerized, as you arched your back and threw your head back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. your nails dug into the sheets, the fabric tearing slightly under the force of your grip.

“fuck, look at her,” geto growled, his free hand reaching out to cup your bouncing breast, giving it a rough squeeze. “she’s a goddamn mess.” with a swift twist of his wrist, gojo removed the vibrator, denying you the relief you craved.

you let out a choked sob as the vibrator was abruptly taken away, leaving you empty and aching. your body trembled violently, overwhelmed by the sudden absence of stimulation. tears streamed freely down your face, blurring your vision. “no, please... satoru,” you whimpered brokenly, your hips lifting off the bed in a futile attempt to seek friction. “i need… i need…”

gojo tutted softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “ah ah ah, not yet, angel. you don’t get to cum until i say so.” his fingers continued their torturous dance inside you, stretching you wider than ever before. the wet squelch of your arousal filled the room, obscene and lewd. geto hummed approvingly, pinching your nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.

gojo grinned wolfishly, relishing the power he held over you. your pleas only spurred him on, driving him to push you further. he scissored his fingers apart, spreading you impossibly wide as he pumped them in and out of your dripping core.

“beg harder, sweetheart,” he purred sadistically, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. “convince him of how badly you need it.” geto chuckled darkly, trailing his fingertips down your sweat-slicked stomach before dipping between your legs to collect some of your essence. he brought his coated fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan of appreciation.

“delicious,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “almost as sweet as the sounds of you pleading for our cocks.”

desperate, you writhed beneath them, your body a living flame of need. each thrust of gojo's fingers sent jolts of electric pleasure racing up your spine, making you keen with longing. “please, satoru!” you cried, your voice raw with emotion. “need to cum, want it— ohh, god!” your words tumbled out in a frantic rush, each one a desperate plea for release. tears streaked your flushed cheeks as you stared up at gojo, your eyes wild and pleading.

geto’s dirty talk only fueled the fire within you, your pussy clenching greedily around gojo's invading digits. the sight of him sucking your juices from his fingers, the hungry gleam in his eye, made you shudder with anticipation.

ignoring your plea, gojo turns his attention to your boyfriend. he takes his fingers out of your cunt to hold both of your knees, spread them apart. his hips sway slowly, making a way for hardened cock to make contact with your dripping fold, coating his flesh with your essence.

“let me fuck her raw,” gojo said to geto, confidently, his blue eyes form like a twin blue flames. geto might shared you with him, but he also have limits, a bound gojo couldn’t cross, one of them is; fucking you raw and cum inside you. you are his girlfriend after all, and even so, he can get jealous and possessive no matter how nonchalant and unbothered he is about the shared dynamic.

gojo grinned at geto’s concern, seemingly oblivious to the unease it caused. he knew the limits he had set, and he had no intention of crossing them, at least with someone as precious as his best friend’s girlfriend. “i’ll be gentle,” gojo promised— lie, his voice soothing as he rubbed your inner thigh reassuringly. his cock twitched against your slick folds, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.

geto’s eyes narrowed at gojo’s bold request, a flicker of jealousy passing through his expression despite his usual nonchalance. he took a long drag from his joint, holding the smoke in his lungs as he considered the proposition.

after exhaling slowly, he fixed gojo with a stern look, his voice low and measured. “now, satoru, you know the rules. no bareback, not with her.” his hand slid possessively over your cheek down to your neck and shoulder, a subtle reminder of your relationship.

gojo smirked at geto’s words, unfazed by the warning tone. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against geto's ear as he whispered conspiratorially, “come on, suguru. where’s your sense of adventure? live a little.”

geto rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “you’re insatiable, you know that?” he accused playfully, even as his own desire stirred at the thought of watching gojo take you bare.

gojo just grinned, undeterred. he trailed his fingers along your knees. “i know what i want,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “and right now, i want to feel her tight little cunt wrapped around my cock, no barriers between us.” he punctuated his words with a slow, deliberate grind of his erection against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness. the sensation was exquisite, and he could tell by the sharp intake of breath from geto that he wasn't the only one affected.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations, you moaned loudly, your body arching off the bed as gojo’s thick cockhead pressed insistently against your sensitive entrance. the feeling of his hot skin, slick with your arousal, sent shivers down your spine.

“satoru..” you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his. “stop talking and fuck me already,” your words were barely coherent, spoken through gritted teeth as you struggled to breathe through the pleasure-pain of being stretched so wide.

geto’s touch on your skin only heightened your awareness, making every nerve ending sing with need. you felt his eyes on you, burning with a mix of lust and possessiveness, and it only fueled your desire to submit to gojo’s advances.

gojo chuckled darkly at your demand, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left you breathless. his tongue delved deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as he intended to claim your body.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes were blazing with hunger. “as you wish, angel,” he purred, his voice a sinful promise. with agonizing slowness, he began to sink into your welcoming heat, inch by delicious inch— earning a glare from geto for fucking his girlfriend raw.

your gasp turned into a throaty moan as he filled you completely, his girth stretching you beyond anything you’d ever experienced. geto’s hands roamed over your trembling form, tweaking your nipples and caressing your curves as if memorizing every dip and swell.

“look at you,” geto growled appreciatively, his gaze locked on the erotic sight of you impaled on gojo's thick cock. “so fucking perfect, taking him like that.” his fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the swollen nub.

gojo groaned, his hips stilling for a moment as he savored the feel of your tight heat enveloping him. then, with a primal grunt, he began to move— long, deep strokes that dragged across your sensitive walls and made you see stars.

each thrust drove him deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. geto matched his rhythm, his fingers pumping your clit in time with gojo’s relentless pace. the dual stimulation pushed you closer to the edge, your orgasm building with terrifying speed.

“fuck, she’s so tight, can’t believe you let me fuck this cunt with condom on—ohh..” gojo’s words were cut off by a guttural moan as he pistoned into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. the sheer intensity of his movements stole your breath, leaving you a mindless, quivering mess beneath him.

geto smirked at gojo’s words, his ego stroked by the obvious envy in the other man’s voice. “what can i say? i like to keep the best for myself,” he replied smugly, continuing his ministrations on your clit.

gojo snorted derisively, but there was no real malice behind it. he focused his efforts on driving into you harder, faster, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your willing body.

the change in angle hit a spot deep inside you, and suddenly you were teetering on the brink, your entire world narrowing down to the exquisite friction of gojo’s cock pounding into you and geto’s fingers circling your clit.

“oh god, oh god, oh fuuuuck!”

your cries of ecstasy echoed through the room as gojo fucked you with ruthless abandon, his blue eyes blazing with unbridled lust. sweat dripped down his chiseled torso, plastering his silver hair to his forehead as he ravaged your willing body.

geto watched, transfixed, his own arousal straining against the air. the obscene sight of gojo pounding into you, combined with the intoxicating scent of sex, had him teetering on the brink of his own climax.

“yeah, take it all, angel,” gojo hissed, his tempo increasing. “love feeling you squeeze my cock so good.” he reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit after swatting geto’s hand away. pinching and rolling the sensitive bud in time with his thrusts, he coaxed your impending orgasm to the surface.

but before neither him nor you get a chance to drown in the climax, gojo abruptly stops and withdraws himself from your sucking cunt, earning a breathless whimper from you— a wordless way of yours to complain about the losing feeling.

gojo’s hands gripping your waist to position you on your side, leaving your knees before throwing one of your legs over his shoulder while he trapped the other between his thighs. gojo grab a vibrator that he abandoned to the bed earlier before kissing the material to your swollen folds. “hold it, baby,” he said. you obey without a second thought, gazing up to meet your boyfriend’s eyes— realizing you’re on eye level with his hardened cock. geto smirk the moment he gazes down to you, a halo of smoke dancing around the air.

geto smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief as he took in the lewd picture you made. “looks like someone’s eager for a taste,” he teased, his hand coming to rest possessively on the back of your head after he crushed the joint to the ashtray.

gojo just grinned wickedly, positioning the buzzing toy against your entrance. “be a good girl and suck him off while i make you cum,” he instructed, his voice rough with desire.

with that, with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the vibrator, the buzzing motor sending electric shocks straight to your core. gojo pressed it firmly against your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. your back arched, a high pitched whine escaping your lips as the device probed your sensitive flesh, stimulating you. your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction, even as you leaned forward to take geto’s throbbing length into your mouth. geto groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you to take him deeper.

moaning wantonly around geto’s thick shaft, you surrendered yourself fully to the overwhelming sensations assaulting your senses. the vibrations from the toy against your aching clit had your toes curling, your thighs trembling with the force of your impending release.

gojo watched hungrily as you sucked his friend off, his free hand stroking his own impressive erection. the sight of you, so wanton and debauched, only served to stoke his own arousal higher. “that’s it, angel,” he praised, his voice strained. “take him deep, just like that. fuck, you look so hot with his cock down your throat.”

his filthy words spurred you on, and you hollowed your cheeks, taking geto as far as you could manage. gojo’s hands finding your thigh, hold it firmly to his chest before his one hand guiding his cock to your pucker hole. his glisten tips kissing your anal sex for a moment before gently pushing into the tighten hole making you squeal in pain and pleasure.

geto’s grip on your hair tightened as he thrust deeper, his hips rocking in time with the vibrations of the toy against your clit. “mmm, just like that, baby,“ he groaned, his thighs flexing against your face. “gonna fill your throat with my cum soon.”

at the same moment, gojo slowly pushed past your initial resistance, the broad head of his cock spreading your anal ring wide. a sharp gasp escaped you as he sank in, inch by delicious inch, until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat.

“fuck, you’re so tight back here,” he breathed, his hands roaming your sides and back, pulling you flush against him. “loving how you stretch around me.”

geto felt your throat constrict around him as you struggled to accommodate both cocks, and it only heightened his pleasure. once fully seated, both men started to move— gojo setting a deep, grinding pace while geto fucked your face with shallow thrusts. they quickly fell into a rhythm, sandwiching you between their hard bodies.

overwhelmed by sensation, you surrendered completely to the dual penetration, your body responding instinctively to the relentless stimulation. the toy continued its merciless assault on your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge.

gojo’s hands gripped your thigh bruisingly as he slammed into yo, his thick cock stretching you deliciously. “fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he grunted, his rhythm faltering slightly. “gonna fill this tight little ass up.” you are laying on your side uncomfortably with your head slightly in the air on geto’s thighs while gojo still hold your leg against his chest, resting about the blade of his shoulder.

geto’s grip on your hair tightened, holding you in place “good, good, fucking good girl. always warm and wet for me,” he panted, his hips snapping forward roughly. your muffled moans grew louder, more desperate, as the coil within you wound tighter and tighter. gojo’s grip on your thigh firm and desperate, almost bruise.

“mmm,” you groan, voice muffled by geto’s cock. the vibration sends geto spiraling, throwing his head back to the headboard just a heartbeat before gritting through his teeth along with him tighten his fist on your hair.

“come on, angel,” gojo growled, his hips pistoning frantically now. “i know you're close. come for us. let go.”

geto grabbed the toy from your hand, pressing it right up against your swollen nub. “you heard him, sweetheart. cum for us like a good girl,” he hums, tugging your head down to take him whole and his tip kissing your throat.

he flicked the toy up to max power, the intense vibrations ripping a scream from your throat. gojo redoubled his efforts, slamming into you so hard the headboard shook. that devilish, wicked smile found its way to gojo’s face once again. “good, good, baby, feels good yeah?” he chuckle when your body trembling beneath him.

unable to form coherent thoughts, you simply existed in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure. every nerve ending was alight, singing with ecstasy as gojo and geto worked you over relentlessly.

the toy’s brutal vibrations shattered what remained of your control, sending you hurtling towards oblivion. your inner walls clenched around gojo’s pistoning cock, rippling and milking him as your orgasm crashed over you in waves.

“cum.. gonna cum,” you wailed, your vision blurring at the edges as you came undone. your pussy spasmed, gushing around gojo’s cock as he drove into you. hearing your desperate wailing, geto pressed the toy harder which tears a fluid from your cunt, wetting the bed. “i—oh god, fuckkkk.”

gojo’s eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he felt your pussy clench around him. you quaked and thrashed beneath them, gojo held himself still, buried to the hilt in your clenching heat. geto didn’t relent either, keeping the vibrator humming away at your oversensitive clit, making sure to prolong your exquisite torment. they wanted to draw out your pleasure, making sure to prolong your exquisite torment. savoring the exquisite feeling of your body writhing helplessly around them.

gojo’s rhythm falters for a brief moment, allowing you to catch your breath, then he resumes his relentless pounding, each thrust hitting a spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. “fuck yes, just like that,” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

geto watched intently as you squirred, a low, appreciative whistle escaping him. “damn, look at her drench the sheets,” he murmured, turning the toy up another notch. the additional stimulation sent you careening towards another peak, your body trembling and twitching uncontrollably.

gojo’s eyes rolled back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he felt your cunt clench around him, milking his cock for all it was worth. “fuck, fuck, angel! good girl, such a good fu-fucking girl,” he roared, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own peak.

geto’s grip on your hair tightened painfully, his hips jerking against your face as he fought to hold back his own release. “not yet, not without her...” he hissed through clenched teeth, his cock pulsing in your mouth.

the toy never ceased its merciless assault, keeping you teetering on the brink of another orgasm even as you were still riding out the aftershocks of the last one. gojo and geto seemed determined to wring every drop of pleasure from you, to leave you a quivering, spent mess in their wake.

your body trembled violently, your mind hazy with lust and exhaustion. the relentless stimulation had reduced you to a babbling, incoherent mess, your pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

“please…” you whimpered, unsure if you were begging for release or for them to stop. your body was no longer your own, every nerve ending raw and exposed, sensitive to the slightest touch.

gojo’s thrusts became more erratic, his grip on your hips bruising as he chased his own pleasure. “almost there, angel... gonna fill this sweet ass up.” his words were punctuated by harsh grunts and groans, his rhythm faltering as he neared his peak.

geto’s fingers dug into your scalp, holding you in place as he fucked your face with abandon. “that’s it, baby, take it all,” lost in a sea of overwhelming sensations, you could only surrender to the relentless onslaught of pleasure. your body moved independently of your mind, arching and writhing as gojo and geto took you apart piece by piece.

gojo’s cock hammered into you, each thrust driving you further up the bed. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your high-pitched keens and geto’s low, encouraging groans. you could feel gojo swelling inside you, his rhythm growing more erratic as he neared his end.

geto’s fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your face with short, sharp jabs. the toy buzzed furiously against your clit, pushing you inexorably towards another shattering climax.

with a guttural roar, gojo plunged deep, his cock throbbing and jerking as he spilled his hot seed directly into your clenching depths. his hips bucked wildly, grinding against yours as he rode out his intense orgasm, filling you to the brim with his thick, potent cum.

geto groaned long and low, his grip on your hair and scalp flexing with the force of his impending release. he rammed his cock into your mouth one final time, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he erupted with a strangled cry. his cum flooded your mouth, coating your tongue and the roof of your mouth as he pumped spurt after spurt of his release down your eager throat.

the vibrator finally stopped, leaving you limp and trembling in the aftermath of the intense, prolonged pleasure. your entire body shuddered violently as gojo’s hot cum painted your insides, triggering yet another bone-shaking orgasm. your pussy clamped down around him, greedily milking every last drop as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

geto’s release hit you like a tidal wave, his salty essence flooding your mouth and threatening to choke you. you swallowed convulsively, trying to keep up with the deluge as he emptied himself down your throat.

when it was finally over, you lay onto the bed, utterly spent and boneless. your limbs felt heavy, your muscles lax and unresponsive. you lay there gasping for air, your chest heaving as you tried to regain some semblance of coherency.

gojo slipped free of your abused hole with a wet pop, his softening cock glistening with the combined evidence of your coupling. he freed your other leg under his only for him to roll you on your back and push your knees to your chest just so he can take a better look at your abused anal, clenches and unclenches with his thick cum.

geto pulled out of your mouth with a wet slurp, his softening cock slipping free from between your parted lips. he licked your lips, tasting the salt of his release mixed with your saliva. a satisfied smirk played on his features as he admired the sight of you laid out before him, cum leaking from your well-fucked holes and staining the sheets beneath you. “god, baby,” he whisper breathlessly.

between gasping for air, gojo chuckle in satisfaction, admire his handiwork— your stretched, cum-filled holes. he pushed his long, slender two fingers into your ass, watching it disappear into the slick, creamy mess he’d created. “look at you, so full and messy,” he purred, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction.

he pulled his finger free, before spreading your legs open once again to stuffed the cum into your swollen cunt. and the man hum in amusement and satisfied, the combination of your juices and his own cum. the picture made him groan, “fuckkk,” he whisper as he watch your cunt clenched around the cum. he lift his head to look at your flustered face, seeing geto’s cum paint your lips, looked up at you with hungry eyes.

geto wiped the remnants of his release from your lips with his thumb, smearing the pearle scent fluid across your cheek in a perverse marking of possession. he leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “such a good girl, taking everything we gave you.”

geto chuckled to himself, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath gojo's touch. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers. when he finally pulled back, his gaze was heavy-lidded with desire.

“mm, you look so pretty like this,” he purred, trailing his fingers along your jawline, “all marked up and messy with our cum.”

gojo hummed in agreement, his fingers still busy playing with the mixture of fluids leaking from your holes. “mmm, i think our little angel deserves a reward for being such a perfect slut for us, don’t you agree, suguru?”

he pressed two fingers into your swollen, sensitive cunt, stirring up the cum already inside you. your walls fluttered weakly around the intrusion, too tired to do much else but clench feebly.

gojo grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he withdrew his fingers from your cum-filled cunt. “oh, i have an idea,” he purred, his voice dripping with dark promise.

he glanced over at geto, “why don’t you come over here and help me clean up our little angel?” geto raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face as he caught on to gojo’s suggestion. “with pleasure,” he drawled, sauntering over to join the white-haired man.

together, they knelt between your spread thighs, their faces mere inches from your abused, dripping sex. gojo reached out, spreading your folds wide, exposing your tender flesh to their hungry gazes.

“look how messy she is,” gojo said, his tone teasing and approving. “so much of our cum leaking out of her poor, stretched holes. it’s almost a shame to clean her up...”

geto hummed in agreement, leaning in closer to inspect the mixture of fluids coating your inner thighs. “such a beautiful mess,” he murmured appreciatively. he turned his attention to your cum-soaked cunt, watching as it twitched and clenched around nothing. “so needy,” he purred, tracing a finger through the wetness pooling around your entrance.

his finger dipped lower, finding your tight asshole and circling the puckered flesh teasingly. “and so full,” he added with a chuckle, giving the sensitive ring a gentle squeeze.

your breath hitched as geto’s finger circled your asshole, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your oversensitive body. your mind reeled, struggling to process the intensity of what had just happened— the brutal fucking, the overwhelming orgasms, the sheer depravity of it all.

but even as your brain tried to make sense of it, your body betrayed you, responding eagerly to the touch. your asshole clenched reflexively around geto's probing finger, a soft whimper escaping your lips. gojo noticed your reaction, a knowing glint in his eye. “see, suguru?” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “our little angel loves having her ass played with.”

geto’s gaze flicked to your face, then back to where his finger was working its magic on your most intimate hole. your entire body tensed as both men settled between your thighs, their heated gazes fixed on your most intimate places. you could feel the cool air of the room caressing your overheated skin, making you shiver despite the lingering heat coursing through your veins.

gojo’s fingers parted your swollen lips, baring your aching core to their view. you whimpered softly as he exposed you further, feeling vulnerable and yet excited by their intense focus on your body.

geto’s teasing touches sent jolts of sensation zinging through you making your hips twitch involuntarily. you moaned breathlessly as he circled your clit, the bundle of nerves still overly sensitive from the intense orgasms they’d wrung from you.

“please... too sensitive,” you gasped out, not even sure what you were wanting anymore. more? less? something in between?

gojo tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “now, now, little one. we can’t leave you all messy like this,” he scolded playfully, his fingers still holding your folds open. “don’t you want to be nice and clean for us?”

geto chuckled darkly, his finger still teasing circles around your clit for a second before finding your puckering hole once again. “mmm, yes, we wouldn’t want my precious angel to be uncomfortable, would we?” his tone was laced with false concern, belying the hunger in his eyes.

geto now seemed intent on pushing past your limits. his finger probed deeper into your ass, stretching the tight muscle incrementally. you bit back a cry, your body instinctively trying to resist the foreign intrusion. “shh, relax,” geto coaxed, his tone soothing despite the boldness of his actions. “let me in and be a good girl.”

as if to emphasize his point, he pressed harder, his finger sliding deeper into your ass until he bottomed out. a strangled moan tore from your throat at the sudden fullness, your inner walls clamping down reflexively around the invading digit.

your body trembled as geto pushed deeper into your ass, the intrusion stretching you wider than you thought possible. you cried out, the sound echoing in the quiet room, your body arching off the bed as another wave of pleasure-pain coursed through you.

your muscles spasmed around geto's finger, gripping him tightly as he continued to push deeper. the sensation was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, the burn of discomfort mingling with the sweet ache of pleasure. you felt yourself teetering on the edge of pain, the line blurring as your body adjusted to the new sensations.

you couldn't help but buck your hips, desperate for some sort of friction. your cunt throbbed, empty and neglected, the need for release gnawing at you. “don’t...” you weakly attempt to stop geto making your boyfriend chuckle in mockery.

gojo smirked at your feeble protest, clearly amused by your predicament. “aww, does my little slut want more?” he teased, pressing his fingers deeper into your abused slit. your cunt clenched greedily around the digits, still craving more despite the copious amounts of cum already filling you.

geto hummed thoughtfully as he began to move his finger in and out of your ass, slowly building up a rhythm. each thrust sent sparks of sensation shooting through you, your body quivering under the onslaught.

“you’re doing so well, taking me so deep,” geto praised, his voice low and gravelly with arousal. “i bet you’d let me put my cock in here, wouldn’t you, baby? stretch this tight little hole even wider...”

your body shook violently as geto’s words washed over you, the dark fantasy he painted igniting a fire within you. the thought of taking his thick cock in your ass, of being split open and filled to capacity, made your head spin with desire once again.

“no, no, baby don’t,” you whimpered, aside from your whimper, you are unable to deny the truth in his statement. your resolve crumbled under the relentless assault on your senses, leaving you a quivering, malleable thing, eager to submit to whatever twisted desires they might have.

geto’s finger pumped steadily into your ass, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside that made your vision blur and your toes curl. your pussy gushed around gojo’s fingers, the slick fluid easing the way as he worked two digits into your cunt now, scissoring them apart to stretch you wider.

gojo’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched your body respond so eagerly to their ministrations. he curled his fingers inside your cunt, rubbing against that special spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

“that’s it, take it,” he growled, his voice rough with lust, “take our fingers like the desperate little whore you are.“

geto, emboldened by your lack of resistance, added a second finger to your ass, stretching you even wider. the dual penetration had you seeing white, your body convulsing uncontrollably as you teetered on the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm.

“so close already?” geto taunted, pumping his fingers faster. “come on, angel. give us another one. show us how badly you need it.”

your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release. the dual stimulation of gojo’s fingers in your cunt and geto’s in your ass was almost too much to bear, pushing you higher and higher towards that elusive peak.

“mmm, cum, wanna cum!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as you bucked wildly against their hands. your hips moved of their own accord, seeking more of that delicious friction, more of the mind-numbing pleasure that only they could provide.

you could feel your orgasm building, the pressure mounting deep inside you until it finally exploded outward in a blinding rush of ecstasy. your body convulsed violently, your inner walls clamping down hard on the fingers still buried inside you as you came harder than you had earlier.

gojo and geto watched intently as your climax overtook you, their faces alight with smug satisfaction. they didn’t relent, continuing to stroke your throbbing sex and plunder your stretched holes throughout the duration of your orgasm.

“that’s it, milk our fingers,” gojo purred, his voice dripping with sensual approval. “such a good girl, coming so hard for us.”

geto’s expression was darker, his eyes burning with possessive hunger as he felt your insides ripple around his fingers. “fuck, look at her,” he groaned, pumping his digits faster, “so beautiful when she’s lost in pleasure.”

as the aftershocks faded, they slowly withdrew their fingers, leaving you limp and trembling in their wake. your entire body felt boneless, completely spent from the intense orgasms they had wrung from you. you lay there panting, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath, your skin flushed and damp with perspiration.

you could feel their gazes raking over your naked form, drinking in the sight of you sprawled out so wantonly before them. it made you shiver, knowing how thoroughly they had debauched you, reduced you to nothing more than a puddle of sated flesh and needy nerves.

geto’s eyes soften along with his smile. your eyes meet his, interlink with the trembling of your body and crushed cherry on your cheeks, making you as beautiful as ever. he leans down to kiss your forehead. “good girl, such a good girl,” he whisper. “are you tired?” he asked after, the tone of his voice coating with gentleness and tenderness.

“you did...great, doll,” gojo purred, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched you catch your breath.

you could still feel the effects of their combined attention settling in your bones, sending shivers down your spine. the way their eyes lingered on you, taking in every detail of your form, made your heart race, their gaze almost a physical touch on your skin, igniting goosebumps in its wake.

geto’s reassuring words and the gentle kiss on your forehead only heightened this feeling of exposure, vulnerability, and a soft exhaustion that coated everything in a hazy, pleasurable buzz.

a soft, breathy laugh escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze as he spoke, his voice gentle and understanding. “a wreck,” you whispered, your voice a soft murmur, “this was...a lot, even for me,” you added, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

you reached out, your fingers lightly tracing a path along his cheek, your eyes meeting his. “but,”you continued, your tone slightly playful, “i’m happy.” your attention fully on your boyfriend, leaving gojo on the side, making the man roll his eyes in annoyance. how dare you ignore him after he give you the pleasure.

“oh, so it's like that, huh?” gojo teased, his tone a mix of feigned hurt and playful jealousy. as he observed the intimate moment between you and geto, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. he had just given you such pleasure, and now you were focused on his best friend, leaving him out of the moment. the thought sparked a small spark of anger in him, making him want to regain your attention. as you turned your attention back to him, he felt a twinge of victory, but his ego still craved more.

“well, doll, looks like i managed to wear you out,” he joked, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. as his fingers traced lightly along your neck, his touch carrying a soft threat, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of dominance. it was a subtle challenge, a reminder of the power he held over you. he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “but if you still have energy left, i promise i’ll make sure to keep you up all night.”

geto rolled his eyes, an exasperated smirk crossing his face as he slapped gojo’s hand away from your skin, a touch of protectiveness flashing in his eyes. “that’s enough for tonight,” he muttered, his voice firm but calm, his gaze flickering over your tired form. “she’s exhausted, satoru, don’t push it.”

with a dismissive shake of his head, he reached over, grabbing a pillow and carefully placing it at the foot of the bed, ensuring the sheets stayed clean. he pulled you close, guiding your naked, worn-out, marked body against his own, his arms wrapping around you in a secure embrace. his warmth and steady heartbeat offered a sense of comfort, a grounding contrast to gojo’s relentless energy.

as you nestled against geto, he gently ran his hand through your hair, a silent reassurance that he had you, that you could finally rest. his fingers traced lightly over the marks on your skin, a faint hint of pride in his gaze, as if each mark was a testament to the moments you’d shared.

gojo frowned, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes as geto’s voice cut through the air. he watched silently as geto intervened, a soft, but stern command, dismissing gojo’s antics as he wrapped you up in a warm, protective embrace.

his gaze softened, though, his expression filled with a mix of annoyance and amusement. after all, he knew he wasn’t always easy to handle, and he respected geto’s restraint, even if it meant ending their game for the night. he let out a soft, playful chuckle, trying to conceal his disappointment.

despite the flicker of annoyance still lingering in his eyes, gojo couldn’t deny the unspoken boundary that geto had set. he knew well enough that you were geto’s girlfriend, not his, and despite the twisted game you three played, there was always a line he couldn’t cross. so, with a sigh of playful defeat, he grabbed another pillow, placing it beside you as he slid down onto the mattress.

he wrapped his arm around your waist, settling close as he pulled the thin sheet over the three of you, blanketing the room in a soft, cozy warmth. his head rested gently against your bare back, a comforting weight, even as he tried to mask his earlier disappointment with a low, lazy chuckle.

as he lay there, a subtle dampness on the sheet caught his attention—a trace of everything the night had held. instead of moving away, he stayed close, almost comforted by it. for him, that small reminder was proof of the intimacy you’d shared, of a connection deeper than any fleeting frustration.

“rest now, baby,” he whispered, kissing your back without moving his head.

he let his fingers idly toy with a strand of your hair, his eyes fixed on a distant point in the room, his mood still a bit tense. there was a quiet, contemplative silence between the two of you, a subtle tension still lingering in the air. despite this, he didn’t move away, his arm remaining wrapped around your form, a slight smile tugging at his lips as his attention turned back to you.

“hey,” his voice was a gentle murmur, teasing yet affectionate. “next time, i call dibs.”

geto let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he reached over and smacked gojo on the back of the head—a light but firm reminder. “if you want to call dibs, go get your own girlfriend,” he muttered, his tone laced with playful irritation.

gojo chuckled, rubbing the spot where geto’s hand landed, feigning a hurt expression before leaning back against the headboard. “aww, come on, suguru, don’t be so stingy,” he teased, flashing a mischievous grin. despite his joking demeanor, he settled into the quiet, enjoying the familiar banter as he kept an arm around you, savoring the warmth of the moment.

geto just shook his head, smirking slightly as he held you close, a silent reminder to gojo that some things were his alone. gojo scowled, rubbing the back of his head where geto had smacked him, a pout on his lips as he responded with a huff. “you know i don’t do relationships like that,” he complained, his voice teasing and lighthearted.

gojo pushed himself up a little, his scowl softening as he leaned down to press a trail of light kisses along your bare shoulder, working his way up to your cheek. you couldn’t help but giggle at the gentle, ticklish touch, a smile tugging at your lips as he finished with one last lingering kiss.

“besides...” he teased, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he glanced between you and geto with a smirk, a firm squeeze of your breast. a playful, teasing gesture that seemed to test the limits of his friend’s patience, although this time, geto’s exasperation seemed to be mixed with a touch of amusement. “this dollie here doesn’t seem to mind at all.”

geto sighed, rolling his eyes, though a small smirk hinted that he found the moment amusing. “she might not mind, but don’t push it,” he warned, his tone light as he pulled you a bit closer, almost as if staking his claim.

gojo chuckled, leaning in to steal another kiss from your lips before pulling away with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he looked over at geto, a playful smirk on his face, and teased with a cocky, “oh yeah?” his tone almost challenging.

geto shot him a pointed look, a mix of warning and annoyance in his gaze, but there was no real irritation there. instead, a subtle amusement hinted at the corners of his lips. he seemed to enjoy this playful back-and-forth between you three, even if he occasionally had to keep gojo in check.

gojo leaned back, his smirk never leaving his face. he knew he was treading a fine line between playful teasing and overstepping, but he couldn’t help himself. he thrived off the thrill of testing geto's limits, pushing just far enough to keep things interesting. the chemistry between you three was undeniable, each of you feeding off the other’s energy in a way that was intoxicating.

geto’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly, a silent reminder that he wasn’t going to be pushed around—his quiet way of asserting his place in this complicated relationship.

as gojo settled back against the wooden board of the bed feet, his gaze shifted from geto to yourself, an amused spark still dancing in his eyes as he glanced at you. “what about you, doll,” he asked, his tone casual, yet laced with curiosity. “have we worn you out, or are you up for a few more rounds today?”

geto rolled his eyes, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “don’t even think about it, satoru,” he warned, his voice firm but lacking any genuine anger.

you nestled yourself deeper into geto’s embrace, letting his warmth soothe you as you closed your eyes. a soft, contented sigh escaped your lips, your head resting comfortably against his chest. “mmm… tired,” you mumbled sleepily, barely managing the words as a gentle smile played on your lips.

gojo let out a quiet, amused chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back, though you could feel his gaze still lingering on you. “guess that’s a ‘no’ for me, then,” he teased softly, his tone lighthearted, but there was a fondness in his voice that made you smile.

geto’s fingers gently traced comforting patterns along your back, his touch soothing as he murmured, “just rest, sweetheart.” his voice was soft, filled with a tenderness that only came out in quiet moments like this, and with that, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing lulled you further into peace, making the room fade into a warm, sleepy haze.

geto pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, the sound of his heartbeat beneath you steady and soothing. gojo's playful energy had been replaced by a contented silence, and even he seemed to settle into this peaceful moment, his eyes fixated on your figure.

an almost drowsy haze filled the room, the three in the bed creating a calm bubble within the surrounding silence. it almost felt like the whole world had paused, the moment frozen in a quiet, intimate tableau.

gojo, meanwhile, watched the two of you with a hint of longing. he was playful and often enjoyed being the center of attention, so seeing you resting so contentedly in geto’s arms stirred a slight pang of disappointment within him. he crossed his arms, letting out a soft sigh, almost sulking for a moment as he processed the sight of you so peacefully held by geto. finally, with a resigned sigh, gojo shifted back onto the bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his head gently on your back. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder, surrendering to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

as you nestled into geto’s arms, feeling his gentle kiss pressed into your hair and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth between you two was comforting and secure. geto, your boyfriend, held you protectively, his quiet strength radiating through his embrace. his presence was reassuring, providing a calmness that made it easy for you to relax.

“fine… let’s just sleep,” he murmured, a trace of a smile on his lips as he settled down, feeling content with the closeness of simply being beside you both. even though geto was your boyfriend, gojo had carved his place in these cherished moments, creating a warm, close bond between the three of you, built on trust, care, and shared affection.

as gojo settled behind you, his arm gently draped around your waist, a sense of warmth and closeness enveloped you. geto’s steady heartbeat and the soft rise and fall of his chest provided a comforting embrace, a reminder of the love and security you had found in him.

gojo’s soft, warm breath tickled the nape of your neck, lulling you into a deep, restful sleep. the gentle touch of his lips against your shoulder created a small, contented smile on your face as you surrendered to the peaceful haze of sleep, feeling loved and cherished by the two men beside you.

#suki☆#gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo smut #anime smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satosugu smut #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo x y/n #geto x y/n #gojo satoru #geto suguru #f!reader

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bananafieldnotes · 1 month ago

Text

baby love

★ abstract: bo chow’s engaged to the wonderful grace. but seeing you waltz into his shop after so much time apart may change his answer at the altar

content disclosure: smut, black!reader, allusions to segregation, dirty talk, unintentional grace slander, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, spit, canon deviation

author's note: the poll was extremely in favor of a bo chow x reader, and i was feeling inspired to write a little something lusty with a pinch of angst. deviates from canon of course, and the timeline is flexible. hope y'all enjoy! i wrote this quickly and skimmed through to proofread so apologies if i missed anything

Butter. A whole 'nother trip to the store because you didn’t buy enough butter. The cornbread would be nothing without it, and you had no business hosting Sunday dinner without it. And that’s why you pushed through the frustration of stepping back out into the sweltering heat once more, huffing only to yourself so people wouldn’t go around whispering about how grouchy you were. Word ‘round Clarksdale got around like wildfire, and reputations were hard to reconstruct. It’s how the twins kept their status on coldhearted gangsters, and why you kept your lips pursed.

Normally, if you weren’t in a time crunch, you go back to Jiffy’s Grocer on the further side of town. The prices were decent and they treat you like family down there. But it was a hike from your current neck of the woods, and you were racing the clock against the roast chicken you kept in the oven on your dash out the door. Just this once, you’d have to go to Bo’s store.

The people of Clarksdale loved his stores. Business was always booming, and his fiancée knew exactly how to work the whites only storefront. Oftentimes, they’re regarded as the perfect match— and that was exactly why you avoided them at all costs.

It all felt like a million years ago, but it was only eight short years ago when you were calling Bo yours. Every Wednesday for months, you’d swish into his shop, the Black side, ready with money in hand for his priciest vanilla and another sack of flour. He knew you and your grandmother were the ones behind the underground cookie business Mary was running. She got 10% of the profits just for being the face, so that white customers wouldn’t have to contend with the fact that their sweet tooth was being fed by Black women. It was lucrative enough for you not to care.

You were smart with your money, and Bo was too loyal to say anything to anyone. He admired your wit, your drive, your passion. It didn’t take him long to work up the courage to ask you out on a proper date, one with drinking and blues music and half the town watching his hand sneakily graze your derrière. It didn’t matter how different the two of you were under the scorching lights of Mezzanine’s— he was your Bo.

But you should’ve known it wouldn’t have lasted. Bo was too public facing to have a Black wife, and both of you knew it. His white customers would never buy from a Black worker, and he didn’t even like the idea of leaving you to brave the shop on your own. Things were changing in Clarksdale by the day, and he wasn’t gonna gamble on your life.

Choosing the store over you was the end of the whirlwind romance, and the beginning of the whispers from fellow patrons. It no longer served you to shop there, to be reminded of him and his annoyingly handsome face all of the time. And when your grandmother passed, you didn’t dare read the note he sent with the egregiously large bouquet he sent to the house. All curiosity died the second you saw him toting Grace around town, taking her to all the places he took you first. Clarksdale was small, and your only guaranteed respite during the early stages of their relationship was during your grocery shopping.

Crossing your fingers, your gloved hands gently pushed open the front door. It had been years since you last saw him, and today didn’t have to be any different if you were quick enough. You winced at the sharp ding! that alerted your entry. So much for slipping in unannounced. The store was crowded, customers whizzing through pockets of space around others and all the while concealing themselves; your timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

There was a fridge of butter right near the checkout counter, and the line was short enough for you to get out sooner than you could’ve hoped. You grabbed a few extra sticks just to avoid the possibility of repeating history, and you kept your face hidden behind the rim of your hat.

“Here, I’ll take over. Next!”

It was unmistakable, that drawl of his. Goosebumps rippled across your skin as you lifted your chin to see him staring back at you expectantly. He was already searching your every feature when you locked eyes, recognition washing over him in a glacial wave of disbelief. His mouth was left ajar as you placed all the butter in front of him, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’ll catch flies that way, Bo.”

He stuttered, glancing around the room to see if anyone was watching the two of you. “Where did you go?” His voice was just above a whisper, the instability evident is his quiver. Eight years apart and that was the first question out of his mouth.

“You think I wanted to stick around and watch you two live happily ever after? I made changes.”

You were never this stoic with him. Bo was used to the you who couldn’t stand to be apart from him, who couldn’t help but giggle if he looked at you too long. He was used to you using any and every excuse to kiss him, touch him, lick him. Nothing about your cold distance was normal.

Except it was normal. The new normal. He has a new woman in his life to crave him, to love him, to intertwine with him. It couldn’t be you anymore because he’d made sure of that.

“Can we talk?”

You stuck out the exact change for your items, refusing to look him in the eyes again. His eyes were too powerful, their emotion too potent. You weren’t here for him, you remind yourself. Butter. Just butter. “I’d like a small bag if you have one.”

“___. Will you forget about the damn butter?”

You huffed loudly, dropping the money on the counter to grab the butter and make a dash for it. He couldn’t force you to talk to him, and you still had a chicken to baste. “Goodbye.”

Bo knew better than to yell after you. Grace would hear all about his improper power struggle of a woman she knew nothing about. He’d buried his past with you so he’d never have to revisit it; out of sight, out of mind. If only love were truly that easy to manage.

It was nothing but the grace of your ancestors that the chicken hadn’t dried out in the time it took you to get back to your secluded home. You still had about an hour left to prepare for your guests, and it seemed futile against the constant reminder of Bo. These dinners were something the two of you started together as a way of making extra effort to connect with your friends and loved ones. You loved hosting and you loved the glimpse of your future that it brought you. A lifetime of Bo Chow distracting you with kisses and sly touches, helping you clean up since he was a sous chef at best.

The scars on your memories ran deep, but you had mastered the art of pretending they hadn’t. Your friends were careful not to mention his existence which you were eternally grateful for. You healed, you grew new roots. New traditions. A new life, a beautiful one, without. You couldn’t help the Bo shaped storm cloud that lingered every now and then, but you could be ready with shelter.

Gumbo, cornbread, chicken and greens. A freshly baked pecan pie bubbling in the oven. The timer went off just as the first of your friends knocked at the door. You were expecting Sylvie since she was always the first to arrive, but the door opened to reveal no such thing. In front of Sylvie, Annie, Smoke, Simone, Albie, and Michael was none other than Bo Chow. Holding flowers, no less.

“I-I forgot about Sunday dinners.”

Your friends cleared their throats, making their way around him and into your home as he stood at the doorstep gawking at you. “What are you doin’ here, Bo? Don’t you got a store to run?” The hesitation in his response led you to believe Grace was running the store in his place, which only served to make the present moment feel that much more ridiculous. “Say something, don’t just stand there.”

“I shoulda never ended things with us, ___,” he pushed the flowers on you, stepping closer to you underneath the door frame. “Look, I know how this sounds. I know I look like a piece a’ shit comin’ to you like this, but I can’t make the same mistake twice. I still love you, dammit.”

The flowers were the last thing on your mind as he pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, sweeping you in his embrace like you were still his. Your friends were surely listening from just around the corner but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He was holding you again, confessing that he still loves you. Eight years vanished in an instant, all with the soothing sincerity of his voice and the soft juxtaposition of his calloused hands on your body. One dinner wouldn’t hurt.

“I tell ya, I ain’t neva seen nothin’ like it!”

The table erupted in laughter at Bo’s anecdote, silverware chiming against the plates in the background of his story. All was forgiven amidst the chuckles and tears of fellowship, at least it seemed that way. No one took notice of the way Bo was squeezing your hand under the table, or the way he’d whisper a compliment of innuendo in your ear when it was someone else’s turn to speak.

“I like this dress on you,” his breath against your ear made you shudder, eyes threatening to close from the intimacy. “You already know that, though. Bet you remember that night like it was yesterday.”

Time stood still at the memory. The twins invited anyone with a pulse to come celebrate their birthday, and Bo had just bought you a new dress. An elegant sea of lilac satin, squaring your neck and plunging ever so slightly in the back. It cascaded your curves perfectly, framing your physique in a way that made his mouth water every time you moved in it. You’d spent half the night glued to Bo, material of the dress bunched around your hips as he fucked into you frenziedly. Only Stack suspected where you disappeared off to when he plucked a twig from your slightly disheveled hair. You winced at the memory of being so young together.

You felt your nipples harden through the thin material of said dress, the flashbacks of your slippery thighs quivering around his waist too much to bear. It was like you were there again, even just for a fragment of space and time, returning back to the way he ravished you. His lips peppering kisses along the column of your throat, one hand massaging your breast underneath your gown. If anyone saw the two of you it would be the talk of the town, the kind of scandal that was life ruining. But it only fueled the fire between you, thriving on the nerves of someone wandering across you.

It was electric, and it was off limits to think about now. That Bo only lives in the corners of your mind now that Grace has a ring on her finger, and a quick declaration before Sunday night's feast couldn’t change that. It was all talk so far, and it had to stay that way until you saw the walk.

The flush left your face as you sipped on iced tea, pulling the hair away from your neck. Bo could tell you weren’t as unaffected as you feigned, smirking to himself as he took another bite of gumbo. The way you shifted in your seat told tale enough of how the memories had stuck with you, too. Annie chimed in to talk now, looking to Smoke to confirm the details as she drew out her own event.

Bo’s hand rested atop your thigh, discreet and comfortable as he continued talking to your friends. His thumb rubbed against this softer skin of your innermost part, inching dangerously close to the apex but remaining just shy of it. The right thing to do would’ve been to remove it, but you just couldn’t. Your heart hadn’t raced this way since you were last together, tracing every inch of his skin in effort to memorize him.

He slipped into helping you clean up, washing up while you stored away leftovers. Your friends were long gone by the time you finished, and you could feel your heart thrum at the realization that you were fully alone with him. In your house. Hidden under the cover of night, under the protection of magnolia that shielded you from outside judgment.

Bo, who had spent the better part of the night pushing your boundaries, stood across the kitchen towel in hand. The moonlight cast a halo over his bronze toned skin, the Mississippi sun baking him after long days moving shipment. Sun-kissed and lovestruck, he looked up at you.

“I thought my life had to look a certain way, that’s why my parents came to this country. But I don’t want any of that with just anyone, baby love. I’ve been wired to tick all the boxes, and I’ve been racing toward a finish line I don’t even wanna cross no more. Not without you,” he closed the distance between you, careful not to move too suddenly. “This could be our shot. We deserve a second chance.”

It was exactly what you wished he said years ago instead of completely restructuring his life around her. “What about your life with Grace?”

“I told her we were done the moment you left the store,” he tossed the towel over your shoulder to the sink, pulling your hips square against his. “I’d rather be single than with anyone but you.”

His lips ventured forward at a snail pace, eyes darting between yours and your eyes as he waited for you to protest. To push at his chest or turn away. Instead, your breath was baited, anticipating the taste of his mouth on yours again. The exploratory smack of his lips sucking at your bottom one, tugging at it before swooping in for a real kiss. He inhaled sharply as you melted into him, hands cupping his head as you arched against him.

The thin barrier of your dress did nothing to dull the feeling of his chiseled chest against your pert nipples. Something about the warmth of his body on yours clouded your brain with nothing but unholy thoughts, panties dampening as Bo hoisted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. His tongue swirled around yours as he unbuttoned his shirt, buff arms freeing themselves from the now suffocating article of clothing.

Shirtless under the soft glow of your kitchen lights was a sight for sore eyes. His hair was pushed back, slick with a mixture of product and sweat that made it glisten. “Let me make love to you, baby.”

Bo’s lips abandoned his wet suckling of your lips and trailed down your neck, between the valley of your breast and down your delicate stomach that flipped at the contact. His head disappeared underneath your dress, fingers hooking into your underwear to slide them down your legs. You didn’t know how you ended up sprawled across your kitchen with Bo Chow lapping his tongue at your dripping folds on a balmy summer night. How you went from forcing yourself not to think about him to now, with his head bobbing up and down as his tongue plunging as far inside you as he could reach.

He still knew your body better than anyone who tried to fill his shoes after your heartbreak— and he still derived pleasure from fulfilling you. His whiny groans into your pussy sent vibrations that rocked your nerves as you pulled him flush into the crux of your legs, basking in every lap of his tongue. “Bo” was all you could manage to cry out, gasping as he pried your legs apart to shake his head back and forth as he ate you.

Orgasm was imminent and he knew it in the way your hips rolled, impatient squirms turning into desperate twitching that only climax could subdue. He pulled away with arousal coating his nose and chin, not bothering to wipe as he kissed you just as messily as he was eating you out. You welcomed the kiss, palming him through his trousers as he leaned over your spent frame.

He unburdened himself of those very pants as your fingers thread through his hair, completely taken with the taste of yourself on his mouth. His cock grazed between your lips to gather your wetness before sinking into you, moaning against the side of your jaw. So wet, so warm, so tight. The slick heat of your pussy in the reunion he feared he’d never get.

With all the buildup from Bo’s ravenous slurping, the pressure of him brushing your g-spot tipped you right over the edge, climax pulling you under the current of waves of Bo’s making. The cabinet beneath you shook as he fucked you through the aftershocks, using the creaminess of your orgasm as extra lubricant. He dribbled an extra splatter of spit on your clit just to be safe before stealing forward again, hips rolling in time with his thumb’s circles against your pearl.

Bo was on a mission to make you see the stars, his own high nowhere at the forefront of his mind. “You gon’ cum for me again, honey?”

There were tears spilling out the corners of your eyes as you clawed at his back. “Bo, please, give it to me.” The wet slaps of his skin with each thrust rang throughout the kitchen, enveloping your ears in a vulgar symphony of depravity. He knew better than to switch up anything he was doing, knowing you’d fall apart as long as he kept doing exactly what he was.

And fall apart you did with one last kiss to your sweet spot, muscles tensing up just to go lifeless in the same breath. Bo kept you from falling over the edge of the countertop as your body convulsed with the current of ecstasy running through it. The wind was effectively blown from your lungs in the midst of your rapture, and you gasped for air as you finally cut through the hazy mist of bliss.

“Fuck, ___, I-I’m—” The intensity of Bo’s climax interrupted his own words, heat rippling from his head to his toes as he came in heavy spurts. Rivulets slipped out of you as his cum filled you up more than you could take, adding to the glossy mess that was already there.

He kept his eyes trained on your puffy pussy lips, watching the cum leak out of you as he pulled his pants back on. “D-Don’t…”

Your breath was shaky, heart pounding in your ears from everything he’d put your body through— and what the look on his face told you he was going to do. “Oh, c’mon, baby love. I just miss you ’s all. Lemme give you a couple more.”

And then his mouth was back to sucking at your clit, shamelessly swallowing the salty taste he’d left behind to pull another high-pitched scream from your throat.

Bo Chow was nowhere near done with you.

#sinners x reader #sinners 2025 #sinners fanfiction #sinners smut #sinners spoilers #bo chow smut #bo chow sinners #bo chow x reader #x black!reader #x black reader #black reader #black writer

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sparklingchim · 2 months ago

Text

reckless | jjk

pairing: idol!jungkook x producer!reader

word count: 3.8k

tropes: idol!jungkook, producer!reader, established relationship, childhood best friends

rating: pg

warnings: smooches!!, jungkook’s being very touchy <3, smoking, lots of pda, one (1) butt squeeze, lots of teasing n flirting (they're in love ur honour), mentions of jk being on a diet, mentions of oc being bullied in the past, just soft lovesick jk <3

summary: a casual date, the skirt’s a little too short, the night a little too quiet, and jungkook's hands on you like he's never going to let go.

a/n: writing this was so therapeutic im this 🤏 close to breaking no contact ❤️ (also dare i say this is the maybe in another universe couple <3)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

When you round the corner of the building, it’s not hard to find Jungkook.

He’s leaned against his Harley, dark clothes hanging easy on him, making him blend into the night. He has a faint frown on his face as he scans the empty street, toying with his lip ring like he’s lost in thought.

Once he spots you, though, everything softens. His eyes go all boba-round and warm, crinkling at the corners as a smile stretches across his face. That stupid pretty one that makes your chest feel full. He straightens up a little.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you say when you reach him, rising on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. You hug him tightly. You melt into him without thinking. His hands naturally land on the small of your back, holding you close in his embrace.

“It’s okay, baby.” Jungkook leans back just enough to press a little kiss to your lips.

One of his hands dip even lower, brushing over the curve of your butt and the light fabric of your skirt. It doesn’t take long before he grazes bare skin, catching just the edge where the hem ends and you begin.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Oh, it was so fun!” you beam, hands coming together in an excited little clap in front of your chest. You bounce slightly.

It had been a long day filming at one of the major companies in Seoul, part of that new show about the behind-the-scenes process of producing k-pop songs. The set was huge – too many lights, too many people, and so many cameras that you couldn’t even look around without feeling watched.

Everything felt loud and fast and intimidating, like you were going to mess up just by standing there.

“I was still really nervous in the beginning because there were a lot of people, but I did what you told me over the phone this morning and reminded myself that just being there already meant I belonged. That in a little while this would be just another thing that I’ve overcome.”

Dare you mention that just this morning, you felt like throwing up at the thought of today’s schedule – and yet, somehow, it turned into something you ended up loving. Getting to work on something you’re genuinely passionate about, surrounded by new people who love it just as much as you, felt amazing, inspiring.

“I told you it wouldn’t be as bad. You wanted to call in sick,” Jungkook reminds you, teasing you with an arched brow.

“I felt so anxious this morning!”

“You underestimate what you’re capable of.”

“Anyways.” Your shoulders slump slightly. “I’m exhausted now.”

“We can just go to my place if you want.” He gently tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

“No. I wanna go to the Han River with you,” you say, lips tugging into a pout.

Jungkook grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it over his head. A glimpse of his toned abdomen flashes before his black tee falls back into place. He swings the hoodie around your waist, draping it carefully before tying it snug at the front.

“Can’t drive my bike in a short skirt like this,” he explains in a mumble, smoothing the hoodie down over your butt.

“You helped me pick out this outfit this morning.”

If you’d been left alone in your anxious spiral this morning, you probably would’ve just thrown on whatever comfy thing was closest. But after Jungkook talked you down over the phone, his voice all soft and steady, you felt a little more okay. Okay enough to want to feel pretty, at least. So you stood in front of your overflowing closet, doors hanging open, letting him help you pick something out over facetime.

“Yeah well. You look pretty. I wasn’t thinking about logistics.”

You roll your eyes, but your face warms anyway. “You’re the logistics.”

“Sue me for getting distracted.” He pecks your temple, grinning as he pulls back.

Then he crouches next to the Harley, lifting the seat to reveal a small storage compartment. With a bit of manoeuvring, he pulls out a black helmet, matching his own.

He turns back to you and holds it out like it’s something delicate. “C’mere,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back gently before slipping the helmet over your head and securing the strap under your chin.

“Too tight?” he murmurs, adjusting the strap with the pads of his fingers.

You shake your head.

He grabs his own helmet from the handlebar, slipping it on with practiced ease. The engine rumbles to life with a twist of his wrist, loud and steady. He swings one leg over the bike and settles in before turning to glance at you over his shoulder. He holds his hand out to you.

“Hop on, baby.”

You take his hand, grabbing his shoulder with your other one for leverage as you climb on behind him. Your hands move to circle his middle once you’re properly sitting.

“You good?” He cranes his neck back to you, looking you over.

“Yes,” you reply, hugging his back. “Drive safely, please.”

The engine hums beneath you, the vibration slipping through your legs and settling in your chest as Jungkook coaxes the Harley onto the road.

The wind rushes past in silky ribbons, threading through your hair and curling under your skirt, making you curl closer into his back. His hoodie sways around your legs, and his scent, clean laundry and the last bit of cologne clinging to his skin, fills your lungs. You rest your cheek against the strong curve of his back.

Seoul twinkles around you in bits and pieces, like someone sprinkled glitter across the skyline. Streetlights blink down like stars with somewhere to be.

At a red light, Jungkook reaches for your hand without even looking, like it’s second nature. His fingers find yours and give them a slow, reassuring squeeze that makes your chest flutter. Then his hand drifts upward, trailing a lazy path along your arm before slipping behind him. His touch lands on your thigh, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It’s just a small stroke, but enough to send a little spark dancing up your spine.

Eventually, the buildings thin out, replaced by the open stretch of the Han River, glistening under the city’s glow. Jungkook rolls into a quiet patch near the railing and cuts the engine.

“My mum would kill me if she knew I was riding a bike with you,” you say.

Jungkook huffs a laugh as he slips off his helmet. With a little shake of his head his hair falls back into place. “My mum would kill me for letting you ride it with me.” He turns slightly to look at you, flashing his soft dimple as he reaches to unclip your helmet.

“And yet,” you retort as he helps lift it off your head, “here we are.”

“Reckless,” he grins, brushing your hair back into place. “But cute.”

After a quiet walk along the river, you settle onto a bench facing the water.

“I even got a bit of the lyrics done for the song we finished producing,” you say, tucking your hands into your sleeves

Jungkook hums, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and letting it rest behind your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You need to let me listen to it.”

“I’m not giving you the song.”

“Ah, it’s always worth a try.”

“I’ll start working with you when you guys are over this...era of music you’re in right now.”

“Era of music?” Jungkook scoffs. “You find new words how to describe the fact that you don’t like the new music every time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you whine, falling into his teasing. “It’s not that I don’t like the new music. It’s just not my type of production,” you quickly defend, truthful.

“At least let me listen to it.”

“When I’m finished you can.”

He lets out a small groan. “I’m terrible at being patient.”

“Oh, I know. Don’t have to remind me.” He’s an impatient boyfriend disguised as your number one fan (which, let’s be honest, he is). Always acting like he’s not trying that hard – when really, he’s the most obvious about it.

You roll your eyes every time he launches into a totally casual, totally unplanned, “hey, wanna show me a little something?” but you love it, every time. You love the way he sneaks into your world like that. Softly, stubbornly.

The sneaky bribes, the casual shoulder nudges, the way he tries to coax you into playing something, anything, even if it’s unfinished. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s just a late night, the two of you curled up on the couch, guitar perched on your lap, him humming half-written lyrics with his knees touching yours and a smile tucked into his voice. Songs that only live between you two.

“I’ll show it later to you,” you finally say. There’s not much of a fight when it comes to Jungkook. “Missed you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, hugging his arm.

“We should do something before my schedule gets crazy again.” Jungkook pats down his front pockets. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Like a small vacation?”

“I’d love that.”

You eye him as he slips a cigarette between his lips, cupping the flame with one hand as he lights it. The cigarette glows at the tip, smoke curling past his cheekbones and drifting in the opposite direction as he tilts his head to avoid blowing it your way. You still wrinkle your nose and lean your head away, your clutch around his arm loosening.

“You’re buying me ice cream for smoking next to me,” you mutter, half playful, half serious.

He exhales to the side again, then flicks the ash off the end with a small grin. “I was already gonna.”

You give him a look. “Not the point.”

“I know.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes tracing your face like he’s trying to read something only he can see.

When you saw Jungkook smoke for the first time while he was waiting for you in the dark, after not seeing each other for a very long time, you felt something twist in your chest. A mix of anger, sadness, and the sick realisation that time had changed him in ways you hadn't been there to see.

It messed you up a bit. Realising he changes in little ways when you're not around to witness it. It made you wonder if he's still the same Jungkook you've always known. If he's still your Jungkook.

Upon talking with him the entire night you quickly came to the realisation that Jungkook will be as much yours as you're as much his for the rest of your lives.

Maybe not in loud, dramatic ways, but in the quiet constants.

There is no version of your life where he doesn't exist - you're too intertwined with each other.

You sigh, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping through, but your fingers find his again anyway, slipping between them. He’s warm, even with the breeze coming off the water. The smoke lingers in the air between you, but his scent cuts through it – familiar, stupidly comforting.

“I say we go on a weekend trip to Jeju,” Jungkook says, his gaze fixed ahead.

Your head pops up. “That seafood restaurant,” you gasp, eyes widening.

He watches you, smiling at your excitement.

“We have to go,” you say, tugging his arm. “I still think about that abalone porridge from that tiny place by the harbour, you remember? With the old lady who called us lovebirds.”

“How could I not?” Jungkook laughs. “She told me to marry you or someone else would.”

You laugh too. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Jungkook snorts, flicking the half-smoked cigarette away and stubbing it out under his shoe. He turns back to you, and you feel his finger brush over your ring finger – it's a subtle, fleeting touch, but you wouldn’t dare miss it.

“I wouldn’t ever let that happen.” He leans in, catching you in a warm kiss.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips, then pull back slightly. “But don’t kiss me after you’ve just smoked.”

Jungkook sighs like you’ve wounded him. Dramatically. Then he leans back in, peppering kisses along your cheek, down the slope of your jaw, and onto your neck, ignoring your protests with every one.

“Jungkook,” you warn through laughter, swatting at him half-heartedly. “We’re not at home.”

“But I still love you the same.” It’s a gentle murmur against your neck, nuzzling the skin there before leaving one last kiss just below your jaw.

“Jungkook.”

He finally pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, and his teasing fades into something more softer, more quieter.

“I love the way you say my name.”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, just slightly lifting the corner of his lips. But his eyes hold the sincerity behind his words, the soft glow of them making you feel like you’re the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

Every time Jungkook says this, you’re reminded of when you still wore uniforms and shared secrets in the quiet spaces between classes. When he said it for the first time, you thought he was poking fun at you like the others for pronouncing words differently because you grew up abroad, in the US.

He told you it sounded softer, rounder, like it meant something more when it came from you. He said it made him feel like someone safe. Someone yours.

He doesn’t say it often, but every time he does, you’re reminded of the past. And a soft, nostalgic feeling settles in your chest at the memory of fifteen-year-old Jungkook and you falling in love for the first time. It’s a bittersweet ache because when you think of that time, all you see is blue, but Jungkook was the one thing that still felt warm. Like hope tucked into a person.

And now, years later, even with everything you’ve both grown through and grown out of, that version of him still lives in moments like this. In quiet confessions and shared glances.

Heat nestles in your cheeks. You look away – straight at the river with the twinkling lights reflecting off of it. They remind you of his eyes.

“What?” His voice carries a teasing lilt, like he can’t quite place where your sudden shyness is coming from, but he’s definitely enjoying it.

“I dunno,” you mumble under your breath, hiding your face on his chest while keeping your eyes trained on the water. “I just get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“By what?”

“By how much I love you.”

“Wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“I do too.”

You smile into his shirt, warmth blooming in your chest.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You really know how to kill a man,” he murmurs, voice low and a little awed.

You look up at him at that.

“I love you more,” he says eventually, like it’s the simplest truth. “Like... stupid amounts. Heart-aching amounts.”

You giggle, nose scrunching. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You started it.” He peers down at you, eyes soft. “Now let me be in love with you in peace.”

“I’ll let you love me in peace after we get snacks.”

“Will I ever witness a day where you don’t want something sweet?”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head with exaggerated seriousness. “The day can’t successfully end until you’ve had a sweet treat.”

“I actually think you’re singlehandedly keeping the candy industry alive.”

“I should be thanked, honestly.”

You rise to your feet, brushing invisible dust off your skirt as you stand in front of him. Jungkook doesn’t move right away. His eyes trail down to your legs, then to the hem of your skirt, fingers reaching out to tug it just a little lower with that automatic protectiveness he tries (and fails) to hide.

“You’re not cold, baby?” he asks, nodding toward his hoodie tossed over the bench behind him.

“No, I’m okay.”

Still sitting, he tugs you gently by the hips until you’re standing between his knees. His hands find your waist like magnets, thumbs stroking slow circles against the sliver of skin where your top has ridden up.

“I like this spot,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your stomach, right above your belly button. You flinch a little, giggling, fingers slipping into his thick hair.

“You’re such a menace,” you say, voice light, but you don’t pull away.

“And you’re so pretty,” he says, looking up at you from where he’s still crouched against your tummy. His eyes are warm, sparkling. “Like... dangerously pretty. You know that?”

You bite your lip. “Stop.”

“I’m serious.” He rests his chin just above your waistband, arms looping around the back of your thighs like he’s not letting go anytime soon. “Sometimes I think you’re not even real.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “That’s what people say right before they do something stupid.”

He grins up at you, squeezes your thigh just enough to make you squeak. “Then I must be about to do something really stupid.”

“I feel like that’s something for home. Not public.”

“You think so?” He tilts his head slightly.

“Jungkook.” It’s meant to be a chiding. But instead, it escapes softer than you intended, more like a puff of air. Like we shouldn’t but I wanna know anyway. Like stop talking... but actually, no – keep going please.

Instead of backing off like any reasonable person would, he smirks, then has the audacity to give your butt the lightest squeeze, fingers quick and shameless.

You squeal, jumping back. “Jungkook!”

Flashing you a smile that’s somehow both innocent and guilty, he casually grabs his hoodie from the bench and stands up.

You stare at him, half scandalized, half trying not to smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he says, slinging the hoodie over one shoulder glancing over at you with that smug softness that drives you crazy. “You wanted snacks, no?” He grabs your hand.

You narrow your eyes, but your feet already fall into step beside his.

It’s not a long walk until you reach the next convenient store.

“It looks kinda busy in there,” you tell Jungkook, peering through the glass. “I’ll just run in real quick. You can wait out here.”

Jungkook squints into the store, brows furrowed. “Who’s in there? I don’t want you going in alone if there’s some creeps.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him with your elbow. “It’s just a group of girls. Relax,” you say. “What do you want?”

He pulls his black card from his pocket. “Nothing for me. Just treat yourself, baby.”

You snatch the card from his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”

You exit the store with a slightly overstuffed plastic bag tugging at your wrist. Being a girl who loves snacks, is hopelessly indecisive – and has her boyfriend’s black card – is a dangerous combo.

Jungkook tilts his head, trying to sneak a look inside the bag. “What’d you get?”

“Too much to name,” you say breezily, fishing out the ice cream resting right on top. “Got this for us, though.” It’s the ice cream that comes with two sticks so you can snap it in half and share. “I always think of you when I see this,” you admit, passing him one half after cracking it down in the middle.

“Ah, I didn’t want to eat any sweets today.”

“Too late,” you tease, nudging it closer to his mouth. “You already kissed me, so that’s off the table.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “That counts?”

“It absolutely does.” You raise your brows. “Now eat, please.”

He leans forward and takes a small bite straight from your hand. “Happy now?”

“Very much so.” You swipe the pad of your finger over a smudge of ice cream at the corner of his mouth, then lick it off with a grin.

He huffs a quiet laugh, head tilting as he watches you with that impossibly fond look. “You’re trouble.”

“Says you!”

With a sigh, he takes it from you. “You’re only getting away with this because you’re cute.”

“I know.” You smile around the ice cream in your mouth. “I can’t have a boyfriend who says no to a sweet treat.”

You fall into step beside him, walking slowly as you both nibble at the halves in your hands.

“I’m dieting.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer, just shrugs, proving your point.

That’s when your mind slips, just a little, to all the ways you used to be like this. All the self-destructive habits he had to gently pry from your grip. Jungkook has saved you many times. And you want to be there for him just as much he was there for you when no one chose you. When he was the only one who saw you – really saw you – and still chose to stay.

You reach for his hand, linking your fingers through his.

“I feel like sometimes you live your life like it’s harder than it has to be. Like you’re holding yourself back, setting rules that you don’t have to follow.”

Jungkook lets out a quiet breath. “I know,” he mutters, squeezing your hand. “You’re the first person who made me think maybe I deserve ease too. You make it feel okay to slow down.”

“Am I?” you ask sceptically. You hope you do, but are you actually?

He tips his ice cream in your direction.

You laugh. “Baby steps.”

You glance up at him. He’s licking his ice cream, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth like he doesn’t even realize it’s there. It makes your chest ache a little. In that sweet way.

“Jungkook?”

His head turns slightly, face lit soft by the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. His eyes flick to you, a soft, curious glint catching in them as your gaze meets his. You lean your head against his arm.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sticking with me through every version of myself.”

It’s a thought that catches you off guard – maybe not entirely, you’re not sure – but suddenly it’s there, clear and undeniable. A reminder that, through every change, every version of yourself, he’s never left. Whether you’ve been at your best or your worst, he’s always stayed. And sometimes, it’s hard to wrap your mind around the fact that someone can love you through all of that.

“There’s never been a version I didn’t love,” he says quietly, like it’s not something he even has to think about.

Your heart stumbles a little, eyes stinging in that warm, fuzzy way that only he can cause.

“You make it really easy, you know,” he adds, brushing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. “Loving you. I don’t even think about it. I just do.”

You blink up at him, lips twitching into the kind of smile that only he gets to see. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He tugs you closer to him, your sides brushing with each step.

“You existed.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook idol au #idol jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts fic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts #bts imagines

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k1mbe3rly · 2 months ago

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Hii Kimberly can you do something where reader is Geum Seong-je gf. They got into fight. And uhm they do angry sex. (Also can I be your 🥒 anon?)

angry sex

warnings: smut, arguing, rough sex, slight name calling (during argument), baby trapping? talks about pregnancy

Dating Geum seong je was complicated, especially with him being apart of the union (gang), beating people up, and not controlling his anger. You guys are always seen arguing and disagreeing on many things.

Y’all have been arguing all day, no reason just either he picks up an attitude and says something annoying and you just bite back with the same tone, the both of y’all were getting ready for bed but of course he wouldn’t go to bed without an argument, bringing up something stupid about you staring at some guy in a flirt way

“I saw the way you were fucking staring at him i’m not dumb i have eyes.” He says in a cold tone staring right at you, you rolled your eyes getting in bed, “Your just being paranoid, or your just starting something for no reason! let’s just go to bed!” you raised your voice slightly, “I wouldn’t have to start something if you weren’t eye fucking every guy like a slut!” he said raising his voice as well, your eyes snapped at him as you sat up, “I wouldn’t have too if you would just actually treat me better in bed instead of being a little minion!” you said back

He was quick to grab your neck and pin you down on the bed, his face hovered over yours, “what the fuck did you just say? repeat it again you little bitch.” he said, your hand went to his wrist to pull him off as you frowned and glared at him not daring to say anything else, “So now your quiet? now you don’t wanna speak huh?” he said spreading your legs with his knees getting between them

He removed his hands from your neck quickly tearing off your pants without a thought and smoothly, making you gasp in shock as you sat up, “I think..your little pussy just needs some attention. Always fucking complaining. Never shutting up, will this make you shut the fuck up?” he whispered pulling down your panties, he quickly took off his own pants pulling down his boxers low enough for his cock to be out

Roughly spreading your legs as he practically slammed into you, you moaned out loudly at the sudden feeling of him filling you up. “So fucking annoying. So fucking loud.” He said as if he isn’t about to fuck you with all his pent up anger

He started thrusting in and out of you at fast pace, not slow at all, not giving you prep or time to adjust, his movements just as rough and angry as he is, he grabs your throat again squeezing slightly as he fucks into you over and over again, your loud moans falling out of your mouth uncontrollably, the sound of the bed softly creaking and skin being slapped together multiple times, his eyes flash with anger and satisfaction at your loud moans and the sex sounds

“Why do you look at men like you want them to fuck you huh? i’m the one who fucks you, i’m the one who’s fucking you right now” he growled out, his tone slightly breathless, not being able to answer all that came out was moans and moans, his rough pace never slowing down as he than ripped your shirt wanting to see how your boobs bounce all over the place, he smirked like a crazy person his eyes locked on them watching as they spill out your bra

Already feeling your orgasm approach, tightening around him, he suddenly pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up, he slaps your ass hard before entering you again from behind, his hands gripping your waist tightly and slamming back in, your head falling into the pillow muffling your moans but not good enough, still loud enough for anyone to hear

He wanted to hear your moans loud and clear as he grabs a fistful of your hair, using it to tilt your head back as he pounds into you relentlessly, your back arched, he looks down to where his cock is connected to you seeing it disappear in and out of you fast, his hips slamming into you, he groans loudly as he throws his head back, his eyes slightly flickering up

Your orgasm was quick to build up again, his stamina was impressive and shocking a bit, the way his pace never slows down not even a bit if instead it goes faster, his cock hitting spots you never thought could be hit, your moans we’re very very loud, you wanted to cum with him but you couldn’t hold it anymore and releasing on his cock, he feels your hot sticky liquid as he looks back down seeing it as he begins to leak, he grins widely

Releasing your hair, he begins to speed up, slapping your ass multiple times, watching as it jiggles against him, he groans again leaning down, “Fuck i’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum inside you, maybe you’ll get fucking pregnant and be able to stay trapped here with me.” he growls, his cock practically punishing your insides as he groans loudly and cums inside you, he slows down and grinds into you, his pelvis rubbing against you as he softly groans, he chuckles a bit and stays there

After a moment or two he slowly pulls out watching mixed cum leak out of you, “No no no..i wanna keep that inside you..i want my baby with you, would you want that?” he whispers to you his fingers pushing back the juices, you simply just nodded and a soft whine escaped your mouth, he smiles a bit, “Let’s get you all cleaned up..are you okay?” he asks with genuine concern, you nodded again.

#weak hero season 2 #weak hero class 1 season 2 #weak hero class one #weak hero class 1 smut #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class 1 #Geum seong je #whc2 #seong je #Geum seong je x reader #weak hero class geum seong je #Geum seong je smut #weak hero class 1 geum seong je #weak hero class #weak hero geum seong je #weak hero class one smut #weak hero class smut #weak hero x reader #weak hero class 1 imagine

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bejeweledinterludes · 3 months ago

Text

still got the blues.

OR on one quiet night spent in the bunker, you discover that the notorious, god-fearing, big, bad ‘n scary, six-foot badass hunter that is dean friggin’ winchester (aka one of your closest friends) isn’t as tough as he seems.

well.

in bed, at least.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : sub ! dean x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 8.8 k. (FAITH BE NORMAL OVER DEAN WINCHESTER CHALLENGE LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS 🤺🤺🤺 GET BACK! AWAY!later seasons sub dean winchester x fem reader (yes i have a problem, no i don’t care thank you!). masterbating, handjob, unprotected sex. yeah this may be the horniest thing i’ve ever written in my life.

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

HELLOOOOO THE LONG-AWAITED SUB!DEAN SMUT IS FINALLY HERE 🙂‍↕️🙏‼️ shoutout and thank you to @supernotnatural2005’s drabble / oneshot for the inspo on this one <3 because i think we all want to catch dean like this— which is why i wrote about it!

ALSO @figthoughts’ post from the other day too… yeah idk guys we’re just horny and ovulating connected or something when it comes to mr. jensen ackles and his characters. love you figgy pudding!

𖤐 ─────────────────────────

being on the road with sam and dean for god knows how long now, you’d gotten used to all the sounds each idiot knucklehead brother would make in their sleeping state as you passed their rooms— so much so that it was basically white noise at this point, and you just tune it out.

yeah, tonight was different, though. sam had left much earlier— he and elieen were finally going on a real, live, actual date, much to your joy. which meant you and dean were alone in the bunker together. that doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you usually stay up watching 80s movies and arguing over niche things like whether or not they used real flames in back to the future (they didn’t).

that was yet another reason why tonight was different: you hadn’t seen dean all day, much less tonight. he’d been out doing god knows what— and you barely even heard him come back a few hours ago.

but you didn’t push. actually, you didn’t dare to set foot past dean’s door— taking the long way down the hall to get to the kitchen or the library throughout the evening, secretly hoping he wouldn’t come out of his room or even acknowledge your existence.

because… honestly?

living with two other men?

who the hell were you kidding. you could use a night to yourself.

and not to your knowledge or anything, but so could dean.

no disrespect though, because dean really was wishing you were there— or, rather, he was imagining you with him, which was the only acceptable option at the moment.

…but this was definitely a new low. even for him.

see, while you were actually attempting to be productive with your night, dean was not.

like, at all.

while you were doing your laundry, putting clothes away in your room, watching a show on your laptop with your airpods in— thank god, otherwise this whole thing would blow up in dean’s face…

…for the most part, figuratively.

because dean— and how does one say this without sounding like a complete and total creep?

well, dean was jerkin’ it in his own room.

fappin’.

beatin’ da meat.

whatever the male version was of flickin’ the bean.

oh, and the (best) grossest part?

he was thinking about you while doing it.

yeah, yeah, it’s sick, it’s definitely wrong on so many levels— and it sure as hell feels downright illegal and a sin to be doing it while you’re in the fucking bunker.

it’s the lowest of the low. weird. pathetic.

but then again, dean’s always been a little… pathetic when it comes to you.

don’t let anyone know you know that, though.

so, back to dean being pathetic and horny. he’d been at the bar in town for hours earlier tonight, trying to find someone to satisfy the strain on his pants— and that someone needed to look a whole lot like you to get the job done.

how hard could it be?

well, apparently, in lebanon, kansas, finding a look-alike clone of your best friend so you could fuck them silly?

it’s really goddamn hard.

and so was dean.

so here he was—did i say pathetic already?— jerking off in his bedroom like some horny teenager. he’s on his fourth, maybe fifth time cumming to the thought of purely just you.

that’s right, no porn, no nudie mags, not even a goddamn picture in his free hand— because dean was wound up so freakin’ tight, he didn’t need anything. just his hand and his filthy imagination.

it’s humiliating. dean’s literally bucking his hips up into his hand as of right now, imagining it’s yours and not his— all while letting out these little noises that do not sound like they’d be coming from a six-foot, tough as nails hunter. but they are.

and they’re all for you.

dean winchester does not whimper. hell, no. but the broken sound that rips from his throat, tossing his head back on his pillow after he tugs a little too hard on himself was anything but.

and maybe dean should be making less noise— but he knew you so well, too well— you’d have your airpods on noise canceling, anyway. and he can’t even think about if you didn’t. he’s too wrapped up in a haze right now. he’s so distracted. by-god intoxicated.

because dean’s imagining you after that one hunt in virginia. yeah. the moon had been out that night, and god, the way it hit you— a combination of this deep blue and silver and it just lit up your skin, illuminating you like you were one of those ancient goddesses, like the ones he’s only read about in old myths and legends when he’d been so bored he actually did research in the library.

dean’s imagining you, just you, right there with him, and it was your hand, not his. imagining you pulling those sounds from his throat while he’s breathing so heavy, his chest heaving up and down. and the sheets covering only his bottom half were shifting with him as he was moving what seemed like his entire bed along with him as of now.

dean was trying to be quiet.

but his body was not letting him.

and poor you— oh, sweet, innocent you. because as far as dean knew, you were completely oblivious to what was currently occurring in his bedroom at the moment.

but what dean didn’t know was that your airpods had died over an hour ago.

and you’d made the mistake of not taking the long way back to your room this time, thinking that dean had gone to bed due to the late hour.

you had stopped in your tracks in the hall coming back from the kitchen— because you heard dean. heard his little broken groans, damn close to whimpers.

and you genuinely believed that dean was just having a nightmare at first— because hell, with the shit you guys encountered on the daily, it wasn’t uncommon for any of y’all to make a goddamn racket in your sleep.

drawing that conclusion— because it was the only one that was realistic, you start towards your room again, already starting to tune out dean’s weird-as-hell noises.

but before you even take two more steps past dean’s room, you hear something else— a little muffled through the door, but clear as day. because it sends a jolt straight through you.

your name.

he’s having a nightmare, you remind yourself. he could be just calling out to you in that sense, because that would be logical. but then he says your name again. and again.

and it’s just your name.

not sam’s.

not cas’.

just. yours.

and dean sounds like a man possessed at this point. his eyes are squeezed shut, as if he’s trying to banish the image of you from his mind.

but he can’t. and he never would.

he just can’t do it. can’t keep himself in check anymore.

so that’s why dean groans your name at the next motion of his hand on his dick— saying it for the fourth time since you’ve been stopped outside his door.

and it wasn’t a ‘i’m-in-so-much-pain-and-scared’ groan, the kind when someone has a nightmare— no, dean’s groan sounded like a ‘oh-that-feels-so-fuckin-good’ groan, like the kind someone makes when…

oh.

and dean knows he sounds pretty close to, if not completely pathetic. not at all like the good ol’ badass hunter of lore, not that you’d believed him to be. you’d think he’d sound more in control, or at least not whimpering.

dean’s battled both heaven and hell. purgatory. angels, demons, monsters, even sometimes, just people, you name it— he’s fought it and kicked its freakin’ ass, even god himself.

and his one fault? his only weakness?

you.

it’s always been just you. your stupid pretty face. the way you laughed at his jokes, even when they weren’t that funny. the way you stood by him and his brother’s side— and in the hunting world, associating with the winchesters meant a death sentence. you didn’t care, though. you never did. it was in the way you were always there, especially when it counted.

and here he was.

jerking off and thinking about you.

this had to be rock bottom. right? if not that, purely a whole new level of scumbag. even if you couldn’t hear him.

oh, but you could. and you’re lingering outside dean’s door— because you didn’t even have to put your ear on it to hear the noises he was making, clear as day.

dean feels like he’s drunk, delirious. this always happened whenever he fantasized about you. a pathetic, groaning and whimpering mess. hell, in this state, he’d damn well beg.

and oh, he was.

“fuckin’— please— god, i need you, please—”

damn, you could almost see it— dean’s hand, hidden by the dark of his room, but the way the sheets move makes it obvious just where his hand is. and it’s a blur.

yeah. there was no more holding out, no more being strong. not now.

because dean feels like he’s on the edge of his own personal hell.

and you? you’re stuck.

dean was… well, fucking doing that. and you’re just… stuck. you would have just kept walking past his door, putting your pillow between your ears and teasing him about it tomorrow morning.

because instead crying or groaning out the name of some random girl or even farah fawcett— dean was currently begging.

for you.

and you’re still stuck. dean feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. he’s gonna cum again, he knows it. he also knows he should be quiet, but the words and your name just keep spilling out of his mouth, and he’s too far gone to stop them.

“ah— fuck. please. please, please, goddamn it, i need you, i need you, i need you…”

yeah, dean’s brain’s not in charge anymore. honestly? it hasn’t been since he met you all those years ago— with your stupid pretty hair, and your stupid pretty mouth, and the stupid soft sounds you make in your sleep that drove him insane whenever you used to share a motel room.

dean needs you.

and you needed a fucking cold-ass shower.

because the way dean was sounding right now? he only sounded like that in your dreams. your deepest, darkest fantasies. it was making your knees buckle.

yeah. there’s absolutely no way any of this was real. this was straight out of a porno. this had to be the trickster’s doing, or something.

because the real dean didn’t act like this. and yet, here he was. and here you were, your stomach flipping each time a sound leaves dean’s mouth and bounces off the wooden door that was still splitting you two apart.

and right then and there, you wished you had the balls to just open it.

because you wanted to be right there next to dean, pulling those noises out of him yourself.

“need you—need you right there, need you, right, right, oh, god, there—”

even in dean’s own fantasies, the ones that drove him to insanity like right now, he’d always thought about this. you actually being there, him actually saying all this to you.

dean would’ve given anything, then. anything. just to have you right next to him in his bed.

yeah, well, you’re still just stuck.

because what the fuck do you do.

do you walk back to your room? pretend you didn’t notice? pretend it never happened? not listen to the sounds dean was making?

or, do you open the door? go in his room and just show dean how you’d really felt about him— for years now?

and lately, it seemed like you all you could think and dream about was being in the same bed with dean, touching every part of him.

because if you were in there right now, you’d touch dean’s skin that you yourself had deemed forbidden, because it’d be seen as crossing a line, breaking a boundary.

hello? reality check, anyone?

come on. dean was your friend.

but the noises he was making in your name— because of you? that was anything but.

yeah. if you were in there, you’d start with your hands on dean’s chest, going lower, and lower, until he started making the sounds he was making now, gasping and begging right in your ear for you, not stopping until he completely just—

yeah, that was it.

you knew your answer.

and dean needs exactly what you’re about to do. because god, he’s thought about it. in the dead of night, when he was alone, or when you’d been just out of reach sitting next to him in a dive bar, he’s wanted this. wanted you.

dean wanted to know the way your hands would feel against his skin, how your body would feel against his own. he’s thought about it. hell, he’d dreamed about it. fantasized— just like he was doing now.

and dean was still fantasizing when you throw away every single rational thought you had at the moment and manage to open his door without making a noise— thank you, hunter skills.

this was crazy. right?

eh. you’ve done crazier.

no. not like this.

and not with dean.

but still, you managed to cross the threshold of dean’s room— and you even sit down on the edge of his bed.

okay, the more you thought about it…was this awkward?

maybe.

oh, but dean doesn’t even notice you— his eyes were screwed tightly shut, mouth parted and huffing out pants and broken noises as one of his hands continues to move fervently. his hips are wild, bucking into his hand— and his body is shaking his entire bed frame.

dean’s too far gone to notice anything, lost in a fantasy that’s been haunting him for longer than he’s willing to admit out loud. the only thing that could even remotely stop him would be—

hold on.

dean’s hit by a familiar scent— the one he’d been imagining this whole time. but that really does smell like— and its now so close, so real, it practically envelopes him. and his eyes open to—

you.

right there. in his bed. within reach. looking at him like he’s always wanted you to look at him.

and there’s no disgust or anger on your face as you look down at dean, still frozen in place. no, just a hint of amusement, mixed with something else—

something dangerously close to pure want.

you don’t say anything, even though you know you should by now. because now dean knew that you knew exactly what he’d just been doing— more importantly, you were now aware of who the focus of it all was.

and goddamn if the look on your face doesn’t have dean pausing, too. he’s never seen it on your face before. and it’s too dark in his room for him to really make it out, but he thinks he sees—

you weren’t disgusted. you weren’t grossed out, or even angry.

you’re just… looking at him like the fantasy he’s been chasing isn’t a goddamn fantasy anymore— but instead something he could reach out and touch. feel.

dean has to swallow whatever excuse he could come up with to talk himself out of what you’d just walked in on. what you’d just heard. and his mouth is dry.

a part of you wants to pounce onto dean right now. to kiss him silly, touch him everywhere and make him gasp your name again— only with you being the sole instigator this time.

but the annoying other part of you halted that urge.

and why?

because of your stupid morals.

your goddamned feelings.

and you had to ask dean, had to know— even if the answer hurt you.

“how long?”

dean’s brain almost completely flatlines for a long moment. though, he knows what you’re insinuating, of course.

how long dean has been thinking about you in that way? how long and hard had he fantasized about his hands on your body, his mouth on your skin, and his dick buried so deep inside you, he gets hand cramps almost every night he’s alone?

yeah. it scares him, just how goddamn long it’s been.

“…years.”

that was all you needed. in reality, you don’t actually pounce or anything, but you do move closer to dean on his bed, tossing one leg over both of his to straddle his lap before meeting his gaze again.

“you have no idea,” your voice is barely above a whisper to dean as you keep his gaze, making yourself comfortable in his lap. “how much i wanted to hear that.”

and dean can’t help the groan he lets out, at feeling your weight, your body, straddling his lap. he’s spent too many nights dreaming of exactly this. his hands automatically go to your hips, as if they’re on autopilot.

because he’s not in charge anymore.

and honestly?

he doesn’t think he ever was when it came to you.

and a small smile tugs on your lips when you feel dean’s hands on your hips— your own fingers start to trail from his wrists and up his arms, your pace slow, but deliberate.

because you were going to memorize every inch of dean that you could.

oh, dean’s just barely managing to keep his hips still, to not buck up underneath you. he can feel you, now that you’re straddling him, the heat there, where he’d wanted to feel you for so, so long.

and when your fingers trail up his arms, dean shudders. because it’s so gentle, tender. he can’t remember the last time anyone touched him this way, if at all.

your hands eventually reach dean’s face. oh, his gorgeous face. you cup both sides, taking in everything: those green eyes of his, the freckles you could see only if you were up close dusting on his nose and cheeks—his features were illuminated only by the dim light of his desk lamp, but you could see so much because of how close you both were now.

the slight smile is still on your lips as you look at dean— because you were still a little sure you were going to wake up at some point.

but this wasn’t a dream, you had to remind myself. dean was under you. he wanted you, in the same way you’d wanted him for as long as you can remember.

and dean feels like he can’t breathe properly. he’s been slapped, punched, cut, beaten, tortured, everything violent under the sun done to his face— but no one’s had their hands on it like this.

he feels too exposed, too vulnerable, but he doesn’t move.

because it’s you. it could only ever be you.

dean keeps his gaze locked to yours, even as he has to stop himself from just completely melting into the palms of your hands on his face. he wants to look at you for forever, keep you just like this— and his expression is so open, so bare.

your thumbs gently graze across both of dean’s cheeks as you hold his face in your hands.

and you can’t look away.

so you don’t.

but you do lean a fraction closer to dean in his lap, breaking the silence in a hushed whisper— because there goes your stupid doubts and feelings, again.

“you want this?”

even though he almost wants to, dean can’t laugh. not when he knows you’re being serious. it kills him, a little— that you’re still doubting it.

because how could he not want this? you?

“god, yes.” dean’s not even sure if he says that out loud, or just thinks it— but he’s nodding regardless, and with the movement bringing his face even closer to yours.

and your gaze softens almost completely when dean says that— but there’s one doubt that sticks, even when his words wash all the others away from your mind. the one that’s been there almost the entire time you’ve known him.

“de, i…” you don’t take your hands off of dean’s face when you try to speak again— but the words die in your throat. you swallow a little, averting your gaze.

and god, when dean hears you hesitate, he’s already on edge.

dean doesn’t know what you’re about to say,— all he’s aware of is that you’re now looking away from him. and he can’t have that, so he brings his hand (non-jerking, of course) to your chin, gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him again.

he tries to keep his voice even, but he can’t.

“tell me.”

you’re forced to keep dean’s gaze when his hand touches your face— and his fingers are so warm, you almost lose your train of thought completely.

you’ve wanted dean for so long— but you had to make sure he fully felt the same way you did.

not just lust. not something to walk past awkwardly the next day.

“i— i can’t do this… just for tonight,” you swallow hard again, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flick between dean’s. “but i… i think you know that.”

even with the worry that had been coursing through his veins, dean couldn’t help but be impressed at the fact you think there’s a chance in hell he’d be able to have you once and just… let you go afterwards. his hand on your chin drops a fraction, resting on the side of your throat instead. he swallows, then finds his voice.

“i know.”

your gaze softens a little— and it’s a little embarrassing how much weight felt completely lifted off your chest when dean says that.

you had denied your feelings for dean for years now. and now knowing that he felt the same way, it was getting harder and harder to control the urge to just do what you wanted.

“well, good,” you bring your hands to tilt dean’s head up more to you as you’re in his lap, eyes flicking down to his lips— because you so needed to know what they felt like. “that’s— that’s good.”

and damn, if dean isn’t already struggling. nothing’s even happened yet, and he’s trying his best just to keep still, to resist all his natural impulses and desires to just grab you and never, ever let you go. when your eyes flick down to his lips, his follow suit almost instantly. his voice is almost a damn croak when he responds.

“yeah?”

all your senses were filled with just dean. and you needed more. you’d denied your feelings for far too long— years now, in fear of him not reciprocating. but you couldn’t deny your feelings or your urges anymore.

“yeah,” you echo back in an exhale, your thumbs grazing on dean’s cheeks. your gaze is still on his lips, but you look back up at him. “you— you’re all i’ve ever wanted.”

hot damn.

dean feels like he’s going to wake up at any second at those words that just came out of your mouth. because he never dared to let himself hope that you could feel the same way he did. and it’s been so, so goddamn long of wanting you with every fiber of his being, wanting to touch you and hold you and never, ever let you go.

oh, he’s too far gone to even feel sheepish about how he’s almost shaking now, hands trembling and breath coming fast as he’s barely keeping the reins on his self-control.

dean’s trembling sends a shiver down your spine. even after you just said all that, he still wanted this.

you might die.

or you were already in some version of heaven that jack made up.

because dean wanted you.

“just lemme kiss you,” dean would be embarrassed of how desperate and out of breath he sounded if he could give two damns. he says your name again: “please—”

dean can’t even think straight anymore. yet, never could when it came to you. his hands go to your thighs, gripping tight like it’s all he can do to resist the urge to just flip you over right that moment.

you can’t hold back anymore.

neither can he.

so you don’t.

you close the final distance between you both, taking his mouth in a kiss that’s hard, desperate and full of years’ worth of emotion.

and dean’s lips felt like home. and that’s a weird thing to say, but it was true. you’d never kissed him before this, but it really was him that you’d been missing all this time.

your hands on dean’s face trail into his hair, and you could feel yourself completely melting into him when you pull myself closer to him in his lap, hips fully slotting with his own— and you both groan a little at the feeling.

dean kisses you like a goddamn starving man, his hands gripping at your thighs so hard he’s afraid he’s leaving marks. but he can’t bring himself to care, because he’s finally kissing you. finally having you in the way he’s only dreamt of.

dean hasn’t been touched— kissed like this, ever.

like he’s something precious. to be loved. it makes him feel weak. but he can’t really bring himself to care about that, either.

all you could think about was how good dean smelled. and as his lips danced with yours, he even tasted good. like whiskey and something you couldn’t place— but it sure as hell was definitely dean.

and god, it’s perfect. dean’s trying to swallow the little noises his mouth is threatening to make again as you kiss him back, kissing him like you feel the same— he thinks he’s losing his mind for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

dean’s grip on your thighs tightens even more. he couldn’t help it anymore— he rocks you against his lap, his hips bucking up against yours in an involuntary but much needed movement. and a little sound pretty close to a whimper does escape him this time, hitting your lips as you grind your own hips down onto him.

you had to break your lips from dean’s to get stupid air, but your forehead rests against his as one of your hands unlatches itself from his hair, trailing downward on the fabric of his henley as you’re in his lap.

and you’d tease him about the noises he’s making— if it wasn’t leaving your underwear a complete and sopping mess because of it.

dean’s mind is hazy, lost in the feel of you against him and in his lap, his mind trying to keep up with all the things happening.

he’s a hunter, goddamn it.

he needs to get a freakin’ grip.

but he can’t.

because of the way your kiss felt like a drug. the way you’re so close he can feel your breathing, and the way you’re grinding up against him like you mean it—

and then dean feels your hand on his shirt, sliding further down past his stomach, and he feels like he’s about to go insane. he’s hallucinating, under some sort of spell that shows you what you’ve always desired. that’s the only plausible explanation.

but this was real. oh, so real.

dean’s hands were still holding on for dear life on your thighs, but your own was still going farther and farther down the fabric of the henley he was wearing, stopping at the hem and tugging on it, talking against his lips—

“put your arms up f’me, dean.”

goddamn, if that doesn’t make him literally shiver when you say his name like that, all breathless and pretty.

and dean follows the instruction, raising his arms and letting you pull the shirt over his head, revealing his the skin underneath.

he’s not even embarrassed of his scars, the marks on his body from over the years. not with you. the uneven skin told their own tales he wouldn’t dare open his mouth about, even after three whiskeys deep.

you discard dean’s shirt somewhere in his room without another thought when he lifts his arms up.

you’ve actually only seen dean shirtless twice— once after a hunt, and if you count that one time when that motel room with shitty air conditioning that got too hot last summer. you kept your eyes glued to the lore in front of you then, not daring to look.

this time, however, you couldn’t look away.

not even if you tried.

your lips are parted in what could only be described as pure awe while your eyes and fingers rake over every inch of new skin revealed while still in dean’s lap. first trailing a path up his exposed arms as your eyes continue to drink in all the details of him you’d never thought you’d see.

dean has never, ever been looked at the way you’re looking at him right now.

your fingers continue to trail up dean’s arms, fingertips grazing on the scars you could see in the dim light of his room. you actually knew some of them— having been there when he sustained the wound that made the scar, but a lot were new to you.

and you wanted to memorize it all.

it’s almost embarrassing how he feels like something to be worshipped under your touch. like someone to be taken care of. to be cherished.

as your fingers trail up his arms, he has to bite down on a whine in the back of his throat— forcing himself to keep still under your gaze as you rake your gaze over him. his voice is rough and hoarse when he manages to speak, but all he could get out was your name.

your hands found themselves resting dean’s shoulders while you take in the breathtaking view that is him under you, meeting his gaze when he says your name, voice just as quiet as his.

“yeah, de?”

your touch feels like dean took the jumper cables he had in the back of baby and put it against his skin. but it’s so soft, so gentle. it’s also making his whole body ache, yet he just wants more. and he can’t keep his eyes off you, either. the way you’re looking at him, at his scars like they’re nothing to be ashamed about… it’s almost safe.

dean swallows, hands coming to rest on your waist now that he’s topless. his voice sounds wrecked, broken.

because he’s begging.

“touch me.”

dean’s hands on your waist were making your heart beat all out of rhythm— and you almost completely lose your train of thought looking into his green eyes, wide and blown out.

for you.

you just nod at dean’s words— and your fingers continue their journey downward from dean’s shoulders, trailing over his skin until you eventually reach the waistband of his boxers, and you keep your hands there on the fabric when you look back up at him.

because you still needed to know:

“can i take these off?”

oh, for the love of—

dean nods rapidly before you’re even done asking, because he’d do anything, anything, to have you touch him like he had been not just a few minutes earlier— in fact, he’s already lifting his hips off the bed to make it easier for you, because he’s not about to hesitate. he needs you. he’s needed you for too goddamn long.

and when you manage to pull off dean’s boxers, discarding them in one fell swoop after he confirms and lifts his hips for you, your eyes widen at the sight of him completely exposed beneath you on his bed— and a quiet ‘jesus christ’ escapes from your lips before you can stop it.

and your reaction makes dean’s breath hitch. because it’s not a disgusted one— it’s the exact opposite. he feels vulnerable like this, exposed to you in a way he’s never been to anyone else. he should feel embarrassed. but he doesn’t, oddly enough.

his voice is so goddamn quiet when he bites down on another whine.

“please.”

and you just nod again. then both your hands find dean’s chest once more— and you start trailing a path down his lower torso with your fingers.

dean can’t help the way he lets out a strangled moan at your touch against his bare skin. with no clothing in the way to block it, he’s so much more sensitive. every single touch makes his breath hitch, his head spinning with how perfect it feels.

it’s too much.

and yet, he needs more.

dean’s hands find your hips again, gripping, trying to get you even an inch closer to him.

and as your fingers get lower and lower on dean’s stomach, you hesitate your hands. not because you weren’t sure— but it felt… well, wrong not to at least ask him for permission first.

so you look back up and meet dean’s gaze, eyes searching his again as you whisper, shifting closer to him in his lap.

“can i go lower?”

and at your question, a sharp shiver wracks through dean’s whole body— he’s half convinced he’s going to to just cum right there, even if you don’t end up touching him.

dean’s practically trembling under you now, hands gripping tighter on your hips. he tries to speak again, to say something— but his voice comes out in a strangled moan.

all he can do is nod against his headboard.

a soft exhale escapes you when dean confirms. you nod— and don’t hesitate again.

not when he was like this.

you take all of him in one of your hands— but you don’t even try to look away from his face while you do so. because you had to see his face for this.

and dean feels like the air’s getting ripped from his lungs at how good your touch feels. he’s never felt anything like this before. it could be the fact that he hasn’t had actual sex in a while (apparently, he’s considered old now), or purely just because of you.

yeah, but dean’s never been touched like this before. so goddamn gentle. but it’s still perfect. his eyes are still locked to yours, and his expression looks pained. it’s all too much, after wanting this for so long.

and all he can do is whisper your name before your hand starts to move.

you start starts slow— not too slow, though, because dean had already fucked his palm tonight more times tonight than he’d like to admit.

dean’s eyes actually flutter shut for a moment when your hand starts to move, a moan catching in the back of his throat. because it’s barely even started, and it’s so good. too good.

dean’s hands on your waist are close to shaking now, but he has to speak— even as it comes out in a hoarse croak.

because he needs—

“more. jesus, i need—”

you don’t even entertain the thought to tease dean or not do as he asked— because the sounds he was desperately trying to keep in were making you want to keep going, to not stop.

so you don’t stop. your hand speeds up, going back and forth on dean’s dick— and your gaze still doesn’t leave his while in his lap, touching him in the way you’ve always wanted to for so long.

and when you pick up the pace, dean’s breath hitches even more— god, it’s so good, but he still needs more. his hands are shaking as they grip tight on your waist, and his eyes somehow keep your gaze, even as his head feels like it’s spinning right into his headboard.

dean manages to get out his next request, in a begging whisper of a breath. he’d be ashamed if he wasn’t so desperate.

“please— please, i need—”

“its alright,” you nod before he can finish this time, leaning your head and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “i gotcha, de.”

and that’s it. you say those words and dean feels like he could cum right there. he’s already so close, just from your touch, the way your hand’s moving so beautifully up and down on his dick. the way you’re looking at him. he tries to keep his eyes open, too— to keep looking at you, but everything you’re giving him is starting to overwhelm him, he can hardly even breathe anymore.

dean glances down at your hand between both of you— big mistake, because the sight of your fingers around his dick and covered in him makes him let out strangled whimper. he bites down on his lip hard, his head falling back against the headboard and his eyes screwing shut. because it’s embarrassing how close he is to cumming in your hand.

you notice, of course— your hand doesn’t let up, but your other hand on dean’s shoulder goes to the side of his face, thumb grazing on his cheek. it’s a stark contrast to what you’re doing to his dick.

“de, its okay,” you reassure dean as his breaths become more and more unsteady, eyes flicking over his face. “you can let go if you wanna.”

and that’s it. that’s all it takes.

as soon you give him permission, dean’s gone.

his body suddenly goes rigid, then he’s bucking his hips into your hand so erratically and sloppily you would’ve been knocked from your position on dean’s lap if he hadn’t buried his face in your still clothed chest, tightened his arms fully around you and pulled you closer to him. he cums loud and hard, a mixture of soft groans, whimpers, swears and pants of your name spilling into the fabric of your shirt.

you’d never heard him like this before, ever.

but dean winchester— the man, the myth, the hunter god, was whimpering as you’re in his lap.

for you.

because of you.

and because it’s all too damn much— the way your hand feels, the touch of your thumb against his face, the look in your eyes when you said that it’s okay for him to let go of the tight rein he’s been holding onto for so long.

dean can feel himself shaking and still coming apart under you as you guide him through it, his face buried in your shoulder as you pull every last bit of pleasure out of him that he has with your fingers. he’s never felt so goddamn free before. he’s never come apart, not like this— not completely exposed like this.

dean’s hands are still shaking as they rest your waist, his entire body almost trembling with it being still so overwhelming. but it was perfect. and he needs to say that, to tell you that it was everything he’d ever wanted—

“please— please, just kiss me.”

and that comes out of dean’s mouth instead. you’d barely started to wipe your hand when the words spill out in a plea— a beg into your shirt. you’re a little surprised that was the first thing he said post-orgasm.

but still, you lean back just enough after dean says that, bringing your free hand to the side of his face while still in his lap, your gaze flicking between his in the dark of his room for just a moment before you lean back in, pressing your lips onto his again.

dean doesn’t hold back now. he doesn’t care about the mess he just made, the way he sounded, or the fact that he begged you to kiss him after you just made him cum.

he kisses you like a starved man, like the air he was breathing needed to come from your mouth and not any other source. his hands move to the back of your hips, gripping your shirt tight and pulling you even closer to him on his lap, now that your hand wasn’t between you both anymore.

dean tears his lips off of yours— and he is still just barely coming back to himself. his brain still hazy from pleasure, from you, but he tries to get out words because he needs to tell you how much he still wants, needs you. his hands grip tight on your hips, like he’s afraid you’ll just get up and leave if he lets go. his voice is still wrecked when he only manages to whisper your name again.

you don’t move out from dean’s lap, though. you stay pressed against him, his skin so warm and flushed against your own. neither of you had to say anything to know how intimate this all was. dean should be attempting to at least do something besides burying his face back in your shirt.

but you don’t let dean stay like that for too long. your hands go to the sides of his face, holding his head as you tilt it back to look up at you, searching his gaze as you continue to straddle him. and your own voice is a whisper, too.

“y’okay?”

and god, dean feels like his entire body’s just come apart again at that single word, because how do you answer a question like that.

dean has to take a breath, because he still feels the aftermath of it. everywhere. he nods, once— because he’s better than even alright. then again, because he has to tell you that, too.

“yeah,” he manages to get that out, and it’s still so damn wrecked, so out of breath. “more than okay.”

“okay, good,” your gaze softens and you nod when dean confirms that he was okay— and your other now-clean hand finds the side of his face when he looks up at you. a small smile tugs on your lips as your thumbs graze on his cheek. “just checkin’.”

dean’s blown-out eyes are still locked to yours as you brush your thumb against his skin, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of feeling you touch him like this.

it’s so tender. so soft.

and dean’s just… lost. in you.

but dean does finally manage to speak again, his voice still hoarse as his hands release from your hips start to trail down, calloused fingers rubbing gently on your exposed thighs and saying your name like a prayer. “god, i need—”

you keep dean’s gaze still— but not before glancing down to see his hands on your bare thighs in his dimly-lit bedroom as you straddle him.

dean’s hands looked like they belonged on you.

felt like it, too.

one of your own hands reaches down from dean’s face to his on your thigh, grasping on his fingers with yours.

“tell me what you need,” your voice is still a hush of a whisper, but remains completely and utterly genuine as you search dean’s gaze. “de, tell me what you need me to do, and i’ll do it.”

holy goddamn.

dean’s breath actually stutters a little at that, because you sound so ready, so willing— he can’t help but let those last three years of pining, of wanting you, of hoping show as he looks up at you.

“ride me. please.”

the words come out in a half-choked plea. dean’s so damn desperate for you, he’d beg. hell, he was begging in the darkness.

and you weren’t about to say no.

your hands take themselves off of dean’s face and hand, lifting your leg to discard your sleep shorts, then your (soaked) undies— then going to the shirt that you’d still been wearing, grabbing the hem of it and tearing it off, discarding it somewhere in his room before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

and when that finally comes off, too, dean’s entire damn body tenses. because he felt like the air had just been ripped from his lungs.

again.

he’s seeing you more exposed to him, for him than he’s ever seen you before— and the sight of you like this is goddamn perfect. you’re so perfect.

dean’s hands tighten on your thighs, his eyes taking in the view of you like a man starved.

“holy—”

there’s a thousand words he has for you right now. things like beautiful, perfect, mine. but he can’t get them out yet. because his brain is still trying to catch up from the fact that you’re actually here and naked in his lap.

both of dean’s hands reach for your hips as he’s still staring up at you in awe, his fingers gently but almost greedily gripping on you— because he wants to touch you so bad that he wants to let out a goddamn sob. because no one has ever felt like this for him.

because no one has ever come close to the way he craved you.

your eyes meet back up to dean’s green ones once again. you didn’t have to tell him anything or even say something else.

so that’s why you just nod, then reach down between you both once more, starting to fully sink yourself on dean’s dick— all while still keeping his gaze while you let your hands rest on his shoulders, a exhale escaping you both.

you not even halfway on his dick, and dean thinks he might bust again right then and there. his fingers dig into your hip, all while a groan escapes his parted lips: “ah, shit—”

and oh, he’s big. it takes you a second, but you sink down completely on top of him, your pussy sucking him all up— dean feels like he can’t breathe. again. the sight of you like this is gonna fuel his jerk off sessions for the rest of his goddamn life.

dean’s not sure if it’s possible, but he uses his hands on your hips to gently just pull you even closer against him— which ended up being a mistake, because you involuntarily clench around him. his head drops in between your tits at the action.

and.

he.

whines.

“f— fuck—”

yeah. dean just whined at the feeling of being inside of you, eyes screwed shut and everything as he buries his face deeper between your breasts— you can feel the pant of air and his lips on your skin.

dean’s fingers lace together with yours fully, holding your hand tightly while his other is still gripping tight on the meat of your hip, finally taking his face off of you to look up at you above him.

and oh. you’re a goddess, at least. not something heavenly though, because angels are dicks— but you look unreal as you look back down at dean, your mouth just a little parted from feeling him.

dean twitches a little inside you as he tries to find words, just a few, to tell you how much he wants this— or at least to tell you to move.

all he can get out, though?

“p— please.”

you don’t have to ask for clarification.

you know what dean’s asking for.

so you give it to him.

you grind your hips—and dean whines a little again at that— down onto his just once, testing the waters before you find a rhythm.

and dean feels his entire brain just go on complete and total motherfucking overdrive. because this is it. he’s finally getting the most intimate part of you, the part he’s been wanting for so damn long— he literally can’t see straight anymore. that’s how good it feels. how good you feel.

dean’s head goes in between your tits again, still holding your hand as you move your hips on top on him, grinding down on his dick. his other arm goes around your waist, pressing himself against you and gripping you tight in an attempt to steady himself— but it barely helps. his eyes screw shut again, and he’s letting out another whimper before he can stop it.

“fff— oh, fuck—”

a moan drops from your mouth, too, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds dean’s making, gasping and groaning into your skin as he fucks up into you, meeting your movements. his dick is brushing on that spot that makes you groan— and kickstarts your urge to go faster.

so you do.

dean can’t control anything right now. his hips are bucking up into you erratically, the movements only being stunted a little due to how strong your thighs were around him as you straddle him.

your hand not holding dean’s goes into his hair as you’re both pressed together for a better grip— and dean almost sees stars. he groans a little again, his breaths coming in hard pants on the skin between your breasts.

and the praise falls from your lips onto dean’s ear before you can stop it—

“you’re doin’ so good, de.”

dean feels like he’s gonna cry. just from how perfectly good you feel on top of him— and he’s making the most delicious noises that sound like words but it’s just broken moans mixed with whimpers. his hand on your hip tightens to the point it’s almost painful, but you don’t mind all that much.

“ah, don’ worry, i gotcha,” you whisper against dean’s ear again, your hand tightening on his as you let out a rough exhale, chest heaving rapidly against his as your movements don’t falter once. “you’re doing so good f’me, dean.”

dean’s not in control of the sounds that come out his damn mouth anymore— the praise goes straight to his dick, straight to the familiar burning building low in his tummy. it’s just all swearing, sounds of your name and incoherent begging being said into your skin.

“ah— shit, fuckin’— please—”

dean’s not even trying to stop the words from rushing out of his mouth right now, even if he sounds pathetic. because it all feels so goddamn good, and he’s being so good— for you.

and dean can feel nothing but you right now, in every sense possible. everything else has been long gone, and he’s been so goddamn wrapped up in how good your pussy feels around his dick.

dean gasps for air, because wants to tell you that you’ve ruined every living thing for him in the entire goddamn universe forever.

he wants to tell you that he’s about to cum— again.

“jesusfuckin’christ— oh, please—” is what comes out of him instead.

the words are barely intelligible, and dean’s whole body is starting to tense underneath you as he manages to choke out a ragged cry of your name. your hand is still gripping hard onto his own, the other burying itself deeper his hair. you needed to hold onto him right now. shit, you needed a sec.

because dean winchester was begging to cum inside of you.

you almost stop grinding down on him for a second— the keyword being almost.

you just nod against dean’s head still buried in your tits, holding him against you as you talk into his ear again.

“go ahead, baby.”

dean almost sobs again when you say that. he lets go completely just as before, his hands’ grips becoming painful on you as his whole body shakes and convulses against yours, the movements of his hips becoming so erratic once more as he’s painting your walls with his… sixth? seventh? load of the night— only this time, it’s inside of you. and he’s making every sound in the book: whimpers, groans, a whine here and there, too.

you came, too— but honestly, if you didn’t, you would’ve been fine either way. seeing and hearing dean come apart like this was enough to last you a lifetime.

you don’t know how long dean and you stay like that, pressed into each other and panting, fluids mixed together, spilling out and sticking all over your thighs— but even as you pull back just enough to look down at him, dean’s still trembling under you, long after both your orgasms had surpassed their high, melting into a thick haze between you two.

dean can’t look at you— or won’t, but either way, your hand in his hair trails to the side of his face, and you gently force him to look up at you.

dean swallows hard, and his face flushes. the embarrassment was finally, finally starting to set in now that he’d fucked you and himself out. he braces himself for the teasing, the jokes— and the look on your face.

but you weren’t looking down at dean like he was pathetic, or weak. you never did— and you sure as hell weren’t about to start now, after he’d just shown you every side you’d wanted to see of him.

no, you just smile a little, eyes flicking between dean’s as your thumb grazes on his cheek. he can’t help but lean his head into your palm as you exhale your next words out in a breath—

“that was really fuckin’ hot.”

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you now have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

heyyyyyyy guys… soooo how we doin’? LMFAOOOOOOOO this has got to be the longest i’ve ever spent on a fic (only for dean wbk!)

and i know i said this last time, but on a real note: if you have stayed to the very end— first, THANK YOU FOR READING! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write (again). i would love to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina + i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

#faith’s works . . . @bejeweledinterludes!#dean winchester x reader #sub dean #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester fanfiction #dean smut #dean x you #dean x reader #dean supernatural #gif from pinterest!

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writeriguess · 4 months ago

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Can you write Katsuki x fem reader with trope "I hate everyone but you"??

The Exception

Katsuki Bakugo was a menace to everyone around him. He barked orders, scowled at classmates, and had a scathing remark ready for anyone who dared to test his patience. He didn't do small talk, didn't care for friendships, and had no tolerance for incompetence.

But then, there was you.

The one person he didn't treat like an annoying bug under his boot. The one person he tolerated, sought out, and—though he’d never admit it—needed.

And it was painfully obvious to everyone else.

“Dude, he literally just told me to drop dead five minutes ago, and now he's carrying her bag like it’s no big deal,” Kaminari whispered to Kirishima as they watched Bakugo sling your gym bag over his shoulder without complaint.

Kirishima snorted. “I know, right? And did you see how he yelled at Midoriya for standing too close to her yesterday?”

“Think they’re dating?”

“No way—Bakugo would combust before admitting he has a crush.”

The thing was, Bakugo didn’t just like you—he was obsessed with you. You were the only one he could stand for longer than five minutes, the only one whose presence didn’t make him want to scream.

And maybe, just maybe, that scared him more than any villain ever could.

“Tch. You’re late.”

Bakugo was leaning against the dormitory entrance, arms crossed, his usual scowl firmly in place. The streetlights cast a glow over his sharp features, but the impatient tapping of his foot betrayed his annoyance.

You rolled your eyes. “I was studying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

The “let’s go” was unnecessary. You knew that when Bakugo said those words, what he really meant was, I was waiting for you. I don’t like waiting for anyone else, but I’ll wait for you.

You walked beside him, comfortable in the silence, while he glared at anyone who so much as looked your way. It was amusing, really, how the explosive hothead softened just for you.

“Did you eat?” he asked gruffly.

You hummed. “Mmm, not really.”

His scowl deepened. “Idiot. You need to eat.” Without hesitation, he shoved a convenience store bag into your hands.

Inside was your favorite snack.

Your heart warmed. He’d thought about you.

“You’re sweet, Bakugo,” you teased.

He bristled, ears tinged pink. “Shut the hell up.”

You laughed, and for the first time that night, Bakugo didn’t look angry—he looked at peace.

Because as much as he hated the world, he could never hate you.

You were the exception.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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jinwoosbabyboo · 5 months ago

Text

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 🍎

My personal headcanons for Boyfriend!Caleb after what I've seen and read about his character so far. A/N: All my ride or die Caleb girlies if you disagree with anything on this list im not going to argue with you please don't take my word as law. I love y'all dont fight me 💋 feel free to add more in the replies ‼️MDNI‼️ + cw: quick mention of cnc & primal play

[SFW]

wants to be in your skin wrapped around your nervous system and nestled in the wrinkles of your brain ; if this man could glue you to him he would

remembers everything that happened to him and mc when they were lab rats as kids which is probably where his mental health started rapidly declining

Cuddles ! ; he’ll also cuddle you while youre asleep constantly ; doesn’t matter if you’re in his bed, the guest bed or your bed he’ll climb right in and snuggle up

leaves you bowls/plates of fresh fruit and a glass of water on your nightstand

doing backflips if you tell him he can wash your hair for you ; the longer it takes the better

monitors your social media and online presence “You shouldn't post that no one needs to see you naked” “Im wearing a bikini Caleb” “Basically naked”

big on taking photos he wants as many photos together as possible

movie nights and date nights are his shit he’ll alway be down for that ; if you two have a show you watch together he is genuinely hurt if you watch an episode without him

holds your hand even when you don’t want him to ; would quite literally use his evol to hold your hand in place

if you’re sick he's at your bedside 24/7 with medication and home cooked remedies ; will spoon feed you if you let him

uses his body as a wall in large crowds to keep people from bumping into you

will beat the brakes off of anyone who dares to even look at you sideways and when you ask him what he did he’ll lie and smile in your face

PINKY PROMISES ARE LAW

will take you everywhere with him and will also follow you anywhere ; he’d stand guard outside of the bathroom stall if he could

although he does have some bolts rattling around (because they’re not loose they’re fully free) he will pamper the hell out of you ; he’s running you a bath, rubbing your feet and cooking dinner so you have a relaxed night and warm meal

when you do help him cook he’ll stand behind you and cover your hand with his while he guides your hand with the knife

will hold anything you hand him while he’s on the phone

has an entire closet of all the gifts you’ve ever given him

the type to close the door and immediately lock it if you’re in a room alone with him

hates to argue with you ; he’ll do it, but he regrets it afterwards apologizes profusely later with your favorites foods, sweets, treats and things

has to get a kiss before he leaves ; he’s not leaving without it

the type to wrap your arms around his neck when he goes in for a kiss

loves caging you between his arms and his body at any given chance

has to be touching you in some kind of way

the type to tuck you in every night

loves to give you massages because he loves touching you

[NSFW]

needs you to use your words “tell me how you want it” “don’t cover your mouth” “tell me you missed me” “how much?” “right there or right here? Tell me” “open your mouth” “how much do you love me?” “are you all mine? say it”

records your moans so he can listen to them later

pretty panty lover ; buys you lots of them ; loves to have you model them and you’re getting dicked down if you’re walking around the house in them

takes you anyway he can ; favorite position? ALL OF EM mans brain turns to mush just having his hand on you ; a dom that will punish you, but gives stellar aftercare

loves to tease you by getting you wet and just rubbing his tip over the fabric ; slides the panties to the side instead of taking them off because he loves to see them on you

a vocal moaner and a yapper when he nuts ; nuts inside every time makes him feel like he’s claiming you

Intentionally fails no nut November and says “we’ll try again tomorrow” turns you every way but loose for the entire month

massages your thighs and coochie so he can watch his cum drip out of you

a slurper and moaner when he eats it ; eats the pussy and the ass

puts the colonel hat on you

100% into cnc & somnophilia I will not argue with anyone about this ; not a fan of dacryphilia he hates to see you cry

you have to have a safe word because he gets pussydrunk extremely easily

panty stealer ; keeps a pair in his pocket when he goes to work ; clean or dirty doesn’t matter to him

into primal play would chase you through the woods in the Rina Kent - God of War mask and rearrange your guts right there with pleasure

would get jealous of your vibrator/dildo

#love and deepspace #lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb #l&ds caleb #caleb love and deepspace #lads headcanons #nikaaaaimagine

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heyysteven · 6 months ago

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I love, I love, I love

Summary: A bunch of Husband!salesman headcannons

Warnings: Brief mentions of death and Fluff :))

Husband!salesman who just loves to be the little spoon, he absolutely loves the feeling of resting his head on your chest as you caress his hair talking about the details of your day. He didn't mind being the big spoon either. He just loves any reason to be wrapped around you really.

Husband!salesman who could hear you talk for the rest of his hours. Tell him about the book you just finished reading, tell him about the new recipe you wanted to try, tell him about new gossip at work. He would listen patiently and ask questions wherever he got confused.

Husband!salesman who texted you every two hours. Did you reach your office safely? I’m eating the sandwich you packed! Did you have your lunch? Any updates on the new gossip? Will reach home in twenty minutes;)) Do you want anything from the grocery store? Got you donuts just in case.

Husband!salesman who would take pictures of every sunset, every animal, every flower and send them to you because they reminded him of you and how you would have taken pictures if you were with him.

Husband!salesman who would buy you a huge bouquet of flowers before every date night, conveying different messages using the language of flowers. Last time he got home one full of red tulips and sunflowers (because his passion for you ran murderously deep silly!).

Husband!salesman who planned every date night down to the minute. He would book the reservations for that cuisine you once mentioned you wanted to try. He would whistle as soon as you step out the room in your evening dress, twirl you by your hand and ask for the n’th time how he got so lucky (would definitely be disappointed if you wore something without back zips). He would always be the perfect gentleman for you; right from driving you, opening the doors, pulling your chairs, all you had to do was shut your brain and enjoy the evening.

Husband!salesman who always tried matching his tie to the color of your dress.

Husband!salesman who loved holding hands more than life itself. He would love feeling the cold metal of your wedding ring every time you locked your fingers. He would walk around with the most proud smile ever on his face, softly swinging your intertwined fingers with each step.

Husband!salesman who could never say no to you. He was born with a lot of impressive abilities and strategic skills. Murdering someone with a fork? Easy! Selling people the idea of getting rich by playing a bunch of game? A piece of cake! Saying no to his wife? What is that? Shouldn’t it be punishable by law?

Husband!salesman who couldn’t cook to save his life. He somehow ended up burning everything he put on stove, so he just stuck to cleaning instead. It was a silent agreement, you would make the breakfast and dinners and he would wash and dust while you cooked. On days he ran late, he loved being welcomed by the aroma of the dish you were making. It made him feel like that this was the reason he was alive.

Husband!salesman who still got flustered when you kiss his cheek. It had quickly become your power move. On the rare occasion where you disagreed upon something, you would simply kiss his cheek and watch him fumble with his words. It was the most adorable thing ever.

Husband!salesman who would kiss and bite your neck every chance he got. He loved the fact that he could attack your neck any time he wanted.

Husband!salesman who loved when you asked him to pick you up after work. He waited for the moment you would come running and jump to hug him tight.

Husband!salesman who always noticed every single detail. Like the time he caught a man making you uncomfortable while walking. He did exactly what the man deserved; beat him till his teeth were bloody and carved his fingers out from their socket, for ever daring to make his wife feel unsafe.

Husband!salesman who got jealous easily. He didn’t ask for much, he just wanted every single person with conspicuous intentions towards you to just get hit by a truck on the highway (with him driving the truck preferably).

Husband!salesman who always made sure to support your hobbies! Even if you abandon them after two weeks, he’s proud of you for trying.

Husband!salesman who hated your plushies and teddy bears. He hated how much distance they created between you while sleeping. He would just throw them to the floor when you weren’t looking.

Husband!salesman who doesn’t like getting his shirt bloody because “My wife chose that for me, its rude of you to bleed on my clothes.”

Husband!salesman who says I love you like it’s the air he needs for breathing. He would find every reason to squeeze your hands thrice.

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dollishmehrayan · 6 months ago

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# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

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dksfml · 7 months ago

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LOVE 119 [PART III]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. masterlist.

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is just doing his duties, suggestive, submissive jungwon, fluff (only in the start lol) summary: you celebrate your first anniversary with jungwon’s mouth on another woman, so you remind him what yours tastes like. word count: 7.4k author's note: the third part of this seriess!! i swear it's just getting freakier and longer every after part. i hope you enjoy this one! reply or request if you want to be part of the taglist<333

You stir awake, the haze of sleep still clinging to you like a warm blanket. The soft morning light filters through the blinds, painting streaks of gold across the sheets. Your body feels heavy, a pleasant exhaustion lingering from the chaos of yesterday’s shift—and maybe something more.

As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is Jungwon. He’s lying on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his head to prop himself up. His bare torso is on full display, lean muscle and smooth skin catching the light in a way that almost makes you think you’re still dreaming.

He’s watching you with a lazy smile, his hair slightly messy, the boyish charm of his grin blending effortlessly with the undeniable allure of his half-dressed state. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, one that only grows when your gaze meets his.

The soft chill of the morning air seeps into your skin, prompting you to burrow deeper into the covers. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you mumble, “I’m cold,” the words slipping out unconsciously.

Jungwon pauses, his gaze softening as he studies your half-asleep form. Without saying a word, he shifts closer, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He tugs the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin briefly, sending a small, unintentional shiver through you.

“Better?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, laced with a hint of amusement. But before you can respond, he leans back into his original position, his torso stretching in the process.

The motion draws your attention as he props himself up on one elbow again. The sunlight dances across his skin, accentuating the subtle lines of his muscles. A groan escapes him as he adjusts his weight, breaking the momentary silence.

“This position makes my abs hurt, you know,” he says, his tone casual but tinged with playful teasing, as if daring you to react.

Your eyes flick down, almost involuntarily, to his stomach, and the sight before you is enough to make your pulse stutter. His defined abs contract as he adjusts himself, every line of muscle taut and perfectly framed. The blanket rests low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

You immediately snap your gaze back up, your cheeks warming. “Then why lie down like that?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably.

Jungwon tilts his head, his smile growing softer. “Because I love watching you like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the words settling over you like a gentle embrace.

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t quite know how to respond. You’re not used to this side of him—unapologetically tender, his teasing stripped down to something raw and sincere.

“Watching me drool in my sleep?” you finally say, hoping to lighten the moment and mask the warmth spreading through your chest.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not quite,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his face just a breath away from yours. “More like admiring how peaceful you look when you’re not yelling at me about work rules or rolling your eyes at my jokes.”

His hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart flutter in a way you’re definitely not prepared for.

“Speaking of plans,” Jungwon starts, his tone a little quieter now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “You remember what we said we’d do for our one-year anniversary?”

You blink at him, your brain still catching up. “Anniversary?”

“The beach trip,” he reminds you, his lips curving into a smile that’s unfairly charming. “You know, the one we’ve been talking about forever but never actually made happen because someone—” he gently pokes your side, earning a surprised squeak from you, “—is married to their job.”

“Excuse me!” you protest, sitting up slightly. “You’re the one who never takes a day off, Mr. Heroic Paramedic.”

“Touché,” he laughs, his hand still holding yours. “But I’m serious this time. No pagers, no alarms, no emergencies. Just us, the waves, and maybe some terrible sunscreen tan lines.”

The mention of the trip makes your chest tighten with a rush of emotions. You’d tucked that dream away, figuring it would never happen between the chaos of your lives. But now, hearing him bring it up so earnestly, you feel your cheeks heat with unexpected joy.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your voice soft and a little awed.

“Of course I remembered,” he says, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Haven’t you?”

Your lips part, and for a second, all you can do is nod, feeling ridiculously shy under his gaze. “I—yeah, I have,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to go for so long… with you.”

His grin spreads, slow and wickedly boyish. “With me, huh? You sound kind of obsessed.”

“Oh my God, Jungwon!” You groan, shoving at his shoulder, but he catches your hand easily, laughing as he pulls you closer.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teases, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and you bury your face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent. He chuckles, the sound reverberating through you like a warm hug, as his free hand drifts to gently trace over the fading hickey on your neck—the one he left just last night.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice full of mischief as his fingers lazily skim your skin, “this might be my best work yet.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

“And yet, you love me,” he replies smoothly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Which is why we’re going to that beach, no matter what. I already started looking at places. A little beach house, just us. What do you think?”

You peek up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “You mean it?”

“Do I ever joke about stuff like this?” he asks, and when you hesitate, he adds with mock offense, “Don’t answer that.”

You giggle despite yourself, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you seriously this time.”

“Good,” he says, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you even closer. “Because I’m picturing us on the sand, soaking up the sun, maybe arguing over how much sunscreen you forgot to put on.”

“Excuse me, I’m very responsible with sunscreen!” you say, sitting up straight to glare at him, though the effect is ruined by the smile tugging at your lips.

“Sure you are,” he says, his grin teasing as he leans in. “But you know what? Even if you turned into a lobster, I’d still think you’re the cutest thing on the beach.”

You groan, shoving at him again, but this time he topples backward, taking you with him. You land in a tangled heap, his laughter mixing with your protests as he wraps you in his arms.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“And you’re mine,” he replies easily, his voice softer now as he looks up at you. “One year down, and we’re only getting started.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, and for a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you say softly, resting your forehead against his. “We are.”

And as you lie there, tangled up in him with the morning sun streaming in, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this dream of yours is finally within reach.

The day had been long, the kind where you couldn’t wait to jump in your bed, let alone entertain the idea of more teasing from your coworkers. It was the end of the shift, and as you packed up your things, you couldn’t help but hear the familiar whispers that had been circulating throughout the day. They’d been subtly, yet persistently, questioning your sudden decision to file leave for next week. And when you’d dropped the bomb that you’d be taking three days off, your coworkers had practically pounced on you.

"Going on a date?" one of them asked, grinning, clearly enjoying the moment.

You gave a half-smile, but played it cool, keeping the details about your time off to yourself. "Maybe?" you replied with a teasing tilt of your head, your voice casual but with just enough of a playful edge to keep them guessing.

“Oh, so it’s a date date?” another one chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just going for a spontaneous adventure?"

You bit back a smile, holding your ground. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

But your coworkers weren’t quite done yet. They shared a conspiratorial look, the kind that only happens when they think they’ve caught something juicy. "Funny," one of them said, leaning in, "Riki also filed for leave next week. Guess it’s the week to go on a getaway. What are you two up to, hmm?"

Your eyes widened just a bit, but you didn’t let it show. Not Riki. Your colleagues’ eyes twinkled with mischief as they continued their teasing. "Could it be that you and Riki are planning some... romantic getaway?"

You could see Riki in the corner of your eye, standing by the supply closet, looking thoroughly confused as he overheard the conversation. He was always the innocent one in this mess. You glanced at him, barely able to keep from laughing at how flustered he looked already.

"Oh, no," you said with a mischievous glint, your voice light but professional as you turned to Riki, who seemed to shrink into himself. "Riki’s just off to his sister’s graduation. Nothing more to see here, folks."

Riki blinked, completely unaware of the teasing in the air. “Right! I’m just going for my sister’s graduation,” he said with a completely straight face, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

Your coworkers, however, were having none of it. "Sure, Riki," one of them teased with a smirk, "A sister’s graduation. How convenient." They shared a laugh, clearly enjoying Riki's obliviousness, while you tried your best to stay professional, even though you were fighting a smile.

Riki just looked around, still confused by the attention. “What?” he asked, genuinely lost, not picking up on the implications. “It really is just that.”

Another coworker, not missing a beat, chimed in. “Well, if you’re both taking leave at the same time, I guess we’ll call it a ‘coincidence.’”

You fixed them all with a calm but firm gaze, your voice cutting through the banter. “Alright, enough,” you said, your tone brokering no argument. “I’m taking time off for personal reasons, Riki is attending his sister’s graduation—no more assumptions. Now, unless you want me to start assigning extra shifts, I suggest we all get back to work. We've got patients to care for, don’t we?”

The teasing immediately ceased, and your coworkers scattered, murmuring apologies as they returned to their stations. Riki, still trying to piece everything together, gave you a nod, grateful for the quick save.

"Riki, here," you said, walking up to him with a small, knowing smile. "I borrowed your coat yesterday, and I figured I should return it."

His face immediately softened with relief at the change of subject. "Oh, right," he said, taking the coat from you. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he took it, and he fumbled slightly, his gaze darting to the side. "Thanks for bringing it back so quickly."

“No problem,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. "You need it for your shift tomorrow, right?"

Riki nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours, but there was a curious hesitation there, a flicker of something else that caught your attention. "So..." he began slowly, almost as if testing the waters. "I, uh, was meaning to ask you earlier. Are you... actually dating someone?"

Your eyes softened slightly at the question. You could sense the genuine curiosity in his voice, and you appreciated that he was asking out of sincerity, not to add fuel to the teasing.

You hesitated for just a moment, not out of uncertainty, but more because you didn’t want to spill all the details. “Yes,” you answered sincerely, offering a smile. "I’m in a relationship. It’s been a while now."

Riki blinked at your response, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his tone now quieter, almost as if the reality of your answer had settled in.

“Oh,” he said, simply. His face remained neutral, but there was something about the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly that hinted at a tinge of disappointment, or maybe just confusion. It was hard to read, but you noticed it.

You couldn't help but soften your gaze at him. It wasn’t as though you’d been hiding the fact that you were in a relationship, but there was something about the way Riki asked that made it seem more... personal, more significant. His question wasn’t casual—there was an underlying sincerity to it.

“So… you don’t want to know more details?” you teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood, though you couldn't quite suppress the small, almost wistful smile on your face.

Riki blinked again, seemingly caught off guard by the question. He shook his head quickly, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Uh, no,” he said, though his voice had a touch of sheepishness to it. “I just wanted to make sure, you know, since... well, I didn’t want to be awkward or anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Awkward?" You leaned against the counter casually, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, but still enjoying the rare moment of candidness between the two of you. “There’s no need for that. It’s just... I’m in a relationship. That’s all there is to it."

Riki nodded quickly, though there was an almost imperceptible sigh that escaped him. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts, as if trying to connect the dots, but didn't push any further.

"So, uh, how long have you two been together?" His question came out a bit more suddenly, like he was trying to switch gears in a way that would make the situation feel less charged.

You met his gaze again, taking in the subtle shift in his demeanor, how his face seemed a little more relaxed now, as though the weight of the conversation had lightened. You thought about Jungwon for a moment—his presence always felt like a quiet reassurance, even when you weren’t with him.

“Quite a while,” you answered, the corner of your lips lifting into a small smile. “It’s been long enough that we’ve stopped worrying about all the small stuff. We’re... past the uncertainty.”

Riki gave a slow nod, the light in his eyes shifting to something a bit warmer, as if the idea of you and Jungwon being comfortable together made more sense to him. "That’s... really nice," he said, his voice steady, though there was a soft sincerity that added an unexpected weight to the words. "I’m glad you found someone."

There was an odd kind of quiet between you two, the office noise continuing around you, but it felt like this little bubble of conversation had shut it all out for a moment.

You could see that Riki was still processing everything, but the awkwardness that initially lingered between you two was gone. There was something more genuine now, a mutual respect, even if you hadn’t shared every detail. The conversation felt like an end to one chapter of your relationship with him and the beginning of another—a little less guarded, a little more human.

“Thanks, Riki,” you said, smiling warmly at him. “I appreciate that.”

Riki gave you a small, shy smile in return, still holding onto the coat you’d returned to him. "No problem. And, uh, if you ever want to talk... about anything... I’m here," he offered, clearly trying to be supportive in the only way he knew how.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice soft, but professional.

You glanced back at him with a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. “Let’s go. We’ve got no time for distractions.”

The day you had been waiting for had finally arrived—the getaway to the beach that you and Jungwon had planned so carefully, and now, as you both stepped out of the car, the salty breeze kissed your skin and the sound of waves lapping at the shore greeted you.

The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow across the beach as you and Jungwon walked along the shore, the sound of the waves gently crashing in the background. The air was warm, carrying a light breeze that tousled your hair and wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was the perfect end to the day, but there was something else in the atmosphere—something more intimate, a traction you could almost touch.

You could feel his presence beside you, just close enough for his warmth to seep into you, yet distant enough that the space between you felt charged with possibility. His hand brushed against yours, and you didn’t pull away, instead letting your fingers gently touch, then intertwine. The simple contact sent a rush of heat through your body, and for a moment, everything else faded away—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean.

“Feels like a dream, doesn’t it?” Jungwon murmured, his voice soft and laced with an emotion that caught you off guard. You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Yeah, it does," you agreed, the words tasting sweeter than usual. You didn’t want to break the magic, the feeling of being alone in this perfect little bubble, just the two of you.

He gave you a small smile, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to say something without words. The way he looked at you—so soft, yet full of desire—made your heart race.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “you’re even more beautiful out here, with the sun on your skin.” He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little distracted.”

You blinked, the unexpected compliment pulling a soft laugh from your lips. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”

He laughed quietly, but the teasing edge in his voice was absent, replaced by something more sincere. “I’m always full of surprises,” he said, his thumb lightly grazing the back of your hand. The moment felt more intimate than you expected, your heart beating a little faster as the weight of his gaze settled on you. “But I mean it. You really are.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply smiled, your fingers tightening around his, silently acknowledging the connection between you. It was enough.

After a long pause, Jungwon turned toward the towel he had spread out earlier, the one you’d been lounging on, and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, the cool plastic in stark contrast to the hot air around you. You glanced down at your shoulders and realized with a jolt that you had completely forgotten to apply any sunscreen.

You winced a little, already feeling the heat beginning to build under your skin. “Uh, looks like I forgot something,” you said, half-laughing at your own oversight, trying to keep the mood light.

Jungwon caught your eye and smirked, clearly noticing your discomfort. “Need some help with that?” His eyebrow arched, the playful teasing in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

You raised an eyebrow in return, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Actually,” you replied, glancing down at his bare, tanned shoulders and realizing you could use his help as much as he needed yours, “I think you need some help. You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, his lips curling into a smile. “Fair enough. I’ll take care of you, then,” he said, his voice low, almost too smooth as he unscrewed the cap and poured some lotion into his hand. The air between you seemed to shift, charged with an energy that made your breath catch.

He reached out, a slow, deliberate move as he gently applied the sunscreen to your shoulders. His touch was light, but the heat from his skin made the lotion feel almost like an intimate caress. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the cooling sensation, but the intimacy of the moment—his hands gliding over your skin—made your pulse race.

"Don’t want you turning into a lobster," Jungwon teased, his fingers brushing your collarbone. The touch was light but electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the coolness of the sunscreen.

He moved to the other side, his fingers grazing your shoulder, the sensation soft but deliberate, as if savoring the contact. When his thumb brushed the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but hold your breath, the subtle pressure making your skin tingle.

For a brief moment, you both stayed still, the air thick with something unspoken. His touch was gentle but possessive, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “All done,” he murmured, his voice low, his hands still resting on your skin. The tension between you lingered, leaving your heart racing.

“Thanks,” you managed, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended. You met his gaze, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

Jungwon chuckled again, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in just slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’d better.”

You stepped forward, taking the bottle of lotion from him and squeezing out a generous amount. The cool lotion met your warm skin as you applied it to his shoulders, your fingers smoothing the cream in slow, careful circles. His body tensed slightly beneath your touch, but not in discomfort—more in anticipation. You could feel the muscles under his skin shift as you worked your way down his back, your touch lingering longer than necessary, letting the moment stretch out between you.

“Hmm,” Jungwon muttered, his voice quiet as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. “That feels good. Almost like you’re trying to spoil me.”

You laughed softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe I am,” you teased. But your voice softened again as your hands continued to move over his skin, now reaching his lower back, your fingers gliding over the soft expanse. The simple touch was intimate in a way that left you both a little breathless.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the contact. “You’ve got good hands,” he said, his voice low, the words almost a compliment, though there was something else beneath them—a quiet, simmering desire that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud.

“Glad you think so,” you murmured, your own heart beating faster. The space between you was thick with unspoken tension, the air charged, both of you aware of how close you were, how every touch seemed to ignite something deeper within.

When you finished applying the lotion to his back, Jungwon turned to face you, his eyes dark with an intensity that matched the warmth of the beach around you. He didn’t speak at first, but his gaze lingered on your lips before moving back up to meet your eyes.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. The sound of the waves and the rustling of the wind seemed to fade, and all that was left was you and him, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But just as your heart began to race, just as the tension between you reached a boiling point, a voice pierced the air.

“Help! Help!” It was a shout from the water, distant but desperate. Someone was in trouble.

Jungwon immediately tensed, the playful atmosphere gone in an instant. Without a word, he dropped his hands, his gaze locking on the water. His expression shifted, his focus narrowing, and in the blink of an eye, he was already moving toward the water, his body agile and sure.

“Stay here,” he said, his tone firm yet soft. “I’ll handle this.”

You wanted to argue, but the urgency in his tone left no room for discussion. You hesitated for only a moment before you found yourself trailing behind him, your own heart pounding in your chest as you reached the water's edge. Jungwon was already plunging into the surf, swimming with the grace of someone who had trained for moments like these. The crowd had gathered now, watching with wide eyes, as the seconds ticked by.

He reached the woman, hauling her out of the water with impressive strength. Her body was limp, but Jungwon handled her with care as he placed her gently onto the sand. The crowd murmured in concern, but Jungwon was in his element, focused, calm. His hands moved over the woman’s body as he checked for injuries, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Someone get a first aid kit! We need help over here!” he called out, his voice steady but urgent.

People around him seemed to freeze, waiting for someone else to act, but no one stepped forward.

You didn’t hesitate. You immediately pulled out your phone, dialing the local authorities. “We need medical assistance at the beach,” you said quickly, your voice crisp, the professional tone taking over. “A woman is unresponsive. She was pulled from the water. We need help immediately.” You gave them the location and hung up, your pulse still racing from the adrenaline.

You hung up quickly, but your eyes never left Jungwon.

He was already beginning chest compressions, his hands pressing firmly against the woman’s sternum, rhythmically pushing. His expression was intense, his jaw tight with concentration. There was no trace of hesitation in his actions. Every movement was measured, calculated to save her life.

You stood frozen for a moment, watching him work—each press of his hands against her chest a reminder of just how much control he had over a situation. His face was hard with focus, his brow furrowed, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes as he checked the woman’s pulse again. His gaze flickered to you briefly, but he said nothing. There was no need for words between you two now. You both knew what needed to be done.

The woman’s chest still wasn’t rising. Jungwon didn’t stop, his hands never faltering, never speeding up or slowing down. He checked her airway, tilting her head back gently before pinching her nose, his lips pressing firmly against hers to deliver breaths.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him perform the life-saving technique, his mouth pressed against hers with the kind of urgency you rarely saw outside of medical emergencies. You hadn’t expected the flutter of something strange, a cold weight that settled in your chest.

You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the intensity of the situation, the rawness of what he was doing, or maybe it was the way his lips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. You forced your attention to the woman, checking her pulse at her neck—thready and weak, but there.

You could feel the tension in your chest tightening, but you couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. You tried to focus, to push aside the rush of emotions. But the sight of Jungwon so effortlessly confident, so completely in control—it stirred something inside you. You knew this was part of his job, that he had done this countless times before. And yet, there was something intimate about the way he worked, something raw that made your pulse quicken.

The woman wasn’t responding. Jungwon paused to breathe again, his movements fluid and methodical. “Come on…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves.

As if on cue, you could hear the distant hum of sirens growing louder. Medical help was on the way. But there was still time. Jungwon didn’t let up. His hands moved with precision, and when he performed another round of compressions, his face set in grim determination, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Finally, the woman gasped, her body jerking, and her chest rose with a shallow breath. A collective sigh of relief swept over the crowd. Jungwon didn’t stop, though—he kept checking her vitals, his brow furrowed as he worked. But there was a flicker of relief in his expression now.

Still, he wasn’t finished. “Where’s her guardian?” he asked sharply, scanning the crowd, his tone commanding. No one stepped forward.

Jungwon didn’t let the uncertainty slow him down. He checked her airway again, adjusting her position slightly, as he continued to monitor her pulse. “Stay with us,” he muttered under his breath, giving her another round of compressions, the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

The crowd around you seemed to dissipate, but you didn’t move. You stood there, watching Jungwon, your chest tight with some indescribable feeling—something you didn’t want to name, but couldn’t ignore.

As the woman’s pulse started to stabilize, Jungwon looked at you again, his gaze briefly meeting yours, filled with an intensity you didn’t know how to process. There was no time for anything else, though. Medical personnel were almost here, and Jungwon was already back in control, handling the situation with such ease and authority that it left you breathless.

You were grateful for him, for everything he was doing, but a part of you still felt that odd ache in your chest, the feeling lingering long after the danger had passed.

The day had been overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions that drained every ounce of energy from both of you. By the time you arrived back at the hotel, the exhaustion clung to your bones, as if the weight of the beach’s chaos had followed you in the humid air that seemed to cling to your skin. The usual buzz of life had quieted, leaving only the raw, lingering tension that neither of you had addressed.

Jungwon, ever perceptive, had noticed the change in you. From the moment he’d pulled that woman from the water and worked tirelessly to save her, he’d seen the way your expression had shifted, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself. He knew you—too well, sometimes—and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time you’d witnessed him perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. That alone would have been enough to make anyone feel uneasy, but on top of that, it was a woman around your age. Jungwon couldn't help but wonder if the situation had stirred up feelings in you he couldn’t fully understand.

He had been silent during the walk back, his mind swirling with thoughts. The usual back-and-forth between you was absent, replaced with a heavy quiet that hung between you both. It wasn’t the comfortable silence that came with shared moments, but a thick, uneasy one. Jungwon glanced at you more than once, his eyes searching for some sign, something that would reassure him everything was okay, but your expression was unreadable. You seemed distant—far away in a way that he hadn’t seen before.

He had seen you work through chaos countless times, both at the hospital and in life. He’d witnessed you maintain your composure under pressure, handling emergencies with an ice-cold focus. But this, seeing you react to him performing CPR on another woman, was different. He could tell. You had always been the kind of person who didn’t let emotions cloud your judgment. But now, there was something behind your eyes—a shift in the air, something unsaid that made him feel unsure.

The woman on the beach was alive because of him, because of both of you, but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in some way, your quietness was born out of something deeper. He knew how you felt about professionalism, how you held both your relationships and your work close, but this... this felt like something more. The fact that you had watched him perform a life-saving act on a stranger, a woman, with such intensity—it seemed to have carved a small divide between you and him.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what to do with this new silence. The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than the hot air around you both. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared, but the words eluded him. So he stayed quiet, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t quite piece together.

As you arrived at the hotel, Jungwon opened the door for you, his usual warmth nowhere to be found. He watched as you walked past him without a word, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed in the silence, and he slumped against the nearest wall, uncertain of what to do next. He was acutely aware of the tension in the room, how heavy it felt now, like any wrong move would break something fragile between you.

He sat on the bed, fingers running through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew you well enough to understand that you were internalizing everything—probably more than you let on. You never showed your hand too clearly, and he respected that. But right now, as you were in the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the day, Jungwon felt like he was stepping on eggshells. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, to make things worse.

When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, your face was still wet from the towel you’d used to wash away the salty residue of the day. The door opened softly, and his eyes immediately locked with yours. There was a new heaviness in the air now, something between you both that neither of you could ignore.

Jungwon sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, waiting for you to make the first move. Your eyes never left his as you walked toward him. The distance between you was small, but it felt infinite, both of you suspended in an unspoken understanding of what had transpired. He could feel the electricity in the air, thick and undeniable.

When you finally reached him, you paused, just inches away. The traction between you two crackled in the silence. Then, slowly, you raised your hand, fingers brushing against his cheek. His breath hitched at the softness of your touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into it instinctively, seeking comfort in the small, intimate gesture. He didn’t know what this moment meant, but he couldn’t deny the pull between you.

When your fingers reached his lips, the weight of everything left unspoken seemed to paralyze Jungwon, as if his entire body was caught between restraint and desire. His pulse quickened, a soft tremor running through him as you wiped the remnants of the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation off his lips with the towel. He stayed still, breath shallow, allowing you to guide the moment. There was something in the way your touch lingered, in how you moved with such control, that left him unable to do anything but wait—wait for your next move, for the next shift in the tension that was thickening the air between you.

His body hummed with need, his eyes closed as he absorbed the soft, deliberate stroke of the towel, every inch of his skin aching for more. Your proximity was intoxicating, your movements deliberate, yet so gentle. It wasn’t just the physical touch, but the unspoken invitation—the way you held him in place with nothing but your presence.

As you pulled the towel away, his lips were left lingering with the memory of your touch, and for a moment, he hesitated. But the hesitation didn’t last long. His instinct to close the distance between you overpowered his restraint, and before either of you could think, his lips pressed urgently against yours, claiming you in a kiss that was both desperate and hungry.

The kiss was electric. His hand cupped your face, fingers trembling slightly as he kissed you like he couldn’t catch his breath. You could feel the heat of his desire, but there was also something else—something submissive in how he let you lead. He responded fiercely, yes, but there was an unmistakable trust in how he followed your lead, how he let you guide the rhythm of the kiss, the intensity of it. He didn’t try to dominate; instead, he surrendered to you completely.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you needed to be closer, as if the kiss was the only way to erase the tension that had been building since the beach. It was messy, heated—your control evident in the way you commanded the kiss, but it was equally filled with urgency, a shared need for release, for connection.

Jungwon’s hands roamed to your back, fingers pressing you against him, but there was a carefulness to his touch. He wasn’t forceful. There was a tenderness, almost like he was waiting for you to take control. He wanted to feel you, wanted to have all of you, but in a way that was patient, as if he was afraid of breaking something in the moment.

You pulled away just briefly, breathless, and your eyes locked with his. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, but you didn’t let it linger. You tilted your head, studying his face, searching for something—answers, maybe, or perhaps reassurance. You were in control now, and it was clear from the way he looked at you that he would follow wherever you led.

Before you could even process the thought, your hands gripped the front of Jungwon’s shirt, pulling him with you as you leaned back. His breath hitched in surprise, but there was no resistance from him—just a quiet, willing surrender. Without breaking the kiss, you guided him backward, pushing him gently onto the bed with a sense of urgency. The soft creak of the mattress under his weight only fueled the tension between you both, the air thick with the electric pull of desire.

You hovered over him, your body just inches away from his, feeling the heat radiating off him in waves. His hands, which had been holding you so gently, now rested on the bed, palms flat as he watched you with an intensity that mirrored your own. His eyes were dark, full of something raw and unspoken, but he didn’t try to close the distance. He was letting you take control now, his body still beneath you, and you could feel the subtle way he was surrendering to you, leaving himself at your mercy.

The weight of the moment pressed on your chest, but you didn’t break away. Your gaze held his, unwavering, as you let the silence stretch between you, charged with something deeper. You could see it in the way his breath quickened, in the subtle flex of his muscles beneath you as he awaited your next move.

And then, without saying a word, you lowered yourself further, bringing your lips to his once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss was deep, intense—full of everything you hadn’t said, everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. Jungwon’s hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, but even in his need, he let you guide him, letting you set the rhythm, the pace.

You pulled away slightly, your lips lingering just above his, feeling the tension in the air thicken as you gazed down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, chest rising and falling beneath you, but you could still see the sharp edge of something in his gaze. It wasn’t just the intensity of the moment—it was that subtle wariness, the same one you’d seen earlier, when he had saved that woman on the beach.

"You were pretty focused on saving her, weren’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter, but with a teasing edge.

Jungwon let out a soft, almost self-conscious laugh. "I had to. It’s part of the job," he said, his voice still heavy with the remnants of the adrenaline that had coursed through him earlier. He was trying to downplay it, but you saw right through him. "Besides, she was drowning. It’s not like I can just leave her in the water."

"You really looked like you were about to save her from everything," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "A woman your age, no less. What was that? Was there some kind of... connection?"

Jungwon's eyes flickered, a flash of vulnerability passing through them before he masked it with a half-smile. "Well, you know, it's hard not to connect with someone who’s in trouble." He shifted underneath you, his voice a bit more serious now. "You’re not mad, are you?"

You smiled softly, the weight of the moment returning. "Mad? No. Just trying to get used to the idea of you saving women... right in front of me." You leaned down, your lips brushing his again, slowly this time, savoring the taste of him. You could feel the sharpness in his breath as he leaned into it, his hands gripping your back tighter.

"I guess it’s a good thing I’m saving you now, huh?" Jungwon’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was that familiar teasing edge to it, like he was trying to regain some sense of control.

“You're going to save me from what, exactly?” You pulled back slightly, your hands on his chest, feeling the hard press of his muscles beneath your fingertips. Your gaze never left his, unwavering.

Jungwon’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. "From getting lost in your head," he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of something more serious. "And from overthinking things."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the traction between you both momentarily easing. "Yeah? I guess you’ve got a lot of practice in saving people, huh?" You leaned down to kiss him again, this time with more purpose, your hands moving to his face, holding him there as you deepened the kiss.

He responded just as fiercely, his hands pulling you closer, his body shifting under yours. But even in his urgency, he still let you take the lead, his grip softening just enough for you to feel the weight of his trust.

As the kiss broke, you both breathed heavily, faces just inches apart, the silence between you charged once again.

"Just don’t get any ideas, Jungwon," you muttered, your lips curling into a sly smile. "I’m the one in control here."

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with something almost mischievous. “Oh, I know,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist, tightening briefly before letting go. "I’m all yours."

The words lingered in the air, both playful and charged with a deeper meaning. Your heart raced, a warmth spreading through you as you met his gaze. There was a comfort in the way he held you, in the way he knew exactly how to push and pull you at the same time.

Jungwon’s smile softened, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “Happy Anniversary, baby.”

You leaned in close, your breath barely a whisper against his skin. “Oh, I give up,” you said with a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. Your fingers lightly traced his chest as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Do a mouth-to-mouth CPR on me now.”

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