#sometimes I say something in private and say wait

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 ENHA WITH A DISTANT IN PUBLIC & AFFECTIONATE IN PRIVATE PARTNER . . !

enhypen 0T7 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff comfort — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : by 🖤anon! ☆ — enha masterlist

HEESEUNG :

Heeseung notices it, of course.

The way you go still when someone glances over. How your hand pulls just slightly out of his when a group walks by. How your voice shifts, measured, careful, whenever eyes are on you. He doesn’t take it personally. He knows the difference between discomfort and disinterest.

And honestly? He gets it.

Heeseung has always been good at reading rooms, slipping in and out of presence when needed. He understands how the world can feel too sharp sometimes. How affection can turn into performance under the weight of other people’s attention.

So, he doesn’t push.

He doesn’t reach for you when you don’t want to be reached for. Doesn’t pout or ask why you won’t kiss him on crowded streets or lean on him in front of the members. He just… waits.

Because he knows what happens when the door clicks shut and the world finally stops watching.

You move first, always. Shedding the stiffness like a coat. You walk over, drop your phone somewhere without caring where it lands, and climb into his space like gravity only pulls toward him. No fanfare. Just a quiet kind of closeness that never needs to be asked for.

Tonight is the same.

He’s sitting on the couch, legs stretched out, scrolling aimlessly. You curl beside him, tucking your knees under your chest, chin resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say, voice softer now.

He glances at you, already smiling. “Hey yourself.”

You don’t explain. You don’t need to.

Heeseung shifts, lets his arm fall around you, pulling you in with the kind of ease that only comes with knowing someone deeply. You fit there like a thought he’s been having all day.

“I know I’m weird about it,” you say eventually, not quite apologizing.

He shakes his head. “You’re not weird. You just don’t do public affection. That’s not a flaw.”

You go quiet. Then: “You never act like it bothers you.”

“Because it doesn’t,” he says simply. “Not when I have this.”

You glance up. He’s not being dramatic. Just honest.

“I’d rather have the real you when no one’s watching,” he adds. “Than a version of you shaped for everyone else.”

Your fingers slip into his, slow and easy.

He doesn’t need a crowd to feel wanted. He doesn’t need a hand held in public to know it means something. This, your quiet leaning, the way you talk more when it’s just him, the way you seek him out like instinct, this is what he sees.

And it’s enough.

More than.

JAY :

Jay’s never minded quiet love.

He’s always noticed the little things, the way you pull back when people are around, how your fingers twitch like they want to reach for his but think better of it. The way your voice stays level and your eyes unreadable when someone jokes, “Do you even like your boyfriend?” He just smiles at those moments, calm and unfazed. Because he already knows the answer. He doesn’t need you to show it for the world to see; he feels it where it matters.

Tonight is no different, another quiet reminder.

You’re standing in his kitchen, sleeves hanging over your hands, hair tousled from the hoodie you stole. Jay leans against the counter, watching you prepare two mugs of tea with a kind of silent focus that makes him smile. And then, without a word, you bring one over, set it gently in front of him, and tug lightly at the hem of his shirt like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before.

He raises a brow, playful. “Want something?”

You shrug, trying not to smile. “Just you.”

Jay laughs under his breath, eyes softening. You’re always like this behind closed doors, quiet but full of affection in ways only he gets to see. There’s no show, no need for grand displays. Just small gestures that say more than words ever could.

He reaches for your hand, weaving his fingers through yours. “You’re kinda cute when you pretend not to be attached to me in public.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away. “I’m not pretending.”

“Sure,” he teases, a smile tugging at his lips. “You just accidentally end up next to me every single time we sit somewhere.”

You nudge him with your shoulder, but the smile you wear now is genuine, relaxed, easy.

Jay squeezes your hand gently. “I don’t mind, you know.”

Your expression shifts slightly, a flicker of uncertainty behind your eyes. “That I’m… distant?”

“That you’re you,” he says simply. “I don’t need you to hold my hand in front of everyone to know how you feel. You make me tea. You steal my clothes. You always fall asleep on my side of the bed.”

You snort, and he can feel your body relax against his. “That’s just because your side’s warmer.”

“Exactly,” Jay grins. “You love me for my body heat.”

You lean your head against his arm and settle there, quiet. Content.

“I just like keeping it to ourselves,” you murmur.

Jay nods, brushing his thumb over your knuckles with a tenderness that doesn’t need words. “Then that’s enough for me.”

No pressure. No performance. Just two mugs, shared warmth, and the kind of love that exists not to be seen, but simply to be felt.

And with you, it always is.

JAKE :

Jake doesn’t need the spotlight. Not when it comes to love.

But sometimes, when you brush off his hand in public or dodge his playful attempts to get you to laugh around the others, there’s a quiet sting. Not quite hurt, just that subtle ache that comes from wanting to share something sweet with you and knowing… not yet. Not here.

Still, he never pushes.

He knows you well by now. Knows how to read between the silences, how to catch the affection in your smallest habits. Just because you don’t show your feelings in front of others doesn’t mean they’re not there. He feels them. Always.

Like tonight.

You’re sprawled across his couch, legs tangled with his, wearing one of his oversized t-shirts and poking lazily at the bowl of popcorn he made for movie night. The lights are dim, the TV plays something soft and forgettable, but neither of you are really paying attention.

Jake’s arm is slung loosely around your shoulders, his fingertips tracing the hem of your sleeve. You shift closer, settling against his chest with a long, quiet sigh.

“You okay?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nod slowly. Then, softer, “I saw the way you looked at me earlier.”

Jake blinks. “What way?”

“When I didn’t hold your hand at dinner.”

He pauses, just for a moment. “I guess… yeah. I noticed.”

There’s a beat of silence, then your voice, smaller now. “Does it bother you?”

He smiles, tender and sure. “Not really. I mean, I love holding your hand. I love being close to you. But I love you more than I love people knowing it.”

You shift to look at him, eyes searching his. “Even if I don’t show it the way you do?”

Jake cups your cheek with one hand, thumb brushing gently across your skin. “You show it. Just not where everyone else can see. You always save the last dumpling for me. You send those random texts like ‘drink water’ or ‘wear a jacket.’ And you fall asleep on me every time we watch a movie.”

You blink. “That last one’s not intentional.”

He grins. “Still counts.”

You huff a quiet laugh, but your smile lingers, soft and warm at the corners. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s no doubt in it.

He pulls you back into his arms, his voice low now, as if the moment is too full to speak above a whisper. “I don’t need the world to see it. Just need you to feel it.”

And you do.

So you stay there, wrapped in the hush of the room, in the warmth of him, letting his presence anchor you. Because with Jake, love is patient. Quiet. Golden.

SUNGHOON :

Sunghoon notices everything.

The way you always stand just far enough apart when the cameras are out. The polite smile you offer when someone mentions his name, even though you don’t meet his eyes. The way your arms stay folded when others might link theirs, your voice light but distant, like you’re somewhere else entirely.

To anyone else, it might seem like you don’t care. But Sunghoon knows better.

You always wait for him when the schedule ends. You remember how he takes his coffee. You send him songs you think he’ll like, even if you never follow up to ask what he thought. And that’s enough for him, because it’s real. Quiet, but real.

He never asks for more. Never reaches for your hand in public or expects a label you’re not ready to wear. That’s not how this works, not with you. But he still watches. Still understands.

He notices the way you shrink slightly when someone teases you about your lack of affection. The way your shoulders go stiff when love becomes something to display. So he never pushes. Just stays beside you, steady, patient, until the day ends and the door clicks closed behind you both.

Like now.

You drop your keys on the counter and turn without hesitation, walking straight into his arms like it’s second nature. Like this is what you’ve been waiting for all day. His hands settle at your back, grounding and familiar.

“You were quiet today,” you murmur into his hoodie.

“So were you,” he replies, voice even.

You pull back slightly, eyes searching his. “Was it okay? The way I… sort of ignored you?”

He shrugs, gentle. “You didn’t ignore me. You were just being you.”

You watch him for a moment, trying to find the catch, but there isn’t one. He’s not waiting for you to explain. He’s not asking for more than what you already give. He just wants you to be here.

“I know I’m not affectionate in front of other people,” you admit, voice a little uncertain.

Sunghoon reaches up to brush your hair from your face, fingers lingering with quiet care. “You don’t owe them anything.”

“But you do deserve someone who—”

“I want you,” he says, cutting you off, but not unkindly. Just certain. “Not a version of you that performs for everyone else.”

Your breath catches, then releases, slow and soft. His thumb traces your jaw once, then again, a soothing rhythm against your skin.

“And besides,” he adds, a faint smile pulling at his lips, “you’re affectionate here.”

You blink. “I am?”

He nods. “You always hug me before bed. You talk more when it’s just us. You do that thing where you sit next to me just close enough that our shoulders touch, even when there’s space.”

Your eyes drop, a quiet warmth rising to your cheeks. “That obvious?”

“To me, yeah,” he says simply.

Then Sunghoon leans in, his forehead resting gently against yours, the world narrowing to just this, the hush between you, the way his voice softens to match it.

“I don’t need everyone to see how you feel about me. I just need you to keep feeling it.”

You don’t answer. Not with words. Instead, you reach for his hand, your fingers lacing with his like they were always meant to.

And that’s all he needs.

Because with Sunghoon, love doesn’t need to be loud. It’s quiet, deliberate. It shows up in the spaces no one else notices, in the pauses, the gestures, the silence. And there, it speaks louder than anything else ever could.

SUNOO :

Sunoo can feel the difference.

Not just when you flinch away from casual touch in front of the others, or when you change the subject the second someone teases him about you. It’s subtler than that, etched into the way your laugh tightens when there’s company, how your eyes scan the room before brushing his hand away. A hesitation, not of love, but of fear. Of being seen too closely.

At first, it stung.

Not in a loud or dramatic way. Just a quiet ache, tucked into the corners of his chest like an unanswered question: Do you feel the same? Do I make you uncomfortable?

But then he started to notice the other things.

The way you always drift back near him, even if your hands stay to yourself. How you never forget which side of the booth he likes, or how he takes his iced coffee. The way your texts always come first, even on your busiest days, Are you home safe? Did you eat?, when anyone else would have expected to be asked instead.

And when it’s just the two of you?

You’re someone else entirely. Not hidden, not guarded, just soft in a way only he gets to see.

Like tonight.

You step through the apartment door, toss your bag aside without a word, and cross the room in a straight line to where he’s curled up on the couch. The lamplight casts a soft halo around him, and your hand finds his before you even sit down.

You don’t say anything. Just curl into his side, fingers slipping between his, your body easing into the shape of his like it’s the only place that fits.

Sunoo lets you take his hand, lets you find comfort in the silence.

Then, with a small nudge to your shoulder, he breaks it. “So…” His voice is light, playful. “Still pretending you don’t like me in public, huh?”

You groan, face burrowing into his shoulder. “It’s not like that.”

“I know,” he says, grinning. “But I had to get my dramatic line in before we get all serious.”

You laugh, muffled, genuine, and then, more quietly, “It’s just easier to not show it when people are watching. I don’t like feeling on display.”

Sunoo hums, resting his cheek lightly against your head. “You don’t need to explain. I mean it.”

You shift to look at him, cautious. “Really?”

“I mean, would I love it if you held my hand in front of everyone?” He lifts your intertwined fingers with a soft swing. “Sure. I’d be lying if I said no.”

There’s a flicker of guilt in your eyes, a faltering of your expression, but he squeezes your hand before you can spiral.

“But I like this more,” he says, firm and kind. “I like knowing this is real, even if no one else gets to see it.”

You let out a breath, then squeeze his hand back, an unguarded gesture that says everything you haven’t been able to.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t care,” you murmur.

Sunoo shakes his head before you even finish. “You didn’t. And you don’t have to say sorry for protecting your heart.”

He leans in, presses a kiss to your cheek, light and smiling, nothing urgent about it. Just reassurance, wrapped in affection.

“You’re mine either way,” he whispers, words feathering against your skin. “I don’t need an audience for that.”

And in the quiet that follows, you tuck yourself under his chin, limbs tangled, and he wraps you up like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Because with Sunoo, you never have to perform. Not for the crowd. Not for him.

He never wanted a show.

He just wanted you.

JUNGWON :

Jungwon doesn’t chase your affection, not in public, not where the world can see.

He notices things, of course. He notices the way you shift a step to the side when someone nudges you toward him with a knowing smile. The way your hand instinctively pulls back when it brushes his in a crowded hallway. The way your voice lifts just a little too brightly, takes on a practiced ease, whenever too many eyes are on the two of you at once.

But he never takes it personally.

Because there’s a quiet kind of language that only he seems to hear.

Like how you always wait until he’s done speaking before leaving the room. Or how your gaze lingers on him when no one’s looking, a softness there you wouldn’t let anyone else catch. Or the way you hesitate at the doorway before going, as if some part of you doesn’t really want to go at all.

Those are the things he holds on to.

And in the stillness of your shared moments, when the doors are closed and the lights are low, that’s when you’re most yourself. Most his.

Like tonight.

The front door shuts with a soft click, and for a moment, you just stand there, keys still in hand, your shoulders drawn tight beneath your jacket. The evening was long, filled with conversations you couldn’t quite find your way into, laughter you couldn’t fully share. And now, you’re quiet. Worn thin. The kind of tired that’s more about people than it is about time.

Jungwon doesn’t call out. He doesn’t move toward you. He just waits.

He’s leaning against the counter, arms folded loosely across his chest, watching you with that gentle patience he’s always had. The kind that never asks more of you than you’re ready to give.

You don’t speak, not at first. But your eyes meet his, and whatever tension was left in your posture seems to ebb, slowly, like a tide drawing back. You cross the room in a few quiet steps, and without a word, you fold yourself into his arms.

It’s not dramatic. It’s not performative.

It’s just you. Here. Finally unguarded.

Your face presses into the crook of his neck, breath soft against his skin. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He doesn’t need to.

“I hate how I freeze up,” you murmur, voice muffled. “It’s like… I want to be better at this. At being with you. But when people are watching, I can’t.”

His hands settle at your waist, warm and steady, tracing slow circles through the fabric of your shirt. “You don’t have to be anything more than you are,” he says. His voice is quiet but certain, like truth wrapped in calm. “Not for them. Not even for me.”

You breathe out slowly. It catches in your chest at first, but then it loosens, unraveling with the quiet comfort of being understood.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m ashamed,” you whisper. “Or that I don’t care.”

At that, Jungwon leans back, not to let go, but just enough to tilt your chin up and meet your gaze. His eyes are soft, serious, unwavering.

“I’ve never thought that,” he says. “Not once.”

You search his face, like you’re still waiting for something, some sign that it’s okay to believe him.

And he smiles. Not wide. Not showy. Just real.

“I don’t need the world to see it to know it’s real,” he says. “I feel it. Every time you look at me like this. Every time you stay, even when it’s hard. I don’t need more than that.”

Your eyes sting, just a little. Not from sadness, just the ache of finally being seen without having to explain yourself. You nod, then curl closer again, burying yourself in his warmth, fingers clutching lightly at the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you,” you whisper, like a promise you were finally ready to say out loud.

Jungwon presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand steady at your back.

“I know,” he murmurs into your hair. “I love you too. Just like this.”

And that’s enough.

Not perfect. Not polished. Not loud.

Just you, and him, in the quiet that always tells the truth.

NIKI :

Niki’s never needed a lot of attention, not from crowds, not from strangers, not even from you when you’re out together. Big gestures were never really his thing.

So he doesn’t mind the way you keep your distance when the others are around. How you walk beside him but never quite close enough to touch. How you laugh at the group’s jokes but go quiet when they turn toward teasing, especially when it’s about you and him.

He sees it. He just doesn’t take it personally.

Because there’s a difference between what you show the world and what you save for him, and Niki? He’s always liked having the secret version.

Still, the teasing comes.

“Does your partner even like you?” Jungwon jokes one afternoon, raising an eyebrow after you brush past without so much as a glance. There’s laughter, playful jabs from the rest of the group.

Niki just shrugs. Grins.

“Yeah,” he says. “They do.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t try to explain how he knows.

Because later, after the noise fades, after the world stops looking, you come home.

And that’s when everything changes.

You kick off your shoes without ceremony, drop your bag where it falls, and spot him instantly, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, scrolling lazily through his phone. You don’t say anything, just cross the room in a few quiet steps and fold yourself down beside him like gravity brought you there.

His arm slips around your shoulders without thinking, already shifting to make space as you tuck into his side, forehead pressed to the warmth of his hoodie.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips, soft, unmistakable.

You grin into his chest. “You missed me.”

“I always miss you,” he says easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You pull back just enough to peek up at him, your voice a little lighter. “Even when I act like I don’t know you in public?”

There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he reaches up, brushing your hair gently back from your face. “You don’t act like that. You just… don’t like being watched. I get it.”

You hesitate, searching his expression. “But it doesn’t bother you?”

He shakes his head, not even for a second. “Not even a little. Honestly?” His lips quirk into a smirk. “I kinda like it.”

You blink, confused. “Like what?”

Niki leans in, forehead brushing yours. “That no one else gets to see you like this,” he says. “It’s like I’ve got this whole version of you that’s just mine.”

You bury your face in his hoodie again, groaning quietly. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says, completely unbothered.

You don’t answer, but your hand finds his, fingers slipping between his like it’s second nature. And that says more than enough.

A beat later, he hands you the game controller without asking, already queuing up your favorite show. You huff a laugh, still curled into him.

Niki presses a kiss to the top of your head, easy and familiar. Like he does it all the time. Like it doesn’t matter that no one else ever sees.

Because the truth is, he doesn’t need the world to recognize what you have.

He just needs this.

The quiet way you return to him. The weight of your body leaning in. The warmth you don’t share with anyone else.

You don’t have to shout it to prove it. You don’t even have to say a word.

Because in this quiet, in this closeness, he already knows.

[sturnsblogs]

THATS ENOUGH

Boyfriend!Nick X Florist!Julian

Warnings- Degradation, Use of “Good boy”, Overstimulation, Use of “Slut”

Word count- 1298.

Nick had been standoffish since the moment he woke up.

Julian noticed it right away — in the way Nick brushed past him in the kitchen without a word, how he pulled his coffee out of Julian’s hand with a muttered, “You used the wrong creamer.”

Julian let it slide. He always gave Nick space when he was moody — he got that way sometimes. Loud in public, quiet in private.

But today wasn’t just quiet. It was mean.

Julian tried to give him a hug before they left the apartment, reaching gently for Nick’s waist. But Nick stepped back with a sharp, “Can you not?”

Julian froze, hand still half-raised, before slowly letting it drop.

Still, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded, murmured, “Okay,” and grabbed his keys.

The tension followed them to Chris and Matt’s like a shadow. Julian kept hoping it would fade — maybe being around his brothers would cheer Nick up, shake him out of whatever spiral he was in.

But if anything, it got worse.

Nick interrupted conversations with loud jokes that didn’t land. He rolled his eyes whenever Julian spoke. When Chris offered him a drink, he muttered, “Finally, someone useful,” loud enough for Julian to hear.

Julian stiffened.

Even Matt noticed. His glance flicked from Nick to Julian with that quiet are you good? look.

Julian forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

But Nick full-on ignored Julian asking him a question, and instead turned to Chris to repeat what Julian had just said — laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world — something in Julian snapped.

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t scold.

He just set his glass down and stood up, calm and firm.

“All right,” Julian said, cutting across the laughter. “It’s time to call it a night.”

Nick blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Now,” Julian said. Not loud. Not angry. Just done.

Matt coughed awkwardly. Chris mouthed good luck behind Nick’s back.

Nick scoffed and stood up, grabbing his jacket. “Whatever.”

Julian didn’t respond.

He just held the door open — face unreadable, heart sore — and waited for Nick to walk through it.

—

Nick was splayed out on the bed, ass high, face shoved into the crumpled sheets, his knees trembling under the weight of Julian’s relentless grip.

Julian’s hands clamped onto Nick’s hips, fingers digging into soft flesh, leaving red marks as he yanked Nick back onto his cock with a punishing thrust.

The stretch was immediate, raw, no mercy in the way Julian filled him, the burn tearing a ragged whimper from Nick’s throat. The room echoed with the sharp slap of skin against skin, the bedframe groaning in protest as Julian set a brutal, unyielding pace.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” Julian snarled, his voice low and venomous, each word punctuated by a deep thrust that made Nick’s body jolt forward. “Thought you could act like a little shit all day and I’d just take it?”

His hand cracked down on Nick’s ass, the sharp sting pulling a choked sob from Nick, his fingers clawing at the sheets as he tried to brace himself.

“J-Julian—f-fuck—” Nick’s voice was a stuttering mess, barely coherent, his words dissolving into a high-pitched whimper as Julian slammed into him again, harder, the force making his whole body shudder. “P-please—oh god—”

“Shut up,” Julian snapped, his hand sliding up to grip Nick’s hair, yanking his head back roughly. Nick’s spine arched, a desperate cry spilling from his lips, his face flushed and slick with sweat. “You don’t get to beg. You don’t deserve it. Look at you—fucking pathetic, just a hole for me to use.”

His thrusts didn’t slow, each one deep and deliberate, driving Nick to the edge of coherence, his moans breaking into fractured, needy sounds.

Nick’s hips twitched back instinctively, chasing the brutal rhythm despite the overwhelming intensity, his cock leaking onto the sheets below, untouched. “I-I’m s-sorry—” he stammered, his voice trembling, barely audible over the obscene wet sounds of Julian moving inside him. “I-I didn’t—f-fuck, please—”

Julian’s laugh was cold, mocking, as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against Nick’s back, lips brushing his ear. “Sorry? You think that’s enough? You’re gonna take everything I give you, like a good boy” His hand slid around, briefly teasing Nick’s aching cock—just a fleeting stroke that made Nick’s whole body convulse, a broken sob tearing from his throat—before pulling away, leaving him desperate, untouched again.

Nick’s whimpers grew louder, incoherent, his body shaking as Julian kept up the merciless pace, the bed creaking violently under them. “P-please—J-Julian—I c-can’t—” Nick’s voice cracked, his words a jumbled mess of pleas and moans, his mind unraveling under the onslaught. His knees buckled, but Julian’s grip held him up, forcing him to stay in position, ass up, completely at his mercy.

“You can, and you will,” Julian growled, his hand sliding to Nick’s throat, squeezing just enough to make Nick’s breath hitch, his moans turning into frantic gasps. “You’re mine to fuck however I want, aren’t you? Just a needy little whore who can’t even think straight.” He thrust harder, deeper, the angle hitting just right, and Nick’s cry was loud, raw, his body trembling uncontrollably as he teetered on the edge.

Julian didn’t stop. He pushed Nick past that edge, his thrusts unrelenting, even as Nick’s body tensed, his cock pulsing as he came untouched, spilling onto the sheets with a shattered moan. His whole body shook, his voice a stuttering wreck—“F-fuck—J-Julian—I-I’m—oh god—” His words dissolved into whimpers, oversensitive and overwhelmed as Julian kept going, not slowing for a second.

“That’s it, good boy,” Julian purred, his tone a cruel mix of praise and degradation, his hand tightening in Nick’s hair as he fucked him through the aftershocks. “Coming like a desperate slut, huh? You think that’s enough? I’m not done with you.” Nick’s whimpers turned into high-pitched, broken sobs, his body jerking with every thrust, the overstimulation making his thighs tremble, his hands scrabbling at the sheets for anything to ground him.

“J-Julian—t-too much—p-please—” Nick’s voice was barely a whisper, fractured and shaky, his body writhing under the relentless pace. Tears pricked at his eyes, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as Julian’s cock drove into him, each thrust sending sparks of overwhelming sensation through his oversensitive body.

“Too much?” Julian mocked, his voice dripping with disdain as he leaned down, his lips grazing Nick’s ear. “You don’t get to decide that. You’re such a good boy when you’re crying for me, aren’t you? Just a pathetic little mess who loves being fucked like this.” His hand slid down, smearing Nick’s release across his stomach, a humiliating reminder, before gripping his hips again, slamming into him with renewed force.

Nick’s cries grew louder, his body shaking uncontrollably, every thrust pushing him deeper into that haze of overstimulation, pleasure and pain blurring together. “I-I c-can’t—J-Julian—f-fuck—” he stammered, his voice a trembling wreck, barely holding together as Julian’s relentless rhythm drove him to the brink again.

Julian’s own breaths grew ragged, his thrusts erratic as he chased his release. “Fuck, you’re so good like this,” he growled, his voice softening just enough to let the praise cut through the degradation. “My perfect little slut, taking it so well.” He slammed in one last time, his release spilling hot inside Nick, a low groan escaping him as he held Nick’s hips flush against him.

Nick collapsed forward, a whimpering, trembling mess, his body spent, marked with hickeys and sweat, still shuddering from the intensity. Julian pulled out slowly, watching Nick’s body twitch with a final, broken moan. “Good boy,” Julian murmured, his voice softer now but still laced with that cruel edge, his hand brushing lightly over Nick’s trembling back. “Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before acting like a brat.”

A/N- WELL..this is for @jacksonsturniolo

[igglemouse]

Week 1 ~ Blood Simoleons (2.2) ~ Saturday

The sun shone through my mostly open windows, bringing the dawn of a new day, a Saturday, a day supposed to be filled with Love as it is Love day. The world today will buzz with love and romance and me? Well, I am just here alone with a stack of fluffy golden pancakes and when you think about it? Perhaps that is for the best? Pancakes would never disappoint me, unless they are burned of course, but I would never have to worry about their intentions. Their fluffy and syrupy nature would always bring me joy.

Romance can wait. Today, everything hinges upon tomorrow's commercial shoot. A single moment that could either launch my career...or destroy it. Wait, no, perhaps I am being dramatic? Yes, I suppose I am but every moment of screen time I get should be cherished, every second I'm on TV is a chance to sear my image into the mind of someone's memory. All I'd need is one take, one moment, become memorable. Leave them breathless and wanting to see me more. That's what this industry is all about, leave the audience wanting more of you no matter what you do.

Practice, that's what will get me there, practice, practice, and more practice!

I really did want to at least try and honor Love day with some classic romantic film, maybe something tragic even, but a call from my brother temporarily ruined those plans. He's calling from across the ocean and from his new home in Windenburg. We talked of nothing and we talked of everything and of course I was just happy to hear from him. One day, when I am rich and famous, when I have my own private jet or something, I'll fly over to hang out with him once a month or something but for now a phone call will do.

The day lazily drifts onward and I spent perhaps a good chunk of it at my computer and on social media. I use it sometimes to get my name out there, I do have an account with about sixty or so followers, nothing special, but I do connect with an old friend of mines.

Fernanda Guzman. A woman I thought I'd left in La Ciudad. She talks about how she might move out here to DSV in the hopes of chasing similar dreams and I, of course, egg her own. Leaving a reply under her post that I'd be here to welcome her if she makes the move. It would be great to have a friend here because right now I do feel like I'm going at this solo.

With nothing but hours before me I decide to spend them, at least a couple, with purpose. Practicing and working on my craft has become a meditation for me, each run through of lines and dialogue one step closer to a perfection that can surely never be attained. My bathroom has become a bit of a stage, I must admit, and my reflection a best friend of sorts. Making sure that each gesture and motion isn't awkward. The hands are a big part of it. You know, many people just don't know what to do with their hands?

There did happen to be some romance for me today, arriving in the form of a series of short but very thirsty texts. Marco. Who else? He just expressed his desire to see me and while it wasn't much I could certainly sense the need. It sounds like I'll be seeing him again, who knows when but it is definitely happening. I'll be honest and say I will be looking forward to seeing him again. He does give amazing kisses.

Evening comes with cooking, Strawberry Feta Salad, to be precise. I chop and season and mix but the entire time I can't help but think about my chance tomorrow, my shot. Imagining and visualizing it, even seeing, in my mind at least, the approval of the director, some applause from the set, the birthing of a star. The perfect take, no repetition, everything clicking and coalescing into a commercial that people will remember for years. "That was her first commercial!" People would say and they would be incorrect, of course, because my little Voidbop commercial would turn into a trick trivia question right under the entertainment sextion.

You might think me delusional as I daydream and have my dinner but you have to dream before you live it.

Night comes with Carina, my dear and troubled sister who operates much like an agent of this time of day. As if the lack of sun gives her courage. I realize, upon answering the phone at this late hour, that this is her working hours, that she is on the clock, I should say.

"They were really proud of how I handled it, the kittens I mean," she said, which was always her code word for Los Tigres. Kittens, cats, felines, whatever. "My new little guy really loves his catnip."

"Umm, yeah, congrats I guess?" I manage, although the compliment tasted sour in my mouth. It's hard to imagine that this is the little girl that I've grown up with but I must love her all the same.

"By the way! I'm getting a new tattoo soon!" She seems so excited about this. A tattoo in her world means everything, it means loyalty, first of all, and in her world nothing is more important. Los Tigres mark themselves with such tattoos, the higher members not much, but the one thing you can always look for is some kind of paw print or quite simply a tiger. Something vague enough to be hidden unless you know what you're looking for.

"Are you sure about this, Carina? The tattoo I mean? You know how some jobs don't like them."

"Huh? Yeah, I'm sure, it'll be a small thing, I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Yeah..." but all I could do was worry. She's diving deeper into these waters when I had hoped that she would find something else. "Be careful...with the tattoo I mean," and I hang up the phone after curt farewells. I might have to make a hard decision sometime in my future to cut her off, completely. The little Carina I knew was becoming something else and if I let her she might drag me into her world, intentionally or not.

The Love day that had begun with golden and fluffy pancakes ends with a bitter taste in my mouth. I can't worry about Carina. She's made her decision and she's chosen her road and I've chosen mine.

Index ~ Next

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

*walks up to a couple* so which one of you is the cheetah and which one of you is the golden retriever who keeps the cheetah from stressing themselves to death

[pigeonclaw]

the amount of times I have potentially controversial opinions that I type up and then save in my drafts forever because I still feel them but am too shy and afraid to choose violence in any way

[userkoo]

really sucks that i got hit with the ‘enjoying things offline’ urge right when jungkook started dropping his stuff but just know i am streaming seven and watching/loving it all, just not posting about it rn heheh. sometimes i feel a little useless on tumblr if i’m not making gifs (which i know is very silly) so i haven’t been around bc i haven’t had the motivation to open photoshop. but i shall be back soon to reblog all the lovely content that’s been released for us lately :D

[satoblue]

sometimes i think of satoru who never left the grasps of his clan, who never went to jujutsu tech, who never made friends and was isolated bc he was seen as greater than — a version of satoru who isn’t like the one we know.

he is cold and calculated, prideful and silent. he doesn’t tease or joke — he mocks. never having grown out of these traits since he was a child, he’s never had a reason to hide them. incredibly lonely, yet he is used to it. might even prefer it.

and the blindfold. as he’s grown older, continued to master his technique, he’s learned ways to hone the power of his six eyes. rarely is he ever seen with it off. it is a protective shield as much as it is a weapon.

guarded even at his wedding ceremony, a courtship he cared for very little and had no decision in making — he hadn’t removed it for the seemingly special day. this wasn’t a moment of celebration for him after all. he found no joy in such things.

satoru had assumed, with his distant demeanor, that you would come to avoid him just the same, realize there was no hope for you in this union preordained by your clan and his. after all, this marriage was fulfilled out of duty — not love.

and yet, what is it about him that intrigues you so? that you would rather trail behind him wherever he goes, wherever that may be?

satoru is not easily amused, nor is he easily impressed, but the way you choose to keep up with him as he intentionally walks far distances to tire you out fills him with both — along with a nagging irritation because you simply won’t take the hint and leave him be.

what game are you playing at? you must have an ulterior motive. you are already wedded to him, the strongest. is that not enough for you? for your family?

apparently not.

when satoru enters a room, he won’t even glance your way if you happen to occupy it — as if you’re a stranger and not his wife. will barely notice you there until you walk up to him and greet him, your husband.

he’ll do his part, exchange formalities but nothing more. no where is he required to participate in your game of cat and mouse in public.

yet, even in the face of his snide remarks used to scare you off in private, at every turn — you were there consistently. waiting. for what?

if there were two words to describe you, it would be persistent and troublesome. most would stop at any attempts by now after being faced with his lack of interest.

he is both annoyed and intrigued at what the response may be. mainly due to the fact you don’t seem to be losing that spark of yours. if anything, his behavior has you more riled up. satoru couldn’t shake you off no matter how hard he tried. you always found him, always knew where he liked to go to hide from you.

and you’ll talk when you manage to catch up. a lot. about the servants, the food, idle gossip, your family. he’s never met anyone so chatty. but then again, he was never one for small talk. so, maybe it is a good thing. you ramble on about practically any topic that comes to your head. and he realizes in a way, alike himself — you have no filter.

satoru speculates that you have some type of scheme up your sleeve, when really, you just want to get to know the man you were made to marry.

everyone knows who he is, but at the same time, they don’t. it’s complicated. you want to learn more about him, you want to know how expressive those eyes are under that mask. you want to know what makes him tick. the things that make him angry, cry (if possible), or even laugh.

he has a pleasant voice — you’ve deduced — from what little words he speaks, and you’d like to hear him laugh. at least once. you’d like that a lot.

it is why you chatter on. about anything really. and you take it as a win when you say something so far fetched, so absolutely absurd to his ears that the corner of his lip betrays him, fighting not to twitch upwards. and maybe he does come to enjoy it a little.

he’s always been the center of everyone’s attention ever since he was a child. but yours in particular seems to stick lately. he can always feel when someone’s eyes are on him, yet, it is your gaze that seems to stand out amongst them.

or maybe it’s because… he’s starting to watch you too.

[seumyo]

yearning drunk!husband ushijima wakatoshi.

NOTE. contains a bit of alcohol content—though nothing too explicit or anything concerning <33

It always started the same way—kind of like an inside joke that grew wings, feathers, a tab, and Ushijima’s name on the reservation list.

Ushijima never initiated going out drinking with his Schweiden Adlers teammates. In fact, he rarely said anything about it at all. It was always someone else who mentioned it after a game. Always someone else who slung an arm over his shoulder and declared, “C’mon, Ushiwaka, we have to celebrate,” even though Ushijima had never once expressed interest in alcohol, bar food, or drunken conversations.

Still, he always went.

Because it’d be rude if he didn’t at least stay for a few minutes, he thinks.

Sometimes he showed up in his team windbreaker, sometimes in a long, dark gray coat that made him look like a trench-wearing monument of silence. And he never said no, even when the clamor of celebration was already grating at the edges of his patience.

Tonight was one of those nights.

They’d won by the skin of their teeth—an overtime set against a grueling opponent, the kind of match that made even the benchwarmers feel like champions by the end. So of course Heiwajima had started the round-up in the locker room. Hoshiumi had shouted over everyone about their lucky bar down the street, and within twenty minutes, the entire team had found themselves in their regular private suite.

Ushijima sat at the end of the table, his back straight, a glass in front of him filled with alcohol he didn’t particularly like. His teammates were loud and loose and chaotic—laughing at Sokolov trying to arm-wrestle the bar’s bouncer, clapping every time someone dropped a fork, and yelling across the table in at least three different languages.

“A thousand yen says he’ll ask about his wife in twenty minutes,” Hoshiumi said quietly, leaning toward their captain, Hirugami Fukurou.

“You’re giving him way too much credit,” Romero replied, fondly grinning. “He gets wistful around minute twelve.”

“He gets wistful the moment he sits down.”

Ushijima was unmoved. He stared at his drink, took a single sip, and let it rest in his hand. He didn’t participate in the yelling, the toasts, or the story someone was animatedly telling about a missed serve from three seasons ago. He just existed—quietly, stoically—as a satellite to the chaos.

Except, of course, they all knew he was waiting.

He always was.

There was a pattern to the transformation. First, he’d sit there like stone. Then he’d blink a little more slowly. His brows would draw together—not in anger, but in vague confusion, like he was lost in a thought he couldn’t solve. His fingers would move against his glass, not to drink but to fidget, just a little.

And then…

“Has anyone seen my phone?” Ushijima asked, barely louder than the buzz of conversation.

Hoshiumi slid it across the table immediately. “Right here, Ushiwaka. Sorry! We took a few pictures here and there.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at the screen. It was still lit with the last message from you from earlier that day: Good luck, baby. Don’t forget to stretch your left shoulder. He’d never replied—he never did, not when he was already in headspace—but now, he stared at it like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You want to text her?” Hoshiumi asks, lightly teasing, which Ushijima didn’t catch onto.

Ushijima didn’t answer. He opened the thread and typed a few letters. Deleted them. Typed something else. Backspaced. Then just stared.

And then finally: “She hasn’t replied.”

His teammates laughed.

“There it is!”

“It’s only been seventeen minutes! I win!”

“No, you cheated. I said ten, and he didn’t even check his phone until minute twelve!”

“Shh, shh, look at him—he’s pouting.”

“Wait, is this the pout phase? I thought that came after the silent brooding phase.”

“Technically we’re entering pout-brood overlap. It’s a dangerous time.”

Ushijima didn’t argue. He simply set the phone down again and folded his hands in front of him. Kageyama leaned over.

“You want me to call her for you, Ushijima-san?”

Ah, yes. Kageyama was too nice for his own good. Trying to enhance his socialization and trying to lessen his awkwardness with his teammates when the conversation didn’t revolve around volleyball.

Ushijima nodded. Just once. Immediately. “Yes.”

...

“Amazing! He’s not even trying to hide it.”

“Can you imagine being that in love?”

“He just wants his wife. Look at him. He’s a whole sad poem in one sitting.”

“She’s gonna get here, and he’s gonna light up like a lantern.”

“May this love run me over.”

Kageyama stood and walked a few paces away from the table, already dialing your number. Meanwhile, the others watched Ushijima sip his drink again—not because he wanted it, but because it gave his hands something to do. His eyes were glued to the screen even though no new notifications had appeared.

Romero leaned in conspiratorially to Hirugami. “Do you think she talks to him in, like, soft tones? Calls him ‘baby’ and stuff?”

“I think so,” he shrugs. “I think they’re sweet like that.”

“Aw, young love.”

The teasing continued, but it softened. Because underneath the jokes and the laughs was a sort of awe.

Their teammate—so serious, so focused, so unreadable on court—was completely and utterly soft when it came to his wife. Not in a loud way. Not in any way that could be easily teased, really. It was quiet. Heavy. Real.

When Kageyama returned, he had a pleased expression. “She’s on her way. Said she just got off work and is driving over.”

Ushijima gave another slow blink.

“Thank you.”

Kageyama nods. Somehow they manage to have conversations even if they just continue nodding to each other.

As soon as Kageyama said it, his phone buzzed with a new message. He didn’t even need to open it. He could tell by the way his entire body relaxed by a single, barely noticeable degree.

Sorry, hun. Just got off work. Are you okay?

He replied.

I’m okay. I miss you.

And then he set the phone down and folded his hands again, this time with more calm. More certainty. You were coming. That was all he needed to know.

The others noticed the shift immediately.

“He smiled.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He did! Don’t argue with me; I saw it. It was micro. But it counted.”

“He’s already halfway out the door with his heart.”

“Watch, the second she walks through that door, he’ll go full puppy mode.”

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the door opened. A gust of cold air followed you inside, along with the soft jingle of the bar’s entrance bell. You spotted them easily—your eyes landing on Ushijima before anything else. And his entire body seemed to change shape.

He stood up—not quickly, but instantly, with a kind of gravity no one else in the room had.

You smiled as you approached, slipping out of your coat and brushing off the cold that nipped your nose softly. “Hi, love,” you greeted softly. “You ready to go?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said, already reaching for his jacket.

As he shrugged it on, you turned to the table. “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble?”

Hoshiumi leaned on the table with a grin. “[Name], your husband is the definition of ‘not trouble.’ We’re just grateful you came to collect him before he sighed himself into the carpet.”

“Tell them what he said!” someone shouted.

“He asked if anyone had seen his phone like it was a national emergency.”

“And he didn’t pout—he brooded. Like a man out of a romantic novel.”

“I think I did,” Ushijima just nodded at their comments about him.

He then stood by quietly, waiting for you to finish your goodbyes. When you looped your arm through his, he leaned ever so slightly toward you.

As they left, Romero raised his glass.

“To [Name]’s husband,” he declared. The table cheered.

Outside, as you two walked toward the car, you glanced up at him, fingers tightening around his arm.

“You really okay?” you asked.

He hummed. Then, in that low, steady voice only you ever got to hear, it softened—

“I missed you,” he said again. “They were loud. I wanted to see you very much.”

You smiled and gave his arm a firm, loving squeeze. “Well. I’m here now.”

And... yeah.

That’s what he’s been wanting to hear all night.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[cursingtoji]

summary: clan leader!gojo needs a favor from your clan but as the leader you refuse, so he proposes to give you a child since your husband is unable to.

"and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?"

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…then i’ll kill your husband myself and marry you.”

nsfw ahead cw: historical au, infidelity, pregnancy, creampie, child birth, satoru is pathetically in love. featuring samurai bodyguard geto and toji.

“i thought we had solved all our business with the gojo clan” your husband says from the door he leans on.

“and i did” you emphasize the i since the head of your clan is you and only you went to the clan meetings that got things solved. you tapped your lips a little bit more to place the reddish pigment looking at the mirror, “but satoru summoned this meeting and gave no details.”

“satoru huh?” your husband points, not letting go unnoticed the fact you used his first name without formalities.

“all right” you take one step back checking if your kimono is proper, “see you tonight” you peck his lips lightly to not ruin the tint on yours and proceed to the carriage outside.

for years the gojo clan and yours avoided each other due to some very old beef that no one remembers or even was alive when it happened, so when your mother passed and you assumed as the new head you soon decided to reach out to make peace with the current head of the rival clan and a friendly relationship was restored. more often than not you two met, sometimes with other clan members or even other clans when necessary, but today gojo insisted on being just the two of you.

toji, your bodyguard, opens the carriage door when you arrive and give you his hand for you to step out.

to avoid any issues the place of the meeting was always the temple middle way your residences. from time to time your families attended the prayers there, that’s when your husband saw satoru for the first time.

“where’s his wife?” he asked the first time you pointed the white-haired man as the clan head after you made peace.

“he doesn’t have one.”

“fiancée then?”

“i don’t think so” you both watched discreetly as he greeted the monks.

“i find that quite odd. what about the black-haired man?” he pointed to geto, gojo’s bodyguard, “could they be involved romantically?” geto leaned to whisper something to his master, a little bit too close if you might add, a few more inches and his lips would be touching satoru’s ear. his romantic life was no business of yours but you didn’t like the idea of him having any partners, didn’t seem right, though deep down you knew it was very unlikely for a handsome man like him to be alone. both men somehow found your curious gaze.

“geto” you greet the known bodyguard as you enter the temple, and he bows to you, your bodyguard nods at him as well and you’re guided to the secret room.

the conversation went on for almost an hour, satoru served you tea when he noticed you finished yours, which was unusual for a clan head to do such a mundane task but he always insisted no servant join on your private meetings. you always thought he was particularly paranoid about spies, but that suspicion was dismissed when you had your first meeting with other clan heads and he didn’t oppose the people that stayed in the back of the room waiting for their master’s orders.

“satoru we went over this on the last meeting, why am i here?” you are getting impatient, satoru always seemed relaxed when he was at the temple like it’s the one place people don’t come to him with problems, so he tended to do things without any rush at all.

“so impatient…” he smirks, “i was getting to the point but fine. i need your doctors for a few weeks.”

because of the many wars and the necessity to heal mainly the samurai your clan became specialized in healing techniques and remedies instead of combat.

“is someone injured?” you raised your eyebrow, it wasn’t likely for satoru to ask for something like this when he could’ve sent a letter.

“no. but we are expecting a conflict soon and—”

“let me stop you there satoru” you raised your hand and for a second you saw a glimpse of annoyance cross his features, “we don’t get involved with battles anymore, the healers go through extensive training and i can’t risk losing them in battle.”

“so instead of putting their knowledge into practice you rather keep them locked in a room reading books?”

“they are busy with research at the moment” you raise your chin unwilling to budge on the matter.

“is that so?” he tilted his head smiling “and how many people does it take to figure out your husband is infertile?”

you widened your eyes, this is way too personal of a matter for someone else, especially another clan head, to know.

on the other side of the door, geto and toji guarded the room, they were close enough to listen to the conversation and without turning his head geto looked at toji with his eyebrow raised, to which toji only nodded confirming the rumors.

“you’re not the only one with little birds across territories, sweetheart” his smile only seems to grow.

“that is no business of yours. besides, lending you my healers will only harm my clan and, as i said, put them at unnecessary risk” you managed to find your composure back and avoid the infertility topic.

“don’t you trust i have the best warriors? you seemed to when we came to your aid” he reminded a time you asked for their men.

“i paid for that.”

“and what makes you think i won’t?”

“we don’t need money.”

“i’m not talking about money” he drops the volume of his voice.

“listen, satoru—” you rise to your feet sensing the tone of this conversation is off.

“i’m listening, for a very long time i’ve been listening” he rises as well and takes a few steps in your direction, “you know what i listen to? the rumors about your family threatening to make your brother head of the clan if you don’t bear an heir soon.”

you take a step back.

“or the resources you’ve been spending to research a treatment for your husband. tell me, darling, can he even get it up for you?” he is too close now, you can see all the details of his insanely blue eyes.

“he— that’s not a problem” you accidentally confess.

“of course it’s not, look at you” his finger brushes your cheek and the touch makes you burn under your skin, “i could give you a child” he lowers his head to your ear, running his lips on it, “a healthy, smart, beautiful child” he presses his hand on your belly over the thick material of your clothes, “and it wouldn’t even be an effort” he presses his hardened member on your hip.

“and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?” you look into his eyes challenging him to a solution.

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…i’ll kill him myself and take his place as your husband.”

you gasp, not expecting such an answer from the man you always watched trying to find a way to avoid violence.

satoru kisses your jaw then your cheek and when he gets close to your lips you turn your head, your conscience only now, in this intimate act, attacking you.

“he’s not fulfilling his duty” he whispers, letting go of the knot on his kimono, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. you open your eyes, not even aware you had closed them, and see his sculpted torso, so close to you, so warm…

“it’s not your fault, can’t you see?” he raises your chin, “it wasn’t meant to be, unlike us” you know he’s just telling you what you want to hear, but in his voice everything made sense.

“you’ll see” he picks you up and lowers his body with you back to the mat in the middle of the room, his kimono is still around his arms while yours was forgotten somewhere else, leaving only the very thin, dress-like, white undergarment that pretty much showed everything.

satoru lowers his head to your chest, his tongue wetting your nipple over the material, “i bet you’ll become even prettier” he replaces your breast with his hand, big and hot, and goes to the other nipple, “with your breasts heavy and a big belly” he sucks on you, hardly, you put your hand over your mouth.

satoru raises your legs over his shoulders, “your feet will get tired” he kisses the inner thigh, “but you’ll still come and see me” you thought it sounded like a question, it was a statement.

his head goes down, as he kisses your folds your back arches, he licks a stripe ending on your clit and flickering it.

satoru starts to lose himself, he gets too intoxicated by you, almost forgetting time is running against him here. he doesn’t have much longer until your bodyguard gets suspicious and calls for you, and by the way your hand is tight against your mouth he doubts you’ll be able to give a proper response.

he wants to make you cum before he shoots his load, suguru’s intel told him you asked one of the doctors if the woman needed to come to increase the chances. it doesn’t take much medical knowledge to interpret that question.

you cum on his tongue pulling him out of his dreams where he imagined himself doing that every night after those boring fucking meetings he has to attend at every slight inconvenience in his clan.

“it’s gonna be okay, just relax for me” he pushes his length slowly before you get the chance to see his size. you whisper his name behind your hand and he can’t stand not seeing your whole face, so he takes your hand out of the way and kisses your wet lips pushing his tongue and swallowing your moans as he goes deeper and starts to pick a pace.

satoru holds back a curse, reminding himself he’s in a sacred place and although anyone would say that’s ironic given what you’re doing in the temple he would argue that’s even more sacred than what most people prayed for.

you start to feel his weight down on you as he trusts get sloppier, he’s still kissing you, holding your lips with his when he twitches and fills your insides, in your drunk mind you think it’s so much more than what you’re used to.

after he catches his breath he pushes himself up and out of you, you allow yourself to close your eyes for a brief moment but you open them wide again when satoru pushes his cum back into you with his finger, “keep it deep and warm for me, yes?”

one hour later you pass through the door your bodyguard slides open for you to enter your chambers. on the way there you realized there’s no chance he and geto didn’t grasp on what was happening inside the room.

“toji?” you call before he can close the door and go to his personal room, he stops, indicating he listens although he doesn’t respond with the formality others usually do, “i trust you won’t share with anyone what happened today” you speak firmly looking the tall man behind you over your shoulder, his scar stretches slightly with his smirk, the man bows and closes the door.

they said it was a road accident, the horse got spooked and ran, by the time they found it there was no rider so they searched your husband and found his body down the mountain.

the ritual was long, you wore the traditional widow clothing, accepting the kind words of the clan members and the prayer of the monks. though you really were sad, all this pity was making you sicker than…

“at least you didn’t have kids, no child deserves to grow up with a dead father” an old lady says to comfort you while holding your hands.

“excuse me” you turn around walking slowly to not raise suspicions and as soon as it is just you on the other side of your home you bend your torso and throw up all you’ve eaten before the funeral.

you cough and when a tissue enters your field of vision you immediately take it and clean your mouth.

you feel your stomach empty but the light volume below it reminds you of whose fault it is.

you raise with the tissue on your lips to say thank you and the sight of the white-haired man makes you choke.

“shh, it’s okay, i’m here as an ally, to give my condolences to a friend in grief” there’s absolutely no seriousness in his tone.

“what about the war?” you ask through heavy breathing.

“that was child’s play, don’t worry, your healers will return safe and sound in a few days” he puts his hand on your shoulder to calm you down, you do.

satoru takes a second to drop his sight to your belly, it has been a month since your last encounter, and by your sensitive stomach he knows that one time was enough for you to get pregnant.

“do you think you can hide it for another month until the wedding? then when the child is born we’ll just say it was a premature birth” god, your former husband’s body was barely cold and gojo is already planning the wedding and what to say about the baby.

“why now?” you look up at his mischievous eyes, he knows what you’re asking truly.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, it was an accident right?” he touches your face, brushing away a tear that came out, more of a natural body reaction of your gagging than a sadness reaction.

“satoru, tell me” you demanded.

“i just reflect a little you know? when i said i would kill him you never asked me not to. besides, i don’t want another man to think they own what’s mine” his eyes are darker, you think he’s talking about the child in your womb but by the intensity of his gaze, you realize he’s talking about you. “if you need anything tell suguru, i’ll have him staying in the village until we announce the wedding.”

“no, i have toji, don’t want anyone suspecting geto’s intentions” you defend.

gojo doesn’t seem to like it, but he doesn’t argue either, “either way, i want to see you. meet me at the temple in five days, we’ll talk about the arrangements” he leans in and kisses your forehead before turning away and then back “i almost forgot” he reaches for something inside his sleeve and pulls out a shiny golden bracelet with gems and puts it on your palm, you know you can’t wear it now but god it’s gorgeous, “came from the west especially for you” he puts his hand on top of yours and leaves it there for a long moment as you look into each other's eyes. satoru is fighting the urge to kiss you, if someone catches you he can’t say he’s comforting his recently widowed friend, so he forces himself to let go of you and go head back to his village.

the midwife instructs you to push harder as her helper dabs a wet cloth on your forehead. you’re squatting, on your knees giving your all to push the baby out.

finally one last push is all that it takes for the little one to come out, you want to lay down and close your eyes, but you need to see the baby first so you mumble something with your arms open, the midwife cleans baby’s face through crying and screaming.

“it’s a boy” she whispers putting him in your arms. satoru enters when he hears the cries and kneels in front of you. behind him are both suguru and toji, who aren’t allowed to enter but the men are also very eager to see the child they can’t help but try to peek.

you balance the boy in your hold for a little bit till he stops crying and when he opens his eyes you see the blue sky.

“give him to the father, we’re not over” the midwife says.

“what?” you, satoru, toji and suguru ask. the last two get an angry look from the midwife and remove themselves from the scene.

“the next one will come out soon” she puts new towels below you.

“two children? at once?” you ask in disbelief then look at satoru who can only smile apologetically.

after god knows how long you’re finally allowed to rest as the babies were cleaned and fed. the second one was a girl, with identical blue eyes as her brother and father.

“i can’t believe you put two kids in me” satoru is outside the wooden tub, breaking all tradition by helping you bathe after the birth.

“can’t say i’m sorry for that” he rubs your shoulders, “you were incredible” he confesses now that there’s only the two of you. satoru refuses to even let your feet touch the floor, he takes you out of the tub once the water starts to cool down, placing you on a dry surface and getting on his knees to dry your feet, you reach out to touch his face.

“i love you, satoru” you blurt, overwhelmed by your feelings for the man who was once your rival.

he looks up from his position, taking the hand on his face and kissing your palm, then your pulse, he kisses inch by inch of your arm until his lips are on yours, “i love you.”

"pay up, pretty boy" toji approaches geto.

"excuse me?" suguru looks up from the sword he's polishing now that gojo dismissed him for the rest of the night.

"i said it was gonna be a boy."

"yeah and then a girl came out right after so the bet was invalidated."

"there's no such a thing, the boy will inherit it all anyway" toji crosses his arms, geto laughs, fishing a coin from his pocket since he knows toji will say anything to win the bet.

"and what makes you say that? there's two clans and now two heirs" toji snatches the coin as soon as he sees the silver glow.

"that's just how it has ever been" he turns his back to geto who drives his attention back to his sword.

"things are changing old man.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[slut4megantheestallion]

⋆ ☆Arcane characters - with a big boob S/o Headcannons

Characters: Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Mel, Vander, Sevika, Silco, Jayce, Viktor, Ekko.

Warnings ⚠️: Fluff, suggestive themes, slight nsfw, teasing, groping.

-Vi

●She's shameless about it. Vi is very handsy and loves to grab them whenever she gets the chance, especially when she's hugging you from behind. Loves laying on your chest after a long day, mumbling about how lucky she is. In public, she might sneak a hand around your waist and "accidentally" brush again your chest, just to see you squirm. "C'mon, babe, you can't blame me. They're right there."

-Jinx

●Absolute menace. She'll poke, squeeze, and jiggle them just to get a reaction out of you. Jinx loves burying her face between them, claiming it's her "stress relief." Will 100% use them as a pillow while lying on your lap. Loves making dirty jokes about them in front of people just to see you blush. "Damn, I could get lost in these - oh wait, I already did."

-Caitlyn

●At first, she tries to be polite about it, but she notices. Caitlyn enjoys resting her head on your chest when you’re alone, but she gets flustered when you tease her about it. Sometimes, she gets distracted during conversations, her eyes flickering down before quickly looking away. If you ever wear something revealing, she struggles not to stare. “Ahem… your outfit is quite—uh, nice today.”

-Mel

●Absolutely adores them. She loves luxury, and to her, your body is no exception. Mel enjoys dressing you in elegant, form-fitting outfits that accentuate your curves. She’ll trail her fingers down your cleavage absentmindedly while talking, making it seem so casual yet intimate. During private moments, she takes her time appreciating them, whispering sweet praises in your ear. “You truly are a masterpiece, my love.”

-Vander

●He’s a gentleman, but he appreciates them. He loves how soft and warm you are when he holds you. If you ever wear something revealing, he clears his throat and looks away, but his ears turn red. When cuddling, he rests his hand on your waist, but if they’re pressed against him? Yeah, he’s struggling. “Damn, sweetheart… you’re really testing my patience.”

-Sevika

●She’s dominant and makes it known. Loves grabbing them, especially when making out. She’ll tease you, squeezing and kneading them just to hear you whimper. If you wear something tight or low-cut, she’ll smirk and say, “You’re just begging to be touched, huh?” Definitely loves leaving marks on your chest. If you try to cover up, she’ll pin your hands away and make sure you don’t.

-Silco

●He acts composed, but your body is very distracting to him. His hands naturally gravitate towards your waist, but if they brush against your chest? He lingers. Silco enjoys seeing you in fine lingerie, admiring the way the fabric hugs your figure. When you sit on his lap, he lets his fingers ghost over your cleavage, his voice smooth and teasing. “You do enjoy testing my restraint, don’t you?”

-Jayce

●He’s a flustered mess. You’ll catch him staring, then immediately looking away like he wasn’t just ogling you. If you press up against him, he short-circuits, especially if it’s unintentional. Jayce enjoys holding you close, his hands tracing your curves as he whispers sweet compliments. If you ever tease him about it, his face turns bright red. “I—uh—I wasn’t looking! Okay, maybe I was, but can you blame me?”

-Viktor

●He’s subtle but so into it. Viktor loves resting his head against your chest when he’s tired, claiming it’s the “perfect pillow.” He’s usually focused on his work, but if you lean over his desk with a low-cut top, he notices. Will sometimes cup them absentmindedly while cuddling, but if you call him out on it, he coughs and mutters, “Ah, well… they’re quite… nice.”

-Ekko

●He tries to play it cool, but he gets flustered. Loves when you hug him because your chest is right there. He won’t make it obvious, but his hands always find their way to your waist. If you ever tease him about staring, he just grins and shrugs. “Hey, can you blame me? You’re kinda hard to ignore, babe.”

[chuxmy]

Hello! I really love all your work, especially the Seung Jae one. Speaking of Seung Jae, can I request a one shot smut about him (if you're comfortable to write smut) where reader and him have a private and secret relationship. Then one day, someone was flirting to the reader but reader is so shy and naive that she thinks that he is friendly to her. Then, Seung Jae saw it and felt rage, jealousy, and possessiveness towards her. Btw, their relationship is not toxic but there are times that it can be toxic when Seung Jae can't control his emotion. Thankie 😘

Only mine

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: You smiled at the wrong guy.

Warnings: Smut, explicit sexual content, possessiveness, jealousy, praise kink, mdni

A/N: *gulp* it‘s kinda hot in here..

You’ve always been soft.

Polite. Shy. The kind of person who smiles at strangers without thinking twice. It’s part of your charm one of the reasons Seongje fell for you. But sometimes, that sweetness felt like a curse.

Because it made people think they had a chance with you.

And today, someone took that chance.

It was during break, near the vending machines. A boy from another class. You didn’t know him well he wasn’t even on your radar. But he struck up a conversation. Said something about how you looked better every time he saw you, called you “adorable” in this half joking, half serious voice.

You thought he was being friendly.

You smiled. Awkwardly. Tucked your hair behind your ear and said, “That’s really nice of you,” like you always did.

You didn’t see the possessive stare from across the hallway.

But Seongje did.

He saw everything.

You don’t notice his silence until hours later after school, when you meet in the unused music room, like always.

You close the door behind you, expecting his usual smirk, his lazy voice teasing, “Took you long enough.”

But when you turn, he’s already across the room. Eyes dark. Hands in his pockets.

Something is off.

“Seongje?” you ask gently. “What’s wrong?”

He says nothing. Just stares at you.

Then moves.

Fast.

You barely register the way his hand slides behind your neck, how his mouth crashes onto yours, how your back slams into the nearest wall with a gasp. His kiss is rough. Messy. Tongue pushing past your lips like he’s trying to claim every part of you.

You whimper, clutching at his hoodie. “W-wait, what—?”

“You smiled at him,” he hisses against your lips.

You blink. “Who—?”

“That fucker by the vending machines.”

Your breath catches. “He was just being nice…”

He laughs, but it’s humorless. “You really believe that?”

You swallow. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem. You never think when it comes to this shit.”

His tone isn’t cruel, but it’s sharp. Laced with frustration. With something worse.. hurt. As if your smile had cut him in ways you didn’t even understand.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice small. “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

He kisses you again. Harder. Teeth clashing.

“You didn’t upset me,” he growls. “He did. But watching you smile at him like that… like you enjoyed it…”

“I didn’t,” you whisper.

But he doesn’t stop.

His hands are already under your shirt, calloused fingers skating across your ribs, making you shiver.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs darkly. “You don’t see how guys look at you. You think they just want to be friends?”

Your silence answers for you.

His hand slides up your thigh, under your skirt. You gasp when his fingers brush your inner thigh, the heat of him pressed between your legs.

“They want you,” he breathes, dragging his lips down your jaw, to your neck. “They want to take you from me. And you don’t even fucking notice.”

His touch is rough, almost desperate, like he’s trying to erase the idea of anyone else from your skin.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say softly, trembling.

“I know,” he mutters, dragging your panties down. “You never do.”

Then, lower, much lower he rasps, “But you need to remember who this belongs to.”

You inhale sharply when he dips his head, mouth brushing against your core.

“I—I didn’t know someone could be this jealous…”

He looks up, eyes blazing.

“You think this is just jealousy?” His voice drops an octave. “I love you so much it makes me crazy.”

Then he slides his tongue along your folds.

You choke on your breath, hand flying to your mouth to muffle the moan. Your other hand buries in his hair, gripping tightly as his tongue moves with skill you didn’t know someone like him had.

“You’re already soaked,” he murmurs against you. “You liked me getting jealous, didn’t you?”

“N-no, I—”

“Liar.”

He fucks you with his tongue until your thighs shake.

Then he stands, pulling you to him. Lifting you with one strong arm under your thighs, he carries you to the piano bench and sets you down, your legs spread around him.

His pants drop. You barely see it happen, your eyes are half lidded with need, your breath uneven.

He doesn’t ask.

He slides in deep, all at once.

You cry out, your hands flying to his shoulders.

He’s big, he always is and this position makes it even deeper. You squirm, gasping his name.

“I know,” he groans, forehead resting against yours. “I know it’s a lot.”

But he doesn’t stop.

He won’t.

His hips begin to move slow at first, then faster. He grunts softly each time he sinks into you, the wet sound of your bodies filling the small room.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again and again. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Yours,” you gasp, clinging to him like a lifeline. “Only yours.”

Your body wraps around him like you were made for him. His thrusts hit deep, dragging broken sounds from your throat.

You cry out when he hits that perfect spot inside you again. And again. And again.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice wrecked. “I want to see your face when I make you come.”

You do.

You look up at him, eyes wide and shining with emotion and he shatters.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Then your orgasm slams into you like a wave, blinding, breath stealing, intense. You moan, body shaking, clinging to him with everything you have.

He follows seconds later, hips jerking as he empties inside you, groaning your name.

When it’s over, he doesn’t move.

He stays pressed against you, arms around your waist, face buried in your shoulder.

You’re both breathing hard.

Your fingers stroke his hair.

“…You okay now?” you whisper.

He laughs quietly. “No.”

You blink.

He lifts his head. “Because I know I’ll feel this again. The second someone else even looks at you.”

You smile sadly. “You can’t keep getting mad at me for being… me.”

“I know.” He kisses your collarbone. “But I can remind you who you belong to.”

You cup his cheek.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your hand.

“…I still will.”

[salmonlyster]

im feeling really normally about the 4k remaster and the release of gerards character name so here r my im not okay headcanons :ppp ive drawn frank and ray maybe once ever

more thoughts under the cut vv

okay i might make these fuckerrs into a little comic because theyre eating in my brain like a little worm.... similarly to the im not okay mv the primary inspiration is rushmore but id also want to draw from like heathers and blue monday and eltingville etc

here are some screenshots w notes on them and dynamics etc

illi: glue of the group, introduces them all to each other. for the sake of this, illi and louise are not related. name is from the 4k rendition of the mv. incredibly ambitious and always creates the main idea for the schemes that the group gets up to. kind of only nonbinary due to the fact that illi is an incredibly interesting name, and a very open opportunity for me to make revenge gerard even more nonbinary. their uniform is neat and tidy, not particularly out of respect for the school, but more out of awareness of their own appearance. into fashion but doesn't really know how to deal with their hair. just lets it grow out and fucks with it in the moment. croquet mallet is blue, so draws a lot of inspiration from veronica sawyer. they/she pronouns? maybe? but i lean towards they/them.

frances: placeholder name i guess? it's important for him to have the initials "FTW" to play on both ft willis/fuck the world but i think percy also works since it's a bit of a play on pencey prep. incredibly strained relationship with louise- very different personalities is a source of conflict between them. frances has the messiest uniform because he's the least put together, and has the most carefree attitude about things. hes really into being a problem but hes an unnaturally bright student when he actually gets into doing the work - taking a page from max fischers book here lmao. chipped nail polish. wears barrettes sometimes. very clever.

louise: i've always been enamored by that interview where gerard says that the band used "louise" as a nickname for mikey so i've associated it specifically with his glasses era. no last name for now but i think it has to have the same ou sound. primary inspiration for his character is max from rushmore. used to wear his hair slicked down until illi staged an intervention and forced him and frances to hang out one-on-one and style hair. neat uniform, but doesn't fit him properly for whatever reason. hand me down? transgenderism? he's just too tall? idk! connected with adults more than peers growing up and as a result is very under-socialized. involved with student leadership at the school.

ray: ughhhhh WHYYY did he have to write ray rules on the paper it would have been so fun to make a completely new name. okay anyways i just like graham and i think it suits whatever i have built for him. undiagnosed adhd and if anything a bit of a halfway point between illi and the rest of the group. illi is really intense and cannot be stopped sometimes so graham is kind of the "babygirl i was made to understand you vision" person. yeah im getting this from the hand on shoulder and sitting closer in that one scene but be nice to me im working with like. two minutes of footage as a launching point. uniform isn't buttoned, not because of carelessness, but forgetfulness. he's a little bit inconsistent about everything he does.

the school in general: rushmore style private school, kind of dying in recent years so funding and management is all over the place. mascot used to be the dogs or something but there were copyright issues with the logo and now they are the bears.

i thiiiink thats all i have for now?? im going to draw them more just you guys wait lmfao. ive always loved im not okay more than any other mv by a large margin so all things considered this is me being normal.

[noredemptionhere]

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ⚝ 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴!𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙺𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼!𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

warnings: some of these are a bit unsettling and darker than arcane’s usual tone. if that’s not your thing, scroll. no need to tell me sevika is a pookie wookie she wouldn’t hurt a fly—i promise i do not care.

⚝| sevika has an uncanny patience when dressing you. sliding silk over your shoulders, fastening buttons, smoothing down fabric. but when she undresses you, it’s different. she never rips, never rushes, but the way she peels each layer off feels clinical, like she’s dissecting something precious.

⚝| sevika never corrects you when you’re wrong. but when someone else does, she just looks at them, quiet and unreadable, until they shift uncomfortably and drop the subject. later, in private, she murmurs the right answer against your skin like a prayer.

⚝| she never raises her voice at you, ever. but her silence cuts deeper than any shouted argument. when she’s upset, she just watches you, eyes heavy lidded and still, until your nerves unravel and you start apologizing before you even know what for.

⚝| sevika has a ritualistic way of loving you…every night, she brushes your hair in long, slow strokes, unraveling every tangle with near-reverence. it’s soothing, but you don’t realize it’s a form of control until you miss a night and she grips your wrist, jaw tightening, voice low “sit down. i’m not asking.”

⚝| sevika feeds you with her fingers, not utensils. no matter how messy, no matter how impractical. she never lets you take the food from her hands, only lets you open your mouth and accept. sometimes she waits too long, lets the food linger between her fingers, watching your lips part in hesitation before she finally presses it to your tongue.

⚝| sevika doesn’t like locked doors, not yours, not hers. you don’t even have a lock on your bedroom anymore; she removed it one day while you were out. didn’t say anything about it, didn’t acknowledge it. but when you ask, she just raises a brow. “what do you need a lock for?” and there’s something in her voice that makes you feel ridiculous for asking.

⚝| sevika keeps your old nightgowns, the ones that have worn too thin, the ones that smell too much like you. she never tells you why. you only find them later, folded neatly in the back of a drawer you don’t open often, tucked away like something sacred.

⚝| sevika is obsessed with your warmth.. but only when you’re sleeping. when you’re awake, she touches you gently, reverently. but when you sleep, when you can’t see her, she holds you differently. arms locked, face buried against your skin, inhaling deeply like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. some nights, you wake up gasping, feeling like you were being suffocated, but she’s just there, still, unmoving, barely breathing.

⚝| sevika remembers everything you say in passing. weeks later, she hands you something you forgot you even mentioned wanting. she repeats things back to you, word for word, like a recording. sometimes, she tells you things you don’t remember saying at all. and she never lies. you know she never lies. so you believe her.

⚝| sevika has a way of making you feel small without making you feel weak. it’s in the way she stands close, in the way she speaks low, in the way her hands find your waist so easily. she makes you feel delicate, precious, something to be handled carefully. and you like it. you like it so much it scares you.

⚝| sevika hates hearing you apologize. it doesn’t matter what it’s for. every time the word slips past your lips, her jaw tightens, her fingers flex like she’s holding herself back from something. “don’t,” she says, firm, steady. but the next time, you still say it. and the next time, she doesn’t say anything at all, just looks at you for a long, long time before shaking her head.

⚝| sevika kisses you like she’s taking something. it’s never harsh, never forceful. just deep, lingering, like she’s breathing you in, keeping something for herself. and when she pulls away, you always feel a little.. lighter. like something small has been plucked from you, but you can’t tell what.

⚝| sevika doesn’t like when you smell different. if you use a new soap, a new perfume, she notices immediately. her fingers trail over your pulse, slow, deliberate. “this isn’t yours,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper. there’s no accusation in her voice, but something about it makes you feel guilty.

⚝| sevika picks out all your clothes.. not just your nightgowns, but everything. you never really noticed when it started. now, when you try to choose something yourself, you hesitate. your hands hover over the fabric, uncertain, like you’re waiting for her approval even when she isn’t there.

⚝| sevika wears glasses when she reads.. a rare sight, one you can never resist. the moment they rest on the bridge of her nose, you’re on her lap, draping yourself over her like a silken shawl. you press kisses along her cheekbone, her jaw, whispering saccharine nothings against her skin, drunk on the contrast of her sharpness and your softness. she exhales like she’s indulging you, like she’s letting you win.. but she never takes the glasses off. she keeps reading, one hand turning the page, the other resting heavy on your thigh.

[jmliebert]

Nanami as Your Lover headcanons ♡

the word boyfriend doesn’t do him justice—it feels too light, too casual somehow as he treats you with absolute seriousness

there’s a softness he reserves only for you. whether he’s resting his head in your lap or letting you dry his hair with careful hands, these simple moments feel so intimate for him and for you

you bring him a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed. he quickly discovers that he sleeps best when you’re lying on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close, and the thought do things for him (he falls even harder)

in the morning he pulls you closer in bed, nuzzling into your neck and murmuring about how he doesn’t want to get up just yet

evenings with you have transformed his routine. suddenly, he finds time for the books that have been gathering dust on his shelf, reading while you are cuddling to his side

if there’s something you want to do, Nanami’s always up for it. face masks? horror movies? a random pottery class? whatever it is, Nanami is all in—because it makes his lady happy :’)

his sense of humor is subtle but sharp. he loves when you tease him gently, and you can always catch a faint smile tugging at his lips when you do

has a habit of brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as he looks at you with quiet adoration

cooking for you becomes one of his love languages. he takes quiet pride in preparing meals for you and feels a deep sense of contentment when you enjoy them (like it or not, but if you would let him, he would feed you gladly)

if you’re stressed or overwhelmed, he’ll instinctively take care of you—running you a bath, massaging your shoulders, or simply holding you close in silence

even more strict about keeping to his working hours—not just for the sake of principle, but so he can return to you sooner

when he has the chance, he waits outside your workplace with a bouquet of red roses in his hand, ready to walk you home or take you to dinner

on more tender nights, you’ll find him kneeling in front of you, his hands on yours, telling you in that velvety voice how much you mean to him, and how he wants you to be close to him all the time

on the surface, Nanami may appears calm and composed, unshaken as ever. but the faint flush that creeps onto his cheeks whenever you're around betrays him in the sweetest way. Gojo, naturally, can't resist saying something like this (with a overdramatic whine): "Blushing, Nanami? Should I feel jealous?"

Nanami isn’t one for public displays of affection. he tries to maintain his composure, even when you sweetness flusters him so much in public. behind the mask of calm, he’s restless, counting the minutes until he can steal you away to a private corner and kiss you hard...maybe squeeze your thigh as well...

however he’s ok with holding hands in public (honestly, it is one of his favourite things to do) plus he occasionally presses soft kisses to your palm which make you melt completely…

unshakeably confident in your relationship. If someone flirts with you, he’s calm (but might be a little bit more possessive than usual in bed that night, even though he knows it's foolish to react that way, but he can't help it)

for him, there’s no one else but you. it’s not that he has to ignore attractive people—he simply doesn’t see them when he’s with you

as composed as he is, the desire he feels for you simmers just beneath the surface. he wants you—badly—but he waits, patient and respectful, for you to be completely comfortable, although is so hard to be patient with you sometimes…

when the moment finally comes, his restraint melts away. he’ll kiss you deeply, savouring the taste of you like he’s been starving, his hips bucking uncontrollably 

he’s a generous lover, a big fan of giving head. nothing pleases him more than leaving you trembling under his touch, as his mouth explores you with relentless precision

he’ll fuck you hard but balance it with tenderness, kissing away your tears and murmuring sweet, reverent words against your heated skin

though sometimes, if the moods takes him, he’s not above whispering dirty, obscene things in your ear while he moves against you. his words sinful, describing in vivid detail how good you feel, how tight you are, and how he can’t get enough of you

adores seeing you in lingerie chosen just for him. the sight makes his gaze darken with desire as his hands and lips worship every inch of you

adores it even more to fuck you hard in it, his hands gripping your hips or ass with bruising intensity. his palm meets your skin in sharp, stinging spanks, the sound echoing alongside your moans, as his breath grows ragged, hot, and heavy against your lips. between desperate, hungry kisses, he huffs into your mouth, his voice low and gravelly, muttering just how irresistible you are and how he can’t get enough of you

afterward however, he’s attentive and caring. he cleans you up, whispers soft reassurances, and holds you close so you feel safe and adored (or dare i say loved?)

when he’s had a little too much to drink, he rests his head on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your neck as he murmurs your name over and over again...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hi, you can find more of my works about nanami ♡here♡

also, you can give me some ideas of what else I should write about nanami please! i need some inspo

[finelinevogue]

bigger than all of them

summary - you and the girls have an extremely spicy wine evening [ 18+ content / mature ]

word count - >1k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

You were 3 bottles of wine deep and had no filter.

Mor had convinced you and the girls to have a wine night in at the House of Wind. She had raided Rhys’ wine store room and taken some of his most potent stuff, hence why you were all so inebriated.

The night had started of sweet and friendly, but at some point it had taken a dark and sexual turn which is why you were all now divulging in each other’s sex lives.

“Well I hope you get treated right in the bedroom, Emerie.” Nesta smirked.

Emerie and Mor had been together for over three years now and they were still very much in their honeymoon phase. You doubted they would ever leave it.

“She does.” Mor answered, looking at her love from across the room with stars in her eyes, “And not just the bedroom.”

Emerie blushed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe this conversation was really happening.

“Are you a giver or receiver?” Nesta asked Emerie, wanting more details.

“Can I say both?” She replied.

“I would’ve thought Mor would’ve been the giver.” Feyre chimed in, nudging her shoulder into Mor’s since they were sat on the sofa next to each other.

“Sometimes it’s nice to switch.” Mor shrugged. “Top up anyone?”

Mor offered the bottle to everyone, holding it up whilst others held up their glasses to fill. Nesta’s was barely sipped from yet and she was demanding a refill. Yours was almost empty but you didn’t raise your glass just yet.

“Someone fill up Y/Ns glass. We need her tipsier before we question her about Az.” Mor demanded.

You blushed as you thought about being in the spotlight for being questioned about your sex life - with Azriel! Az was practically a brother to Mor and part of Nesta and Feyre’s immediate family, so it felt forbidden to talk about him like that with them. Yet, you did want to divulge a little.

“I need to be drunker to hear about Azriel’s sex life.” Nesta laughed, holding her glass out for Mor to fill.

“Where is he tonight?” Gwyn asked.

“Who? Az?” You asked.

“Mhm.”

“At home, I think.” You replied.

“Oh yes! You just moved houses didn’t you. How did that go?” Elain asked.

“It was good. We’re still decorating but we’re taking our time.” You answered, crossing your legs underneath as you got comfortable. The blanket had fallen slightly off your legs so you pulled it back up onto your lap.

“What colour are you painting the walls?”

“I think–.”

“I’m sorry. I did not invite you all over to hear what tone of beige Y/N and Azriel are painting their house. I want to know something more interesting. Like.. Have you defiled the house yet?” Mor asked.

All eyes switched to you intensely, like you were about to tell the most important story of all existence.

You took a nervous sip of wine, readying yourself for the beginning of the interrogation.

“Yes.” You said simply.

“And?” Feyre asked, eyes wide waiting for more.

“And what?” You pretended to be clueless.

“Oh please… We want to know what room. When? How long? What’s he like? Is the best you’ve ever had?” Nesta pried.

You bit your lip as you readied yourself to answer the questions. Hopefully Az wouldn’t care that you were going to divulge so many details with your friends.

“On the first night in our new house we… you know—.”

“Fucked?” Mor interjected.

“Yeah, fucked, for.. well I remember we started before dinner and then I don’t really ever remember going to bed… so, all night?”

Everyone squealed.

Feyre kicked her legs as she screamed in excitement and Gwyn almost spilt her wine on the floor from how elated she was.

You and Azriel were a very private couple, so hearing details like these were very rare and few - which is why it was all the more monumental when people did hear the details. Whether the details were soft or sexy were completely dependent on whether you’d been fed wine or not - Mor knew what she doing.

“Is he… big?” Gwyn asked shyly, still getting comfortable with talking about stuff like this.

“Well I have nothing to compare it to.” You furrowed your brows.

Nesta held up her hands in front of her, palms facing inwards to each other, drawing them a little closer together but still far enough part to keep a good distance between them.

“This is Cassian.” She said.

Feyre copied Nesta’s actions but created a gap that was a little smaller but by only a fraction.

“Rhys.”

Elain held hers up then, the smallest of all the gaps but still a big gap nonetheless, “Lucien.”

You bit your lip as you tried to suppress the giggle you wanted to let out. You tilted your chin to your chest as you answered, refusing to meet anyones eye as you did, “Bigger than all of them.”

“I knew it!” Mor shouted, raising her arms to the sky in triumph with herself.

“Well done, love, you correctly guessed the size of your brothers dick.” Emerie teased her.

“Gods, he must be good then Y/N/N?” Gwyn asked.

“Mhm.” You nodded, taking a sip of your wine.

“Did it get better with the bond?” Elain asked you.

“Oh yeah, definitely. You agree Mor?”

“Definitely.” Mor looked lovingly at Emerie, her mate, as she answered. Emerie nodded in agreement with Mor.

Feyre pouted as she watched their interaction, probably missing her own mate. Rhys and Feyre had the kind of bond where they couldn’t go half a day without being with each other. It was sweet.

“I think also, like, Az has learnt what I do and don’t like which is why it feels better.” You said.

“Oh yeah? What’s the best thing he’s learnt to do?” Nesta asked devilishly.

You pursed your lips and squinted as you thought about which moment to answer with, the wine having given you enough liquid courage to talk more about this kind of stuff.

Damn you Mor.

“He does this thing with his shadows…”

The girls squealed again and your toes curled just thinking about Azriel.

“He… sometimes ties me with them and uses the spare tendrils to tease me.” You blushed.

“Oh!”

“Y/N!!!”

“Yes!”

“Good for you!”

The girls seemed more excited by this than you. They did have a point. It was a pretty intense and exciting thing, to have a mate that was so open and interested in loving you in different ways.

It made your sex life interesting and fresh.

“I wish Cassian had shadows now, dammit.” Nesta rolled her eyes.

“He must treat you good, Y/N.” Feyre said.

“He does. Really good.”

“I knew this wine night was a good idea!” Mor laughed and so did the rest of you.

Maybe she had a point. It was nice to be comfortable enough to talk about these kind of things with some of the best people in your life. Not to mention it made you even more excited to get home to Azriel later on and defile another room with him.

[norrisainz33]

big news || cs55

☆ summary: carlos and his long term partner have a big announcement

☆ pairing: carlos sainz x wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none and pregnancy and poorly translated spanish

☆ requested: yes!! thank you anon 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

carlossainz55 has made a post

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, ynsainz, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, and 763,928 others

carlossainz55: over the weekend i got to make the most perfect woman in the world my wife. y/n - i love you more than words could ever describe and i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. te amo mucho ❤️

view all 889 comments

user1: violently sobbing

alex_albon: a beautiful weekend celebrating an incredible couple

lilymhe: thank you for letting us be part of your big day 🤍

carlossainz55: gracias por todo ❤️

ynsainz: i’m so glad you both were able to make it!!

user2: lando being one of the groomsmen has me sick. carlando i love you

landonorris: i’m so glad my mom and dad finally tied the knot

carlossainz55: and im glad you were able to be with us

landonorris: eres lago

ynsainz: love you dearly muppet 😘

ynsainz: my husband 🤍 you are so dear to me

carlossainz55: my wife 😍

user3: happy for you guys (i’m gonna lay in the road)

williamsracing: congratulations mr and mrs chili 💙

carlossainz55: 💙🌶️

user4: this is MY royal wedding

ynsainz has made a post

liked by carlossainz55, charlesleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, yourbff, alex_albon and 234,917 others

ynsainz: the most perfect honeymoon with the most perfect husband

view all 493 comments

user2: this called me single and BROKE in so many different languages

landonorris: my favorite people in the world

ynsainz: my sweet little landy boy 😘

maxverstappen1: congratulations you two ❤️

ynsainz: thank you maxie 🤍

carlossainz55: gracias max

user12: i want this

alexandrasaintmleux: hope you had a magical time 🤍

ynsainz: we did!! i miss you tho, we must hang out soon 🫶🏻

user23: i love love so very much

carlossainz55: mi amor 😘

ynsainz: mi marido [my husband] 😍

user43: you two are so important to me

ynsainz has posted to their story

view all story replies

user2: FAMILY OKG 😭😭😭😭

landonorris: my hair looks a mess here why did you post this one

ynsainz: it looked like this in all the pics babes

landonorris: 😔

user3: the sainz’s are so handsome it’s crazy

carlossainz55: carlandoooo

ynsainz: sometimes i worry you like him more than me

carlossainz55: hahaha no mi princessa. i couldn’t love anyone more than you

lilymhe: my little golfer 🥹

ynsainz: thank you for the lessons my love

user5: lando being part of the family is everything

user12: just waiting til you guys expand the family 🫣

ynsainz has posted to their private story

view all story replies

landonorris: what did you make???

ynsainz: a bun!

landonorris: a bun????????? what???

ynsainz: yeah i put a bun in the oven

landonorris: i’m incredibly confused how this was the best dinner you’ve ever had

ynsainz: it’s ok lando! you’ll find out when you’re older

landonorris: wait i just googled that…….. are you insinuating what google says you are?

ynsainz: i am 🤍

landonorris: YAYYYYYYYYY OMG!!!!!! MY BESTIES ARE HAVING A BABY

ynsainz: please don’t tell anyone yet. ok?

landonorris: my lips are sealed

lilymhe: HOW DID IT GO

ynsainz: you were right lils. i’ve never seen him so excited in all the years we’ve been together. he cried and cried and it was the best reaction i could’ve hoped for

lilymhe: i’m so glad to hear it. you two are going to be the best parents 🤍

ynsainz: thank you 🥹 and you’re going to be the best auntie

lilymhe: i simply can’t wait

carlossainz55: only thing that tops this is the day you said yes to being my wife ❤️

ynsainz: carlos 😭😭😭

carlossainz55: it’s true my love. having a family with y is something ive been dreaming of for years

ynsainz: me as well carlos ❤️

yourbff: i’m so happy for you my gorgeous bestie

ynsainz: thank you my perfect bestie

charlesleclerc: how were the burgers ?

ynsainz: wonderful mon ami

alexandrasaintmleux: tell me what’s up immediately

ynsainz: i’ll tell you at breakfast tomorrow 😘

carlossainz55 has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynsainz, charlesleclerc, williamsracing, carlossainzoficial, fernandoalo_oficial, and 987,457 others

carlossainz55: we’ve been keeping a secret. can’t wait to meet you in a few months little baby sainz 🤍🌶️

view all 999 comments

user1: THIS IS THE BEST NEWS EVER

ynsainz: see you soon baby sainz ❤️

carlossainz55: mommy and daddy can’t wait to meet you 💙

user3: my favorite couple are gonna be parents i’m sobbing

williamsracing: congratulations 🌶️

landonorris: i can’t wait to be an uncle 😘

carlossainz55: i look forward to your promotion to uncle lando

user81: i love carlando so much im

user8: carlos kissing the pictures has me in tears

alexandrasaintmleux: my favorite people in the whole wide world are going to be parents 🤍

carlossainz55: 🥹❤️

charlesleclerc: congratulations my friends

carlossainz55: thank you charles 🫶🏻

user9: feeling very parasocial and crazy rn

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻 happy new year everyone! could not be more thankful for al the support from you this year ❤️

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform