#forever and ever x infinity

[tomsmusictaste]

The Alphabet With Tomsmusictaste | N

[thoughtssvt]

gojo satoru never put his infinity up when he was with you. he liked to feel you close.

the first time he'd touched you— actually touched you— was an accident. one he'd never made before. all that happened was that your arms had brushed together. it was just for a short moment, but electricity ran under his skin and straight to his heart. he'd just felt so comfortable with you. so close. the moment was perfect, he was positive that all the stars had aligned when he was with you. he could be himself. you'd seen him through his barrier.

he became addicted.

he wanted to feel you that close every time.

even knowing his arm would fall asleep he would snake it under your waist, pull you in tight. he loved the way your hair would tickle his nose as he kissed the nape of your neck.

sometimes he'd get carried away. it was a euphoric feeling so foreign to the pads of his fingers. the thud of your heart against his palm, your calves tangling with his. you'd giggle saying that he was practically choking you.

"one more minute, i promise," he'd say, voice rumbling through his chest and against your back.

one minute became two and after two, well, you guessed you could get used to him melding your bodies together.

he found himself touching you every chance he got. his fingers massaging your scalp, elbows nudging as you walked side by side. sometimes when your legs were strewn over his he couldn't help running a hand up and down from ankle to knee, waxing his palm against your skin as he reached the bend.

he absolutely loved when you were the one to initiate touch. you could practically see a tail wagging when your fingers danced against his wrist just before sliding down to trace circles into his palms, his hand eager to intertwine with yours.

even on those sticky summer afternoons when all the fan was doing was blowing the hot air around he couldn't get enough of you. two clips swiping his hair out of his face (matching yours, of course), a cold patch on his forehead, he'd wrap his arms around you as you chopped away at refreshing fruit. his body encompassing yours, chin hooking onto your shoulder as he reminded you to be careful.

winter was his favorite as if he needed an excuse to cuddle close to you. the breaths of your giggles fanning his skin, your socked feet brushing together where you both hid under a soft, cozy blanket.

every night as he listened to your deep, steady breaths he thought about how grateful he was to have met you. he'd been so focused on being the strongest that he'd never given a fleeting thought to being weak. and god, when it came to you he got so weak. he wondered how it was ever a bad thing in the first place.

before sleep took him he pulled you in closer, felt your breath hit the back of his hand, your chest rise under his palm.

gojo satoru was almost certain that you and him and the love you shared together was the true meaning of infinity, so when he was with you he never had to put it up. one look in your eyes was all the forever he needed.

A/N : ngl i melted while writing this. let's be fr he'd be this clingy (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

j‹𝟹

jjk men x reader masterlist | needy morning w/ gojo

bubble divider by pfparchive

[leashaoki]

selfish

pairing: satoru gojo x fem! reader

synopsis: it’s been months since gojo broke up with you, so why is he outside of your window at 4am?

warnings: angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, exes to lovers

wc: 4.7k

this post contains nsfw content, minors do not interact.

It’s 4 a.m., and Gojo finds himself at the entrance of your apartment complex. He’s drenched from head to toe, having turned off his infinity hours ago; he just wanted to feel. The cold dampness of his clothes was almost comforting, and the droplets cascading down from his hair to his face were welcomed. Gojo, just for tonight, wanted to feel human.

He isn’t even entirely sure how he got here; it wasn’t a case of teleporting to your place as he usually would. No, Gojo had wandered aimlessly (or so he thought) and ended up here, gazing up at the dark window to your bedroom and wondering what you were doing, how you looked, and how you were feeling. Were you even awake?

It had been a few months since he had broken it off with you, coldly rejecting you when he noticed the signs of you falling in love with him. He was unforgivingly callous with you that night, acting as if you were insane for thinking there was anything serious between the two of you and that it was just a bit of fun.

If only you understood how untrue each and every word that he said that night truly was. Gojo adored you, terrifyingly so; it scared him to no end. He had his reasons for calling things off; he believed them to be necessary, but that didn’t change the gnarling pit that had been festering in his chest ever since. Satoru missed you; he missed you so damn much that his only distraction was throwing himself into mission after mission. But at night, when there was no company but his empty sheets and no voice but the dismal hum of the television, he felt empty, lost, and alone.

He looks up to your window again, his heart skipping a beat when he notices the dim glow of your lamp lighting up the glass. Mind racing, he conjures up thoughts of someone else sharing your bed, touching you, holding you—why else would you be up at this godforsaken time?

His thoughts are interrupted when he sees a familiar face peep up over the window sill, your eyes meeting his. That warm feeling returns to his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he saw you last. Gojo notices the way the streetlights around him flicker at his surge of emotion and gets himself in check.

He doesn’t even have time to think about how much of a creep he looks like at that moment before his phone rings. Looking down and seeing your name pop up on the screen, he answers without hesitation, watching as you climb onto your window, sitting on the sill and peering down at him, confused, hurt, and angry.

The call begins, and no one speaks, just the two of you gazing at each other from afar. Gojo thinks to himself how beautiful you look and ponders how much more beautiful you’d look up close. A half smile graces his lips, a greeting—a greeting not mirrored by you. You’re frowning, rolling your eyes to mask the sadness you feel. Much like Gojo’s small smile, you’re both hiding the pain that’s eating you up, threatening to break through the surface at any given moment. Saturo removes his blindfold, stuffing it into his pocket and revelling in how angelic you look up there. It feels like forever passes before you say, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

He flinches; you never called him Gojo, always Satoru, or his personal favourite, Toru. It felt so cold, so not you. The man swallows audibly, a shakiness to his breath that he’d rather conceal as he sighs, “I don’t know.”

Gojo sees the way you scoff, shaking your head in exasperation. "Gojo, if you don’t know why you’re outside my place, like a fucking creep, may I add, at four in the morning, then politely fuck off.”

“Hey, come on.” His voice is soft like silk, and there's an air to his tone that feels different; there’s no cockiness, no ego, just Gojo. “I wanted to see you; is that such a bad thing?”

“You mean, after you were a total dick and we agreed on no contact? Yeah, Gojo, it kind of is.”

The use of his surname burns again, the blow not having been lessened since the first time. “Just let me in, please,” he practically begs. “I want to talk; I’ve missed you.” Satoru hardly recognises himself; he’d never been one to put his heart on the line, to speak so softly to someone though they detested his presence; not that he blamed you.

He can see the lack of trust in your expression, looking away from him when you speak up next. "Look, Gojo, if you’re looking for someone to fuck, I’m not interested. I’m sure there’s someone else you can call.”

You could act cold and stoic all you wanted; Gojo could hear the hurt in your voice and sense your sadness in the words. It sends a wave of guilt through him. You sound so broken, broken because of him. He’d kill someone for using you like that, to think you thought that of him cut deep. But how else could you see him? That’s the narrative that he’d created when he’d falsely convinced you that he saw your blatant relationship as nothing but fuck buddies. He struggled to see how you fell for that—with the way he couldn’t go a day without seeing you—and how you’d wake up wrapped in his arms with his lips on your ear, whispering how important you are to him each and every morning.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. That’s not what I’m here for,” he begins, shaking his head and noting the way you look back towards him, a look of vulnerability crossing your features. “I just want to talk; let me in, please. You know, I’m not one to beg, but if you really want me to, I will.”

Your silence speaks volumes, raising a brow at the icy-haired nuisance floors below you. The quiet is broken by a sigh from Gojo, and you watch in both horror and amusement as the six eyes himself gets down on his knees on a dirty sidewalk in the rain. He places his phone on the ground beside him, raising his hands in a praying gesture and looking up at you with the most dramatic set of puppy dog eyes you ever did see.

Gojo sees you disappear, and the call ends, the look on his face contorting to one of defeat. He groans, holding his head in his hands and shaking it. Stupid, he thought, how stupid of him to think you’d hear him out, stupid of him to think you still cared after what he’d done. Mildly embarrassed at his current position, he picks up his phone next to him and places it in his pocket. He’s about to stand when he hears the bell chime from your apartment's intercom, followed by your voice: “Come on up. Doors open.”

Gojo doesn’t need to be told twice; he jumps up and runs through the door like a giddy child on Christmas morning. He doesn’t bother waiting for the elevator, sprinting up multiple flights of stairs, and almost skidding past your door in an attempt to stop himself. Bursting through the door with a stupid lob-sided grin on his face, he opens out his arms and beams, "Honey, I’m home!”

He’s met with you scowling at him from the couch, an unimpressed look on your face while you roll your eyes and emit an exasperated sigh, “Hi Gojo.”

Satoru blows the damp locks from his eyes, clearing his throat and wiping that stupid smile from his face, replacing it with the look of a child who’s been scolded: "Sorry, I uh-hey.” He rubs the back of his head, planting himself on the couch next to you, and feels a tinge (more like an avalanche) of hurt when you scoot a little further away from him.

“Are you going to tell me what you want?” He hears the question, but it hardly registers. Gojo’s captivated by the cute pyjamas you’re wearing, your hair being slightly ruffled from being in bed, the smell of your apartment, and how it feels like home. He comes back to Earth when he hears you say his name impatiently, clearing his throat and then regaining his composure.

“Would it not be enough for me to just say I missed your company?” He asks with a toothy smile, desperately attempting to avoid finally addressing his emotions. Gojo sees the way your shoulders drop in annoyance, shaking your head and crossing your arms. He misses the way you used to look at him, eyes full of adoration and laughter at his goofy jokes. It felt like a million years ago, but not long ago at all. Time had been blurred for Saturo since the demise of your relationship.

“If you don’t start talking in the next five seconds, I’m kicking your ass out.”

“Fuck, fine, okay, shit.” He fumbles with his words, running a hand through his hair and sighing. Smooth talker Satoru was gone; this was uncharted territory for him. Looking at the ground, he scratches at the back of his neck and mumbles out a low, "I, uh, wanted to apologise.”

“Oh really? ”You raise a brow, clearly unconvinced, as you tilt your head towards him, an accusatory squint in your eyes. Gojo clicks his tongue; his half-arsed apology clearly wouldn’t do.

"Yeah, I…well, I,” Searching for the words, he wracks his brain for exactly what to say; he couldn’t exactly just confess his undying love for you. No, Gojo needed to explain what the fuck had happened that night. “I feel really bad about the way things ended, you know? You didn’t deserve that, and I-“

"Well, it’s too late.”

Gojo’s mouth runs dry, his heart lurching into his throat. “What do you mean it’s too late?” Panic consumes him, and he’s unable to hide it from his expression—eyes widening, brows shooting up, and his lip practically quivering. “Is there someone else? Have you got a boyfriend? That’s weird because I’ve been kind of keeping tags on you, and I haven’t heard anything about a new-“

“Gojo, I’m not seeing anyone.” You try to ignore his ramblings and admittance to borderline stalking. “But that’s irrelevant; you hurt me, probably more than any guy has... You know I would’ve expected it from anyone else, but not you.” Your voice breaks a little, fighting the waterworks that are threatening to run down your cheeks. “I guess I thought you were different.”

Gojo’s heart splinters, his grip on the arm of the sofa tightening like a vice. His hands begin to shake, and your television turns to static, his powers only growing stronger under the intense emotions he’s emitting. He looks down at the ground, a look of shame falling over his features as he runs a hand over his face. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

"Well, Gojo, you did. A fucking lot, actually.” You scoff sarcastically, shaking your head in disbelief. He flinches at your words, and you continue with a sigh, “It’s okay that you didn’t love me like I loved you; that isn’t your fault. What was your fault? You were not being truthful with me from the start about what sort of relationship we had.”

“It hurts when you call me Gojo,” is all he can say. He wants to slap himself; why was it so hard for him to tell you the truth? You were pouring your heart out to him, and that was his response? Fuck, he thinks, you’re an asshole, Satoru.

"Well, Gojo, I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s hurt.” You stand, ignoring his worried gaze, as you make your way over to the door. Your backs to him as you exhale exhaustively, if not a little sad. You lean forward, resting your forehead against the door. “You should leave Gojo; I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

You don’t hear him dart up from your sofa, moving inhumanly fast towards you. Gojo’s really panicking now; he has no intention of leaving as he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. Your eyes meet, and it’s as if a current runs between the two of you, ebbing the small gap now separating your bodies. The lights go out in your apartment, and you just know it’s Gojo, with a strange look in his eyes as he struggles to contain both his powers and the strength he’s withholding from his grasp. He cages you against the door, hands planted on either side of your head, and lips dangerously close to yours. Gojo searches your eyes and ushers out a desperate, hurried whisper of your name, followed by, “I love you.”

Everything stills, a thick silence surrounding the two of you. You can’t quite believe your ears, convinced this is some sort of sick joke. “You what?”

Gojo’s eyes go slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he shifts, so he’s holding your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you. I love you so fucking much I can’t stand it. You’re… You’re everything. Please don’t make me leave, please.”

“B..But…” You’re so confused, barely grasping what he’s saying to you. He looks so earnest, his eyes burning into you as he waits for a reply, but how can you trust him? His slender fingers softly rub your cheek where he holds you, so gentle and loving that it’s nauseating. “Then why?”

“Why did I do it?” He hums, his voice so low that it sounds distant. There’s a level of nonchalance to his tone; instead, he’s enraptured and hypnotised by the proximity of you both; he’s dazed as he drawls a quiet, “Because you’re weak.” Gojo’s pulled out of his daze by the hurt painting your features as you look away, the way you’ve attempted to jolt away from his touch as if he’s burned you.

“No, no, you don’t understand. Shit, sorry. That came out wrong. I'm not good at this, feelings and shit.” He still hasn’t let go of you; your faces are mere inches from each other; he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Gojo’s an addict for you; drunk off of your presence alone, he’d gone without you for too long, craving you for months. He tilts his head to the side, gently moving your face back towards his and clearing his throat.

“What I mean is that you’re important to me—more important than you could ever imagine. But to bring you into my world would be reckless and foolish; it would be a fucking death sentence. I’m the strongest sorcerer of our generation; no one dares to fuck with me, but you know who they could fuck with to hurt me.” A look of understanding and a little fear come over you, and you let out a shaky breath.

He smiles sadly, “You.”

One of your hands snakes up to his chest, moving softly over the ridges of his muscles beneath the shirt. You can feel the beat of his heart, the erratic thudding matching your own. “Then why are you here?”

He blinks slowly, the hands holding your cheeks gently trailing to hold your jaw so softly that you feel like his most prized possession. “Because I’m selfish. Because I want you despite the consequences.“ Gojo closes the small space separating your faces, licking his lips before his eyes dart to your mouth, entranced by the thought of it against his own again, finally saying, “Because I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

Gojo’s nose brushes against yours, those ocean-like eyes begging you for permission. You couldn’t refuse him now; you never could. The hand resting on his chest snakes up to his shoulder, tugging him ever so slightly to show him and tell him, yes.

A small smile hints at his lips before his mouth touches yours, relief surging through you both at the contact. Gojo holds your face tenderly, kissing you as if you’d break apart before him. He takes his time, gently nibbling at your lips and kissing you almost innocently while his fingers caress your jaw. He hums contentedly, pressing himself into you and craning his neck down to get a better angle. Towering over you, one of his hands trails down to your waist, his soft hands drawing circles on the skin of your stomach.

Gojo savours every touch of your lips against his, flitting his tongue against your lower lip, seeking entrance and sighing when your mouth opens. His tongue dances around yours expertly, tasting you as if you were ambrosia; he was a man starved, savouring every flick of your pink muscle against his.

Gojo deepens the kiss a little, pressing his hips flush against yours. He groans low in his chest when your hands tug at his hair softly, taking your tongue into his mouth and sucking erotically. It sends a wave of pleasure down to your core, and you gasp softly, moaning a soft “Toru.”

You feel Gojo pull away a little, panicking slightly, until you see the look on his face. His eyes are blown wide and glittering in the darkness like stars. His jaw is taut as if he’s grinding his teeth, and his cheekbones are protruding even more than usual. A streetlight outside fizzles and explodes at the same time one of his eyes twitch; he’s breathing heavily, chest heaving.

“Again,” he commands darkly, an air to his tone that personifies his true power; it was as if his voice reverberated around your brain, low and dominating.

It had been far too long since he had heard his name on your sweet lips; the result had his brain short-circuiting. He wanted to hear it again—in your moans, your whispers, and your screams. Gojo feels an ache between his thighs, an insatiable ache that only you can rid him of.

“Toru,” you murmur, looking up at him with your big doe eyes and swollen mouth. A growl festers in his throat, pushing you up against the door and leaning down to nibble at your neck, sucking and biting, leaving his mark.

“Again,” he repeats, his face buried in your skin as he litters your skin with purple marks. Taking his onslaught downwards to your chest, nipping at your collar bones. Gojo’s mind is hazy with you—the need to take you, the need to love you, the need to ruin you, the need to keep you by his side for eternity—or else he swears he’d unleash an untold wrath on this godforsaken planet.

“Toru,” His name leaves your lips again as his lips cascade down, his fingers hooking the hem of your pyjama top so your breasts are free from their confines. He whines at the sight, his hips buckling as you feel his warm, wet mouth around your nipple. Swirling his tongue around the bud, his slender fingers toy with the one unoccupied by his lips, revelling in the throaty gasps that leave you when he tugs teasingly.

“I missed you so much,” Satoru drawls as he slowly gets to his knees. He’s looking up at you with so much adoration, as if you hung the moon from the very sky above the two of you. There’s a softness to his gaze that you’d missed; the formidable six eyes was nothing but ‘Toru’ to you; you hardly understood the Jujutsu world. That’s what made you so special to Gojo; you saw him as human, unaware of how far from that he was.

He tugs down your shorts, watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort. When he’s met with only that needy, eager look in your eyes, he chuckles a little. Your shorts hit the floor, and Gojo licks his lips, a breathy exhale emitting from him. You’re bare before him, and he can hardly contain his excitement to taste you again. His nose nudges the inside of your thigh, planting painfully gentle kisses around the skin. Gojo’s lips worship everywhere but your pussy, teasingly torturing you until you’re whimpering above him. He grins when your hands lace in his hair, attempting and failing to push him closer to your core.

“One more time for me, baby,” Satoru mutters, licking a lewd stripe up your thigh and maintaining direct eye contact with you as he does so. “Say my name.”

“Toru, please,” Your sweet little voice, begging for him, snaps something inside Gojo. His mouth latches on your clit , a strained growl tearing through his chest at the taste of you on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling back, Satoru feeds on you like a man starved, your essence dripping down his chin while he works your pussy like the God he is. Two fingers push inside of you as his tongue stays focused on your bud, your mind in a daze as whimpers and cries leave you.

He curls them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot and having your knees buckle above him. His free hand holds you up effortlessly against the door, as if you were a mere feather in his grasp, while he ravenously feasts between your legs. He’s groaning into you, creating a delicious vibration that has you seeing stars.

“Taste so fucking good.” His voice is muffled, sputtering out amongst your wetness. You can feel it seeping down your thighs, too lost in the pleasure to feel coy as you begin to rut against his mouth. He practically whines, loving the feeling of you humping your cunt against his plump lips.

Gojo knows you’re getting close when he feels you tightening around his fingers, increasing his speed and the pressure with which he’s sucking on your clit. His snowy locks bounce up and down below you at his movements, azure eyes fluttering shut as his full focus is centred on bringing you to your peak.

It doesn’t take long before you're thrown over the edge, crying out something unintelligible, and your body goes slack. Gojo coaxes you through it, his movements slowing but not ceasing as you ride out your high. He bundles you into his arms, and you hardly notice you’re so lost in euphoria, carrying you effortlessly to the bedroom and lying you on the bed below him.

He stands above you, towering over you as he pulls his shirt over his head, a cocky grin on his lips when he sees your eyes practically meld to the shape of hearts. His abdominal muscles are shadowed in the light of the moon; a figure of pure excellence stands before you. He puts those marbled Greek gods to shame, with milky skin melded over a body of pure strength and agility. You wonder if he was crafted by the gods themselves, but that thought quickly disappears when he strips himself of his trousers, your mind going blank when you see the bulge in his boxers.

Gojo smirks, reading your mind. “Nothing on you, babe,” he chimes, ridding himself of his underwear and palming himself, looking down at you hungrily. You pull your top above your head, throwing it to the ground, and sit up on your elbows, parting your legs as a shy smile spreads across your lips.

Carefully, he lies on top of you, a hand coming to stroke at your cheek. “Before I fuck you, I want to make one thing very clear, okay?” You feel his cock rubbing against your cunt, up and down, lubricating himself with your slicks. He bites back a moan at the feeling, swallowing audibly before continuing, “You’re mine now; you’re bound to me. I love you.” He tilts his head, a dangerous look crossing his features. “But I’ve missed this pretty pussy too fucking much, so forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

He slams into you without warning, all the way to the hilt. Throwing back his head and groaning, he lets out an almost maniacal laugh before biting his lip. His gaze returns to you, a maddened look in his eyes as he begins to piston in out of you with inhuman strength. You’re left with no time to accommodate his insanely long cock, a silent scream leaving your lips as ecstasy consumes you. He’s watching you with an open-mouthed, slaw-jacked grin and a feral look to his usually perfect features. Satoru holds you by the waist, effortlessly pulling you to meet each one of his thrusts like you weighed nothing more than a doll. Unabashed moans leave his lips, rutting into you with so much force that the headboard is lodging itself into your bedroom wall.

“Sorry baby, fucking need this so bad.” He groans, pulling one of your thighs to rest on his shoulder and trickling tender kisses down your calf. “Don’t know what I was thinking, shit ah—should've never left you, should’ve never fucking left you. No one turns me on like you do, baby, no one.” Satoru’s rambling, dazed, and brain reduced to mush as he loses himself to his insatiable lust. You’re loving every second, craving what he’s giving you; it’s been too long, too long for a slow and sensuous fuck. No, you needed this; you needed him to show you how much he wanted you.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He coos, his hips somehow moving both faster and harder as he tilts his head down at you like he’s some sort of predator. “Turn me into a fucking animal—fuckkk—I can’t control myself around you, pretty girl.”

“Toruuuu,” You mewl, your back arching off of the bed as your legs begin to shake. He snarls at his name falling from your lips so lewdly, his cock throbbing inside of you. Satoru snakes his hand to your clit, rubbing quick circles onto the bud as his relentless pace doesn’t let up.

"God, you’re so fucking cute.” He practically chokes on his words, feeling his own orgasm grow dangerously close. His tongue flits out to lick his lips before he leans down, his mouth merging with your own filthily, all spit and teeth as he whines into your mouth.

You start tightening around him, and he cries out, shaking his head and groaning into your lips, “Hold on for me, baby; I want you to come with me. I'm so fucking close, just fucking-." Gojo cuts himself off and sits up, hands gripping your hips, while he begins to truly ruin your core. It’s so messy—your slick coating his cock and balls, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. The room smells like sex; the sounds that fill it enough to make a woman of the night blush. “Ah baby, shit shit, that’s it, cum for me, baby, gonna fill you up, yesyesyesyes.”

The two of you reach your peak together, with you crying out his name and Satoru whining above you. His hips stutter as he paints your insides white, rope after rope filling you up. Satoru’s forehead drops to yours, both of you breathing heavily and grasping at each other like your lives depended on it.

After a few moments, Gojo rolls beside you and lies facing you as he peppers your face with kisses. His demeanour completely contradicts the one from a few minutes ago; he’s soft, giddy, and playful. There’s so much love in his gaze, making up for every peck he’s missed out on these last few months as his lips press against every part of your pretty little face.

“Soooo girlfriend,” Gojo chimes after a while of pestering you with his affections, playing with a piece of your hair as a playful smirk paints his features. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[tender-rosiey]

oh em gosh imagine gojo with an s/o who's basically as obsessed and in love with him as he is with us <33 and every1 is just like 😒ugh get a room

back and forth — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: equally being obsessed with each other>>> also check out @novelbear her prompts are out of their world! I used some of the dialogue prompts hehe

you would like to say that you’re immune to satoru’s charms, but then you would be a liar.

sometimes you, sure, can say no, but most of the time you indulge him. he uses his pretty face and even prettier words to get his way. it does reassure you that you have the same effect on him. actually, he can never say no to you.

he once sat with himself to think that maybe he is spoiling you, and he needs to stop, but then you entered the room beaming, smooching his face and asking to go to that one café that opened recently.

satoru’s original plan was to do the paperwork yaga has been yelling to him about, but how can he say no to you? so with a grin, he locked arms with you and the both of you skipped to the café.

so yeah, you’re both so down horrendous for each other and neither of you can deny it.

it’s terrible for everyone around you.

the way the both of you are screaming each other’s name from a mile away and running towards each other like you're in some romance movie. the hug is even more dramatic than the running, somehow.

the balant display of affection makes the students all roll their eyes.

one time, you called satoru from home and you had a call that lasted for an hour or so. eventually, you had to hang up since satoru had a class to teach. however, these goodbyes take even longer than the call itself.

“I love you, ‘toru!”

“I love you, my pretty angel!”

“I love you more, my lovely husband!”

“I love you even more, my divine wifey!”

and it continued like that forever. the students almost lost hope to get any education that day, but satoru finally said, “okay, pretty, I have to go now.”

they beam as they hear your voice replying with a sweet ‘okay!’, but they quickly deflated when satoru relaxed back and said, “but you have to hang up first.”

of course, what followed was a ‘no, you hang up first!’.

one and after another and nobara had enough before snatching satoru’s phone and instead speaking to you, “okay, y/n-sensei, we all love you, but we need this guy to teach us something so bye!”

satoru spent the entire day pouting.

another thing is how the both of you take pictures of the other while they are unaware. at first, you would think there is nothing wrong with it, and there isn’t.

but both of you love to fawn about the other in front of your students or friends.

satoru rambles with the most passionate and energetic fangirling ever to nanami, an audience that’s about to jump off a building, and you, who refuses to believe his beauty, ramble to shoko who’s about to finish 4 packs of cigarettes.

in general, satoru is a lot more brazen with his show of affection. for example, the way he shamelessly stares at you like he is memorizing your every feature.

sometimes, his hands wander to your face to gently caress it, then his lips follow, pressing a peck to every part of your face, drawing constellations of love. he then pulls back with a smile, “you’re really pretty, y’know?”

he always says what’s on his mind, and he is the type of lover to help you challenge your limits. he pays the people around him no mind as he pulls you in the rain with a grin, saying, “come on, dance with me!”

and you do your best. you’re both clumsy in your steps and you’re swaying more than dancing. satoru’s infinity is off and you’re both soaked.

still, satoru thinks you’ve never looked prettier, and you think his eyes never shone brighter.

there are times when words escape you before you think about them like that one time satoru was in a mini rush to go on a mission and forgot to give you a goodbye kiss. before he dashed out the door, you held him by the shirt and frowned, “my kiss?”

despite his blindfold, shock was evident on his face. he recovered quickly though. with a chuckle, he murmured a soft, “right sorry, wifey,” and kissed you passionately. he pulled back slightly, “am I forgiven?”

you nodded lightly and kissed his cheek, “yup; now go, mister strongest sorcerer.”

“I prefer my lovely husband, but that will do as well.”

he likes to tease you too. it’s in his nature, something he does with everyone he knows. of course, there is some teasing reserved especially for you.

satoru also loves hearing you sing his praises or verbalize your love for him. like that one time you were going on a mission and murmured an ‘I love you’ to his lips, but he quickly stopped you and said, “what did you say, pretty?”

you looked at him confused, “I said I love you,” you poke his cheek, “you heard me.”

he laughed, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your neck, “I know; I just wanted you to say it again.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you cupped his face, pulled him down, and started smothering him with kisses. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you,” then the other one, “I adore you,” his forehead, “I am infatuated with you,” his eyelids, “I can’t imagine a day without you.”

a big wide grin was plastered on satoru’s face and his cheeks were painted a very faint hue of red. you chuckled at his expression, “was that enough?”

he enveloped you in a big hug, resting his face on yours, “one more time, please?”

for you, you see satoru in a several things in your daily life. you see him in the blue sky above you. you see him in the glass of the bakery you pass by. you see him in the white cat that always walks by your side near the school.

you also hear him in the some of the songs you listen to, and you don’t hesitate to let him know.

one time when you were stargazing on the roofs of the school, playing your playlist since the time before it was satoru’s turn. a specific song started playing and it made you smile, before you spoke up, “y’know, satoru.”

he hums and you continue, “this song reminds me of you.”

you don’t hear a response, so you turn to look at him, “it’s actually one of my favori—satoru? satoru, are you tearing up?!” you laugh, leaning close to him, and he looks away.

“nope!”

behind closed doors, and with great distances separating the both of you, you never fail to call the other to feel their presence even through a phone. it’s practically a ritual for you and satoru to video call whenever one is out on a mission.

you can talk for hours and hours on end or relish in the silence, comforted by the fact that you can see each other.

satoru always insists on them, saying that he sleeps better when he see you. you share the same sentiment, so there’s no surprise that you both always fall asleep on call.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. short and saucy and possessive. breasts are mentioned. divider by @cafekitsune

“I could do it, you know?”

Long fingers sink into your skin, the ghost of his breath fanning over your ear, holding you against him. He’s far cleaner than the mission he just returned from was, Infinity keeping him so pristine he didn’t even need a shower prior to climbing on top of and rucking your shirt up over your breasts. Eyes and hands rove, a conqueror, a champion driven to prove his dominion.

“I could keep you here forever. This bed, this place,” he groans, the friction of your lips against his enough to nearly drive him crazy. “Make it so you could never leave me. My pretty baby here, forever.”

The rambling creates a storm inside of you that you’ve been desperately trying to avoid giving into, warmth descending from your cheeks to your chest and below. Your limbs feel heavy and warm; your head would drop if he weren’t holding it up.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right where I belong,” you assure though he uses his weight to pin you beneath him. You cannot move, every bit the defanged and spoiled woman some have accused you of being while tucked beneath him. Every one of his big limbs envelopes and covers you, gently smothering you in his scent and the weight of his affection.

You lay there, smiling softly. This is his effect on you. He could do anything and you’d willingly allow it.

This is the danger of loving a force of nature.

“Satoru.”

It isn’t a warning or a pleasured whimper yet the simple utterance of his name from your lips causes him to grind his clothed bulge against your thigh. Reaching up to cup his face, you crane your neck as far as possible to kiss him.

“I missed you.”

There’s a void inside of Satoru Gojo and he knows the only one who can ever fill it is you. So he takes his fill, licking into your mouth and using his grip on your head to tilt it backward and forward to suit him.

“I missed you most,” he gets the last word as always, still lazily grinding his cock across your thigh. You whimper beneath him, burying your fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck, each of you in control of the other in even the subtlest of ways.

Your moans are sustenance he accepts gratefully, the groans spilling from him are sputtered and sharply breathed, his greed for you stronger than his need to express himself. He loses himself in you, this room, the desire to ensure there is never any space between the two of you.

It’s enough for now, at least.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡A Sky Full of Stars♡

♡ Pairing: idol!dad!hongjoong x fem!mom!reader

♡ Genre: the fluffiest of fluff

♡ Summary: Just some sweet moments you share with Hongjoong when you and your daughter surprise him after their Coachella set.

♡ Word Count: 1.4k

♡ Warnings: If there's any warning it's that your kid has a name. I know some people don't like that. She's named after an artist Joong likes who I think has a pretty name so that's all babes.

♡ A/N: I set out to make this super fluffy summer road/beach trip fic with Joong but I sat down to write and this is what came out instead so I present to you some post-concert fluff and I hope it gives you all the sweet feelings it gave me writing it.

This can’t be real.

It’s all Hongjoong keeps repeating in his head as he steps off of the Sahara stage at Coachella. His ears are ringing, his heart’s beating out of his chest, his throat’s on fire, and he’d walk right back on that stage to keep going if he could.

It seems like only yesterday his group was fighting to debut; now they’re here, performing on a stage some artists can only dream of stepping foot on. The joy on his member’s faces. The sound of their fans screaming for them. It’s a special kind of magic he wishes he could bottle up and keep somewhere safe to treasure forever.

“Captain!” Wooyoung cheers, throwing an arm around him, “We did good?” Hongjoong looks around to see his members staring at him, his approval all that matters in the sea of praise thrown at them by staff. Hongjoong nods, wiping his face with a towel, “We did good!” Smiles perk up their exhausted faces as they drag themselves down the steps leading to the backstage area.

Stepping onto the grass, Hongjoong stares up at the infinity pool of stars that is the California sky. Just when he feels himself begin to float away, a faint tugging at his pants keeps his feet on the ground. It’s so faint that he almost questions if he felt it at all until Yeosang lays a hand on his shoulder letting him know, “You have company.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes dance their way down his leg to find a smaller nearly identical set of eyes staring up at him. All he’d done not to cry is for nothing when he sees the chubby glitter speckled cheeks of his little 2 year old smiling at the sight of him. “Olivia…” he gasps, scooping her into his arms, “What are you doing here?”

The other members gather around like moths to a flame. Of any fan they’ve ever had their niece will always be their favorite. Mingi squats down to eye level with her, pinching her cheek, “Hi, Oli. Uncle’s here.” “Oh look at these” San coos, playing with the two ponytails sat atop her tiny head, “So cute.”

Hongjoong holds her close to his heart, shaking the tears from his eyes. “Daddy cry?” she asks, touching his cheek. Hongjoong smiles, choosing to dodge the question rather than lie, “Um, where’s your mo—” “Here!” you say, hugging him from behind. You had every intention of announcing yourself to begin with but the happiness on his face seeing Oli was too adorable to interrupt.

That same happiness plays on repeat when he feels your arms around his waist. You weren’t supposed to be here. Your flight had been delayed twice and the baby was beginning to get fussy. Hongjoong had insisted you just stay home and watch the livestream. Just knowing you were watching would be enough for him but that’d never be enough for you. If you had to grow wings to fly yourself here you’d have done it to be by his side.

Not satisfied with simply knowing you’re there, Hongjoong reaches his free arm back to pull you around to his side. Time slows when he looks at you this way—like you’re one of the most precious things on this Earth. You’re one of two really, the other’s bouncing in his other arm with her fingers scrunched around his collar.

“Hey you” you beam, wiping a few rogue tears from his face. Hongjoong kisses you, soft lips pressed to yours in what has to be the sweetest, saltiest kiss you’ve ever shared. You don’t care how sweaty he is, only that you’re together. “Hey you” he smiles, his eyes narrowing slightly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” You shrug, playing it cute so he doesn’t kill you, “I wanted it to be a surprise.” Give him a heads up so he has ample time to play it tough? Never.

“Ahem,” Seonghwa interrupts, “Does that mean you were watching and saw…everything?” The guys look at each other, suddenly mortified at their onstage antics. “Oh, for sure. We saw everything. She’s gonna be an alcoholic now” you tease just to watch their heart’s sink. Hongjoong shakes his head at them, “Shame on you. For the record, my cup was water.” 

Jongho throws Hongjoong some vicious side eye, “Water, right. Oli, your daddy’s a liar.” “Daddy liar” Oli repeats with a giggle. You dip your head down to hide your own laughter as the guys hit an equally amused Jongho with their towels. Seonghwa casually swipes the baby away from Hongjoong to teach her how to throw a few hits. Hongjoong chases them down as if he’ll never see her again, “Be careful!”

“Joong, she’s fine!” you shout after him, “As long as Hwa has her…oh, no…Mingi unhand my child!” 

“Goodnight stars and goodnight air” Hongjoong reads, flipping the final page of a children’s book, “Goodnight noises everywhere.” He closes the book and Oli cheers, flipping it over for him to read again. Propped up in his lap as he longues in a barely comfortable hotel chair, it’s clear her miniature lids are growing heavy.

“Honey, it’s late. No more Goodnight Moon. Bedtime, okay?” His voice is stern, he means business, but so does she. Oli flips the book open, her hand rubbing the first page. Her bottom lip pokes out and he knows he can’t say no to her. “Fine but one more time and then bed.”

You emerge from the shower in time to hear the story start back up again. “In the great green room…” Hongjoong starts in his bedtime story voice. You move quietly around the room, listening to the story for what’s the 1000th time for you too. As you do, you steal glimpses of them holding hands, turning the pages of the book together. Hongjoong pauses to let Oli read or poke around the pages marveling at the illustrations.

“Is bunny?” she asks, pointing to a figure sitting in a rocking chair. “That is a bunny” he cheers softly, poking his two front teeth out to mimic a rabbit. Oli copies him—it’s sorta her thing these days—making you laugh so hard you snort. “Are you laughing at me?” Hongjoong jokes, his mouth still in perfect bunny formation. It only makes you laugh harder. Your two little bunnies, twins in every way they can be. Especially in their silliness.

You approach the them, planting a kiss on both of their foreheads, “You guys are adorable.” Hongjoong leans his head back, allowing it to rest in the palm of your hand. “You are too. So adorable” he yawns, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. A blink and you miss it moment of silence passes before he speaks again.

“Did I do okay, today?” he asks, his tone more serious now, “I don’t want to…I can’t let everyone down.” “God, no. You were amazing. Look at me” you demand, cradling the sides of his face to keep his anxious gaze from drifting. “You. Were. Amazing” you repeat, “Your fans are so proud of you and your members they love you. And that little bunny down there, she loves you.”

Hongjoong looks at Oli who’s fallen fast asleep against his chest, her hand still in his. “We both love you and you fucking killed it. If anyone says any different I’ll kick their ass” you promise and you mean it. “What’d I ever do to deserve you two?” he asks, kissing your inner wrists. You lean in close to him, your lips hovering just above his, “Exist. That’s all you ever have to do, you know?”

Your lips part to meet his and he welcomes them, sipping down feelings there are no words for and pouring the same into you. “I love you” he whispers and you smile. “I love you too.” Easing the book from between them with mom-like precision, you throw a pillow on the floor and take a seat by Hongjoong’s feet. You open the book and begin to read, not to Oli but to him.

Finally relaxing into the chair, he strokes your hair and listens to the sweet sound of your voice. He balances Oli on his lap, his delicate little gem who treats him like the sun rises and sets in his eyes. He’d long ago sworn that he didn’t think he’d ever have everything. What a frighteningly beautiful realization it is that he finally does.

[beautouslysandy]

a pretty little valentines for you and me

by: sandy

dallas winston x gn!reader

word count: 380 words

warnings: mushy, lowercase intended, lovey-dovey things, super short, basically just love in one big bucket :)

a/n 💌: i am back!!!! this is super late but a fellow fanfic author invited me to write a fanfic for valentines but um..your girl kinda forgot. so here it is! enjoy! sorry its so short, i am trying to get back into writing! i hope y'all like this, its been a hot minute since i have written fanfic!

----------------------------------------------------------

"so, do you like it doll?" dallas asks nervously, he is rarely nervous

you and dallas were currently at y'all's favorite diner. in y'all's booth. dallas had just given you a promise ring. you were shocked. you didn't think that the dallas winston would be into this kind of thing.

you look up at him and nod, smiling. your eyes are a bit watery, you think its just from the overflow of emotions you have felt all day.

this had been the best valentines day ever.

"i really like it, babe," you say smiling then you glance back at the promise ring on your left middle finger. its an infinity sign ring and it fits you perfectly.

"its my promise to...." dallas began, he cleared his throat and his face grew red ever so slightly, then he proceeded to look down. he mumbled. "you know love you forever or whatever, doll."

you were grinning from ear to ear now, partly because of how sweet the gesture was but also because you knew that meant a lot coming from him.

"i love you more." you joke

dallas looks at you with his goofy grin you have grown so fond of.

"no way in hell is that possible doll." dallas says chuckling

the waiter finally brought your food to y'all, you had been waiting thirty-five minutes. far too long for a local town diner.

"what took so damn long?" dallas said to the waiter, returning to his old self and not the lovey dovey mess he was only a minute ago.

"sorry, the kitchen is really backed up." the waiter says handing us our food.

"sure it is, this place is packed." dallas says sarcastically as he bites into his burger. you hold down a laugh, as you didn't want to embarrass the waiter further.

the diner was empty besides the normal 8 o'clock crowd, which was just a few young adults and old people.

the waiter walks away, and you start laughing, you catch dallas looking at you with seemingly stars in his eyes.

"what?" you ask, your laugh dying down

"nothing, doll" he says smirking then goes back to eating

"happy valentines" you say grinning

"happy valentines, doll" dallas says and he bends over the table and kiss you softly

p.s. sorry i am so late to this @rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me

[froggybells]

Sign of the Times (2)

part 1 —> here!!

Kyojuro Rengoku x wife!reader

a/n: guys i am so sorry i am so angsty lately and harry styles is also just stuck in my brain!!!! there is a spoiler warning in place and this chapter is a bit short. idk if a part 3 is needed but ive been thinking about this 😭😭😭

word count: <800

we can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here

The infinity castle was, well, infinite.

The stories passed down within your family really didn’t depict the magnitude of the situation.

Going into this battle, you had one thing in mind. Well, two things. Your son, who was nestled safely in the company of the former Flame Hashira. The old man grew into an amazing grandfather, after realizing the mistakes he made with his own children.

The other thought was of your husband.

‘What would Kyo say if he were here?’

In all honesty, you wanted nothing more to go home to your son. A living reminder of the beautiful life you once had.

So as you lay on the floor of the Infinity Castle after defeating Muzan, you look up to the ceiling.

You’re sure you can hear Tanjiro calling your name, or maybe it’s Giyuu? Definitely not Sanemi, as you two constantly clash. Then again, you have been getting along lately-

Your thoughts are stopped once you see a figure hovering over you.

The unmistakable yellow-red eyes and corresponding hair.

You blink once, twice, and a third time, yet he is still there.

Surely, you must be dead? Why else would he be here?

“K-Kyo?” You say as you sit up. You look around at the battlefield before you. Destruction is the best way to describe it. Observing the people in the distance who seem to be frozen in time, you turn your head back to your husband, standing there in all his glory.

“Kyojuro? Is this death?”

The man let out a hearty laugh. “No my dear, I’m afraid you aren’t ready for that yet!” You couldn’t stop the tears as they started flowing.

“I want to be ready! I want to be with you again!” Broken sobs come out of your mouth. “I know it’s selfish! I know our son is at home waiting for me! I don’t think I can do it without you, Kyojuro! I-I’m struggling so much and I need you to come back to me! Please come back to me!”

The man kneels forward, and gently places a calloused hand on your cheek. “My gorgeous flame. I understand what you are thinking. Your eyes meet, and for a fleeting moment, everything else seems to vanish. You lean into his hand and savor his warm touch, feeling as if he were really there with you.

“I’m so scared, Kyojuro.”

“Y/N,” you’re shocked by the sudden movement of him pulling you into his chest, “You are the bravest, and strongest fighter that I ever had the pleasure of knowing. You completed our goal, my flame. You kept the fires burning long enough to support your allies. And they are going to need you after this. Our son is going to need you.”

Having your ear up to his chest, you swear you can hear a faint heartbeat. “What about what I need?! You- You left me! Alone!” You began trying to escape his grasp, which only got tighter.

“And I will forever hold that burden, Y/N. It wasn’t an easy decision, but for our son to know his father died protecting others is enough closure for me.”

“Where is my closure?” You say, looking up at your husband. He smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. I needed you to know how proud of you I am. Watching you play with our son and grow as a mother has made me swell with so much pride.” You sniffled into his uniform.

“Y/N. I am so grateful that you are the one to carry on my legacy. You have so much love to give in this world, and I will be waiting for you in the next one.”

Kyojuro finally let go, and stepped away from you.

“Be brave, and be strong. I know you can. And once your time comes, I will be there.”

“Please don’t go yet!” You scream, hand stretching out. He swiftly turns around and pulls your lips to his. His skin is just as warm as you remember it to be, and he rests his forehead on yours.

“It’s time for me to go. But remember my words, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, even if you can’t see me.”

[fandomaddictwut]

Some student at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: Mr. Logan, you’ve been alive for a long time, right?

Logan: Sure, kid. Since sometime in the early 1800’s. Why?

Student: Is there anything you miss from back then? Not like a person, y’know; we all miss people. But something you thought was gonna be around forever, or at least a long time, and it just isn’t now.

Logan:…what?

Student: Y’know, like a place or an animal or something. Maybe a food or a kind of transportation or a style of clothes or whatever. What’s something you miss from the past that’s not an individual person?

Logan: Oh my god. I…never really thought about that.

Logan: Um…passenger pigeons were pretty cool, I guess. I liked steam trains. Not great for the environment, but they were pretty neat. Also, old-school bananas tasted way better than whatever tf passes for bananas now. And Yellowstone before cars was…indescribably beautiful. And hand-knit socks and mittens? So comfy, but I don’t know anyone who does that anymore.

Student: Aw, shit. There was so much cool stuff. And it’s all, like, gone now. :(

Logan: Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to be a downer. Just…the world’s a lot different now. Not bad; just…different.

Student: …Yeah. I mean, healthcare is way better now, so I’m glad I live in the present. But that stuff…I’m sorry I missed it.

Cut to that student learning how to knit/sew/handicraft and making Logan and the other teachers and students handmade gifts. They’re not really good at first, but they get better and more intricate as the years go on.

Logan gets a pair of gloves with little button holes made for his claws to go through without ruining them. Storm gets a beautiful lacework shawl. Charles gets so many hats with pompoms and wears them with pride. Jean loves her infinity scarf, and Scott is so ecstatic over his little fair isle patterned earmuffs. Remy gets a playing card themed cropped sweater, and Rogue squeals with delight when she gets the softest, most beautiful pair of gloves she’s ever seen. And everyone gets custom hand-knit socks, even Kurt (that’s when the student first got into pattern creation: not a lot of two-toed sock knitting patterns out there, so they made their own).

Idk, just…fluffy x-men learning cool stuff about the past and keeping it alive in the present, just because.

[adhdduckie]

from the outside. teen!g.s. x reader.

my masterlist

irl mutuals dni

music choice; yo bro wtf

word count: 1.5k

synopsis; your best friend gojo and you through the eyes of shoko and getou.

warnings; not proof read.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i. geto suguru, gojo's other best friend.

gojo and getou's relationship was a strange one. they had been friends as soon as they joined jujutsu tech high. In the years that they had known one another, they had grown to read each other like a book they had known forever.

ever since riko's death, things have been hard for the both of them. the elders force gojo to work more, and getou is left mostly alone. you're there sometimes to help him if he needs it, and sometimes he thinks it's the only thing that's keeping him sane.

The four of you are standing outside the halls, while gojo shows you his limitless technique for the first time. it's impressive, to say the least. The rubber thrown at him by shoko bounces off his head, and the pencil stops moving, it doesn't get close enough to him to hurt him.

a couple of weeks later, getou notices that gojo has it on all the time. there is not a moment in the day where gojo doesn't have infinity on. walking through the rain as a group, gojo's the only one that doesn't get wet at all. You're soaking, regardless of having been under a large umbrella.

gojo nudges and laughs at you, but no matter how many times you push him away from underneath the umbrella, he doesn't get wet, and you groan in irritation.

a couple days later, getou's at the vending machines, buying a couple cans of soft drinks for all of you. You, gojo and shoko are sitting around a table, gojo facing away from getou. getou walks up behind, with the cans in hand, attempting to press the cold can to gojo's cheek like he used to do.

but he realises he can't. his hand doesn't pass through the limitless barrier, and instead of saying something, he just sets the can down in front of gojo, as he says something stupid to change the topic. you all see how tired gojo is sometimes, but he takes on all of the jobs he's given, cuz after all, he's the strongest, right?

shoko is unable to touch him, too. a couple days later after the incident with getou, she tries to swat at him after gojo steals a fry off his plate when you're all sitting in the KFC booths. like getou, she can't touch him.

after KFC, you all head to the arcade. it's a rare day where you are all free, so you gotta make the most of it. getou and shoko are staring at some basketball game, and after awhile, they decide to play it.

you're staring at some cute little plushy inside the claw machine. it's a scam, you know. but that little white cat with the black sunglasses reminds you too much of a certain someone, and if you can't have him, you'll take the cat.

since claw games are a total scam, you spend three tokens trying to get that little cat, which you've mentally dubbed as mini 'toru, and when those three tokens are wasted, you sigh, pushing away from the machine and go find something else to do.

unbeknownst to you, satoru has been watching the entire time, and while you're prancing on the dance dance revolution with shoko, he gets it for you. getou watches, not commenting on anything at all, just smirking as he watches from afar.

he walks up to you, while you beat shoko's ass by a substantial amount. he taps your shoulder, and when you spin around, your face breaks out into a wild grin. completely forgetting about the game, you jump, throwing your arms around gojo.

getou flinches in preparation, fully expecting you to slam face first into the impossible barrier. but when he doesn't hear the sound of you getting hurt, he opens his eyes, not really noticing when they fluttered shut.

the sight that meets his eyes is astounding. your arms are wrapped around gojo's neck, and you're grinning at him happily. gojo's got his arms wrapped around you to stop you from falling.

getou hears a gag behind him, and turns around to see shoko being dramatic, gagging at the lovey dovey sight. they catch each others' eyes, and grin at each other, knowing that something more might just blossom between you and gojo, as his infinity was not on around you. i mean, getou's slightly hurt that it's on around him, but he's more excited than anything.

ii. shoko ieiri, your own best friend.

it's been a long, exhausting week. actually, it felt more like a year. you've spent ages doing paper work and killing curses, spent hours inside the infirmary. you've barely seen gojo all week, and you bitch and moan about being busy next to shoko as she patches you up.

"shut up." she tells you, pulling a wrap tightly together, as you let out a soft hiss.

you glare at her, before a notification pings on your phone. shoko watches as your face lights up immediately when you see who sends you the message, and much to shoko's joy, you shut up.

curious to know who it is, she leans over your shoulder, gently pushing your face to see better. she rolls her eyes, noticing satoru's name and profile pic popping up, and she turns around, going back to wrapping you up.

it's an invitation to watch a movie with him, to have your weekly movie marathon. you send a quick, speedy reply, agreeing to meet him, simply stating that you'll grab the snacks and drinks and meet him in a hour.

shoko rolls her eyes again, watching as you stumble quickly off the table, grabbing your stuff, while she yells after you to be careful, and that she hasn't even finished.

"i'll be fine!" you yell back at her. she sighs, shaking her head, glancing back to her monitor, a photo of the four of you up in the background. even in the photo, you're looking at gojo.

in the image, he's staring at the camera, but your eyes are trained on him, a smile on your lips. getou and shoko are laughing, and you have your arm slung over shoko's arm.

she sighs again, stretching her neck out as she thinks. your love for him is so obvious, it's a wonder satoru hasn't noticed yet. she sits up straight again, getting back to her work.

the hours go by quickly as she fills out paperwork. it's dark by the time she finishes, way past midnight. all she can hear is crickets chirping, and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

she stands from her chair, stretching out her long arms, cracking her back. she walks through the school's halls, reminiscing about her past.

at the end of the hall, where the common room is, there's a harsh glow of a light, the tv still playing. shoko walks closer, expecting either you or satoru to have forgotten to switch off the tv when you went to bed.

she's surprised to find you both still there, as she stands in the doorway. from her position, she can only see the back of the couch, yours and gojo's head. as she quietly stalks closer, to remind you to go to bed early, especially after being hurt.

as she walks closer, she sees the food you went and bought still spread around the table, an open box of cheese pizza, several bags of chips, and three boxes of satoru's favourite kikifuku you somehow managed to get despite his favourite store being an hour away.

as her eyes drag over the mess in front of her, mostly satoru's, you would say if you were awake, since there's popcorn all over the couch and on the floor, she notices the spots you and satoru are in.

she slaps her hand over her mouth, forcing the laugh down. the two of you are cuddled close together, like satoru and you can't even bear to be apart while asleep, or as if, while sleeping, there was something pulling you together.

satoru's legs are tangled with yours, his arm over your shoulder, your face hidden in the crook of his neck. she smiles again, pulling her phone out and snapping photos for you, since she knows you'd love having them.

as she tucks her phone away, and switches off the tv, as to not disturb your peaceful sleep, she sees a small movement in the corner of her eye. when she looks, the movement immediately stops, but she sees a smile curve across satoru's lips.

ah. he's been awake this entire time. his eyes flutter open, and they make eye contact. satoru pulls up the hand that's not wrapped around you, and brings a finger to his lips, shushing shoko.

she laughs, shaking her head. the little shit. she bets he's planned this entire thing out. she turns on her heel, walking back to her own room, quickly sending the photos to both you and satoru, and sending another to getou. his response is immediate.

'how much longer do you think this will last?' getou wagers in his text

'not much more pining, i think. it's about time, i believe.' shoko states.

she's right. it's not long before you finally get together, and getou and shoko heave a sigh of relief.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Does aeon of dreams reader has emanators? I think someone inspired by the sandman myth would be pretty cool

AEON OF DREAMS! READER HEADCANNONS

Yes! Their worshippers in general are called Dreamers or Those that Enter the Majesty’s Domain.

Their missionaries/emanators are called Sleepwalkers. Their churches are called Chambers/Domains of Fantasies and the main one is named after their resting place “The Cradle”

Note: It’s important to distinguish between the Sleepwalkers that are completely loyal to Aeon of Dreams! Reader alone and their eternal sleep, to those that believe they should be awoken and also believe in Nanook.

There are also the extremists that force other people into perma sleep called the Heralds of the Sleeping Death. Similar to the Sandman myth but imagine an army of people throwing dust that instantly puts you into a siesta . . . except that early afternoon of yours lasts for an eternity.

There are also like - whole ass denominations that are all just based on a ship with another Aeon.

Yaoshi x Reader ? That’s the Abundant Trance / Trance in Abundance denomination that aside from vehemently shipping the two believe that sleep is the best medicine.

Qilipoth x Reader ? The Preservation of the Fantasy denomination . They believe in cryogenesis to preserve one’s sleeping state to forever dream.

IX x Reader? You think that real life is worthless and just want to sleep forever and indulge the dreams you can actually control? Join the club kid. It’s called the Void in Reality, Infinity in Dormancy.

and ofc Nanook x Reader. Sleepwalkers turned Anti Sleep Legion turned Anti Matter Legion. There are pretty chill ones that just don’t like sleep at all and are interested in ways to keep themselves awake as much as possible. But most of them believe that sleep is a cage they need to help other people to be liberated from.

And those aren’t even the extreme members that are all like “cool imma destroy everything and myself so that my two gods can live happily ever after. im gonna sleep eternally in the afterlife anyways. byeee-“

if people are interested ill edit in all the denominations based on ships lol but for now have those (im specifically hoping to write the erudition/hunt x reader denominations cause those would be interesting imo)

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain.

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre. heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[rewh0re]

OMG WE'RE MATCHING!!

-headcanons of items that you'd match with each other hehe, very fluffy lol, short short short, this is my way of saying that I'd love to match with my babies. REBLOGS + INTERACTIONS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!

-pairings : reo, chigiri, isagi, rin x reader (separate)

╰►REO :

He'd definitely be the type to get a pair of matching rings. They're expensive too, probably from Tiffany and co. or some big brand like that. Reo would buy these gorgeous pair of diamond rings for couples which would make your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. You would chastise him for getting such an expensive item too but all he would say is that it's a sign of commitment. He'd get so confused when you would tell him that you can't wear it daily.

"What? Why?" Reo would ask, a tinge of hurt taking over him filling you with immense sadness.

"Baby these are expensive. I don't wanna lose them by mistake or have someone steal them," you would hold his hand in reassurance.

He'd find a way for that too. The very next day he gets two thin silver chains for the rings. That way you can wear it and have the ring on you daily without losing it!

╰► CHIGIRI :

I think you guys probably saw this coming but Chigiri would definitely get like these hair ties or scrunchies. He'd buy these sets of 2 and would give you one while the other stays with him. You bet he'd always wear the hair tie or scrunchie on his wrist without fail. He would never take it off and if he ever sees you without it, he'd probably frown a little bit asking where the hair tie was. You would also trade them. He would take yours and you would take his whenever you felt like it and he was always open to it. He probably doesn't like sharing his hair items but when it comes to you taking his hair tie, he'd gladly give it to you and take yours too. Oh he would also try out hairstyles on you and tie your hair with his gift. So sweet.

╰► ISAGI :

Isagi is a bracelet guy. He had bought this simple bracelet with an infinity charm for the both of you before joining blue lock as a parting gift. He would never take it off and neither would you because it was the only reminder you both had of each other. Coming out of blue lock, his popularity hit a surge. His strength as a footballer increased ten folds, he changed a lot overall. However, what still remained was the bracelet he'd got for the two of you. Seeing the little accessory, you knew he had and always would be your Isagi. Later, when he's even more popular, on covers of magazines as a star football player and a lot richer than he was years ago, he gets a more luxe bracelet. Don't get me wrong, he still wears the little infinity charm one but he gets the pair of you, two new golden bracelets with little embellishments of precious gems as you both are settling down. So now both of your wrists have not one but two bracelets as a sign of forever!

╰►RIN :

In his case, you would be the one getting something. Probably like a set of matching t-shirts, and I am talking about those t-shirts that had ‘I LOVE MY S/O’ or ‘IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO THEM’ ‘I AM THEM’ printed on them in bold. You had the most mischievous grin plastered on your face as he opened the packaging to find two absolutely hideous choices of garments (he would frame it like that, not me). However with a bit of whining and a little bit of bringing out your inner theatrics would finally lead him to wear the t-shirts. He would mostly wear it at home whenever you would wear your one. However, recent paparazzi pictures of him showed him wearing that specific t-shirt paired with some jeans and shades, a cup of coffee in his hand. When it reached you through the power of the internet, it sent you hollering. There were memes being posted every second and you lost no opportunity to troll your boyfriend. Rin would be so embarrassed but hey as long as you were entertained right?

[catboyieejeno]

"Let him look,"

pairings: bf! yuta x afab! reader summary: The boys invite you and Yuta on a trip for Mark's birthday, but when Jaehyun makes a few too many plays at you, Yuta reminds you that you belong to him. contents: established relationship, pining, slight fluff, angst, jealous sex, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, praising/praise kink, switch! yuta (i know, what a surprise, but trust me on this), minors dni count: 6.6k

"What do you think? Black or Red?" You hold up your two options for swim wear, dangling the pieces on either one of your index fingers.

Yuta looks up from his phone and at you, immediately locking it and putting it aside, suddenly very interested in the topic of your debate. He squints his eyes and furrows his brow in thought, trying to picture your body in each one. Although he has a crystal clear image in his mind paired with his choice of preference, he instead huffs, opting for a cheeky response.

"I don't know, I think you'll have to try them on," he smirks with a shrug.

"First of all, you've seen me in both of these," you scoff, giving him a playful glare as your hands fall to your hips, "and second of all, we're already running late. You're not even ready, and at this point, we'll get there after Mark does,"

Last week, a few of the boys invited the two of you on a weekend-long trip to the coast for Mark's birthday. Since they were on break from schedules and practices for the next two months, this would be the perfect getaway trip to celebrate their much needed hiatus and their friend's birthday, all in one.

Mark is one of the members you are closest to; In fact, he’s the one that introduced you to Yuta and the rest of the guys. Naturally, Johnny insisted that you had to go with them and accompany Yuta.

The two of you have your own room with an infinity pool and deck awaiting your arrival.

It had been forever since the two of you had gone on a vacation alone, with all the promotions the group had to do recently, and the mere thought had been giving you butterflies ever since the plan came to be. Sure, you have Yuta all to yourself often, for days at a time, but to have him alone in a luxurious hotel room has your mind spinning.

“Fine,” he sighs, sliding to the edge of the bed, hands pulling you in at your waist. His mouth connects to the skin of your stomach, exposed under the brim of the short top you’re wearing, while his eyes looked up at yours the whole time, “wear the black one,” he mumbles between kisses, “makes you look sexier.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you run a hand through his long hair, sighing audibly. “Finish packing,” you insist.

Yuta rolls his eyes but obliges nonetheless, getting up to put the last of his clothes and toiletries in his bag. Johnny had let you both know he’d be there in the next 20 minutes, but the by the look of your bedroom and the mess of clothes that scattered every surface, he might just leave you two behind.

You and Yuta pack quickly and quietly, other than the one or two times you remind each other to take something you otherwise might’ve forgotten. When all your bags are zipped up and waiting with their owners by the door, a honk from outside paired with two or three texts to Yuta’s phone let you know your ride is here.

It’s a warm day outside, your favorite kind of day. Suddenly feeling excited, you get in the car while Yuta accommodates your belongings in the trunk. Biding hello to everyone and rambling about how highly you were anticipating the trip, you take your seat in the middle next to your boyfriend and beside Haechan.

Jaehyun sits at the passenger side, arguing with Johnny, who is driving, the whole way to the resort about which turn to make or what street to go down. Initially, it's rather amusing to watch them quarrel, but around the third time that Johnny takes the wrong exit, all of you realize you might actually never get to your destination.

This back and forth between the boys lasts until Haechan urges that they pull over, letting him direct instead, having grown far too annoyed with the bickering.

“Taeyong, Jungwoo, Doyoung, Taeil and Mark will have all turned 40 by the time we get there if we’re going at this pace,” Haechan snaps, tapping Jaehyun’s shoulder, “switch with me.”

Johnny laughs, turning the wheel and parking the car on the side of the road. There, the two boys switch, Jaehyun taking Haechan’s old spot beside you. As he sits, he offers you a warm, dimpled smile.

—

After a much smoother navigation (thank you, Haechan), the five of you manage to make it to the hotel, somehow beating the other boys which earns your group time to set up and settle in.

Everyone splits into their rooms, agreeing to meet up by the private pool after dropping off all the luggage and changing, at which time Mark would have arrived and the birthday shenanigans could commence.

The hotel is large, walls painted in a bone color with a blue trim. It’s clean and filled with plants and fountains, giving the impression of an outdoor space.

Yuta leads you through the lobby and up into your suite by the hand, tapping in the key card. As soon as the door shuts with a click, he drops the stuff on the bed and turns around to face you.

“Come ‘ere” he whispers, opening his arms.

You tilt your head defiantly and walk over to him at a torturously slow pace, which you know well enough that Yuta has no patience for. It takes him no more than a second before he reaches out for you and pulls you close until the two of you are chest to chest. His lips press against yours, gently at first, hands finding their way to your hair, then down your arms until they happily situate themselves at your hips.

The kiss quickly becomes a little more feverish, eager. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep steady, unable to resist mewling into his mouth as he breaths into yours.

"Mmph, baby," you mumble against his lips, "We have to-"

"I know, I know," he nods, pulling away for a second to look at your face, "But we're on vacation," he reminds you, "Mark isn't here yet, we can spare a few minutes,"

Deciding he's right, you use one hand to push him back and onto the edge of the king-sized bed, taking a seat on his lap. He grins at the prospect of you finally giving in, and leans back momentarily to look you up and down. He takes in your figure as if he’s never seen it before.

A groan rumbles in his throat at the sight of your breasts that sit tightly underneath the material of your shirt and he desperately dives for your neck, leaving slow, wet kisses along your sensitive skin. He stalls there for a moment, then trails his lips to your shoulder blades and back down toward your chest. His hands slide up your stomach and under your shirt until they each grab one of your boobs.

"I can't believe I have you all to myself in this huge room. God," he pauses, "the things I'm gonna do to you,"

You smirk, but it doesn't distract him from catching the redness that appears on your face at the direct nature of his statement.

Immediately, his pants feel significantly tighter; Yuta knows how bold and shamelessly needy you are in bed, never afraid to tell him how good he makes you feel or what you want him to do next. Nevertheless, it is always a turn on for him to see you crumble at just his words.

Reaching a hand up to hold his jaw, you bring his face closer to yours and your lips make contact again. He hums against your mouth, bucking his hips up subconsciously. In response, you roll your own down to meet him halfway, relishing in the much needed friction between your legs. The smacking sound of your open mouthed kisses and the panting that came with it were the only sounds in the room, with the exception of a few moans that couldn't be suppressed by either of you.

Until now; a knock on the door makes the two of you break apart, a very annoyed expression replacing the previously lustful one on your boyfriend's face.

"What?" He calls.

"Mark's here, Taeyong just told me they're parking," Johnny responds, voice slightly muffled behind the door.

You and Yuta look at each other and you laugh at his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Alright, going!” he grumbles.

"We'll continue this later, baby boy," you move to get off of him, but not without letting your hand brush along his semi-hard crotch, "you’re lucky those swim trunks are loose,"

"Very funny," He scoffs, pressing a light smack to your ass as you turn around and head for your bag, pulling out the black bikini he had picked out for you at home.

You begin to slide off your shorts, taking your precious time since you know he's still watching. Through the reflection of the mirror, your vision follows his right hand as it squeezes his clothed dick, lip caught between his teeth and eyes narrowed, anticipating your every move. Your shirt is soon discarded too, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments.

Now, you can take your bra off on your own, but it’s just too easy to tease him.

"Help me?" You mumble with a pout, walking over and turning your back to him, letting your left hand brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the clasp of your bra to him. As if that wasn’t enough, you sit between his legs, pressing the curve of your ass right on his lap, making him grunt.

He easily undoes your bra, fighting the urge to flip you over and fuck you right here as he presses your face into the pillows, not caring that everyone else is waiting for the two of you downstairs. But instead, he decides he’d rather wait. If you want to to keep being a tease, that’s fine by him.

He knows you have plenty of self control, but he also knows he has more; and so, he’ll let you continue your little game, knowing that at the end of the night, you’ll be begging and crying for him to fuck you.

Newly encouraged and eager to see his plan play out, Yuta slides out from behind you and walks over to the bathroom, leaving you alone, practically naked in the main room and unable to torture him further. As you huff and slip on your bikini in defeat, Yuta rests his arm against the closed bathroom door, readjusting his bulge so that it’s less visible. He does this only after pumping himself into his hand a few times pretending it was you, unable to resist the vividness of his imagination; however, he quickly stops for two reasons: if he keeps going, he’d be fully hard and unable to hide his erection from his friends. That, and Mark had actually gotten here now, and there was more than just sex planned for this weekend.

When he comes back out, you’re sitting pretty on a chair out in the deck, shades on your eyes, your black bikini hidden under a matching black cover up.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments, a beaming smile appearing on your face as you see him approaching, “Let’s go downstairs, yeah?”

You eagerly nod, and the two of you go downstairs to meet up with the rest of the boys.

The private pool they rented out was full of inflatables and water guns, and you almost forgot you were at an adult’s birthday party until you saw the nearby bar full of drinks of all colors being served by two bartenders.

All of the members are already gathered around the pool. The boys that had ridden in the car with you had already gotten in it seems, an obvious tell being their wet hair that sticks to their foreheads.

Mark, who still seems to be taking in the surprise, gets a bright blue drink shoved in his hand, “Yo, what is all this?”

“Start drinking, birthday boy, you have a long way to go before you catch up to us,” Johnny laughs, turning to face you and Yuta, “You two grab a drink, too, It’s about time you made it down here,”

Mark notices your presence and immediately pulls his drink away from his lips, almost choking in the process, “You came?”

“Of course I came, Mark Lee. You thought I’d miss your birthday?” The boy laughed and gave you a side hug, other hand grabbing Yuta’s to clap him up, “Let me get a drink, I can’t let you sip alone,” you insist.

“I’m gonna go set this down, yeah?” Yuta gestures at the tote bag slung over his shoulder that you packed with sunscreen and towels. You nod in acknowledgement and walk over to the bar where a bright pink drink catches your eye. From his seat on a lounge chair, Yuta takes off his tank top and starts applying sunscreen. To his right is a table where Haechan, Jungwoo and Jaehyun were setting up beer pong.

“You wanna get in with me?” Yuta asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You shake your head.

“I’m not hot enough yet,” you explain, “In a little,”

He nods and leaves one more kiss on your cheek, then disappears behind you and toward the pool.

“We’re gonna play beer pong, you wanna join?” You look up at Jaehyun, debating your options. He furrows his brows at the hesitance on your features, “Come on, I don’t have a partner,”

Sighing in defeat, you hold out a finger at the red solo cups Jungwoo was filling with the fizzy yellow liquid, “Alright, fine. But I don’t like beer. If they score, I’ll sip from my drink,”

“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun smiles, “I’ll drink for you,”

“It’s me and Jungwoo versus you and Jaehyun,” Haechan nods.

“Alright, alright. Give me a second.” Placing your drink down on the table by the rest of your things, you slip off your cover up and sandals, pulling your sunglasses down to your eyes from where they sit on your head. Reclaiming your drink and taking a generous sip, you walk back over.

It’s your turn first. You lean down, lining up the little white ball encased in your fingers with the cups on the other side of the table.

You’re too concentrated on your shot to notice, but Yuta, stood in the fresh, cool water of the pool, had been watching you ever since you took off the sheer cover up. His eyes trail your body, studying the way the impossibly small triangles of fabric hug your breasts and push them together, or the way your ass perks up, thanks to the way you’re arching your back trying to play.

He watches, amused, until he notices one small detail: he isn’t the only one checking you out.

With his hands on his waist, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, Jaehyun’s eyes look you up and down watching as you make your shot and score.

Instantly, Yuta’s jaw clenches tightly, but something Taeyong says momentarily takes his attention off of what he’s witnessing. As soon as he answers his friend though, his eyes are right back on you, warily watching your interaction.

Your ball lands into one of the cups at the front row, earning you a high-five from your partner.

Jaehyun’s turn is next. “Blow on it for good luck,” he whispers, holding the ball up to your lips. You blow softly, breaking into laughter halfway through, “if I make this, it’s all thanks to you,”

“Hurry up and throw it already,” Haechan whines, waving his arm around.

Jaehyun gives you a playful wink and tosses the ball. It lands in a cup.

“Dude, no way you guys are beating us,” you gloat. You rest your elbow on Jaehyun’s shoulder, putting on a cocky look as you watch the boys on the other side grab the cups and down their drinks.

“Yeah, yeah, watch this.” Jungwoo shoots and makes it, but Haechan misses, taking a few seconds to wallow and recover his pride.

You pick up the cup, about to drink the disgusting beer inside, when Jaehyun stops you, taking the solo cup from your hand. “Sip from your drink, I promised you I’d have the beer.”

And so, the game continues: you and Jaehyun score mercilessly, leaving the two other boys trying to negotiate a rule change or argue about who has drank more between the two of them. Before every toss of his ball, Jaehyun would insist you blow on it, claiming you were his good luck charm. This didn’t sit well with Yuta, who had started making his way over to you. There was only one cup left on Jungwoo and Haechan’s side and it was your turn.

“Baby,” Yuta calls. You turn around, pulling your shades up to see him better. “Let me put some sunscreen on you,” he suggests, “Your cheeks are getting red,”

“We’re about to win-“ Jaehyun tries, but you hand him the ball.

“It’s alright, you got this. Take my shot for me.” You toss him the ball and he holds it up like he's done for the previous rounds.

“Let’s make sure this goes in, yeah?” As he waits for you to blow, Yuta’s annoyance gets the better of him and he grabs the ball, throwing and making it in from where he stood behind you to finish the game. The two losers start going on about how that was cheating, but Jaehyun doesn’t bat an eye, not truly catching on to Yuta’s hidden distaste for the way he was interacting with his girlfriend.

“Princess, come here,” he straddles the lounge chair, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and gesturing for you to sit, which you do, crisscross between his legs with your back facing his chest. His hands rub the lotion onto your neck, shoulders and thighs, massaging your muscles in the process. Your head falls back on his shoulder.

“That feels nice,” you mumble lazily, turning your face to leave some kisses on his neck. His skin felt cold, no doubt reflecting the temperature of the water.

“Mmm.” He hums, “How much have you drank?”

“Just the one. I’m gonna grab another now,” you reply. Your hands overlap his, helping him spread the sunblock along your thighs. You felt him squeeze every so often, making you chuckle to yourself.

“Don’t play beer pong anymore,” he mumbles, “Get in the water with me,”

“I will, as soon as this soaks in. I’ll put my feet in for now,”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Yuta!” Mark shouts, waving him down from the pool, “Volleyball!”

“Maybe later, Mark-“

“You can’t say no! It’s my birthday.”

"Your birthday's tomorrow." He argues back.

You laugh at them, nudging your boyfriend, “Go, make him happy. I can finish applying it on my face.”

“Alright, baby.” He leaves you with a peck on the lips, going over to the water and immediately splashing Mark as soon he gets in.

You put some sunscreen on your hands, rubbing it together and spreading it across your chest and stomach. The sun felt warm on your skin, and you could tell Yuta was right about your cheeks being red because they were hot under the pads of your fingers. You covered your face in the protectant, then opened your eyes as you notice the darkness behind your lid. A tall figure stands in front of you, blocking the sun.

“I noticed you drank all of your drink during the game so, I got you another,” Jaehyun extends his arm, holding out a yellow drink with a pineapple wedge on it. You thank him, wiping your hands on the towel to get rid of the extra product and taking it. He presses his own glass against yours as a cheers and the two of you take a sip.

“Mm, this one’s really good,” You claim, “I think I like it more than the pink one,”

“Mine’s good, too. You wanna try it?”

You and Jaehyun switch drinks and try each other’s. As soon as the sour taste of the kiwi hits your tongue, you huff.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Yours is better.”

“Have it,” he grins. You immediately shake your head, handing it back to him.

“No, no. It’s yours, here,”

“Seriously, it’s okay. I like the pineapple one more.”

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head again.

“I promise,”

Giving him a doubtful look, you sigh, “Fine.”

“You gonna get in?” He asks you, tilting his head toward the pool.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, getting up as you remember you promised Yuta that you’d join him in the water. Your sunscreen has to have absorbed by now, so it should be fine to get in. You leave your shades on the chair, standing up fully. As you’re about to walk past Jaehyun, he stops you by grabbing your forearm softly.

“Wait, you have, uhm-“ His hand comes up, “Here,” he uses his thumb to swipe away a streak of white sunscreen on your cheek, “There you go,”

“Oh, um… Thank you.”

You sit by the edge of the pool, slipping your feet in and shuddering at the temperature of the water. Your eyes search for Yuta among the members playing volleyball but you don’t find him there. Instead, he’s leaning against the side of the pool. You wave him over, oblivious to the daggers he’s glaring your way, but he doesn’t budge.

Jaehyun sits beside you, reaching down and scooping up some water with his hand, splashing you.

“It’s cold!” You complain, squeezing your eyes shut.

“It feels better once you go in, come on.” He encourages, jumping in so the water is at his waist. It splashes you and you shriek, holding an arm up. He grabs your drink from your grip, setting it down beside you, then pulls you into the pool.

“Oh, my god. It’s freezing,” You gasp, “holy shit.”

“But it feels good, right?” He laughs.

Unbeknownst to you and Jaehyun, Yuta had been watching your entire conversation from a distance. He scoffs, beyond tired of all the drink-sharing, giggling, and skin ship going on between the two of you. His face is growing hotter by the second as he watches the way Jaehyun keeps glancing down at your exposed chest, breasts glistening and bouncing on the surface of the water. His teeth are starting to hurt from the way he’s been gritting them together.

“Fuck this,” he mutters to himself.

He pulls himself out of the water, walking past the two of you and towards his towel to dry off. This catches your attention and your head spins around as you call for him.

“Babe?”

He doesn’t answer.

“He probably just went to get a drink-“ You ignore Jaehyun, knowing that something was wrong and pull yourself out of the water, too.

“Yuta, stop.” You try again.

When you’re both out of sight from the rest of the members, he finally turns around, seething.

“Yuta-“

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you having fun?”

“What?”

“Forget it,” he scoffs. “If you wanna talk, we can talk in the room, not here,” He snaps, glancing behind you at Taeil who was approaching, fetching the volleyball that had flown out of the water, completely unaware of the conversation happening between you and Yuta.

“Okay,” you breathe, “yeah.”

You follow him up to the suite in silence; the air is tense and heavy, almost radiating with the anger Yuta is feeling. He opens the door and throws his towel to the side, running a hand through his hair. Still, he doesn’t say anything until you speak first.

“Yuta,”

“What the fuck was that, huh?” He spits, arm gesturing toward the pool.

“What was what? What are you talking about?” You ask, genuinely bewildered.

“God, you’re fucking dense.”

“Excuse me?” You snap, eyes narrowing.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t notice the way Jaehyun was eye-fucking you the whole day?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Yuta? He wasn’t eye-fucking me, he was just-“

“What? Being nice? Grabbing you a drink is being nice? Caressing your cheek and pulling you into the water by your waist so he can stare at your chest is being nice?” He rambles, raising his voice, “Insisting you blow on the ping-pong ball as if that has any fucking effect whatsoever on how-“

“First of all,” you snap, holding a finger up. “You don’t have to yell. Ever.” You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady, “and you don’t get to call me dense.”

His eyes soften slightly, but you can still see the anger tainting his features. His voice, however, is now significantly lower, in both volume and tone, “I spent the whole day trying to get you to go in the water with me and spend time with me and where were you? Playing beer pong with Jaehyun. Lounging and sharing drinks with Jaehyun. The only reason you went in at all was because Jaehyun carried you in. He was flirting with you in front of my face.”

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “It didn’t seem like that was his intention and if it was, then I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I hope you know,” you reach for his hand and he lets you, “that if I even suspected it was like that, I would’ve put a stop to it.”

He sighs begrudgingly.

“Do you not believe me? You don’t trust that I would?”

“I trust you, I do.” he admits, “But it’s hard to believe that you didn’t notice the way he was looking you.”

“Let him look,” you grab both of Yuta’s hands, wrapping them around yourself, “He’s only fooling himself.”

You can tell he’s still very upset by the way he casts his eyes at the ground, but his arms pull you in anyway, shoulders relaxing under your hands as you rub them.

“I love you, okay?" He finally looks up at you, "I’m sorry I didn’t catch on. And in all fairness, if that was you and another girl, I’d be fucking mad, too,” His eyes look between yours, and he sees the genuineness of your words and your apology.

“I’m all yours, baby." you continue, "He can look all he wants; that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only person that I want to touch me and look at me that way," You bring his hand down to your ass and his hand squeezes the skin instinctively.

“I’m still kinda mad,” he warns.

“That’s okay.”

“I should be fucking furious,”

“Mhm,” you hum against his neck, teeth grazing the skin there.

He lets out a hiss at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he swallows thickly, “You do look good in that bathing suit,”

“What, this?” You ask, leaning back so he can look at you. Your hands hold your breasts, squeezing them, “Is this what he was staring at?”

He gives you a slight look of warning that tells you not to push it, but you know very well what you’re doing and just how far to take it.

You shake your head, “That’s too bad,”

“What is?” Yuta asks.

“That he can’t ever see them like this,” you single-handedly reach behind you and pull at the string tied around your neck, letting the material fall and expose your breasts, full and round and perfect, displayed for your boyfriend's hungry eyes.

“Fuck,”

“Sit back, baby,”

He scoots onto the edge of the bed, hands at your waist as you straddle him, giving him a perfect view of your boobs. One of his thumbs brushes over your nipple, the other hand going behind his head for support.

You take your time, leaning down and peppering open mouthed kisses on his torso, tongue dragging down his stomach until you reach his belly button ring where you stop and look up, watching his expression twist into lust through your lashes. His dick twitches at the sight before him, mouth hanging open.

“This is the best decision you’ve ever made,” You joke, kissing around the piercing. You tug at it with your teeth until he hisses, free hand grabbing at your hair to pull you up.

“Stop fucking teasing me, it’s all you’ve done all day.”

“Since you’re so mad, why don’t you show me? Show me how mad you get when your friends stare at me,”

In a mere second, Yuta flips you over, using your hair that twists around his right hand as leverage.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Even with your voice strained from the pain of your hair being tugged, you muster up a smart-ass reply, “Yeah, you know, I’d say I am rather funny somet-“

His left hand grabs your throat harshly, lips attaching themselves to yours to shut you up. “Take off your fucking bottom piece,” He says into your mouth, breath mixing with yours as you let out a strangled moan. Your hands work quickly to untie the remaining bikini piece, hips lifting to pull it off of yourself and toss it to the side. As soon as you do, he settles comfortably between your legs, grinding himself down into you.

“Oh, my God,” you breathe out, eyes rolling back at the direct friction against you.

“I’m gonna eat you out baby,” He tells you, “But you’re not gonna come,”

A whimper escapes your lips, but you don’t dare say anything or attempt to argue this time. You watch as he slides down your body, kissing every spot on the way down like you’d done to him just moments ago, leaving wet marks and streaks along your skin.

When his face is finally between your legs, you hike them up, resting your thighs on his shoulders. Mouth agape and eyes half open, you watch as he brings his thumb up to touch you, rubbing slowly.

“Mmm, Yuta,”

“I know, baby, I know.”

He licks up your folds, once, twice, then three times, lapping you up as many times as he deems necessary before finally attaching his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking at your sensitive bud. At the overwhelming sensation, your eyes roll back.

You try to reach for his hair but he grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers with his, holding them at your side. Unable to help yourself, you roll your hips, grinding yourself against his tongue.

At your desperation, Yuta moans, the sound vibrating through your core. Every so often, he presses a kiss to you, then leans back to take in the sight of your glistening core. He looks at it as if he's been starved, and maybe he has with all your teasing earlier in the day. He's ravenous, mouth and tongue working against you wonderfully, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him.

"Yuta, oh, I'm gonna-"

"No," He interrupts, but doesn't stop what he's doing. He lets go of one of your hands, his index and middle finger slipping into you.

"Please, please let me-"

"No," he replies, tone much sharper this time, "I better not feel you come around me or so help me God, I'll leave you here like this,"

Knowing better than to question the sincerity of his threat, you take a deep breath, trying to suppress the feeling in your stomach that begs you to let go.

Yuta removes his fingers from inside of you and pulls down his own shorts. He had become too aroused while pleasuring you, and his dick was begging for any kind of stimulation. He pumps himself into his hand, using the precum that leaked from his red tip and your left over wetness on his fingers as lubrication.

"Let me help you," you whimper, squirming, "Please, I'll be good, just let me help you. I can't," a moan escapes your lips, "I can't take it anymore,"

For a second, he looks dangerous, as if he'll continue his merciless efforts, but he ultimately slows his tongue, settling for your compromise.

You pant, attempting to recover for a brief moment as he lays beside you on the bed, pulling his shorts all the way off.

"Baby," he calls. You turn to him, getting up on all fours. Your face is right by his cock awaiting his next command, one of your hands wrapping around the base of it. Yuta sits up for a second, grabbing you by the back of your neck to bring you in for the most sensual kiss you've shared in a while. It's messy and needy, but simultaneously slow and drawn out. He's savoring you and the fact that you're his.

His tongue swipes at yours, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, moaning at the lewdness of the situation. As he pulls away, you look into his eyes, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.

"Suck me off slowly. I don't wanna come before I've been inside you."

Nodding obediently, you do just that. Your soft, swollen lips place a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock and you drag them down, taking your time as he requested. Eventually, you replace them with your tongue, making sure to get him all wet so your hand will be able to slide on his length with ease.

"You're so fucking hot," he praises, letting both of his hands rest behind his head.

Part of you wants to be good and please him the way he asked of you, but the ache between your legs reminds you of the way he left you hanging no more than five minutes ago. Even now, you feel like you're so close; like if you just used your imagination and clenched around nothing, you'd reach your orgasm.

Hence, you conclude that returning the favor wouldn't hurt, right?

You take him fully into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. Involuntarily, you swallow around him and Yuta hisses, hips bucking up. Wasting no time, you start bobbing up and down on his dick, letting him all the way in each time. Your pretty eyes are watering but you remain, still looking at him, loving the way his face contorts into pleasure.

Your lips come off of him with a pop and a string of saliva is the only thing left behind. You use your hand to stroke him, taking extra care to squeeze at the tip.

"Mmm, don't stop,"

"Or what?" You provoke, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear as you slow the motion of your wrist.

He sucks in a sharp breath, lifting his hips to meet your speed, "Please, don't stop," he whispers, looking down at you.

"You want me to use my mouth again, baby?"

He quickly nods, reaching out to hold your jaw and draw it near his swollen tip again. You let him guide you as you wrap your lips around him, sucking and licking until he can no longer suppress his groans.

"Okay, okay," his hand goes to pull you up, but you resist, feeling him twitch, "If you-fuck, if you keep going m'gonna come,"

With a gasp, desperate to replenish the lost oxygen in your lungs, you take him out of your mouth, both of your chests heaving.

"Was that good?" You ask, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"So fucking good."

"Good enough that you'll let me come now?"

He laughs at how direct you are, pulling you on top of him, "I'd like nothing more, beautiful."

Lining yourself up with his dick, you slowly sink down, head falling back at the way he fills you up. Yuta sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, using his hands to help you guide your hips. He moves you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust.

Even though he's being gentle, you're still so sensitive from earlier that your walls instantly clench around him. Consequently, his teeth dig into your shoulder as he tries not to come, grabbing your hips and lifting you until the only part of him that's in you is his tip.

"Yuta, stop teasing," You whine breathlessly.

"Am I in?"

You nod, "Yeah?"

"Then I ain't teasing,"

He slams you down until that he's so deep inside you that you gasp, then quickens his pace.

There were no words to describe how good and full you felt, finally getting to do what you both were looking forward to all day. He hisses every time you tighten around him, your walls so narrow that you were practically milking him.

Having you face him as he fucked you was his favorite way because like this, he could see your fucked out expression the entire time he pumped in and out of you. He could study which movement of his hips made your eyes roll back or your lips part. He could watch you fall apart, all because of him.

"That's so good, Oh, my-"

He lets out a throaty groan,"You're so fucking tight,"

When he feels your movements falter and notices your breath hitch in your throat, he knows you're close. Bucking his hips up, Yuta helps you ride out your orgasm, brushing your hair back with one hand so he can still see your features.

"Yuta, I-"

"Shh," he coos, "I know, baby. Come for me, you're doing so good,"

At the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, his head collapses onto your shoulder. He nuzzles his face there, biting his lip and praying he can hold off his own orgasm until you've finished enjoying yours.

But it's so, so hard. With the way you're panting in his ear, squeaking out little words and praises that are unintelligible, nails clawing at his back, cunt squeezing him, he can't resist anymore. He comes inside of you with a shudder.

Even when he's overstimulated he keeps going until he's entirely sure you've come down from your high. Only then, does he pull out of you.

"Holy shit," you whimper.

"I love you," he reminds you, still short of breath.

You smile down at him, brushing away a sweaty strand of hair from his eyes. Your lips press down to his for a sweet kiss.

"I love you, too. So much."

"Let's clean you up, yeah? Stay here."

You nod as Yuta gets up, grabbing a white towel from the bathroom before returning to your side, gently spreading your legs and wiping you down.

"You wanna head back down to the pool?" you ask, turning to glance outside where the sun is no longer in the sky, "It's getting dark,"

"We have a pool right here." He reminds you, gesturing toward the infinity pool on the deck, "Besides," he starts, putting the towel of your mixed fluids in the bin, "I don't think I want Jaehyun seeing you in a bathing suit for the rest of the weekend."

You laugh, sitting up on the bed, "What about Mark? It's his birthday,"

"His birthday is tomorrow, not today."

"Okay," you nod, "Let's get in our pool,"

He hums and leans in, scooping you up into his arms and walking with you toward the door.

"Wait," you pull away, looking down at both of your naked bodies.

"What? You don't need a bathing suit for this pool,"

"Oh, is that right?" You giggle. Yuta nods, giving you another kiss and stepping down the pool steps, pulling you both into the water.

+.*·

requests r open :D

+.*·

[itsokbbygrl]

If The Wind Turns

moodboard by the incredibly talented Freya @almostfoxglove

🪽 Fallen Angel!Joel Miller x Fem Reader

🪽 Rating: T, there’s some language, no other warnings apply

🪽 Summary: You have me floatin' like a feather on the sea while you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath. Once I had wondered what was holdin' up the ground, but I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down. Leave it now, I am sky bound. If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me. We’ll float away, but if we fall, I only pray, don’t fall away from me.

🪽AN: Freya made this moodboard weeks ago and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about it and Icarian (Carrion) by Hozier. The brainrot was too much and eventually this got written. It’s just a Drabble really, hardly anything to shake a fist at, but my dear friends @luxurychristmaspudding and @almostfoxglove gave really positive feedback so I decided to share it. It’s not edited, mistakes are my own, etc etc etc.

☁️•🪽•🪽•🪽•🪽•☀️•☀️•☀️•🪽•🪽•🪽•🪽•☁️

“Darlin’ you don’t understand,” he pleads. “You shouldn’t be attaching yourself to all this. You should—”

“Joel,” you cut him off succinctly, drawing his gaze back to your own. You use his momentary pause to step into his space, eyes confidently locked on his. His head tips down as you stand toe to toe. You lift your fingers to his chin, guiding him until he’s once again your equal. You hold him there. Your hands frame his cheeks, his scratchy beard lightly tickling your palms, thumbs stroking softly over his cheekbones. You feel him melt, if only a little, in the only way he’ll let himself have vulnerability—in microdoses.

“You know the myth about how the world is held up on the back of a turtle,” you start.

Joel huffs a half snort and the left corner of his mouth quirks up the smallest bit. You might not even catch it if you weren’t so attuned to every minute contraction and release of every sinewy strand of muscle that makes this being in front of you. But you were, and so you see, and you know he knows, and you’re hoping he’ll humor you. “Heard a thing or two about it, yeah.” And your heart nearly ruptures forth from its cradle in your chest.

“So this myth is recursive in a bunch of different cultures right? And it varies slightly. But my favorite is the problem of infinite regress, turtles all the way down,” you continue. “And that got me thinking about flying, leaving the world and seeing once and for all the turtles and their infinity, and that got me thinking about Icarus and Deadalus,” you lock onto his gaze, eyes true as they’ve ever been, wanting him to hear you as you say, “about how painful it must’ve been for a father to watch his son fall like that. And for the son—to have no recourse, no reconciliation, to simply be gone, forever, over one misstep.” It’s gone so quiet you wonder if his god has stopped time to listen. You hope he has. You have some choice words for him.

“Joel,” you soften your tone, “there is nothing wrong with you. You made a mistake. Isn’t it even written in the holy book or whatever that no being but god himself is perfect anyway? How could you be held to that standard?” You’re imploring him to believe you, branding it into his flesh with warm caresses of your thumbs over his cheekbones, under his eyes, over his brow. You lean your forehead to his and stay there, simply holding him and breathing in his calming scent.

Your next words are soft and unpracticed, “I’ve never been forcefully exiled from my home by a man who professed to be my father, I won’t ever know exactly the pain you feel. But Joel, I know the weight of shame that you carry and I’m asking you to let me help you carry it.”

He shudders a breath, just a small trembling thing, and then his lips are on yours, and this time, it’s you who melts, who falls into the gravity of him. You’ve never felt such a freedom or such a tethering. Love, you find, is full of contradictions. You swim in the ocean of his mouth, crest the wave of his tongue with your own. Push and pull and crash, again and again and again.

“For the record,” you get out from beneath the current you’ve created, “if you asked me,” you leave a gentle, lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw, “in my Icarian fall from grace,” a kiss to his chin, “I have a sneaking suspicion I’d find you there, down and down, forever, holding up the ground I used to walk on.” Joel’s jaw ticks, his eyes glassy and deep, and you pray to whatever god might be listening that you never forget this moment. “It was always you, it always will be you. Joel, whatever you’ve done, you’re not irredeemable, and I’ll spend the rest of my godforsaken life showing you that, I fucking mean it.”

He lets your words float on the air. Then he sighs. “Ok then,” he relents. Joel never understood holy wars until he met you. Now he wouldn’t hesitate to battle against all of the angels above and demons below if it meant protecting you. Maybe that would be enough to save his soul—laying down what’s left of his earthly life in defense of the closest thing to true divinity he’s ever known.