#there are more i just can’t think of any at the moment

[screampied]

sukuna never says “i love you.”

to him, the words are meaningless. he’s been alive for thousands and thousands of years, of course he knows what it means. he’s not stupid, but for some reason—every time it comes out of your little human mouth, his heart aches. you say it so sweetly with the cheekiest grin on your face, not a single care in the world. he hated it. three words, eight letters of pure rubbish. at least, that’s what he thinks to himself. for sukuna, he expresses his love in a different way.

physical touch. flicking your forehead, teasing you, saying things he’d never say to you while you were awake. that was his version of love, he didn’t need those stupid, stupid words. or did he?

“love you, ‘kuna,” you’d pepper another kiss against his cheek. he tchs, the audacity for you to do something so embarrassing. he never says it back but you know deep down he’s got to feel at least something in that cold heart of his. he just has to, after all you did steal his heart in a way. and he stole yours. your eyes always had a glinting sparkle whenever those words would come out and he hated it. his response to you saying you loved him would always be the same.

“yeah yeah,” he gruffs. or a simple, “i know..”

but— there’d be a time where he’d regret not saying it back. a cold, cruel time where it’s just you and him, no one else. except, it would really just be him.

sukuna had a hard time at expression his feelings. it’s not like he hated you—despite his rough, barbarous persona.

he didn’t hate you but he did. it was complicated. it was a struggle trying to put it into words. all he knew was that he loathed how soft you made him, he noticed his behavior would change around you overtime. sukuna’s voice was get more gentle, his shoulders would relax, and he’d always finding himself flicking your forehead for some strange reason. it’s annoying,

you’re annoying.

the feeling was love though, it had to be.

had to be,

so the moment comes where he regrets not saying it back.

it’s something he’d continuously beat himself up over for. because now, here you are, laid all out near the ground in his arms. all four of his arms held you in a tight, cradling embrace and he’s got an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. sukuna’s scarlet red irises were blown and fearfully dilated. his thin nostrils flared up and his slit brows contort in panic and confusion.

sukuna ryomen was scared.

“brat. get up.” he murmurs, three simple words was all he said to you. three simple words but you could barely even hear them.

all you heard was a brief inaudible mumble. you saw his lips moving but barely any sound came out. your body felt crushed, the pain was excruciating. your limbs, they felt like they were on fire. getting up was the last thing on your mind and you’ve probably sone the most careless thing imaginable.

you took a hit for sukuna, a deadly hit that was powerful enough to cost you your life. it’s funny though—all the talk of seeing your life flash before your eyes, and now, being snatched into the inevitable end, you were starting to really see it.

“get up,” he repeats, and this time, a single tear falls right onto your cheek. you meet sukuna’s gaze. the king of curses was a mere mess right before your eyes. he was like this for just you. teary eyed and sniffling, he can’t stand this pain.

you’re being held in his lap and not once does his eyes leave yours. sukuna takes a while to speak again and it’s as if he’s carefully thinking of what to say. time was precious right now, but he didn’t wanna think about anything. his focus was solely on you, his favorite little human.

“can you hear me? say something.”

“you .. you’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning too much, ‘kuna.” you hum, a weak finger stroking against his cheek.

archons, for whatever reason, that little comment brought a smile to his face. you were so annoying to him and yet, he wouldn’t wanna be in anyone else’s presence. everything hurt though,

your body felt scorchingly hot, your pulse remains to ring through your ears and you were wheezing a bit. “hey, hey,” he watches as you try to cling onto his hand. sukuna didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say - all he did do though, was hold you. it was the least thing he could do. your hand was so small compared to his, his long fingernails gently tickling against your skin.

he didn’t have it in him to scold you for trying to protect him. as fragile of a being you knew you were, you did it anyway. you risked your life for him. sukuna let his guard down and you jumped right in the way without a second thought for yourself. that’s what love was, his heart bleeds at the recent flashback before a shaky breath leaves his lips. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. you can’t leave me like this, please.”

“i’m not l- leaving.” you reply, your voice weak and frail. sukuna knew that was a lie. the more you stared at him, how the look of worry on his face paints and marinates his features, he was really scared. you were his everything, his breath of fresh air, maybe even his one true love. “never gonna leave you, sukuna.”

and sukuna lays there with you on his lap. you seem still - too still. right before his eyes, he watches as your body’s temp run cold, final breaths making its introduction. everything was going so fast. he barely had time to react before he realized,

you were gone.

“no,” he whispers under his breath. the demon was at a loss of words. the feeling in his chest, it was indescribable. painful, and tight as he watches the light leave your eyes, something within him leaves also. a part of him. you were drifting away and there was nothing he could do about it. “no.” he repeats against, feeling a dull ache run cold through his body. sukuna didn’t know what to do. he’s seeing red, but perhaps that wasn’t just bloodshed and anger. maybe, maybe it was the one true feeling he was denying all along,

love.

his breaths become heavy once he realizes you’re actually gone. no movement, no cheeky replies, no random “i love you ‘kuna’s,” no nothing. the tear in his heart was enough to make him see the light with you. it hurt horribly, a lump in his throat builds up before he starts to weep. one tear comes then multiple shortly follow, landing past the thin fabric of his sown kimono and onto your lifeless body.

sukuna hated you. he hated how you made him so soft, so vulnerable, so weak. you came into sukuna’s life, stole his heart, and also broke it.

as his eye twitches, his smile had already faded once you left him.

for the first time in centuries, sukuna was defeated. his enemy wasn’t a sorcerer, a curse, or even himself who he believed was his true worse enemy. sukuna ryomen was defeated by four simple letters, love. not only did you leave him in tears, but you also left him with an engagement ring inside his right palm.

he was far too late, he was gonna propose to you. that way, he’d build up the courage to say those stupid, stupid words. opening up his right hand, he stares at the ring he wanted to give you way earlier before this incident even happened. sukuna waited too long, he’d actually plan this for quite some time but again, he was scared.

with a defeated sigh, he surrenders, glancing at you for one last time. no smile on your face anymore but he just used his imagination. there you laid, peaceful, almost as if you were asleep. taking a deep breath, sukuna gives you his last gentle forehead flick before finally telling you the words he’s been longing to say for years.

“i … i love you too, brat. never leavin’ you either.”

[eomayas]

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) • jww [req]

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo x f!reader, fwb2l au

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!, fluff, angst

request: you start to have feelings for you FWB. unbeknownst to you, he feels the same way.

warnings: p in v, oral (f receinving), unprotected s*x, hand holding during intercourse, miscommunication, wonwoo is a munch

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope you like it :) it’s a bit long

lying in wonwoo’s arms with your cheek pressed against his bare chest, you think to yourself: i could get used to this. but the thought is quickly stripped from your mind, vanishing within a second once you remember that this isn’t something to get used to. it’s strictly no strings attached, and lying on his chest every night comes with strings that he is adamant about not having. “i don’t want to be tied down,” his voice echos in your head, practically taunting you ever time you think about him as more; more than just this guy that you sleep with a few times a week, more than just a booty call. simply more. you lightly shake your head as if you’re trying to get rid of any thoughts of him. “hmm?” he mumbles from above you, hand tightening around your arm ever so slightly.

“nothing,” your voice is nearly a whisper, hoarse from previously crying out his name, and not having talked for awhile. wonwoo hums and sweeps his hand from your arm to your bare hip. it’s not long before his fingers are rubbing your skin and you’re fighting to keep your interest in the tv show he put on. he’s aware that you’re trying to ignore him, but because he can feel your warm, bare heat against his upper thigh he doesn’t wait for you to finally give in.

“hey,” he says, drawing your attention. you flick your eyes up at him, and he almost smiles at how cute you look with your cheek smooshed against him and your eyes wide and innocent. you see the corner of his lip twitch, but it’s so quick that you worry you nearly imagined it. with a tilt of his head, he’s beckoning you up towards him.

you straddle his lap, settling against his stomach. you arch down to him, pressing your lips against him and holding yourself up by pressing your hands flat against his firm chest. wonwoo grips onto your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh and softly massaging and kneading your ass.

it’s hard to not want more from wonwoo when he touches and kisses you like this, like you’re the only thing he wants in this world, at this moment, in this lifetime. you consider that maybe it’s the bare minimum, that he should feel like this anyway because he’s about to fuck you, but you don’t really have much time to think deeper because he’s biting your bottom lip before running his tongue over it. “lemme eat you out,” he rasps, grip on your ass tightening.

wordlessly, you topple off of him onto the bed and he’s rolling on top of you, hands planted on the bed beside either side of your head. he kisses you again before trailing his lips down to your jaw, sucking on the underside until you breathe out a little sigh. he continues down, lips kissing down your neck and skating over your collar bones. he usually sucks marks into your skin, but he’s eager to get his mouth on you.

he kisses the tops of your breasts and bypasses your nipples to kiss down the valley of your breasts until he gets to your stomach. your hands rest on his upper back, nails already lightly pressing into his skin in anticipation. wonwoo flicks his eyes up to yours when he gets to the top of your pelvis, the look he gives you enough to make you tense up and part your legs wider. wonwoo smirks and presses a long kiss to your inner thigh, this time sucking a hickey into the skin. above him, you relax against the pillows and smooth your hand over this hair, your touch featherlight.

wonwoo pretends that he doesn’t feel something inside of him twitch at your soft gesture. he attempts to calm himself down by remembering that everything is heightened right now because you’re about to have sex—though that makes him freeze because what you two are supposed to be doing is just sex. nothing more, nothing less that that. he shouldn’t be feeling things because you’re touching his hair when he’s between your legs. “wonwoo,” you call out, palm applying light pressure on the crown of his head as you try to urge him lower onto your core.

ah—you only wanted him to get on with it. at least that’s what he tells himself; it does enough to calm him down, and he sinks lower, kneeling at the foot of the bed and pulling you towards the end of the mattress, until your glistening core is in front of his face. usually he makes you beg for his mouth, but this is for him as much as it���s for you, so he wastes no more time and sticks out his tongue to lick an experimental stripe from your hole to your clit.

you thread your your fingers through his hair with your left hand, a loose grip on the strands. wonwoo licks up your folds again, his tongue flat and relaxed against you. he flicks his tongue against your clit and you gasp, core tightening around nothing but aching for him. another gasp from you, and he finally buries his face into your cunt, arms hooking around your thighs to hold them open around his head.

your back arches off the bed when he suctions his lips around your clit, seemingly trying to suck the soul out of you. “w-wonwoo,” you breathe out, pressing down onto his head and gripping onto the sheets with your free hand. your chin drops against your chest and you try to keep your eyes open to watch him, but between him sucking on your clit and prodding at your hole with his tongue, it’s proving to be difficult.

wonwoo pulls you impossibly closer, nose bumping against your sensitive mound as he licks you from the inside out, bobbing his head as he does. you moan and whimper above him each time his nose rubs against your clit, your hips bucking up into his face. wonwoo releases his hold from around your legs to press against the insides of your thighs. “stop moving,” he mumbles from in between your legs, grunting when you close your legs around his head due to the vibrations from his voice against your core.

“sorry,” you squeak, shakily opening your legs wider for him. wonwoo retracts one of his hands to slip two fingers inside of you, curling and drawing out moans from you that only spur him on. “w-wonwoo, please!” you whine, throwing your head back and jerking your hips upwards. you’re not sure what you’re begging for; maybe to make you cum soon, for mercy, for more.

he growls something between your legs and shoulders his way in between your thighs, keeping you spread open. your chest rises and falls rapidly with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers inside of you. a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach, the pressure building and building the longer he works you out on his tongue. “fuck, wonwoo,” you whimper out, grip on his hair tightening.

the satisfying sting on his scalp spurs him on, mouth ravishing you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to eat you out. you cry out curses, thighs shaking against his shoulders.

euphoria reaches you almost without warning, your cunt spasming around his fingers as you release gushes out of you. wonwoo laps at you, his tongue eagerly licking up your juices. he pulls his fingers out of you, and you feel so empty but don’t have much time to worry about that while wonwoo continues to eat you out through your orgasm. it’s as enjoyable for him as it is for you—he could eat you out all day if given the opportunity.

“w-won,” you pant, vision spotty as your legs tremble. his eyes drag up to yours, pure hunger swimming in his orbs. one look at you, and he (reluctantly) pulls his mouth off of your core, lips glistening from your arousal. wonwoo kisses the inside of your thigh, his hand stroking your knee, before he sits back and licks his lips. “t-thanks.” you rasp, draping an arm over your eyes.

“give me minute,” you croak, sweat beading along your forehead and sliding down your temple. wonwoo doesn’t mind; hes patient and not in a rush. he gets off of the floor and stretches, rolling his neck and sighing when his joints crack and pop. he stretches his arms above his head, the tension in his shoulder blades releasing with a dull pop.

while you recover, he walks over to the drawer where he keeps his condoms and grabs the box. it feels light, and he shakes it to double check. when nothing rattles, he feels his heart sink and peers into the box in disbelief. “i’m out of condoms,” he says incredulously, running a hand through his hair.

“oh,” is all you say, your tone lacking disappointment. wonwoo gnaws at his bottom lip for a moment, staring down at the empty box of trojans.

“i’ll pull out?” he asks, ear turning red in mild embarrassment. he is expecting a ‘no’, for this night to be over quicker than he really wants—you’re never here longer than you want to be—and he won’t really be upset if you say ‘no’, because it’s risky, and you two aren’t really there in your relationship. there’s only been one night where you two didn’t use protection; it was after a night spent drinking together. the next morning he brought you a plan b, and the two of you didn’t speak for a few days.

wonwoo tries his hardest to keep everything between the two of you casual, just like how you said you wanted it to be between the two of you. sometimes those lines get blurred, and he doesn’t always know how to gauge your feelings without asking (which he rarely does), thus leading him to asking you risky questions like his previous one.

“okay.”

wonwoo whips his head around to look at you upon hearing your response. you’re still lying flat on your back with an arm thrown across your face. “what?”

“i said ‘okay’” your voice is calm, almost too calm that it makes him wonder if you’re aware of what you’re agreeing to. but wonwoo rushes over to you anyway, crawling on top of you and pulling your arm away from your face.

“are you sure?”

“hurry before i change my mind,” you mumble, parting your legs once again and inviting him to get closer. wonwoo scrambles to grab his glasses off of his bedside table and slides them on before repositioning himself in between your legs.

his cock is achingly hard—has been since he started eating you out—and waiting to be enveloped by you. wonwoo isn’t sure he’ll last that long without a condom, but you look worn out enough that he thinks you probably won’t mind.

grabbing the base of his dick, wonwoo lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes his way in. you let out a sharp gasp, propping yourself up on your shoulders to watch him push inside of you. “fuck, y/n,” he grunts, willing himself to keep his composure. “you feel that?”

“yea,” your voice cracks when you say it, body flushing with heat. you can feel every ridge, every vein, and every curve much more fully than you ever have. you are already worked up from wonwoo alone, but you feel as though it won’t take much to get you off again, not when you are experiencing this new sensation so wholly.

wonwoo grunts his way inside of you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. he pushes in until he can’t go any further, and holds himself inside of you for a second. your cunt pulses around him like it’s trying to pull him in further. “god, you feel good,” he groans, his head dropping down to his chest. his gaze falls on where he’s buried inside of you, where he fits in you like you were designed for him. “fuck.” he whispers.

you suck in a breath when he pulls out, and whimper when he pushes back inside. he finds a rhythm and you get lost watching him disappear inside of you, and then reappear. he doesn’t go fast, nor does he fuck you nice and slow. it’s in the middle, taking you right to the edge and giving you some time to recover. “unh- wonwoo,” you moan, falling flat on your back.

“yeah?”

you lick your lips, feeling a little embarrassed when you say, “i want a kiss.” it feels too intimate for your relationship, but so does him fucking you raw. you were never one to think too deeply about soul ties when it came to sex, but now you’re not so sure it was all junk.

wonwoo is quick to capture your lips in a kiss, one hand on you hip and the other planted near your head on the bed. you grip onto his sides as you kiss him back, mouth falling open to whine out his name. with every thrust inside of you, coupled with his chest pressed against your own and his mouth on yours, you feel closer and closer to the edge. he can tell with the your cunt squeezes him in tightly, and how your lips are pressed against his own that you’re close.

“yeah? you’re close?” he asks, kissing the corner of your lip and dragging his mouth down to your jaw, sucking a mark into the skin at your neck.

“s-so close,” you gasp out, whining when he pulls his mouth off of your neck and plants both of his hands on the bed. the need to be close to him washes over you, burns in your chest and your stomach and spreads down to your toes.his next thrust into you knocks the breath from your lungs. he grunts each time he moves inside of you, curses falling from both of your lips.

there’s nothing simple or casual, or friendly about what the two of you are doing. it’s all too intimate and is definitely going to complicate things later. he’s not somebody who wants to be attached to another person, not right now at least, but it feels like maybe he does. he looks down at you with an expression that makes you feel too much all at once, things that you’re not supposed to feel for a guy you’re just sleeping with.

you’re overcome with with feeling needy, nearly whining in frustration at the thought. you grab onto his wrist, trying to pull his hand from the bed and into your palm. “w-what?” he groans, looking down at you before sliding his gaze to where you have a hold on him. the corner of his lip quirks when you make grabby hands at him. “oh.” he says simply, interlocking your fingers together.

your orgasm hits your without warning, washing over you much more intensely than your last one. you’re chanting his name as your cunt spasms and your legs shake. “ah!” you moan, back arching off the bed and your chest pressing up into his.

liquid runs down your thighs and drips down onto the sheets below. wonwoo pants, his cock twitching inside of you. reluctantly, he pulls out with some difficulty because of how tight your cunt is around him, and shoots his cum onto your stomach, painting you white.

“fuck, sorry,” wonwoo rasps, placing a quick kiss on your lips. he’s never liked how it felt cumming on you, rather than inside of a condom or in your mouth. it felt rude, and a little demeaning, and it was never going to be his first option when it came to dumping his load. “i’ll grab a towel.”

you hardly register his cum on you until he’s wiping the inside of your thighs and then your stomach. your eyelids are heavy and can hardly stay open, fluttering shut every second before reopening when he touches you. “thanks,” you murmur, voice laden with sleep. wonwoo chuckles and says ‘you’re welcome’, but you’re too far gone to hear him.

when you wake up, it’s a couple hours later and you’re by yourself in his bed still bare. the tv is off, as well as the lights, so it’s pitch black save for the sunset shining through his window. you sit up and wince, a type of soreness between your thighs.

you slip out of his bed and find your discarded clothes and pull them on. standing in the middle of the room, you place your hands on your hips and sigh. a thousand emotions and questions are swimming through your head—confusion and what does this all mean? leading the pack. the empty, discarded box of condoms sits on his dresser like a trophy for what you two just did. you rub your forehead and gnaw on your bottom lip.

with a sigh, you grab the rest of your belongings and shove them into the tote bag you brought over and make your way out of his bedroom and down the hall. noise comes from the kitchen where wonwoo rifles through his nearly empty cupboards. “hey,” you say, making him jump and whip around.

“holy shit, hey,” he says, a hand over his heart. “you scared the shit out of me.”

“sorry,” you say, one of your hands holding onto your wrist.

“how’d you sleep?” he asks, shutting the cupboard and leaning against the counter, his arms crossing over his broad chest. his hair is still rumpled from earlier, though it looks like he just woke up from a nap as well.

“fine, i guess,” you say. he nods awkwardly and you dodge his eye contact.

“that’s good; i just woke up from a nap too,” he says. you look over at him with furrowed eyebrows, because he wasn’t in the bed with you. “i fell asleep on the couch.” wonwoo adds, like he just read your mind.

you nod and purse your lips. “you could’ve slept in your bed,” you say, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“didn’t want to bother you.”

“it’s your bed.”

“you’re my guest,” he says, seemingly ending the debate. guest. that’s all you are to him—a guest. a guest in his bed, his house, his life—a guest. not permanent, just passing through for a moment.

it’s quiet for a moment. you don’t know what to say to him. “alright, well i’ll get out of you way,” you say, running a hand over your head before some hair behind your ear.

“you’re not in my way,” wonwoo says, pushing himself off the counter when you make a move to leave. “you don’t have to leave.”

“i should,” you reply, walking quickly to the door to put on your shoes. wonwoo is right behind you, right on your trail. you shove your feet into your sneakers and ignore wonwoos presence behind you.

stealing a quick glance over your shoulder, you’re met with a hard expression from wonwoo. his eyes are squinted behind his lenses and his jaw is tight, like he’s trying to figure you out. it sends a chill down your back and you turn away from him and slip out of the front door wordlessly, without a chance to hear him say goodbye.

three days go by before you see wonwoo again. he texts you first, sending you a come over text at 9:30 on a thursday. you almost ignored it, unsure of yourself, but your feelings for him got the best of you and you immediately texted back an omw and got in your car.

currently, his hands are skating underneath your shirt and up your sides to rest underneath your breasts. you grind on his lap, hands threading in his hair. your lack of communication with him was to see if you could get over how you felt about him, to see if you could withstand him and his charm. but clearly, you can’t.

you pull back from his mouth to let him pull off your top. you’re leaning back into him when he stops you by putting his hand on your abdomen. “can we talk?” he asks, voice a little breathless.

“about?” you connect your lips to his neck, sucking a purposeful hickey into his skin when his hands skate up your back and stop short of the clasp for your bra.

“about us.”

major bomb drop. you freeze against him, your hands stilling in his hair and your lips losing their suction around his neck. your heart hammers in your chest, and you wonder if he can feel it with how close your two are pressed against each other.

never would you ever think that he’d be the one to bring up the topic of you two. you didn’t even expect him to reach out to you first—you’re surprised that you didn’t crack after the first day—and you definitely didn’t expect him to see a problem with your relationship. pulling back, you place your hands on his shoulders and peer down at him. “what is there to talk about?”

wonwoo literally bites his tongue, the words ‘i miss you’ sitting on the tip. “did i take it too far the other day?” he questions, referring to asking to fuck you without a condom. you roll your eyes and get off of his lap, grabbing your shirt off of the floor.

“no,” you say, yanking it over your head. “i fully agreed to it, wonwoo. if i didn’t want to do it, i would have said no.” you say, blowing some hair out of your face. you don’t know why you feel so frustrated all of a sudden.

“then what is it?” he asks, feeling like he’s grasping for straws trying not to expose how he feels about you.

“what is what?”

wonwoo runs a hand through his hair. he feels you staring, waiting for him to expose whatever he feels like he can’t say to you. “can i be honest with you?”

“please.”

he sucks in a breath before he starts. “im starting to really like you. well, ive liked you for awhile, actually. and i know you probably don’t wan to hear this, because i know you just want to keep it casual, and- wait,” you interrupt him, your nerves feeling like they’re working in overdrive. “what?”

you drag a hand down your face. “i thought you wanted to keep it casual,” you say, hand curling over your mouth when he slowly shakes his head.

“no, that was you,” he says, but his tone is unsure now that you’ve counteracted him. “right?”

“only because you said it first,” you say, and the gears start to turn into place for the both of you. your little arrangement wasn’t mutually understood—more like it was mutually misunderstood—and the other was just going along with what was said, just for the sake of the other person. “wonwoo, you said you didn’t want any strings.”

he cringes when you say it out loud. “true, but that was before,” wonwoo clarifies. you furrow your eyebrows.

“before when?”

his cheeks turn a cute shade of pink and he adjusts his glasses. “before we hung out for the second time,” it’s embarrassing admitting it out loud, but it’s the truth. when the two of you started sleeping together, he meant it when he said that he didn’t want to be tied down. but after you two hung out again, and the ‘friends’ part of friends-with-benefits showed itself, he knew he was a goner. you made him laugh so easily, and made him feel like he could be himself around you. it wasn’t long until he started missing your presence and was mourning your absences.

you stare at him in complete shock. “are you serious?” he nods, and you let out slight chuckle, lightly shaking your head. “there’s no way.” you mutter to yourself. wonwoo tenses, waiting for the blow of you telling him that you don’t feel the same.

“if you don’t feel the same, it’s fine,” wonwoo says quickly, wiping around his mouth to give his hands something to do. you shake your head just as fast, eyes wide.

“no! i mean, i do, wonwoo. i like you too—a lot—i just…” you trail off and run a hand through your hair unsteadily.

“you just what?”

you shrug. “i don’t know, actually,” you giggle. wonwoo smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. you notice and take a seat next to him on the couch, angling your body towards him. “wonwoo, you’re great. the sex is great, everything is great. but i do want more with you. i like you so much, it was starting to hurt,” you say, not caring about how pathetic he might think you sound. you get the feeling that he doesn’t care how you sound, because he tugs you into his lap again, his arms securing around your waist.

“i want more with you too. and im pretty sure i like you way more than you like me,” he says, a smile on his face.

“mhm. whatever,” you say, running a hand over his hair just like you did the other day. wonwoos eyes flutter shut and you drag your hand down to rest on his cheek. “hey.” you murmur.

“what?”

“thank you.”

“for what?”

you shrug and lightly stroke his cheek. “just, thank you.”

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[lcriedlastnight]

Fake dating and drunken kisses with Oscar. The drunken kisses, with reader's fingers in Oscar's hair and reader sitting in his lap, kissing him with no restraint; things getting heated, Oscar's hands slipping under reader's top and earning a slight shiver from her. All the while, Oscar could only wish reader would kiss him like this when they're sober. Oscar lets that thought linger until they both fall asleep in each other's arms after kissing way too many times to count because they can't seem to get enough of each other.

thanks anon, lovely! i appreciate you very much.

tw: fem!reader. maybe a few swears. not spell checked. not too sure, lmk if you want me to add any.

w/c: 1.8k

it wasn’t oscar’s idea, he swears. but now he’s here, at this club, filled with his fellow drivers, random celebrities he can’t be arsed to learn the names of, multiple fan girls trying to get with lando and you.

he wasn’t even sure it was lando’s idea to go out to some random club in miami to celebrate his first win. it probably was, if he thought straight, but how could he? with a mix of a constant supply of alcohol and you swimming through his veins, he doesn’t know how anyone expects him to think straight.

he had the pleasure of you being glued to his side from the moment the both of you stepped into the club, your hand not leaving his arm for a whole thirty minutes.

this was all for show of course, but his friends around him didn’t know this, they thought whatever you and him had going on was real and it was nights like these where he could play into his deepest fantasies. the ones where you’re not all over him because you have to be, but because you want to be. like he longs for you to be.

you started off sitting beside him. your hand sitting loosely on his forearm, your touch light and tickling a little as you run your fingers over his bare skin. the more drinks you were convinced to down with lando, and the shots logan told you tasted so good, ended up with you being a little more than drunk.

so you went from sitting politely beside him, three hours before, to your legs slung over his lap, half sitting on him half not.

because oscar had had significantly less than you to drink tonight he was way less drunk and more tipsy. drunk enough to follow in your footsteps with how affectionate you were being. although he didn’t think he had to have alcohol to do it. just your permission.

“the thing is, batman really did hate the joker he was just afraid to let him know it. he for sure has like emotional problems or something. but by the end of the film he lets everyone in and it’s so nice!”. you had just finished explaining the plot of the lego batman film to oscar. he nodded along, listening as best as he could, although you did loose him at some points, he would have to watch it to see what you were talking about.

the table was almost empty by the end of your ramble, everyone having left because they didn’t really care much, neither did oscar but he cared about what you cared about so maybe he did.

he hums as his hand played with your hair, brushing it away from your face and tangling it between his fingers. he had a strong urge to kiss you right now. but your agreement had been to only kiss if everyone wasn’t convinced, which meant you guys had only kissed once or twice. and that was at the start of- well whatever this was. everyone was easily convinced you two were together. oscar didn’t know whether to be happy at annoyed.

oscar’s knocked out of his thoughts by you shuffling around to sit yourself on his lap. your smile bright.

“thanks for listening osc. m’gonna kiss you now, okay?” you mumble out, your hands holding onto his shoulders. oscar’s on your hips, holding you still.

he barely get a second to even register your words before your leaning down and locking your lips on his. he feels guilty because you’re way more drunk than him but before he can pull away from you, your mouth opens and you’re sloppily kissing him a little bit harder. he returns the favour, quickly.

you’re both interrupted by a voice calling over to you both to ‘get some!’. you pull away embarrassed, hiding your head in the crook of oscar’s neck. his hands jump to cradle the back of your head and your neck. his touch gentle and loving. oscar wants to kill whatever driver hollered at them. now you’re embarrassed and you’ll probably never want to kiss him again!

after maybe ten minutes you pop your head out from it’s hiding place. your eyes glassy as you stare at oscar.

“can we go home?” you ask him. you seem less drunk than you were before the kiss. maybe it sobered you up? oscar thinks for a moment before replying. “home?”.

“your room.” you clarify. your words come out shy, which surprises him. he’s never really seen you shy before. it’s a side he comes to enjoy. he nods at your words and quickly pulls his phone out to book an uber for you both.

you ungraciously pull yourself off his lap and stand, wobbling in your heels next to the table, waiting on him. oscar is quick to follow suit, making sure he has your purse and that your purse has all your things inside. once he’s sure he has everything he grabs your hand in his.

“c’mon pretty. we gotta say bye to lando first before we leave.” he tells you, voice all soft and syrupy. you nod, agreeing.

oscar pulls you through all the dancing bodies on the dance floor, his hand gripping yours tightly making sure you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd of people. he eventually spots lando in the corner and explains that you’re both leaving.

“you’re leaving! why?!” lando complains over the loud, thumping music. you wobble on your heels and half fall into oscar, who catches you quickly, like if you were to fall you would die.

“we’re getting pretty tired” oscar tells him, his eyes saying sorry, but he wasn’t really. not when you were coming home with him. lando pouts and complains but eventually bids you both goodnight before finding his dance partner again.

oscar says goodbyes to other people he sees on the way to the door, hand still clutching yours. you mumble your goodbyes too not wanting to seem rude. the uber is waiting for you both outside and oscar couldn’t be more glad wanting to get you to the hotel as soon as he can.

the boy helps you inside then gets inside too. he helps you buckle your belt, the alcohol in his system helping him converse with the driver, his hand glued to your thigh, rubbing softly.

you rest the side of your head on the car door and it thumps against it as the car follows the roads bumps and turns. oscar looks at you in concern but doesn’t mention it. the ride to the hotel isn’t as long as you thought it would be but you think it must be because of the alcohol.

oscar helps you out the car and thanks the driver before grabbing your hand again and leading you into the hotel. he thanks his luck once again this night, as he thinks about how lovey you were being with him. he knows you don’t do it normally because it’s not in your agreement unless necessary but god, to have you touch him like this when you were sober.

you both cling to each other in the elevator as oscar presses soft kisses to your shoulder as you stand in front of him. you lean your head back on his chest, revelling in his affection. the elevator stops at his floor and he leads you to his room.

“i’m sleeping in your bed with you tonight, by the way” you say as he swiped the key card and ushers you inside.

oscar’s brows jump up in surprise and amusement as a smirk makes its way to his mouth. “where else would you be sleeping, hm?” he asks.

that stupid smirk just makes you want to kiss it off of him, so you do. you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him gently. oscar feels you straining and leans down to kiss you better. your hands make their way up to his hair to tug a little, earning yourself a little groan. this makes you smile into his mouth. he pulls away at this.

oscar doesn’t think his life can get any better as be presses firm kisses to your lips before pulling away, your own lips chasing his. he throws his head back with a silent groan before asking, “m’kay pretty girl, time for bed?”. you nod and let him lead you to get ready for bed.

you take significantly longer than oscar to get ready for bed, so he sits in his once lonely bed waiting for you, thinking about how good he must’ve been in his past life to be able to do this with you tonight. he wants to be this domestic with you for the rest of his life. he’s not even being dramatic. the sound of your footsteps breaks him out of his train of thoughts.

“hey, look at you! c’mere pretty.” oscar coos as he pats his lap, signalling for you to sit. you follow his directions and clamber into his lap, still a little drunk. the boy holds back a chuckle. he feels drunk then too but not off those stupid shots you took with logan, off your touch. he thinks about your dress from tonight. then he kisses you again.

oscar traces your lips with his tongue and you open for him, letting him in. you kiss each other lazily, you’re in no rush. your hands find his hair again tugging again. in retaliation his own hand moves from your waist to slide underneath your (his) t-shirt. he lays a big, open palm on your back, almost supporting you as you sit on top of him.

you two kiss for what seems like days but is only a few hours. oscar can tell from your kiss bitten lips. he smiles at your tired and glassy eyes as you tell him you’re tired.

you end up with your face pressed against his chest and your legs tangled up with his, your feet touching his somehow. you mumble into his chest, but oscar misses it.

“what, pretty?” he asks, a hand scratching gently at your scalp to help lull you to sleep.

“said night osc.” you tell him, a little louder this time. he grins at your tired voice.

“oh. sorry, g’night pretty girl” oscar must be too late though as he feels your breath even out. he sighs to himself, his hand still moving. there’s no way he was getting sleep any time soon. mind racing around the fact that he could be doing this every night with you, if he just told you.

your touch, your kisses, every night. oscar loved seeing you free tonight. he wanted that for you everyday. there was definitely a conversation to be had tomorrow.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

Fish guy is actually pretty much the same height as Steve when they’re sitting next to each other on the edge of the pool. Steve finally gave in, the heat of the day getting too much, and is trailing his feet in the water – fish guy doesn’t seem to care, but Steve still made sure to shower before he came out here. Next to Steve’s feet, the flat point of fish guys tail is also swirling in the water.

Fish guy loves pears. Steve’s sure they’re his new absolute favorite thing, and Steve’s watched him demolish six, cores and stalks and all, one right after the other.

He’s licking sticky juice from his fingers. Steve can’t see his eyes behind the shades; but he’s certain fish guy is watching him. Probably waiting to see if Steve will produce more food; fish guy has developed a hearty appetite, and he hasn’t put on much weight yet, but he’s not exactly what Steve would call emaciated either. A little over a week of regular food is obviously helping.

“Okay,” Steve sips on his beer, the points to himself, “Steve.”

“Steeee,” fish guy readily replies, nodding. Steve has no idea how or when he picked up the nodding and head shaking, but he uses both correctly, as far as Steve can tell, so Steve doesn’t argue.

Steve points at fish guy. Nothing, then a curious head tilt.

Steve’s starting to come to the conclusion that maybe fish guy just doesn’t have a name. Which, okay, Steve can kind of see that. He vaguely wonders if fish guy has any family; if he’d even want to go back to the Upside Down.

“Right. Should probably name you something vaguely fish related, no? Should we stay on brand?” Fish guy cocks his head the other way, like a bird. They’ve been sat here long enough that the sun has started to dry the ropey mess of hair that fish guy has; it gone kind of curly now, pinging up as it dries.

Steve really wants to comb it out, but he has no idea how fish guy will react; they’ve only just made it to sitting next to each other. Steve’s vaguely aware that combing someone else's hair is a bit...familiar, but he figures fish guy is kind of in his care or whatever.

Maybe they could build up to it.

“Fish,” Steve muses vaguely to himself, “fishing? Scales? Tails? Fishing, fisher? Fisher, Eddie, Eddie Fisher, that singer guy Mom really likes. What do you think, how does Eddie sound? Good as anything, right?”

Steve has no idea what’s going on behind the sunglasses, but fish guys head keeps cocking curiously to the side. Steve points to himself, “Steve.”

Fish guy, replies, “Steeee,” as expected, nodding.

Steve points to fish guy, and says, “Eddie.”

Fish guy points to himself cautiously, and quietly volunteers, “Edidie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, nodding, “near enough, man. Eddie. Sounds good.”

“Good,” Eddie replies, startling Steve a bit because it’s clear as a bell.

“That’s right, good. Eddie.”

Eddie, very slowly so Steve can clearly see what he’s doing, reaches for Steve’s beer bottle. Steve’s instinct is to take it away, what if it’s poisonous or something? But then he figures Eddie’s been pretty clear about rejecting stuff so far if he doesn’t want it; plus he lived in the Upside Down for, presumably, years. If he can survive in a toxic environment like that, then surely a sip of beer won’t hurt him.

Eddie’s funny as he lifts it, sniffing cautiously before he works out the mechanics of fitting his lips around the neck of the bottle. He drinks. Seems to ponder it for a moment, and then drinks again, giving the bottle a mournful little shake when he realizes it’s empty. There wasn’t much left anyway; Steve figures he’ll be okay.

“Good,” Eddie says as he hands the bottle back, “inied.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “finished.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t have any gills?”

“You are definitely asking the wrong person here Robs,” Steve scatters another handful of peas into the water, watching as Eddie bobs along, collecting them one at a time and popping them into his mouth, “ask Dustin. He’ll produce a book. There’s literally always a book.”

“I don’t want to ask Dustin, he’ll actually try and explain it to me...I’d rather speculate emptily.”

“You do love a bit of empty speculation.”

Robin nods in agreement, “so, no gills, what do you think?”

“I think…” Steve ponders for a few seconds, filling up the dog bowl with the rest of the peas and floating that on the water, “that he can’t actually breathe underwater. He can just hold his breath for a fucking long time.”

“Nah. Boring. Plausible. Logical. Could be correct. I need something wild Steven.”

Steve thinks, but he doesn’t have much of an imagination, not like the kids or Robin. Clever people have good imaginations; Steve’s not one of them. But he does remember hearing something about bugs one time, “he breathes through his skin.”

“Fucking rad.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Argyle.”

“He has the good stuff Steve, supply and demand,” she says shrugging, and then, “why, you jealous?”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. Because no, of course he isn’t. Much. Maybe a tiny bit. But that’s okay, Robin should have other friends and stuff he guesses. She pokes him in the ribs and he flaps at her.

It just encourages her, obviously, so he tries to ignore her which just makes her ten times worse. She pokes more, and she just knows him too well, goes for his ticklish ribs and before Steve knows what’s happening he’s on his side, trying to curl up to get away, begging for mercy and shrieking with laughter, Robin hollering “admit your jealousy Steven. Say uncle! Say iiiiiiiiiit!!”

Robin disappears suddenly with a splash and yelp. She scrambles on the grass, trying to right herself from where she was shoved, Eddie suddenly flopped half on top of Steve, his tail twisting around Steve’s middle. Robin scrambles back a few more paces, Eddie’s arms locked at the elbow to hold his torso up off the ground as far as he can, claws raking into the grass.

He’s completely silent, and Steve, shocked, just sits for a moment, looking at the back of Eddie’s soaking head. The water’s dripping from his hair in rivulets down his pale back, his shoulder blades standing out sharply, the knobs of his spine visible where his back is held in a sharp arch.

He’s puffed up like an angry cat, Steve thinks absently.

He makes eye contact with Robin over Eddie’s shoulder, and she raises her eyebrows just a teeny tiny bit, ‘what the fuck?’

Steve shrugs, ‘I don’t know.’ Then tilts his head to the house a little, ‘give us a minute.’

Robin frowns spectacularly, ‘I’m not leaving you alone with the crazy fish guy’ or words to that effect, Steve guesses.

He nods toward the house again, trying to give his best, ‘I’ll be fine,’ vibes.

She looks hugely doubtful, but does move away, all slow and careful. Eddie hand walks to keep himself between between Steve and Robin, his tail clenching around Steve as he does.

“Eddie,” Steve’s hand hovers in the air for a few seconds before he bites the bullet and lets his hand rest on Eddie’s tail. It’s surprisingly smooth. Not soft exactly, but not hard. Doesn’t even feel scaly really, just smooth and warm it doesn’t look scaly either, now that Steve can have a close up look. It’s just...black. Matt black.

Actually now that he’s here, there are some funny little slits toward the tippy bit, they kind of look like they could be openings, but he doesn’t have time to investigate because Robin’s gone, so Eddie turns to him.

Steve has no clue what to say as Eddie’s tail slowly unwraps from his middle, “Eddie,” he starts, as Eddie slips back into the water.

“Steee.”

Steve just sighs, retrieving what are now Eddie’s sunglasses from where they’ve fallen by the edge of the lawn, “what am I going to do with you?”

Eddie tips his head, listening, but Steve doesn’t have anything else to say. At a loss, he heads inside to make sure Robin is okay.

A/N I know the time line doesn't work with Argyle since this happened after starcourt but lets just all agree to ignore that. There is no tag list for this work.

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan’s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

masterlist

[thestrongestkikufuku]

a business proposal, p. 3

» part one, part two, part four, part five, part six - ⟡⋆˙

» contents - ⟡⋆˙ fluff, crack, au, satoru gojo x f!reader, ceo!gojo, reader works in the same company, made up character 'rin' as your bestie, suguru geto as the secretary, gojo being persistent and a lil shit, curse word, chaos

» word count - ⟡⋆˙ 5.5k

» notes - ⟡⋆˙ hi hi dear readers!! welcome to part 3 of the business proposal inspired fic! this one is a longer one, i kinda got possessed while writing this, lol, i haven't slept at all and it's almost 7 am >.< i've had some challenges on what to take from the show without making this too long because i really want to get started on the whole "fake dating" process, while also slowly building up the relationship. but in the next part we will uncover and explore more of the relationship so stay tuned!! :D anyways, happy reading and if you want to be added in the taglist for upcoming parts please let me know!! :D<3

» m.list - ⟡⋆˙

The next morning, Rin dragged you out of bed early with a wide smile on her face. “Come on, we’re going shopping!” she announced, practically bouncing with excitement.

You were initially confused but quickly became caught up in Rin’s infectious energy. She took you to all the high-end boutiques, insisting on buying you the most exquisite clothes. You protested, but Rin waved away your objections with a grin. “Consider it my treat! You deserve to be spoiled.”

By the time you both arrived at a charming little café, your makeup has been done, and you were wearing a stunning new outfit, complete with elegant accessories. “Rin, this is amazing,” you said, beaming at her. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

Rin laughed nervously. “Heh, well I did say I owed you for when you stepped up, right?” she replied sheepishly, her eyes darting around the café. “Now, let’s sit and have some coffee.”

You chatted happily, sipping your drinks and enjoying the cozy atmosphere. It wasn’t until Rin glanced at her watch and her expression tightened that you felt a sense of unease.

“[name], listen carefully.. There’s something I need to tell you,” Rin said, her voice suddenly serious. “Satoru Gojo will be here soon.”

You spat out your drink as panic surged through you. “HUH?! SATORU GOJO?! WHAT—”

Rin nodded, looking equally panicked now that she’d said it out loud. “I didn’t have a choice! He realized that we were friends and asked to meet you.”

“Then you should’ve pretended not to know me!” You exclaimed, your heart racing.

“I tried! But then he said he’d find out on his own! God, [name], he’s so scary! What if he discovers you’re his employee!?” Rin's voice was rising, her eyes wide with anxiety.

You both sat there in a shared moment of panic, glancing around the café as if expecting Gojo to walk in any second. 

“You could’ve at least warned me!” You exclaimed suddenly, your mind spinning with the sudden pressure, a mix of fear and frustration bubbling up inside you.

“Then you wouldn’t have come here!” Rin countered, her voice tinged with desperation, “but that doesn’t matter now, he thinks you owe him an apology.” She bit her lip, clearly regretting her decision to drag you into this.

“W-what?”

“Just say you're sorry! Nothing could go wrong, right?” Rin offered you a forced smile, meant to reassure you, though it only fueled your panic. Her attempt at comfort was painfully unconvincing, and you could see her own fear mirrored in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ll be going now.”

“You’re leaving?!” Your voice rose in disbelief.

Rin hummed as she rushed to gather her things then handed you a big paper bag, “don’t forget to wear the wig.”

“Wha—”

“I’m so sorry.” Rin shot you an apologetic smile before running off, leaving you alone to face the impending storm.

“Wait! RIN!” you called out after your friend, but she was already gone. “Shit—” 

You fumbled with the bag Rin left, searching frantically for the wig she mentioned. You found it nestled among the clothes she bought you, hurriedly pulling it out and attempting to adjust it over your hair, praying you'd be ready before Gojo walked through the door.

Your hands trembled as you struggled to fit the wig over your hair. “Come on, come on,” you muttered under your breath. 

The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, each tick echoing loudly in your ears. You stole quick glances at the entrance, half-expecting to see Gojo's distinctive figure appear at any moment. The café seemed to shrink around you, the cozy atmosphere now suffocating with the impending arrival of Satoru Gojo. Every passing second felt like an eternity, your heart pounding in your chest as you imagined the scenarios that could unfold if he saw you right now.

Finally, with a shaky sigh of relief, you managed to secure the wig in place, patting down the stray strands, hoping it looked convincing enough. 

The café seemed quieter now, the soft hum of people’s conversations around you contrasting sharply with the rapid beating of your heart. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you mentally rehearsed what you might say to Gojo if and when he arrived. Apologize? For what exactly? Rin’s vague explanation had left you more confused than reassured.

Just then, the door to the café swung open, and in walked a figure that made your breath catch in your throat. It was him—Satoru Gojo, unmistakable with his white hair and striking blue eyes.

He scanned the room casually at first, his gaze drifting past you without a flicker of recognition. But then his eyes doubled back, focusing directly on your table, slowly approaching to take a seat in front of you.

You sat there in tense silence, acutely aware of Satoru Gojo’s presence across from you. His gaze was inscrutable, his expression calm yet somehow piercing. Panic churned in your stomach as you wondered what he was thinking, what he might do next.

After what felt like an eternity, Gojo broke the silence. “So, how much did Miss Takahashi pay you to impersonate her?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question. You hadn’t anticipated this direct approach. Frantically, you searched for words, trying to gather your thoughts amid the rush of adrenaline.

“I-I…” you stammered, your mind racing. “I didn’t want to do it at first, but she offered me 90,000 yen,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Gojo arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “90,000 yen, huh?” he mused, leaning back slightly in his chair. “You tried to scam me for merely 90,000 yen?”

“Going as a replacement isn’t technically a scam, now is it?” You nervously attempted to defend yourself, the words stumbling out amidst the tumult of guilt and panic.

Gojo's gaze hardened slightly, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he regarded you thoughtfully. The weight of his scrutiny made your throat tighten, regret seeping into your every nerve.

“You pretended to be another person,” Gojo began, his voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge of disappointment. “You deliberately wasted someone’s precious time for your own benefit. If that’s not a scam, then what is it?”

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with guilt and sincerity. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just... I needed the money, and Rin... I-I wish I could make it up to you, but there’s not much I can do..” 

There was a long moment of silence before you gathered the courage to speak again.

“But,” you continued, your voice wavering slightly, “if there's ever anything I can do, please let me know, and I promise that I’ll do everything in my power to help you out.” you said, forcing enthusiasm into your voice.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Gojo stared at you with a penetrating gaze, his expression unreadable. The weight of his scrutiny made you shift uncomfortably in your seat, unsure of what to expect next. 

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you ventured cautiously, “Are you... Still mad at me?”

“In what way do I look like an archaeopteryx?” Gojo questioned suddenly, a serious expression settling over his features.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked in confusion. “Uh... what?” you asked, baffled by the sudden shift from serious to whimsical. “I.. Is that why you’re angry?”

“It is not why I’m angry,” Gojo replied firmly, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back slightly in his chair with a small huff. “It's just that I've never heard such nonsense before. So I was caught off guard, yes.”

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, that? I.. I just said whatever popped into my head because I wanted you to stop asking me to marry you.”

“Whatever popped into your head?” Gojo echoed, the seriousness of his expression unwavering.

“Look, I got nervous okay? I-I just really tried to play my part, I really didn’t mean anything by it.” you stammered, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I-If there's nothing else you want to talk about, we can just wrap this up and forget that all of this has happened.” You suggested tentatively, hoping to diffuse the awkward tension.

But before you could move to gather your things, Gojo’s voice cut through the air, unexpectedly serious. “Wait,” he said, raising his hand slightly, “let me see your phone.”

Confused, you hesitantly handed him the device, watching as he quickly tapped on the screen. 

“Really? ‘Don’t Answer’?” Gojo asked with a brow raised, turning the screen towards you to reveal his contact name. “You should save my name instead, and from now on you have to pick up my calls, no matter what.”

“But—”

“If you don’t answer or try to disappear, I’ll come find you.” He said, suddenly holding up a small, quaintly designed business card that read 'Sweet Delights Bakery' in playful, elegant script, adorned with a whimsical illustration of a cupcake.

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you couldn’t ignore. The seriousness in his tone left no room for doubt—he meant what he said.

“I-I... How did you...?” you stammered, feeling exposed and caught off guard.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You dropped it earlier,” he replied casually, as if revealing an obvious fact. “So you own a bakery?”

You sighed heavily, “not me, it’s a family business.. My father owns it.”

“How intriguing. Perhaps I’ll drop by sometime to see your handiwork.” He mused, giving you a cheeky smile.

Your throat tightened as you processed his words, slowly taking your phone back. 

“Okay.” You mustered out weakly, your fingers trembling as you hastily typed ‘Archaeopteryx’ as his contact name.

“Also, what’s your real name?”

“Oh, it’s—” You hesitated, a knot forming in your stomach. You knew you couldn't reveal your real name, not when you worked for him, that could mean trouble if he finds out about it. “Um... my name... it’s...” You faltered, searching for an excuse. “It’s Mei.”

“Mei?” Gojo repeated, his eyebrow quirking up in curiosity.

“Yes.. Mei,” you confirmed, trying to sound convincing. “Just... call me Mei.”

Gojo studied you for a moment, his gaze calculating. “Alright then, Miss Mei,” he said finally, his tone unreadable. 

Relief flooded through you as Gojo entered the fake name into his phone. You thanked whatever luck you had that he didn’t press further. 

—

That same night, exhaustion finally overcame you, the events of the day had left you emotionally drained, and you eagerly welcomed the respite of slumber with open arms. However, the peace was short-lived.

A sudden ringing shattered the silence, jerking you awake. Disoriented and groggy, it took a few moments to register the persistent sound of your phone vibrating on the nightstand. With a sigh, you fumbled for it, quickly pressing the button to answer the call.

“Hello?” you managed to croak out, your voice thick with sleep.

“Ah, Miss Mei, you're awake.”

Confusion swept over you. “Hm, what? Who’s prank calling me—”

“This is not a prank call, Miss Mei. Are you.. Are you half asleep?” His voice held a hint of amusement.

“I’m not Mei—” squinting at the bright screen in the darkness, you see the contact name, ‘Archaeopteryx’. You jolt up on your bed, running your fingers through your hair in frustration, “—a-ah, sorry! You just surprised me, that’s all.. Um.. Why did you call?”

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get a new number to cut me off, that's all,” he said casually, his tone bearing no hint of remorse for the disruption he had caused. “Goodnight.”

“Wha—”

Before you could formulate a coherent response, the line went dead. Staring at your phone in disbelief, frustration bubbled up within you. It was late, you were wide awake now, and there seemed to be no reason for Gojo's late-night call other than to unsettle you further.

Tossing your phone back onto the nightstand, you buried your face in your hands, feeling a mix of irritation and helplessness. 

“He’s crazy, he’s actually crazy.” You muttered under your breath, glancing at the clock. Your eyes widened upon seeing the time—4 a.m.

“UGH, this guy is so annoying!”

—

“Do you think there’s anyone else who goes on ten blind dates a day?” Gojo’s voice broke the silence, glancing at his friend.

“No.” Geto answered bluntly, a playful smile forming on his lips, “and I can assure you that you’ll set a new record for the most blind dates in the shortest amount of time.”

Gojo snorted, rolling his eyes at Geto’s remark. “I just don’t get it,” he began, his brows furrowing slightly. His relaxed and playful expression slowly morphed into a serious one. “These girls.. They’re all beautiful. But every conversation feels rehearsed, as if they’re all saying what they think I want to hear, it’s creepy.”

“It’s most likely because they want to impress you, Satoru.” Geto countered calmly, offering him a reassuring smile, “but I don’t doubt that you will find someone eventually. Besides, they seemed a little better than the fake ‘Rin Takahashi’.”

“Well, at least the fake ‘Rin Takahashi’ wasn’t boring.” Gojo retorted, sighing heavily as he threaded his fingers through his white locks. “There’s just... Something about her..”

Geto hummed softly, nodding thoughtfully as he considered Gojo’s words. “So what will you do?”

—

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, you found yourself immersed in the usual rhythm of work. The hum of conversations and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards provided a comforting backdrop, a return to normalcy after the whirlwind of emotions stirred up by the intense situation involving Satoru Gojo.

Just as you were engrossed in a particularly challenging task, your phone buzzed insistently on the desk. Glancing at the screen, your heart skipped a beat when you saw ‘Archaeopteryx’ flashing brightly. Dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising panic.

“Hello?” you ventured cautiously.

“Hello, Miss Mei,” came Gojo's voice, cool and composed. “I was thinking we should meet up to talk.”

Your mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in a chaotic whirl. Why did he want to meet? What does he want to talk about? You struggled to find words, your throat dry as you searched for a response.

“Um, yeah, sure,” you managed finally, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the turmoil inside. “When?”

“How about tonight?” Gojo suggested casually. “I know a quiet spot not far from your place.”

“Tonight?” you echoed, anxiety tightening its grip on you. “I-I'm not sure if—”

“It’ll be quick,” Gojo interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just a chat.”

“I-I’ll be working late, I’m helping my father close today.” Trying your best to steer him away from the idea.

Gojo’s voice remained calm and determined. “No worries. I’ll wait for you. See you then.”

Before you could protest further or ask for more details, he ended the call abruptly. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you reeling with uncertainty. The clock on your desk seemed to tick louder, each passing second heightening your nerves.

Fighting to steady your trembling hands, you took a deep breath, attempting to focus on your work. But Gojo’s unexpected request echoed in your mind, stirring a whirlwind of questions and apprehensions. What did he want to discuss?

—

Later that evening, you found yourself helping your father close up the bakery. The warm scent of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air, mixing with the soft hum of the ovens cooling down. Despite the familiar surroundings, a knot of anxiety tightened in your chest.

As you wiped down the counters, a sense of dread crept in, intensifying with each passing minute. Thoughts of your impending meeting with Gojo gnawed at your mind like an insistent itch. What did he want to discuss? And why was it so urgent that he requested a late-night meeting? Uncertainty burdened your shoulders, diverting your attention from the usual tasks at hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your father's voice interrupted your thoughts gently. He glanced at you with concern, his eyes catching the weariness in yours. “I’ll be heading upstairs now. Is that alright?”

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Oh, yeah sure. You go ahead.”

His brow furrowed slightly, sensing there was more beneath the surface. “You sure?” he pressed gently, crossing his arms on his chest. “You seem a little.. Distracted? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” you assured him, avoiding his gaze as guilt pricked at your conscience. How could you explain the mess you'd unwillingly gotten yourself into? “I just... Have some things to sort out with work. It’ll be fine.”

Your father studied you for a moment longer, his expression softening slightly, “alright, if you say so,” he relented, sensing your reluctance to share more. “Just take care of yourself, okay? And call if you need anything.”

“I will,” you promised, forcing another smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

As you watched him leave, a sense of apprehension settling in your chest. You immediately gather your things as you hurried to the small employee restroom tucked away in the corner of the building. You hastily pulled out the wig stashed in your bag and swiftly put it on, adjusting the unruly strands until they framed your face nicely. A quick touch-up of makeup followed, just enough to subtly alter your features, transforming you into the fabricated “Mei”. It was a disguise borne out of necessity, a guise to navigate the unforeseen entanglement Gojo had dragged you into. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you glanced at your reflection in the dimly lit mirror, reassuring yourself that you looked different enough to pass unnoticed.

Stepping back into the bakery’s main area, you locked the door behind you and ventured into the cool night air. The street lamps cast long shadows as you made your way to the agreed-upon meeting spot, a quiet café not far from your workplace. Each step felt heavier than the last as you trudged towards the building. The café was nearly empty when you arrived, only a few lingering customers left, sipping their drinks. Spotting Gojo at a secluded table near the window, you approached cautiously, the click of your heels against the tiled floor barely audible in the hushed atmosphere.

He looked up as you approached, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before a faint smile touched his lips. 

“Hello, Miss Mei.” Gojo greeted smoothly, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. “You look different tonight.” he remarked casually, sipping from his cup of tea. His eyes, however, bore into yours with an intensity that made you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“It’s been a long day,” you deflected, forcing a smile that felt stiff on your lips. “So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

Gojo set his cup down, his expression growing serious once more. “This isn’t really a place to say such things but,” he began as he leaned closer, “I want us to start dating. With marriage in mind.”

“What?” Your eyes widened at his sudden request, shock evident in your voice. “Dating? Marriage?”

Gojo leaned back, observing your reaction with a calm demeanor. “I know it sounds sudden, but hear me out. My grandfather has been pressuring me to find a wife. And he's been... Relentless, and frankly, it’s driving me insane. He has set up countless blind dates, all of which have been less than ideal. All I want for you is to pretend that you’re in a relationship with me, just to calm him down a little.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “You want to fake date me to get your grandfather off your back?”

He nodded, his expression sincere. “Exactly. And you wouldn’t even have to do much—just attend a few family gatherings, maybe a couple of events. It would give me some breathing room and hopefully that’ll convince him.”

“I..” you stare at him for a moment, disbelief spreading across your features as you shake your head, “no.. No way! I won’t.”

Gojo’s eyebrow quirked up at your outburst, “why not?”

“Why— you have been calling me a fraud— a-an imposter! And now you want me to do it all over again?!”

“Well, I figured you’d be the best person for the job.” Gojo shrugged casually, taking another sip of his tea.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re good at pretending to be someone else,” he replied nonchalantly. “You managed to fool me, didn’t you? Besides, you already know how to handle difficult situations. This will be a walk in the park compared to what you’ve already been through.”

Frustration bubbled up inside you. “You think this is some kind of game? This isn’t just about fooling your family. It’s my life too.”

Gojo’s expression softened slightly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think you could handle it. Look, you wanted to repay your debt, right? Not to mention all the precious time I’ll save. It’s a win-win situation, is it not?”

You bit your lip, feeling cornered. “It’s not that simple, you know? Pretending to be someone I’m not, pretending to be in a relationship… It's exhausting and emotionally taxing.”

“I get that,” he said, his voice sincere. “And I’m willing to make it worth your while. Whatever you need, I can help with. Financially, professionally, you name it. Just think about it. Whatever Miss Takahashi offered you, I'll double it.”

You sighed, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. The logical part of you recognized the potential benefits—paying off debts, helping your father out, gaining influential connections. But the emotional part of you recoiled at the idea of diving deeper into this charade.

“I-I’ll think about it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and you could feel Gojo’s gaze on you, waiting for more. But instead of elaborating, you found yourself standing abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gojo,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you bowed at him. “But I have to head home now.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Gojo sitting alone at the table. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the café, but you didn’t look back. 

—

The soft glow of your desk lamp illuminated the paperwork strewn across your desk as you worked on a project that was due the next morning. Your eyes felt heavy with fatigue, and you longed for the comfort of your bed. The clock on your wall ticked away, reminding you just how late it had become. With a sigh, you decided to wrap up for the night, stacking your papers neatly and turning off your computer.

Just as you were about to head to bed, your phone buzzed on the desk. The sudden noise startled you, and you glanced at the screen to see ‘Archaeopteryx’ flashing brightly. Your heart sank, a mixture of dread and annoyance bubbling up inside you. Why was Gojo calling you so late?

Reluctantly, you answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Mei,” Gojo’s voice was as smooth as ever, but there was an underlying urgency that made you uneasy. “I’m outside your house.”

Panic gripped you instantly, suddenly feeling more awake. Oh, god why now? You weren't even in your disguise; you were just yourself, in your pajamas, your face completely bare.

“W-what? Why are you here?” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It’s been a few days since our last encounter, and I needed to talk to you,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to show up unannounced. “Can you come meet me outside?”

You glanced around your apartment, your mind racing. “Um, I... I’m not really... prepared for visitors,” you said, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

“I won’t take long,” he insisted. “Just a quick chat.”

You hesitated, weighing your options. The last thing you wanted was for Gojo to see you like this, without the wig and makeup that turned you into “Mei”. But you knew he wouldn't leave easily. Taking a deep breath, you decided to face him.

“Okay, okay, just— give me a minute,” you said, trying to keep the anxiety out of your voice. You ended the call and quickly looked around your apartment for anything that might help.

There was no time to put on the full disguise, but you grabbed a nearby hoodie and a pair of sunglasses, hoping that it would be enough to obscure your features. With a final deep breath, you headed towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you exited your apartment complex, your eyes caught sight of Gojo’s car parked under a streetlamp, his figure leaning casually against the hood.

Gojo looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately narrowing at your makeshift disguise. “Interesting choice of attire,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” you retorted, pulling the hood tighter around your face. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

Without a word, Gojo reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a neatly folded document. He handed it to you, his expression serious. “This is a draft of the contract for our arrangement. I had it drawn up to outline the terms clearly.”

You unfolded the document, your eyes scanning the formal language and detailed clauses. It was all there in black and white: the terms of your fake relationship, the things you had to do, the financial compensation. Everything was meticulously planned out.

You looked up at Gojo, disbelief and frustration now evident on your face. “You seriously expect me to agree to this?” you asked, your voice rising. “No. No way—”

“When you were apologizing to me the first time, you said you’d help with whatever I needed. Or was that all an empty promise?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, quickly silencing you. You remembered that moment vividly, the desperation in your voice as you tried to make amends for your deception. 

“That was different,” you countered, shaking your head. “I didn’t know you were going to ask me to lie to your family.”

“Is it really that different?” Gojo asked, his tone calm but insistent. “You wanted to make things right, to repay a debt. This is your chance. And it’s not like you’ll be doing it for free. The compensation is generous.”

“No!” You countered stubbornly, your voice firm and resolute. “Find another woman.” 

With that, you turn on your heel, ready to march back to your apartment. But before you could take another stride, Gojo moved swiftly. His hand shot out, gripping your arm gently but firmly, halting your retreat as he turned you around

“Let go,” you demanded, trying to pull your arm free, but Gojo's grip didn’t waver.

“Please, just listen to me,” he implored, his voice low and urgent. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t truly need your help.”

“Mr. Gojo, I can’t,” you asserted firmly, meeting his eyes with a mixture of resolve and apprehension. “I have my reasons.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “And what are those reasons?”

Your mind raced as you stood silently in front of him, Gojo's intense gaze fixed on you. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer you couldn’t easily give. You couldn’t reveal the true reason—the fear of him possibly finding out about your true identity, which could jeopardize your entire career. And as the CEO of the company where you worked at, Gojo held a significant sway over your professional future. The mere thought of it sent chills down your spine.

“I—”

Your words come to a stop, your heart pounding in your chest as you see a figure approaching from behind him. Dread washed over you as you recognized your father, returning from his late-night snack run. Panic surged through you, a rush of adrenaline urging you to act swiftly. Without thinking, you quickly pushed Satoru Gojo behind the dumpster with more force than you intended, but Gojo’s swift reflexes pulled you down with him, and you landed awkwardly on top of him.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around you blurred into insignificance. Gojo's expression was a mixture of surprise and amusement, his lips quirking into a half-smile despite the awkwardness of the situation. His hands instinctively held onto you, one arm around your waist and the other supporting your back, his breath warm against your cheek.

As your father entered the building, oblivious to the unfolding scene, you scrambled to your feet, hastily brushing off your clothes in an attempt to compose yourself. The urgency to maintain appearances clashed with the lingering closeness you felt with Gojo, leaving you flustered and uncertain of how to proceed.

“S-sorry,” you stammered nervously, extending your hand to help Gojo up from the ground. His half-smile remained, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he accepted your gesture, grasping your hand firmly.

“Thanks.” Gojo murmured as he started to pull himself up.

But just as he rose to his feet, his expression suddenly shifted, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. Before you could react, Gojo swayed unsteadily, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, panic seizing your heart as you knelt beside him. His body lay limp on the ground, unconscious and eerily still. Fear gripped you as you checked for any signs of injury, your fingers trembling as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. Did he hit his head too hard? Is he...?

Panic washed through you as gently shake his shoulder. “Gojo? Gojo, wake up.”

But there was no response from him, his eyelids remained shut.

“Shit!”

—

The memory of Gojo collapsing haunted you, the image replaying in your mind. Though he appeared remarkably well now, considering the events of last night. But you couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at your insides as you sat across from him in the small meeting room. You both had agreed to meet to discuss the contract for the fake arrangement—something you had been adamant about not signing.

As you read through the document again, your brow furrowed with determination. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the clauses once more.

With a sigh, Gojo leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. “You know, I was supposed to sign a crucial contract this morning. But thanks to yesterday's little incident,” he paused, rubbing his temples as if in discomfort, “I had to clear my entire schedule for the day. Missed that meeting, lost that contract.”

Your heart sank at his words, guilt and frustration knotting in your stomach. “I-I’m really sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen.”

“Yeah, well, here we are,” he replied curtly, his tone sharp with irritation. But then, a glint of mischief flickered in his eyes, a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “But.. If you just accept my offer, I won’t sue for the damages. And I’ll still pay you what I promised.”

His casual threat hit you like a punch to the gut. The implication hung heavily in the air, undeniable and unsettling. You glanced down at the contract, the words swimming before your eyes. This wasn’t just about signing a piece of paper anymore; it was about conceding to his terms under pressure.

“Mr. Geto,” Gojo began, his voice firm and sharp, “contact the legal and tell them to proceed with the lawsuit right away—”

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll sign it!” You interrupted, your voice edged with frustration and resignation.

Gojo’s smile widened into a satisfied grin as he leaned forward to give you the pen. “Good choice.”

As you reluctantly added your signature to the contract, a sense of defeat settled over you. The ink dried with finality, sealing the agreement that bound you to Gojo in ways you never imagined. The weight of his expectations and the consequences of your actions bore down on you heavily.

After Gojo gathered the signed document and tucked it away with a sense of finality. “Well, that settles it then.” he said as he stood up, his gaze lingering on you thoughtfully, “I’ll call you later to schedule another meeting with you soon. There's a lot of things we need to go through and talk about.”

You nodded weakly in acknowledgment, still processing the whirlwind of emotions and decisions made in such a short time.

With that, Gojo turned towards the door and left the office without looking back. The quiet click of the door closing echoed in the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the signed contract that now bound you to an uncertain future.

The feeling of regret settled in as you stared at the empty chair where Gojo had been just moments before. 

“Oh god, what have I done?”

» taglist - ⟡⋆˙ @megumisthirdog, @inluvkai, @ieathairs, @roscpctals99, @laviefantasie, @snwvie, @sanriosatoru, @reagan707, @keaugh, @cc1306, @shadowheads-shitshow, @pinkprincessglitterzombie

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hiii!! Can I make a request? Its kinda long tho so I totally understand if you don't wanna write it !! :)

so basically what I had in mind is rhys' sister!reader x az, she got kidnapped by hybern on the day rhys's mother died and everyone had thought his sister died too but she didn't she was kidnapped and her memories were erased. After the war with hybern the ic runs into her and shes all bloody and injured because turns out she was fighting hybern soldiers as well because she finally saw an opportunity to be free. As soon as rhys saw her he recognises her but before he could even utter a word, she faints, so they take her to night court and nurses her back to health. When she wakes up she gets really emotional when she sees rhys because she feels like she should know him but she doesn't cuz she doesn't have any memories, later they get helion to fix her memories and there's a very emotional brother sister reunion. Az finds out he's her mate but he doesn't tell her and rhys is very protective of reader cuz he just got her back so he forbids az from dating her or anything, but she doesn't know that so she thinks az doesn't like her back so she's devastated over that. I didn't think of what would happen after that so you can come up with the rest but pleeeeeaaasee give az and reader a happy ending. Also can you include that reader had dreams of az the way rhys had dreams of feyre? 🥹

Thank you and I hope you have a good day!! <33

I switched it ever so slightly, hope you’ll still enjoy it!🤍🫧

Lost and found

It’s your hair he sees first. There’s something in the onyx gleam that screams familiar. That is different from any other shade of black. Rhys’s mother always said that they bore all shades of the night sky in their hair. As a gift from the gods. It wasn’t pitch black, no. There was depth. Stars even. They gleamed. You gleamed. He nearly sank to his knees once you turned your bloodied face towards him. It felt as if looking in the mirror. He had pictured you in his head. Had made Feyre paint you. Paint you how he imagined you would have looked all grown up. If you had that chance if you were still with him. His little northern star. And you were here now. In front of him. Sward in hand as if you weren’t sure if you were supposed to stab him or leave him be. Shaking and so frail. Line Feyre was. Just like Rhys had found his mate. Broken and confused. Unsure of anything. Jumpy and scared. “Yn”, it’s a whisper but from the way your body shivers Rhys knows that the name speaks to you. Does his voice speak to you? Do you even remember? “I just want to be free”, you mutter, “Help me get free”. Rhys watches your body sag and his legs move forward before he can even think. Arms reaching for your body. Desperate to break your fall. To save you from this at least in hopes this would somehow make a difference.

Rhys sits by your side from the moment Madja lets him in. She’s doubtful about you waking up soon. Even more doubtful if it’s good for Rhys to be there. And a part of him knows it too but he can’t help it. It’s as if he’s pulled to you. By the need to see you. To know that he hasn’t just imagined you. Your eyes flutter open after a week of nothing but shallow breathing. Your body feels heavy and achy. The walls surrounding you are unfamiliar. But there are no shackles. No ropes. You’re in a big bed. With silk sheets around you. And then your eyes land on a male sitting in the chair. He’s watching you. But watching you as if observing a wild animal that might flee after a move too sudden.

“How are you feeling?”, he speaks up and his voice alone scratches something deep inside your brain. Something you should know. But you don’t. You can’t reach. “I’m Rhys. You’re in my court. You’re safe”, he continues, leaning in slightly, moving to reach for your hand that you quickly pull closer to your chest. You see the hurt flash in his eyes. But it disappears almost immediately. He bares your features. His eyes are your eyes and that’s enough to make your heart pick up. Is he family? A far down-the-line relative?

“You look at me like you know me…”, you mutter, feeling your eyes burn, “but i don’t know you”. Rhys takes a shaky breath and you could swear his hands are trembling. But he smiles regardless, “That’s okay, we have time”. You watch him for a moment, a stranger in front of you. They said that you had no one. There was no one out there for you. “What if I don’t want to know you?”, that’s a blow that leaves a permanent mark on his face, the frown line between his eyebrows. “That’s okay too. I won’t force you”, Rhys’s voice grows shaky, “All you need to know is that you are safe. I and my people will keep you safe. You told me that you wanted to be free. You’re free now”. He stands up quietly. Pushing the chair to the side. You catch a glimpse of a female standing at the door as he moves to leave the room. The door isn’t fully closed when a sob slips past his lips. She embraces him and it’s all muffled by the closed door.

“She’s wiped clean”, Helion’s words send another blow at Rhys’s chest. “There might be bits of her past there but… this will have to be gradual Rhys, if it all was taken from her, getting all the memories back might fry her brain out”, Helion crosses his arms over his chest watching you in one of his gardens. Hand outstretched to one of his Pegasus. He remembered the little girl. Sat on his knee. Mischievous little thing, he had called you. Now it felt like looking at a ghost. “But is there even a slither of hope?”, Rhys asks, desperately trying to cling to the future where you would recognize him. Helion sighed, “Take this advice from me, someone older than you”, turning to face Rhys, whose troubled face had grown ashy over the past month. “Creat memories with her from now. Build her up from nothing and that alone might make her remember” But how could he? How could anyone just wipe out the grief and terror? The feeling of losing someone and then finding them back once more.

Azriel had sunk to his knees in the room you had laid unconscious for a week. He knew you were mates even then. Both young and careless. He remembered your first kiss. Rushed and messy in one of Rhys’s father’s stables. You had pulled him out. Had been his haven ever since your mother had taken both him and Cass in. Losing you had messed with his head. He had mourned you just the same. Had closed off his heart for anyone. Meaningless fling got easier with time but he still caught himself thinking of you. Calling out your name. Leaving the females snarling at him.

Azriel thought that glimpses of cells. Of you locked up. Scared and crying were nothing but a fickle of imagination. He saw you drawing night skies. He saw you kill. But now he knew that it had been your unconsciousness calling to him. Zaps of bond binding you both connecting momentarily. He hated himself. He hated that he did nothing. That he had let go. Had given up. But they had found the body. Berried someone. Someone who wasn’t you. Azriel only visited once. That one time and then he erased himself out of the equation. Because maybe it was better that way. Because he wasn’t worthy of your love. He couldn’t protect you after all.

Rhys was happy with that choice too. It was petty but he didn’t want to share you with anyone. Not that he had you. Any part of you. Because nothing changed. He talked. Told you stories but you just shook your head. You didn’t know him. You didn’t trust him. And nothing he did made any breakthrough.

It was the night Azriel had accidentally walked into the study where you and Rhys were. Ready to drop off the reports he had written for the week’s work. His black shirt is slightly unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled up. Your eyes had drifted away from the painting towards the man standing in the hallway. Man your eyes always seemed to find. Man who had been avoiding you ever since you got here. It painted you slightly. It was the only person you seemed to want to reach but he was the only one keeping the furthest away.

Your eyes landed on his arms. The dim light dancing on the black ink snaking up his left arm. The book you held slipped past your fingers. Clattering to the floor with a thud. “Y/n, dear, is everything alright?”, Rhys was in front of you in an instant. Worried face searching yours. “Your left shoulder”, you muttered, pointing at Azriel. He halted in his movement. The handful of papers stuck midair. “Show me your left shoulder”, you muttered.

Azriel’s eyes looked up at you, “What for?”, it was colder. He was protecting whatever was there. Holding onto the last part of you he had. You stepped past Rhys. “I know that… pattern”, you muttered. “It’s old Illyrian”, Rhys cut in but Azriel only lifted his hand. “Please, I…”, the fuzziness around you ripped as you reached for your dress, yanking the sleeve off, bearing your shoulders to Azriel. His jaw clenched, as he looked away for a moment. And then he ripped his shirt open. And there it was. The same pattern all across his shoulder as well.

Taking a shaky breath you let your head fall into your hands, “You chose it…” A light sob slipped past Azriel’s lips, “I did”, he nodded watching you. “Because you were a bitch about it”, turning to Rhys you pointed a finger at him. “You matted my baby sister behind my back?”, Rhys hissed, the jumble of emotions was making everyone drown. “Mom knew about it, she approved”, you whispered, “Where’s Mom?” Your eyes looked up at Rhys. He slowly shook his head. Another wave of flashes floats through you. You reached back in a frantic breath, “Where are my wings?” An angry tear slipped down Rhys’s face. “Where are they? Where is she?”, you looked among them. Feeling panic slowly drowning you. “Come here”, Azriel pulled at your head, bringing your face to his chest. “No, don’t smother me”, you pushed against him, but Azriel held on tight, holding your shaking form, feeling the burning gaze of his high lord, “I’ve got you. It will settle. Just breathe with me”.

[sunshineandspencer]

Miscommunication

A/N: Headaches are a blight upon humankind and I wish all of you with headaches and migraines a swift recovery or a cheap lobotomy. Have this, the headache created it with its own grubby, pudgy toddler hands.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Assistant!Reader.

Summary: Miscommunication should be everyone’s least favourite trope, and she refuses to fall victim to it.

Word Count: 353

Warnings: fluff

be added to the taglist!!

“Of course I don’t like her, she’s my co-worker. You can’t date co-workers.”

Her heart kind of squeezed, and she felt like leaving, cancelling their dinner, and drinking alone all night. So what, he didn’t like her but he’d take her on dates, and introduce her to his son?

It’s not fair, and she shouldn’t have to deal with it.

But.. she’s watched enough shitty romcoms to know that walking away before the conversation is over never goes well for the main character and the love interest.

She doesn’t know which one she is right now, but she isn’t walking away. Pressing closer to the wall to hear Penelope teasing Aaron again, one of the only people that is actually able to do so.

“And what about your pretty little assistant?”

There was a moment of silence and she held her breath, hearing him shut the file and drop it onto his desk.

“She’s different.”

Oh.. now that’s the kind of thing that could make a girl smug. And it does. Pushing open the door to deliver the files he asked for, giving him a bright grin that immediately told him that she’d heard every word.

Penelope found a very good excuse to leave the room, giggling to herself the whole way - which meant Derek was absolutely going to get ambushed with this.

Meeting Aaron’s eyes, she played with the necklace he’d gotten her just last week, for their tenth date - really, she never should’ve been worried in the first place. The man got her a gift on the tenth date purely because it was number ten.

“Careful there boss, someone might think you’re picking favourites.”

“Watch yourself, or I won’t let you stay over tonight.”

Giving him a smug little smile, knowing every jab towards her means absolutely nothing, his every threat is empty because Jack adores her and there would be a riot if she didn’t come back again.

“Oh? But then I won’t do that thing you like sweetheart.” Leaning up, she pecked his cheek, smiling brightly as she walked out, giving him a coy little wave. “See you at seven.”

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peliides ║ @peachsodameg ║ @angelinajolie0213 ║ @jiggly-puff-12 ║ @khxna ║ @kennedy2156 ║ @trulycayla ║ @none-of-your-bullshit ║ @alexxavicry ║ @meg-black ║ @princess76179 ║ @chicken-fifi ║ @averyhotchner ║ @punkyghoulz ║ @anotherpassiongirl ║ @princessjax ║ @gghostwriter ║ @pear-1206 (if your tag is here and not working check out this reblog to see if any of it could hopefully help!!)

[caustinen]

thinking about hollywood! clegan au 🤭

John Egan is a beloved actor who had his big break 5ish years ago and been doing a steady stream of hit movies ever since, 2-3 a year over all genres

Hollywood’s heartthrob but also a versatile actor who’s amazing at talk shows, considered very cool but also your grandma’s favorite celebrity

Has always been very private about his life outside of the films, always manages to make a joke out of everything when he’s (often) asked about his personal life, just wants to talk about his dog and whichever project he’s promoting

He’s been connected to a bunch of singers and actors (he loves a good party and isn’t aftaid of physical contact so he’s shipped with pretty much everyone he meets)

The absolute SHOCK that goes through entertainment world when he shows up to a premiere with a beautiful man on his arm

There are some speculations about this being another goof to get everyone confused but the picture of John looking at the man and rounding his arms around the his waist at any given moment on the red carpet go viral in relationship pages (they’re used in the type of pics “if your man doesn’t look at you like this…”)

Internet detectives quickly discover the man’s Gale Cleven, a publicist at the firm that represents Egan (not his publicist tho they keep work separate from their relationship)

He’s considered one of the best in the industry but hates spotlight and has stayed away from the media completely so far

However… After dating for 5 years John popped the question and Gale said yes, and as a part of their deal with how to deal with all of that Gale allows John’s long-awaited dream of being able to scream his love from the rooftops

He wasn’t kidding either, every single social media post after that is about how much he loves his fiancé, and the wedding plans are pretty much all he wants to talk about in interviews as well (aside from their dog, of course)

The negative side of it is that the internet also starts to thirst after John’s man and it becomes a new widely shared joke, like everytime John goes to talk shows after that the questions are all centered around ‘Hey, is your fiancé single?’

John is a good sport about it but in private he takes any excuse to mark Gale as his, weather it was a seemingly carelessly placed hand on him any chance he gets or a hickey just visible over his collar and esp when they have sex John never shuts up anyway but now he’s particularly keen on reminding Gale he belongs to him

Gale doesn’t care about the public attention one bit but he loves how happy John is about showing him off, and every time he’s nervous when they’re photographed together John makes sure to make him laugh and relax even on red carpets when everyone is trying to get their attention

The one time they give an interview together the internet goes nuts because Gale is so shy but so sweet and John laughs at everything he says and the two of them are just so clearly smitten with each other people can’t help but root for them

It’s also clear form the interview that while Gale hasn’t been at previous premiers or public outings he’s John’s work’s biggest fan/supporter, John’s telling some story about how they managed to keep their relationship secret while also living an active life like ”Oh and while I was doing promo for this project Gale lived in London with me” and Buck’s always very nonchalantly like ”No actually it was for this project dear” because he’s more aware of John’s work than he is and John will always tease him like ”oh you’re right thank you baby you’re so smart” and Gale would fail to hide his smile behind his hand

[miss-conjayniality]

BELOVED.

pairing: sub!sunghoon x dom!gn reader

genre: smut

warnings: sunghoon is tied up, crying, reader teases quite a lot, cock slapping, use of pet names (sugarplum, little prince), slight degradation if ya squint

word count: 807

i can’t stop thinking about tying sub!sunghoon up. could you just IMAGINE those huuuge buff arms of his tied to the bedpost? and whenever you kiss his body, suck, or jerk him off, his veins start protruding and his muscles clench…… 🤤🥵

the thought of bringing out the “weakness” of a strong, dapper, masculine gentleman is a special something that riles me up. having the emotional power to bring out their raw, vulnerable side - the side often shunned by broader society because it isn’t seen as “strong” or “manly”. it’s beautiful to me. seeing the deep troughs of one’s psyche simmer its way to the surface. getting them stripped both literally (of their clothes) and figuratively (of their cerebral armor). the friction between their restrained demeanor and their unveiled vehemence as they get seduced to oblivion by their lover.

sunghoon is the embodiment of that.

poor hoonie. look at the tears in his eyes. he’s so overwhelmed by it all. it’s all so new to him. but he’s been craving this for so long. his biggest desire has always been to surrender to his beloved and have you do whatever the hell you want to him.

it starts off with body worship. kissing every inch of his strong, yet sensitive body. it’s endearing to see him tense up whenever you touch unexpectedly sensitive parts of his body, like the sides of his lats. and truthfully, not only is it such an amazing way to worship his godly body, but also to body scan him. knowing every nook and cranny of his impeccably sculpted temple. to add on to that, it’s also an amazing way to tease him until he’s at his limit.

then, the journey continues with playing with his girth. you really enjoy taking all your sweet time in the world to simply suck his cock and check out his fucked out face. it’s eye candy to you. he can’t take it any longer but that makes all this even better. the overstimulation is something you always enjoy.

“my b-beloved…..” sunghoon cries out as you devour his cock. “when will i b-….be untied? I wanna touch you….p-….please”

that tears that flow down his flushed cheeks and the pout on his lips makes you weak. awww. so cute when he’s aching.

“when I feel like it,” you utter, taking your mouth out for a moment, “as much as I’d love to untie you, I also love seeing those biiiiiiig manly muscles of yours clench while I toy with every inch of your gorgeous, delicious body. you’re the cutest thing ever. truly. I love seeing you like this.”

sunghoon releases a frustrated whine. but little did he know that you actually “felt like it” immediately. what a surprise. but what can you say? it’s fun to keep him on the edge - not anticipating what’ll happen next or when it’ll happen.

as you untie him, you kiss his arms just to make sure he’s okay.

“are you okay my sugarplum?” you ask. “i want to ensure my little prince didn’t get tied up too hard.”

“yes, beloved,” sunghoon cries as as starts hugging you. “it was torture not having to touch you but now I feel much better.”

sunghoon has been craving your touch for a while because it quite literally relieves him 😢 there’s no feeling more comforting than your embrace.

he then peppers your mouth with his sweet kisses.

“mmmm-….mmm….beloved….” sunghoon says between kisses. “thankyou thankyou thaaannkkkyyyooouuuu.”

you pull away and he pouts slightly. but you then run your hand down his cheek as a sign of reassurance.

“my little prince,” you purr, “i can’t stress enough how excited I am to rile you up and make your entire slutty body jolt.”

your hand then slides down his beautiful shoulders, chest, stomach and his girth.

“hmm…are you excited for me to jerk you off and drain all that big load out of your stiff, pathetic cock?” you query, with a hard slap on his member at the word ‘pathetic’.

“nnnggghhfff….yes,” sunghoon squirms, caught off guard by the cock slap, “please beloved. please…….. i need it now.”

the moment you began jerking his cock off, he knew he had a long night ahead of him……

even after the countless times you’ve flooded sunghoon with your pleasure, he still can’t get enough of you and your intense, hypnotic presence. he feels a real passion for you that defies just “jerking him off” or “making him cum”. you make him submit like no other.

sure, he could be able to physically fuck you until you go weak because of his “strength”. but mentally, he can’t. the sensation of your touch is too much for him to emotionally handle. just a couple thrusts and he is already the most pathetic, squirming loser ever. god he’s such a fucking slut. that’s when he discovered that he belongs at the bottom and deserves to be the one getting controlled. it’s because he’s so sensitive. poor thing.

plus, the contradiction between his tough, chic, manly facade and the whiny, whorish moans he elicits gets you off. he’s all putty in your hands, both literally and figuratively.

after all, you are his beloved.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Do you have any advice on how not to give up on fic ideas just because you know they’ll be unpopular? I have ideas I’d love to write, but I’ll get three paragraphs into my first draft and quit because I can’t imagine anyone else enjoying it. Every time I get a fic that gets bad stats, it gets harder for me to go back to writing, even though I know it should be the opposite. I hate the idea of pouring my time and effort into a fic only to find out too late that everyone else thinks it’s worthless. I’ve tried blocking stats to try to fix this issue, but I think it’s already too deep in my head to be fixed—I really think readers will always value popular fic more than unpopular fic, and i feel so defeated knowing I always want to write fic no one else sees any value in.

I know a suggested solution is finding a fic community, but no one on Tumblr is ever interested, I’ve given up trying to figure out how to do fandom on Twitter, and everyone else is hidden away on private discords that they post in-jokes from in their fic notes, and I doubt I’ll ever be invited to join.

I think part of this issue is I feel lonely in fandom and seeing one fic after another fail just amplifies that feeling. But without any hope of being able to build connections, is there a way I can start to feel better about writing fic?

I agree that your loneliness in fandom seems to be the crux of your issue, but it might be loneliness beyond that as well?

I can't remember if it was tags or a reblog on a recent post, but someone was making the point that a lot of us in fandom are spoonies or some form of neurodivergent and that for a lot of us, fandom is where our socializing occurs.

But that doesn't have to be the case. You can find your community outside of fandom. You can find people who share a different hobby with you, people who are regulars at the same restaurant you often go to, people you often see at the library or the grocery store. Some of those people will be easier to talk to than others and some of those conversations will be one-offs instead of the basis for a friendship, but all of them will give you a feeling of connection even if it's just for a brief moment of time.

Right now, the purpose of your writing is to make a connection rather than to write a story that you want to tell. Your entire focus is on whether others will respond to it or not. It's hard to find your own enjoyment when the end goal that you're looking to isn't a finished fic but rather a reaction that will make you feel valued.

If what you're starving for right now is an end to the loneliness, then you'll need to tackle that separately from the writing. Look to the people you have in your life and reach out to them to spend time together - or just have a chat. Look at the spaces in your life that feel empty and invite someone in. Even just one person can relieve the ache of that loneliness, so take that as a first step.

Volunteering can be a great way to put yourself out there while giving yourself the cover of having work you need to do. Friendships form as a result of repeated interactions, so the structure of an organization can give you the opportunity for that. There are even organizations where you can volunteer online - the OTW is an example of one, but it's not the only one there is.

You clearly love writing, but right now writing is tangled up in all of these other emotions too. Try separating the writing from posting it online. Focus just on telling a story, and make it just for you. Find the things you enjoy in writing that have nothing to do with the eventual reader and spend your time leaning into those instead.

[epiphainie]

I see and love all your tearjerker proposal ideas, but we don’t talk enough about the absolute hilarity that would ensue with an Evan Buckley Proposal™️. Like I’m imagining him being soooo excited about it in the most Buck way possible. He has this ten page speech about how much he loves Tommy and how they’re soulmates and the universe pulled a sick one by putting them on each other’s paths and he’s planning to tell Tommy all that before he pops the question and he’s preparing this big romantic night for it with the most romantic flowers and the most romantic music and the most romantic ring at the most romantic place in all of Los Angeles and he’s roped in everyone at the station to help him, threatened Chim with cold-blooded murder if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut, made Eddie reassure him about every step of his plans not twice but thrice, talked to Bobby with blushing cheeks and fidgeting hands till Bobby gave him his absolute blessing. Hen, Maddie, Athena, they’re all in on it. He’s Ready to do it The Right Way.

Then at like 2pm on a lazy Tuesday afternoon his poor brain that has been overworking on this for weeks gets overloaded and crashes. And suddenly he Needs To Ask Tommy Right Now. Like, just like that the entire plan is overridden, and he doesn’t even process what he’s doing before he sends Eddie a text that just says, “I think I will do it now” and ditches his phone and marches to the garage where Tommy has been working on his truck all day.

The next thing we know Eddie is opening his door to a Buck who has his arms wrapped around himself and his big blue eyes are filled with tears. He looks like a puppy kicked a thousand ways and before Eddie can even open his mouth he cries out, “He said no,” and drops face first on Eddie’s couch. Eddie is like ???? but also “Well, I can’t deal with this shit on my own,” so he calls Hen and Chimney and ten minutes later Buck is sitting on the couch being interrogated by his best friends.

They’re all obviously confused.

Hen, disbelieving, asks, “He said no?”

Buck makes the most pathetic pitiful sound known to the human kind and nods.

Chimney, not really helpful, murmurs, “Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” to himself because he knows how much Tommy loves Buck and would say yes to marrying him months, hell, years ago.

Hen, trying to make sense of it all asks, “What did he exactly say?” because Chim is right, it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

Buck, still looking like a wet cat, goes, “He said it wasn’t the right thing for us.” His voice hitches and he moans, “He said it wasn’t s-smart.”

Hen and Chim shoot a look at each other. Eddie at this point is getting angry because what the fuck? Which is exactly what he says and Hen, the only one trying to be actually somewhat helpful, shakes her head like, “No, Eddie,” and then to Buck with what she hopes is a reassuring voice says, “Maybe he just doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage?”

Buck looks even more miserable at that and buries his face in his hands as he bemoans “Noooo,” and shakes his head like he’s grieving. “We t-talked about it before. At the beginning of our relationship, we both agreed we’d do that if it felt like the right time.” He slumps back on the couch like his life has just ended. “I t-thought it was the right time.”

Eddie, totally pissed off now because how are you gonna be with a guy for years, move in together, buy a house together, be committed to each other fully, and then say no to his marriage proposal, goes, “Oh fuck him. Do you want me to beat some sense into him?” Because damn, this is his best friend who looks absolutely crushed and Eddie will kick Tommy’s ass, fuck the fact that he’s really good at Muay Thai, he hasn’t seen Eddie’s wrath before.

Hen, still the sound of logic and seeing how Buck gets sadder each passing moment, stops him again. “We’re not beating anyone up.” Then says, “Buck, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Tommy loves you.” Because yeah he does in the most sickening teen boy with a puppy crush way, so none of this makes sense and Hen’s brain is whirring but she’s not sure what’s happening yet. “And you love Tommy.”

Buck, hands covering his face again moans into his palms, “I do.” Then his hands drop, and his face shot with panic and fear he goes, “Wait?! Does this mean we broke up?”

A pissed-off, disbelieving noise leaves Eddie; Chim shoots another look towards Hen’s way; Hen just gives an awkward unsure smile. “No. No.” She tries to reassure him. “Of course not.”

“I mean,” Chim says with a shrug. “I don’t see how a relationship comes back from that, you know?”

This gets Buck start crying again.

“You’re. Not. Being. Helpful. Chim.” Hen mutters.

Eddie jumps up, “Oh, I’m beating him up for you.”

Buck’s wails get louder.

It all devolves from there with Buck going between hollering and sniffling and Eddie dead-set on confronting Tommy and Hen trying to do damage control with “We’re just gonna talk to him,” and Chim continuing to be absolutely unhelpful with his comments about how Tommy is great, and so cool, and perfect, and he’d make a great brother-in-law, and this doesn’t make any sense.

So, the four of them somehow find themselves marching towards the Buckley-Kinard house with Eddie at the helm and Buck looking like a pathetic mess between them. They’ve barely entered the front yard when Tommy bursts out the front door with his phone in his hand and he goes, “Where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for hou—”

“I trusted you, man!” Eddie shouts, voice echoing through the street.

Tommy stops in his tracks. He takes in the sight of his friends who are all shooting him deadly (and confused) glares. Then he looks at his boyfriend and finds him avoiding his eyes, keeping his gaze at his feet like all the happiness has been sucked out of his entire universe. Brows furrowing in confusion, Tommy takes a step towards him. “Evan.” He tilts his chin up and sucks in a breath when he sees the tear tracks on Buck’s face. His own face crumbles, now in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Eddie lets out a mirthless laugh. “Pretending you don’t know, huh?”

Tommy looks at him, at Chim, at Hen. “Don’t know what?”

“Oh, you’re a bigger asshole than I thought, Kinard.” Eddie spits in his face, his head shaking. “Acting like nothing’s wrong after saying no to a guy’s proposal so cruelly.”

Tommy freezes. His gaze snaps to Buck with a confused, “What?” but Buck is avoiding his eyes again. “What proposal?” Tommy asks. “Evan didn’t propose to me.”

At this point all tired and beaten Buck sighs, “It’s okay, Tommy.”

“No. No—” Tommy shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

Buck shrugs. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Evan.”

Sighing again, Buck finally looks up. “Look, I get it. We can talk about it later.” He chews at his lip. “Right?” Because he’s still not sure if they’re broken up or not and god he really wishes they’re not because marriage is a dumb institution rooted in patriarchy to maintain and reinforce traditional gender roles and they didn’t even let two men marry till a decade ago, so it’s not like they need anyone’s acknowledgement and all he needs is Tommy, but also he had the absolute perfect ring picked out and he doesn’t know if he can get a refund on it, and calling Tommy his husband would be so fucking nice, and maybe he has been dreaming about that for the past however many years.

At this point, he’s tearing up again, so Tommy cups his face and brushes away some of the tears, before saying with the biggest gentlest eyes, “We can talk about anything you want. But… Baby, what proposal?”

Buck sniffles. “Earlier. W-when I asked you in the garage.”

Tommy frowns harder because that doesn’t make any sense. “You didn’t ask me to marry you, Evan.”

“Yes, I did, Tommy,” Buck huffs.

“No, you asked me if I wanted to take a vacation.”

“I think I know what I asked.”

“You said you wanted to go on a trip!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Okay, you didn’t say trip! You said, you said something like if I wanted to take a new journey with you! Embark on adventure or something. You said you wanted a travel companion for a voyage!”

“Lifelong voyage.” Buck murmurs, lips pursing and arms crossing together. “For our grand adventure together.”

No one says anything for a minute as Buck avoids their eyes and scuffs his feet in the dirt.

At last, as the person with any semblance of intelligence Hen says, “Buck. Did you use any word related to marriage? Like “husband” or “marry” or even “matrimony”?” Her eyebrows rises. “Anything that’s not a metaphor?”

Buck, face red up to the hairline now, just shrugs. “I had a-a speech, okay? I was n-nervous and it was long so I had to paraphrase.”

Finally, Hen sighs, not unkindly.

Chim chuckles, kinda unkindly.

Eddie looks almost as embarrassed as Buck and murmurs, “Sorry, man,” to Tommy as the realization hits it was just his best friend being a huge dumbass and Tommy actually didn’t do anything to deserve a beating.

Tommy, his entire focus on his boyfriend and not paying them any attention, pulls Buck’s arms down and lifts his face up again. He gives him a smile. “I said no because I thought you were asking to go on a trip, Evan,” he says softly. “And that we’ve just got a mortgage together and can’t afford one.” He shakes his head. “I was covered in grease, Pearl Jam was playing in the background, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Still looking abashed but at least not snotty anymore, Buck says, “N-no. No. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Tommy,” he says with a shrug.

Tommy smiles again. “It’s okay, baby.” For a moment, he rubs his boyfriend’s arms up and down, then says, “Sooo…”

Buck, realizing the faint pink on his boyfriend’s face, looks at him with the roundest eyes. “You mean…?”

“Well…” Tommy shrugs. “Are you gonna ask me for real or what?”

The sun dawns on Buck’s face. His eyes go bright with fresh but happier tears. “Yea-yeah.” He nods frantically. “Tommy. W-will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Tommy says. Buck pounces on him with a kiss that gets a surprised moan from him as Hen, Chimney, and Eddie start clapping and Buck cries again and so does Tommy and later that night, Buck gives him the perfect ring he had picked out and come Saturday they actually go to the greatest restaurant in LA and Tommy listens as Buck explains every step of his original proposal and all the metaphors he’s curated carefully for his speech.

The end.

[daydreams-after-dark]

What's your fanfic fantasy? part 14 CONCLUSION

Chapter Contents.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

Premise: fem reader + Chan + Jisung 18+ fanfic. This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Chapter Summary: Another threesome...

a/n: this is it. the final chapter. I want to thank everyone who has followed this fic and the journey of y/n, chan, and jisung. I hope you enjoyed the other characters and what amazing friends they are helping her out like they did.

This chapter is pure smut. (All the other chapters were too, I suppose) but this is just because I wanted to see our three main characters together.

Warnings: threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, double pen two holes, m x m x f, oral sex, coercion, I don’t even know anymore! But if you’ve read up to this point you will be fine.

Y/n pov.

You wake up with your limbs wrapped around a body. You’re exhausted but as soon as you remember where you are and whose bodies are lying beside you, you’re newly energised. You’re here with your two loves. Jisung, who you’re clinging to like a koala, and Chan spooning you from behind. A smile appears across your face. This is what it feels like to wake up with them?

You gaze at Jisung, who looks peaceful, and beautiful, as he sleeps. Your mind drifts back to the night before, to his confession. He’s loved you all this time? You that thought sit with you as you recall some of the awkward encounters he and you have had over that time. Or the moments where his gaze would linger a little too long. You had never really paid attention to it. Your mind was always on Chan. But what had changed this week to make you see Jisung in a different way? Perhaps because you could fantasise about the other band members and not him it meant you had somehow blocked in him from your mind? Maybe deep down you knew you liked him but thought that would make you feel confused about your feelings for Chan? Who knows?

But then the way he looked at you the other night, it tore down any blocks or barricades you had up between you and him. Jisung claimed you that night. He must have been terrified to finally touch you?

You feel a stirring behind you. Chan adjusting his hips and pressing his morning erection against your ass. Oh! to have finally felt Chan inside of you! It was more than you could’ve ever have imagined. He was absolutely fucking perfect. Just the right balance of tender and brutal.

And now you’re horny.

You wriggle your ass back against Chan and his hand is quick to grip your hip, pulling you back hard against him. His mouth finds the sensitive part of your neck and kisses you tenderly.

“Good morning, my beautiful.” He whispers, and it’s almost like he can’t believe you’re really here. After a few minutes of gentle caressing, he leans up on an elbow so he can see over you. “Isn’t Ji just so perfect when he’s asleep?” he grins.

“So you’re saying he’s not perfect when he’s awake?” You joke.

“Ha fucking ha. No,” his expression turns loving “he gets really anxious and stressed. He doesn’t always show it, but it’s there. When he’s asleep, he looks peaceful.”

Chan’s right. Jisung does look perfect when he’s asleep.

“Do you think he’s excited for a threesome?” You ask, turning your head back to look at Chan.

“I think he’s going to lose his shit.” Chan chuckled.

“Should we suck him off together? To wake him up?” You ask lightheartedly.

Jisung’s eyes fling open “Yes!!! Yes please!” He says eagerly.

Chan laughs “You fucking little piece of shit. How long have you been awake?”

Jisung feigns innocence. “Not long… Something about a threesome woke me.” He says shyly.

“Well, Jisung, Channie and I wanna suck your cock… if you’ll let us.” You coo.

Jisung throws the sheet off his body to reveal his hard on. His dick is absolutely perfect. Chan wastes no time to climb over to him and nestle between his legs. You’ve seen Jisung suck Chan’s cock, but not Chan sucking Jisung’s. Your eyes widen. Chan takes Jisung in his hand and kitten licks the tip, then looks up at Jisung lovingly. You wonder if Chan gets rough Jisung like he did with you in the tub last night? Jisung let’s out a whimper as Chan licks him from the base to the tip. You feel yourself getting wet and you’re compelled to join in pleasuring Jisung. Your Jisung.

You position yourself down beside Chan and together you tend to Jisung. You both lick up the side of his shaft, your mouths meeting at the tip. You kiss messily with the head of Jisung’s dick still between you, your tongues and lips and Jisung’s cock all intertwined. You keep stroking his cock and Jisung is almost crying in pleasure. You continue like this, sloppily making out around Jisung’s penis, until Jisung interrupts you both.

“Channie…” Jisung sounds delirious.

“What is it, my love?” Chan replies, breaking from your kisses.

“I… I … wannna…” he stutters.

“You need to use words, Sungie.” Chan encourages.

“I wanna… can I… fuck you this time Channie?” his voice is small.

Your eyes grow wide and you look to Chan. “I so want to see that.” You whisper and bite your lip.

Chan smirks at you and looks down at Jisung “Of course you can fuck me. I love the way you feel inside me.”

Your vagina clenches at Chan’s words and at the thought of what is about to happen.

The men re-arrange themselves so Chan is laying on the bed and Jisung is kneeling between Chan’s legs.

“Can you pass me the lube, baby… bedside table.” Jisung instructs as he gives Chan’s cock some attention.

“Fuck, Jisung! God. Your mouth.” Chan chokes.

You watch as Jisung expertly works on prepping Chan. He is so confident with his lover, reading Chan’s body language and responses, and knowing when to add another finger. Chan’s abdominals tense and relax as the pleasure builds. He closes his eyes as his breath becomes more rapid and he sucks in his lip. Jisung’s eyes are hooded and full of a mix of admiration and lust, as he switches his gaze back and forth between Chan’s entrance and his face.

The pair look so in love and this feels so intimate. Part of you feels like maybe you shouldn’t be watching and you’re not sure what to do.

“Y/n,” Jisung says low “Kiss Chan for me.”

They haven’t forgotten about you. You lean in on all fours and take Chan into a kiss. He moans into your mouth and his hand finds your ass. He grips it hard making you yelp slightly and his fingers move to your soft wet folds. You crave for him to put his fingers inside you, and when he does, you let out a long low moan. The stretch feels like relief.

Chan peels his mouth away. “You’re cunt is addicted to being fucked isn’t it.” He breaths.

“Channie,” you moan. “You say such dirty things, you know that, right?” You sit up and take in the view in front of you. Jisung is lining his cock up to Chan’s entrance and you glance back at Chan’s needy expression. “I think you need something to keep that mouth of yours quiet.” You say to him as you climb over and straddle his face so you’re facing Jisung.

“Oh. God. Yes… sit on my face babygirl.” Chan growls and with an arm around each of your thighs he pulls you down over his face.

“That’s so fucking hot.” Jisung murmers.

Chan’s wet tongue devours you from below, as you watch Jisung slowly thrust into Chan. Chan moans and it sends vibrations through you, making you gasp. You lean forward to take hold of his cock. It’s rock hard and straining. Pre-cum oozes from the tip. Jisung strokes your hair affectionately and cups your face so you’re looking at him. The way he looks at you makes your heart melt and you smile. “You’re so pretty, y/n” he whispers.

You look down to watch Jisung’s beautiful cock slide in and out of Chan. It is the most graphic sight you’ve ever seen, and it almost makes you come right then. You breathe deeply trying to steady yourself and hold off uour rapidly approaching orgasm. You want this to last forever.

“Fuck, Channie. You take Jisung’s cock so well. I didn’t know you were such a cock slut.” You tease. “I thought you you were a dom. But judging by this scenario… I am not quite sure.”

“Y/n,” Jisung pants as his thrusts become more forceful. “I need you to ride Chan’s cock while I’m fucking him. Can you do that for me?”

You raise an eyebrow and look cheekily at Jisung before spinning yourself around so you’re facing Chan and straddling his torso. He looks so fucked out he can’t even speak. He’s just moaning and whining as Jisung slowly fucks him to death.

“That’s it baby. Back yourself up a little.” Jisung’s hands are on your hips, guiding you back to line up with Chan’s cock. Jisung holds the base steady as you lower yourself down, taking Chan all at once. You’re still sore from the day before, but you don’t care.

Chan let’s out a choked cry. “F—fuckkkkk!” he cries as you lean over him and push back against his cock.

Jisung wraps his hands around you, and leans over your back. His skin is sticky with sweat. You can feel his heart pounding. You feel safe. This is where you belong. Jisung’s breath is on your neck and you’re overwhelmed with emotion as you both fuck Chan together.

The reality of this precious moment hits you and so does your orgasm. Your body stiffens as the tension inside you snaps, making you see stars. “I’ve got you, baby.” Jisung whispers, as both their hands hold onto you as you ride out the orgasm.

You lift your head to look down at Chan who looks at you with blown out eyes before he captures you in a kiss.

Jisung grips your hips, digging his fingers into you as he directs you up and down Chan’s cock. “Fuck you should see the view I have right now.” He says in disbelief. You can only imagine what it must look like for Jisung, looking down to see his own cock fucking Chan, and Chan’s cock fucking you all at once.

Chan’s hands slide down your body to cup your ass, pulling the cheeks apart. It is then I feel something cold on your hold. Lube. Jisung massages a lubed finger against you, making you to gasp with pleasure. Then a finger slips inside. Very slowly. Very carefully. You seem to be lost in pleasure because before you know it, Jisung has two fingers inside of you. One of your favourite things is to have a finger or two in your ass while you’re being fucked, but you want more. You want both men inside you.

Then you feel it. Jisung’s cock against you.

“Have you ever done this before? Take two cocks at once?” Chan whispers. You shake your head. “Only one in the vagina and one in the mouth… I have had anal before…but I’m nervous.” You say wide eyed. He pulls me close.

“It’s okay. We’ve got you. Jisung’s really careful. He knows what to do.” Chan’s words alone make you relax. You trust them. You love them.

“Oh my God, baby. You look so inviting.” Hums Jisung as the tip of his cock prods you. “I know you’re going to take this so well.” He places a hand on your hip and guides his cock into you. “Good girl.”

“Oh… fu-” you gasp. You had not prepared yourself for the feeling of two penises inside you. Jisung inches in bit by bit, allowing you time to adjust before moving any further. The sensations are a mix of a burning pain, a stretching feeling, pleasure, need, relief. Every time Jisung stops, you whimper for more. Finally he is all the way inside.

“Ughh… you’re so tight around me.” Grunts Chan. “I need to fuck you so bad. Will you be a good girl and take it? Even if it hurts?” Chan’s words echo the previous night when he became aggressive in the sexiest way. Your vagina clenches around Chan’s cock. He smirks “You like that thought, hmm?”

“Hyung, I don’t want to hurt her?” Jisung pipes up.

“It’s okay, Jisung. I like it… want you to be rough with me… please.” You feel so fucking needy right now that you beg them to start fucking you.

The men start off slow, alternating turns in thrusting into you, then begin to quicken the pace. Moans, whimpers, grunts and cries fill the room as they fuck you faster, harder. Eventually, Jisung lays over your back, pressing you against Chan, and Chan’s arm wraps around both you and Jisung. You bury your head in Chan’s neck, making space for the pair to kiss each other. They start to time their thrusts so they are slamming into you at the same time. You come again, practically screaming this time, as you clench hard around their cocks.

“Oh fuck, did you feel that Ji?” Chan gasps.

Jisung nods “Oh my God, I’m gonna cum.” And with a few more thrusts you feel his release inside of you.

Chan finally lets go too. You don’t know how he’s even managed to hold off coming for this long. You feel him pulse as he ejaculates, for what seems like forever, deep inside your cunt.

But there is no time for rest. Jisung swiftly pulls out, making you shudder and lays on his back on the bed. “Quick. Baby. Sit on my face.” He says urgently. “Hurry! Before the cum seeps out.”

What? You’re taken by surprise at the request, but quickly do as he says, straddling his face the same as you did for Chan.

“Thats’s it baby. Good girl. Yes like that.” He pulls you down so his mouth is buried in your pussy ready to catch the leaking cum.

“Fuck! Jisung. That visual alone is making me hard again.” Chan exclaims. You turn to him to see him stroking his rapidly re-hardening cock. You can feel the cum leaking out of both holes and Jisung uses a finger to help bring down his own cum to mix with Chan’s. Your pussy is so sensitive and overstimulated, but Jisung isn’t about to let you go. It’s like he needs this to stay alive. He licks and sucks the cum that is leaking from you, the tip of his tongue dipping into your cunt to scoop out as much as possible. Fuck! It feels good though, and you start to grind down on Jisung’s face. Your gaze falls on his cock. It’s still rock hard, and you lean down to suck on it. Jisung moans into your pussy sending shock waves through me.

Chan shuffles down to sit next to Jisung’s hips so that their cocks are close to each other, and you alternate taking their dicks into my mouth. You take them as deep as you can, forcing yourself not to gag. You swirl your tongue around both their tips at the same time, whilst simultaneously stroking their cocks.

“Fuck.” They keep crying as you try to give them the best blow job of their lives. But an idea hits you. You pull off both cocks and look at Chan whose expression is one of agony. “I want to watch you fuck Jisung.”

————————

Chan lines his now generously lubed cock with Jisung’s ass.

“He doesn’t need prepping, he likes the stretch.” Chan explains, when he sees the shocked look on your face.

Jisung takes him so easily. Chan has the biggest dick you’ve ever seen, and seeing it disappearing and reappearing out of Jisung’s ass is amazing. He picks up the pace quickly and it isn’t long until he is pounding into Jisung brutally. They seem to be able to go forever. Jisung’s sounds of pleasure hit you in the pussy over and over and you feel delirious. You keep pumping Jisung’s cock until he is painting your breasts with cum.

“I love you Channie.” Cries Jisung as he comes.

“Fuck!!” cries Chan, Jisung’s words of love sending him over the edge, and he pulls out to paint your face in ropes of cum.

You all separate and lay on your backs panting and catching your breaths. That was the wildest sex you’d ever had. These men will be the death of you. Your mind is blank as you bask in post sex, post orgasm bliss. You’re brought back to reality when you feel a someone move between your legs, hands pushing your legs apart, a mouth landing on your pussy and another one on your mouth.

Jisung kisses you slowly and explores your mouth with his lips and tongue. The taste of him is a culmination of my wetness, both men’s cum, lube, and Jisung’s saliva. You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss. He melts into it, giving you everything you need in this moment.

You feel Chan’s tongue against you and you flinch. “Baby, I can’t take any more. I’m too sensitive. Can’t.” You beg him stop.

Chan grips your thighs harder and looks up. “You can take it. You are our good girl aren’t you?” he says sternly and you clench around nothing. You continue to protest.

“Shhh…. Baby.” Coos Jisung. He leans up and gazes at you, cupping your cheek and placing little pecks along your jaw. You feel as though Jisung is going to side with you and tell Chan that you need a break.

“Y/n, baby.” He starts again. “I know you can take just a little bit more.” He kisses your mouth. “You still need to feel what it’s like to have Channie fuck your ass.” There is eagerness in Jisung’s eyes, like you’re about to experience the best feeling in the world. Something that only Jisung and you get to share.

You stare at Jisung wide eyed. “But he’s so big! I’m not sure I -” Jisung puts two fingers to your mouth to hush you, while Chan digs two fingers into my pussy causing you to moan.

“Channie, she might really need a break.” Jisung decides and looks to Chan.

“Wait!” You interject. “No. I want to. I’m okay. I want to feel what its’ like.”

Jisung smiles. “Okay. But let me clean all this cum off you first.” He disappears into the bathroom.

“Are you sure, y/n?” Chan is at your side. It’s his turn to kiss you deeply. “Yes.” You whisper as you break the kiss.

“Okay, let’s try it like this.” He positions himself behind you, spoon position, and you feel his hardness against you as he caresses your waist and hips.

Jisung returns with a wet cloth and proceeds to wipe the drying cum off your chest and face. “Fuck, baby. I can’t believe your ours.” He grins as he settles down in front of you. You are now back to the position you were in when you woke this morning.

“I’m just going to lube up okay.” Chan says, before you feel his thick head push against you. You’re not sure how you’re going to manage after being fucked so much.

Jisung catches your expression and holds you close to him, turning himself so his body is facing yours. “You’re gonna love this y/n.” He promises you. “I’ve got you.” He whispers.

Chan stretches you and fills you slowly, bit by bit. And it feels incredible. You welcome everything that Chan has to give you, be it pleasure or pain. Fuck, part of you likes it even better when it hurts!

“Baby- fuuuu-… Oh fuck!” Chan bottoms out and immediately starts to fuck you. You can tell something has snapped in him again, like the evening before. It’s almost like you bring some wild beast of out him. You see a flicker of confusion on Jisung’s face, and you realise that Chan mustn't be this rough with him. You reach out and cup Jisung’s face. “It’s amazing.” You tell him, and his face softens.

Chan is grunting and growling as he slams into you over and over, but the more you look at Jisung, the more you want him too.

“Chan?” you say. Chan slows his movements.

“Yes, beautiful?” he kisses your sweat sheened neck.

“I want both of you again.”

“You’re addicted to both our cocks, yeah?” Chan chuckles. “Okay, let’s make that happen.” He holds onto you as he rolls onto his back, so he is slightly propped up against the headboard and you’re laying against him with his cock still inside you. Jisung is quick to hover over you, his dick ready to penetrate you. He folds your legs up against your chest, which makes Chan’s cock slip even deeper inside you. With one hand balanced on Chan’s shoulder, Jisung squeezes his cock into your very sensitive, very aroused, but very swollen, cunt. Jisung’s breath is strained as he pushes inside. “Fuck this is the tightest you’ve felt…” You hold onto his waist and pull him against you as best you can given the position you’re in.

You think they’re going to fuck you into oblivion, but instead they slow the pace right down. They move together in a tortuously slow rhythm, never picking up the pace, never thrusting any harder. Just rocking themselves gently inside of you.

Chan squeezes your neck gently whilst nuzzling into your shoulder and whispering how much he loves you. Jisung kisses you, breathing heavily into your mouth. He gathers some saliva and pushes it into your mouth, then continues to kiss you tenderly. Chan’s other hand caresses your body, oftentimes reaching up to hold Jisung against you.

You start to lose yourself to the moment, losing track of time and your surroundings. You no longer know where each of you begins or finishes. You don’t know who is causing what sensations, or who is making what sound.

You close your eyes and let yourself go as Chan and Jisung take you to some place you’ve never been before. A place just for the three of you. A place you know you will never want to leave.

The end.

A/n: as I was re editing this I realise some of the positions might have been a little far reaching… but it’s fiction, right!

I hope you enjoyed this series my loves.

@rylea08 @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @piscesrising01 @lunearta @shltsnglggles @lilbabiebunni @jiminssluttyminx @armystay89 @krayzieestay @stellasays45 @hxnnielk @yaorzu-blog @anjian03 @tsunderelino @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @privhace @kyunchoni @writhingwrecked @kisses-too-the-moon @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @meilix @ismokeeweed @leftovercigarettes @galaxycatdrawz @grandma143 @teddy-stay

[strandnreyes]

love & laser tag

a little fic inspired by @guardian-angle22’s answer to the duo most likely to dominate laser tag because I couldn’t get an Owen/Carlos team up and sulky TK out of my head

“You ready to take down our friends?”

TK’s grin as he slides into the passenger seat is nearly contagious. Too bad Carlos is one statement away from making it disappear.

“Actually…” Carlos says slowly. He should’ve told TK earlier, but he has a feeling his husband isn’t going to like the news.

TK is already wary, squinting his eyes and looking at Carlos like he still trusts him with his life, just not at this very moment. “What?”

Carlos presses his lips together and then starts the car. “Your dad asked me to be on his team,” he says casually as he backs out of his space in the parking garage. He doesn’t have to take his eyes off the back up camera to know TK feels betrayed.

“What? We’re married. That’s like… automatic laser tag partners,” TK argues with a flap of his hand and Carlos chuckles.

“He asked me, TK. Was I supposed to say no?”

“Yes.”

Carlos shakes his head with a smile as he glances over at TK. In turn, TK slips his sunglasses down to his eyes. Though that could be blamed on the sun that’s now beating through the windshield. “Babe. Have you met me?”

He may have come a long way from constantly calling Owen sir or captain every time he sees him, but he was not about to shoot down Owen’s overly enthusiastic text asking if Carlos would like to be his partner for the 126 laser tag outing.

TK seems to agree because he slumps back into his seat. “Well, your nice southern boy manners are leaving me without a partner.”

“Good thing there are ten people coming so you’re guaranteed to have a partner,” Carlos retorts and TK finds his energy again, sitting up and letting his pout come out in full force.

“I wanted to be your partner,” he argues and he’s so adamant that Carlos is actually considering changing the plan. His husband is adorable and there are worse things than TK being upset that he doesn’t get to be with Carlos for something as unserious as laser tag. But then TK keeps talking. “You’re the only one here with actual training in this kind of thing.”

Scratch that. Carlos is definitely sticking with Owen. “Oh, I see. You don't want to be with me because you love me. You just want to use me.”

TK reaches over to pat his arm. “Now you’re getting it, baby.”

“I think I’m glad your dad asked me,” Carlos says as he navigates them through downtown traffic.

TK scoffs. “Jerk.” A moment later, after seemingly processing the statement, he asks, “When did he ask you?”

“He texted me.”

TK looks even more disgruntled and if Carlos weren’t driving, he’d lean over and kiss that look off his face. “Seriously? He had to secretly text you and steal you away from me?”

“I don’t know if it was a secret. And no one’s stealing anyone.”

“Whatever,” TK mutters. “You two have your fun. You’re going down.”

Carlos smiles and lays his hand on TK’s thigh. He keeps it there for the rest of the drive, but keeps any comments to himself. Truth be told, he’s fairly confident in his and Owen’s ability to take this thing home. No way he’s telling that to TK, though.

The car ride home can be described as icy at best.

TK hasn’t said a word since they all handed their vests back to the bored looking employee. He stalked to the car afterward and impatiently waited for Carlos to unlock the doors. Since then, he has ignored all of Carlos’ questions about stopping for food on the way home.

“TK,” Carlos says after the third unsuccessful attempt to engage him in conversation. He’s as far over in his seat as he can be and he’s staring out the window like he’s carsick and his wellness depends on it.

“What?” he mutters.

Carlos can’t help the small smile on his face. He’s glad TK isn’t looking at him to see it. “Are you seriously mad?”

“No.”

Carlos raises a brow. “Really? Your knees are glued to the door.” When TK doesn’t give him a follow up comment, Carlos grows even more bewildered. “The silent treatment? TK.”

TK whips around and points an accusatory finger at Carlos as he pulls back into the parking garage. “You targeted me.”

“That’s how the game works,” Carlos defends.

“No, you two… came after me right away,” TK huffs as he throws his hands up. They land back on his legs with a soft slap.

“Again, the point of the game—”

TK clenches his jaw. “Carlos, I swear to god.”

“Baby, I don’t know what you want me to say,” he says with a small laugh as he parks the car. He immediately turns to TK. “Your dad is very competitive. Do you remember the softball game?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Carlos reaches across the console. When TK lets him take his hands, Carlos knows he’s not too deep in the dog house. “I’m sorry I shot you in laser tag and took you out of the game.”

“And?”

Carlos shakes his head. “I’m not going to apologize for winning.” TK groans and tries to pull away but Carlos holds tighter. “But… I promise to be your partner in life and all future laser tag games.”

TK actually looks satisfied with that answer and Carlos loves this ridiculous man. “Thank you.”

Carlos stretches forward, relieved when TK meets him halfway to share a kiss. He deepens it until he can ensure that TK isn’t still mad about the events of the afternoon.

“How about we order Thai?” Carlos suggests as he gets out of the car. He joins TK’s side, grabbing his hand and leading him inside.

“I don’t know, are you sure you don’t want to go get dinner with your new favorite Strand?”

“TK,” Carlos groans as drops his head back.

[prentissluvr]

you'd dance with me? — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff, light angst ➖⟢ cw : reader gets sort of stood up, alcohol, reader is tipsy, swearing, (not) unrequited love, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.4K prompt : telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

the man from the bar, james, isn’t your exact type. no one is except for sam, because you’re irrevocably in love with him. but since you can’t have him, and you’re dying to have a fun night without every second being consumed by thoughts of him, how much you love him, and how much you’re sure he doesn’t love you back, you turn to flirting with the nearest handsome single man.

and that means james. james has been nice enough and asked you to call him jamie, because “that’s what his friends call him.” dean gave you an impressed look as you walked past with “jamie” on your arm, and you winked at him, feeling playful and hopeful for a fun night after a tiring hunt. dean grinned back and sam barely gave any indication he noticed you before you settled at the bar and launched into a decently boring conversation with james about his corporate job and the fake life that you spin up for him.

that was over half an hour ago and it’s been at least twenty minutes since james excused himself to the bathroom with the promise that he’d be right back. you know he’s not coming back, but you stay rooted to your seat anyway.

it takes a few more minutes before sam appears, taking the previous man’s spot by your side.

“he left, didn’t he?” you ask, forlorn and not even bothering to look at sam as he settles next to you. sam cringes and nods. you sigh, not having to turn your head to see the movement through the corner of your eye as he confirms your suspicions. sam wonders if he should tell you that the asshole left with someone else. you deserve to know, but he’s hyperaware that it’ll only add to the sting. 

he takes in the look on your face and the empty shot glass that you fiddle with, and he immediately knows that you’re much more upset by this than you normally would be. of course, the situation is completely shitty, for anyone, but on any other day, you’d probably brush it off by looking for someone better or heading back to sit with him and dean for some fun with them (if dean’s still around by then). today, you’re alone and at least an extra shot or two in since the guy left, likely making you more tipsy than you intended to get tonight. more than that, the frown on your lips is easy to see and read, far different from the smile you normally give him when you’re pretending not to care. tonight you don't attempt hide it.

“you okay?” he finally asks. you sigh again and surprise him a bit by dropping your head on his shoulder. this kind of touch between the two of you isn’t abnormal, but these days it feels like you’re avoiding it a little, which sort of kills him. it takes you a moment to answer, but when you do, sam’s heart clenches.

“i just wanted to dance with someone tonight.” your voice is sad and candid from the removal of your filter by the alcohol in your system. for a moment, sam is blindingly angry with the asshole that stood you up, and he has to hold back a vehement curse before recentering his focus on you and the sad pull between your eyebrows. he just clenches his jaw and lets you say what you need to before he lets any of the million things he wants to tell you fall from his lips. “he said he’d dance with me when he got back… then he didn’t come back. d’you think it’s stupid i wanted to dance? think that’s why he left?” 

now sam’s heart is plain-old breaking for you. he wants to ring the neck of the stupid man that made you question yourself like this, made your voice sound so dejected. then he wants to sweep you up in his arms and hold you close and kiss your forehead and tell you that it’s the sweetest, most endearing thing in the world that you want to dance. tell you that he’ll dance with you every night despite the fact that he can’t do much more than hold you and sway with you. tell you that he’s completely and enduringly in love with you. he discovered that recently, though he figures it’s been true for a long while now.

he has to settle for something a little more tame because you’re upset over another guy, because you're a little tipsy, and because he can’t lose your friendships if those words don’t come across well.

sam puts his arm around your shoulders and you sink further into him. “if that’s why he left, he’s an idiot. anyone in their right mind would trip over their own feet to dance with you. no one in their right mind would leave you– someone like you, sitting here alone,” he says your name so soft and loving that he thinks he’s given himself away until he remembers you’re not picking up on everything right now, “he didn’t deserve you. you deserve a whole lot better than that ass.” i’d be so good to you, he thinks.

“yeah,” you agree, still sounding a little despondent.

“if you– if you still wanna dance, you’ve got a willing partner,” sam forges ahead, anything to make you smile.

“mm, where? james probably left with someone else, for all i know.” he doesn’t like that man’s name on your lips, and maybe you’re a little more drunk than he thought, because you’re not getting the hint as quickly as you normally would. if you were sober and trying not to act upset, you’d say that all with a playful tone to your voice to tease him for offering. right now, you just sound sort of unbelieving.

“you know,” sam responds, keeping his voice just as serious as yours instead of matching that tease like he normally would.

this time you let a bit of humor slip into your voice, but it’s still sort of pessimistic, “what? are you gonna drag dean away from whatever girl he’s found just to cheer up my sorry ass?” sam has to laugh a little at that thought, because it’s a silly image and almost funny how you refuse to see him as an option.

“your ass isn’t sorry,” sam smiles all soft when that pulls a half-hearted snort from you. his voice is still gentle as he finally says, “i’m right here, you know.”

when you tilt your head up to look at his face, and finally, finally, he gets your eyes on his, he almost melts to the floor. you’re looking at him, sweet and soft with your eyebrows pinched together like you’re not sure if he meant it. then there’s that little hint of hope and joy swimming around in the pretty pools of your eyes and it sets his heart afire, just like that. you’ve done just about nothing special, but to him you’ve done everything.

“you’d wanna dance with me?” you say it like you can’t believe it, like that’s exactly what you’d really been hoping for all night and it takes everything in sam’s power not to swoop down and kiss you right then and there. he’d wanna do a whole lot more than dance with you, but it’s a wonderful, glorious, honey-sweet way to start, he thinks.

“of course,” he grins at you, and that’s all it takes to pull a big smile over your features too. that’s just about everything sam could ever ask for, and it brings a flood of relief over him. he just can’t help himself when he asks, “that is, if you’d want to dance with me? i’m sure i’m not your ideal dancing partner for the night, but hopefully i’ll do.”

“of course i want to dance with you, sam,” you say, so blatantly honest that it makes his heart hurt, “and that’s not true.” you won’t explain what you mean by that, so sam stands with you and gladly lets you use him for balance. it’s not true that he’s not your ideal dancing partner? is that what you meant? he certainly hopes so, because that must mean, by default, he is your ideal dancing partner, and you wanted to dance with him tonight, not this awful james.

maybe you love him back a little, he hopes, as your wrap your arms around his middle and let him sway you back and forth, all gentle and smiling.