#it’s stolen your body from you. your mind. your heart.

[colonelarr0w]

I love your writing so much!!

Can I request some comfort Sukuna where he finally breaks down the walls around readers heart who has been hurt previously years before…reader made him wonder why they didn’t ever let him see them cry before and that bothered him.

Sypnosis - Love wasn't for everyone, you had long since accepted that fact. But ... were you really okay with being alone?

Warning(s) - None besides mature themes and some foul language.

A/N - Oh my god I loved this request so much. Reader is definitely a little bit too much like me in this one, but it's okay because at least she somewhat fixed her issues!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Love wasn't for everyone. 

That was a hard pill to swallow, but it was one that you had swallowed after so many years of being constantly disappointed. One after the other, it was as if the heavens above were taunting you. Either that, or they were punishing you for some heinous crime. 

Even though you wanted so desperately to experience what everyone else did; stolen glances, random flowers, gentle kisses, passionate sex, late-night dates … you had just come to the conclusion that no matter what you did, it just wasn't for you.  

And you were okay with that. 

Yet, it was annoying to then hear others come to you spewing their bullshit. 

"You just haven't met the one yet!"  "Don't worry, love will come to you when you least expect it." 

"Trust me. The moment that you stop looking for love, it comes to find you." 

"You're quiet," Sukuna says harshly, dropping his finished cigarette onto the ground and snuffing out its orange hue with the toe of his boot. Your head jerks upward, blinking for a moment before you clear your throat – you hadn't meant to fall into a daydream.  

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm okay," you answer quickly, lifting your own half-finished cigarette to your lips and inhaling. You hoped that the smoke would ease your nerves, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.  

Sukuna's eyes roam over your figure, his mind taking notes on your expression and body language. Your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes flickering to look at anything but him, your lips are turned downward in a frown that he somewhat wishes would go away. Your shoulders are stiff, back standing as straight as a line. Your hands are shaking. 

"Tch," he clicks his tongue, turning his body and half-stepping towards you. His fingers close over your wrist, pulling the cigarette away from your lips. "You're a shitty liar." 

Your eyes cast themselves to the ground, embarrassment heating your cheeks. He falters, but he toes out your cigarette anyway, then turning to face forward again – he doesn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are.  

"What are you thinking about?" he asks after a beat of silence, hanging his arms over the railing of your apartment's balcony. Your eyes flicker to him for a moment, silently admiring the way that the moonlight illuminates his face and the tattoos inked into his skin.  

"Nothing that would interest you." 

Not when it comes to you. Talk to me, he wants to say. But the words fall dead on his tongue. He doesn't turn his head to look at you, only humming in acknowledgement.  

Another beat of silence passes over you and Sukuna. It gets you wondering … did he even like being around you? After all, the only reason why he kept meeting you after work was because he had offered you a ride home. In return, you offered him cigarettes. A fair trade. 

"Interesting or not," he hesitates, biting his tongue, "'s not good when you keep all that stuff in." 

You freeze, hands tightening their hold on the railing as you stare out at the cityscape. Already you can feel tears beginning to gather along your waterline. You try your hardest to swallow them away, but nothing.  

"I-I said it was fine," you manage to choke out, trying to subtly wipe at your eyes. Sukuna notices … he always did.  

He reaches into his pocket for something, then nudging your arm with a handkerchief closed between his fingers. You take it, mumbling a quiet thanks before wiping your eyes with it. "I'm sorry." 

Sukuna doesn't answer, he doesn't have to. It's more of a silent understanding that yes, something is bothering you, but in your own time you would open up to him about it. Maybe it wouldn't be tonight, maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow … but eventually, you would.  

He shrugs in response to your apology. "Nothin' to apologize for." 

Another beat of silence passes over you both, this one more comfortable than the last. Sukuna reaches into his pocket, taking out the cigarettes that you had given him. He opens the box with his thumb, hesitating on taking another one out.  

You eye the box out of the corner of your eye … it was the only reason he even came into your apartment, wasn't it? 

To your shock, he drops the box off of the edge of the balcony, watching it through half-lidded eyes as it falls out of sight. You turn your head to look at him, finding him already staring at you.  

Neither of you say anything.    

One minute turns into two, two into four, four into six.  

"Y'know, I get the whole … wanting to be alone thing," Sukuna says, turning away from you so that he wouldn't have to look at your slightly pained expression. He leans further against the railing, gaze focusing on the blinking lights of a nearby billboard.  

"You can tell yourself all you want that you want to be alone," he finally turns to you, "but do you really want that?" 

You freeze, eyes wide like a deer that had been caught in headlights. Blankly, you stare at him, mind struggling to mull over what he had just asked you.  

Did you really want to be alone? 

"I-" You pause, swallowing the lump that had settled in the center of your throat. "I don't." 

With that, Sukuna swallows all of his pride and tugs you into his arms. You fold into him, nails biting into the back of his leather jacket – the one that reeks of smoke and of must. But at the same time, those two comforting smells remind you that right now, in this moment, you aren't truly alone.  

Do y'all want a part two of this? Or like a series of Sukuna and !Non-Trusting girlfriend? 

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fanfiction #sukuna ryomen fanfiction #sukuna fanfiction

[bitchiswild]

Pull Of Desire

G!P Kazuha x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: ummmm SMUTTTTT💃🏼💃🏼

A/n: Yalls help me come up with a title my brain is blank🧍‍♀️

Kazuha's life revolved around work, leaving little room for romance. However, she had a bold side when it came to flirting and physical intimacy. She enjoyed the excitement of these encounters, but had never taken anything further than a simple make out and gropping.

Living in the city, Kazuha would often find herself in casual settings, exchanging playful banter and stolen kisses. While she relished the thrill of these moments, her career always came first, preventing her from fully exploring her desires, until she met you.

Kazuha's evening took an electrifying turn when her gaze locked onto you from across the bar. With a confident sway, she made her way over, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leaned in close.

"Mind if I join you?" she purred, her voice like velvet against your ear. You couldn't help but be drawn in by her confidence, nodding eagerly as she settled onto the stool beside you.

As the bartender poured your drinks, Kazuha's fingers brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. She laughed softly at your startled reaction, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

"Smooth moves," she teased, her gaze smoldering with intensity. "But I'm not that easy to impress."

Undeterred, you leaned in closer, matching her boldness with a playful retort. "Oh, I'm just getting started," you countered, a flicker of challenge in your eyes.

The air crackled with anticipation as the banter between you grew more heated, each exchange fueling the fire of desire. Kazuha's laughter mingled with yours, the sound like a siren's call, drawing you deeper into the spell she was weaving.

Sensing the mounting tension between you, Kazuha suggested a change of scenery. With a coy smile, she took your hand and led you outside into the cool night air.

Once outside, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation, the space between you filled with unspoken desire. Kazuha pressed you against the wall with a gentle yet firm touch, her gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

"Tell me," she breathed, her voice husky with longing, "do you feel it too?" Before you could respond, her lips captured yours in a searing kiss, igniting a blaze of passion that threatened to consume you both.

A surge of anticipation coursed through your veins, heightening every sensation. Her touch was electrifying, sending shivers cascading down your spine as her lips met yours in a hungry kiss.

The world around you seemed to fade into oblivion, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of desire. Kazuha's kisses were urgent, fueled by a primal need that matched your own. Her lips moved with a delicious rhythm, exploring every contour of your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless.

With a daring hand, Kazuha tangled her fingers in your hair, pulling you closer as if she couldn't get enough. Her body pressed against yours, molding perfectly to your form as the heat between you intensified.

You could feel the rapid beat of her heart echoing your own, the shared urgency of the moment binding you together in a symphony of desire. Each touch, each caress was a testament to the unspoken longing that simmered beneath the surface.

Lost in the whirlwind of sensation, you surrendered yourself completely to the moment, allowing Kazuha to consume you with her passion. Time seemed to stand still as the world spun madly around you, the only constant the intoxicating taste of her lips against yours.

As Kazuha pulled away, both of you were left gasping for air, the heat of the moment still lingering between you like a smoldering ember. With flushed cheeks and eyes ablaze with desire, she met your gaze, her grip on your hair gentle yet firm.

In a voice husky with longing, Kazuha whispered in your ear, her breath hot against your skin, "Wanna go back to my place?" Her words hung in the air, charged with a potent mix of invitation and anticipation.

You felt a surge of excitement pulse through you at the suggestion, your heart pounding with the promise of what lay ahead. The thought of continuing this intoxicating dance with Kazuha, of exploring the depths of passion together, was too enticing to resist.

With a silent nod, you conveyed your consent, your own desire mirrored in the depths of your eyes. Kazuha's lips curved into a knowing smile as she took your hand in hers, leading you away from the dimly lit alley and towards her car.

As Kazuha drove back to her place, the tension between you both was palpable. Each stolen glance spoke volumes, the anticipation building with every passing moment. When you arrived at her apartment building, Kazuha wasted no time, taking your hand and leading you inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Kazuha pulled you close, her lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. You stumbled through the doorway, still locked in each other's embrace, the world outside forgotten.

In the dimly lit apartment, clothes were shed with urgency, discarded to the floor as desire consumed you both. Hands roamed eagerly over heated skin as you explored each other with a fervent hunger.

Your hands traced the contours of Kazuha's abs, feeling the tension of her muscles beneath your touch. Her breath hitched as your fingertips danced across her skin, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume them both. In response, Kazuha's hands found their way to your body, gripping you in all the right places, each touch sending a surge of electricity through your veins.

Just as the intensity between you reached its peak, Kazuha pulled away, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "Wait," she whispered, her eyes searching yours with a mix of desire and vulnerability. "Before we get any further, I have to tell you... I've actually never done this before."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with the weight of its implications. For a moment, the room seemed to spin as you processed her words, the realization sinking in that this moment was as new and unfamiliar to her as it was to you.

But instead of hesitation, a wave of tenderness washed over you, mingling with the desire that still burned bright within you. Gently, you cupped Kazuha's face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the traces of doubt in her eyes.

"It's okay," you reassured her, your voice a soft murmur against her lips. "We can take things as slow as you need. I'm here with you, every step of the way."

As you leaned in, the weight of Kazuha's vulnerability adding a layer of tenderness to your desire, you felt a surge of determination wash over you. With a gentle yet firm touch, you guided Kazuha onto her back, positioning yourself on top of her, your bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desire.

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each movement deliberate and purposeful as you shed your undergarments, baring yourself completely to Kazuha's hungry gaze. Her eyes followed your every move, dark with desire and anticipation, a hunger burning within them that mirrored your own.

As you settled above her, the heat of her body searing against your skin, you felt the unmistakable evidence of her desire pressing against you, aching for the touch that would set her free. With a silent promise in your eyes, you leaned down to meet her lips in a fervent kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" you whispered against her lips, your voice thick with desire and concern.

Kazuha's response was immediate, her hands pulling you closer as she captured your lips in a hungry kiss. "More sure than I've ever been," she breathed, her voice husky with longing.

With her words echoing in your ears, you continued to explore each other with a fervent hunger, the intensity of your desire building with every touch, every caress. And as Kazuha's member hardened beneath you, throbbing with need, you felt a surge of power and desire coursing through your veins.

You shifted your position, straddling Kazuha's hips as you positioned yourself above her.

The air crackled with anticipation as you hovered over her, your bodies mere inches apart, the heat of your desire palpable in the air. Kazuha's gaze locked onto yours, dark with longing and anticipation, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she awaited your next move.

With a steady hand, you reached between your bodies, guiding Kazuha's member to your entrance. A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine as you felt the head of her member press against you, the heat of her desire sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

With a slow and deliberate movement, you began to lower yourself onto her, the sensation of being filled by Kazuha's hardness sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your body. As you sank down onto her, inch by agonizing inch, a moan escaped your lips, the pleasure overwhelming in its intensity.

Kazuha's hands found their way to your hips, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch as you rode her, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. The rhythm of your bodies was primal and raw, the sound of your moans mingling with the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room.

Kazuha's voice broke through the haze of ecstasy with a raw, primal declaration. "Fuck," she gasped, her voice husky with desire, "you feel so good."

With each thrust, each movement, you felt her body respond to you in kind, her whimpered words driving you to the edge of sanity with their sheer intensity. She was lost in the throes of pleasure, surrendering herself completely to the intoxicating ecstasy of your shared desire.

As the rhythm of your bodies became more frantic, the tension within you both reached a breaking point, threatening to consume you in a blaze of unbridled passion. Kazuha's grip on you tightened, her nails digging into your skin as she surrendered herself fully to the pleasure coursing through her veins.

As Kazuha's member rubbed against your insides, eliciting a delirious moan from your lips, you felt the need to express just how incredible she felt. "Oh, Kazuha," you gasped out between breaths, "you feel amazing."

Her response was a low, guttural growl of pleasure, her grip on you tightening as she thrust deeper, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity. "You like that, huh?" she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

You could only nod in response, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure threatened to consume you. Kazuha's member was a revelation, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck," Kazuha groaned, her hips bucking against yours with increasing urgency. "You're so tight, so fucking perfect."

With a primal hunger burning in her eyes, Kazuha's desire reached its peak as she flipped both of you over with a swift yet determined motion. Before you could fully comprehend the change in position, you found yourself beneath her, pinned beneath the weight of her desire.

Her dominance ignited a fire within you, the anticipation of what was to come sending a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins. With a fierce determination, Kazuha positioned herself above you, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

And then, without a word, she began to thrust into you with a raw, unbridled passion that stole your breath away. Each movement was rough yet deliberate, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body with every powerful thrust.

"Fuck," Kazuha groaned, her voice thick with desire. "You like it rough, huh? You like feeling me pound into you like this?"

You moaned in response, unable to form words as the pleasure washed over you in waves. Kazuha's dirty talk only fueled the fire burning within you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with every tantalizing word.

With each rough thrust, you felt yourself surrendering to the pleasure of the moment, the rhythm of your bodies becoming a primal dance of desire.

"God you're beautiful, my pretty girl," Kazuha growled, her hands gripping you tighter as she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure coursing through her veins.

And as you surrendered yourself to the sensation of being taken so roughly by Kazuha, you knew that this moment would be etched into your memory forever—a testament to the power of surrendering to the intoxicating pull of desire.

Your stomach fluttered at Kazuha's words, her dirty talk sending a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. With each rough thrust, each tantalizing word, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh god, Kazuha," you gasped out between ragged breaths, the pleasure overwhelming in its intensity. "Don't stop, please... I'm so close."

Kazuha's response was a primal growl of desire, her movements becoming even more relentless as she drove you both towards the brink of ecstasy. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo that left you trembling with anticipation.

And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of release. With a guttural moan of pleasure, you surrendered yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment, your body convulsing with the force of your climax.

As waves of pleasure washed over you, you felt Kazuha follow suit, her movements became even more urgent, each thrust driving her deeper into the depths of ecstasy. With a primal growl of desire, she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure coursing through her veins.

You could feel the tension building within her, the rhythm of her movements becoming erratic as she neared the brink of release. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, she let out a guttural cry of pleasure, her body convulsing with the force of her climax.

As waves of ecstasy washed over her, you felt her release flooding into you, a torrent of warmth and pleasure that sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. The sensation was overwhelming, the intensity of her climax pushing you over the edge into your own release for the second time.

With a ragged moan of pleasure, you surrendered yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment, your body shaking with the force of your climax. And as you collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and sweat-drenched skin.

With a gentle touch, you brushed a stray lock of hair from Kazuha's face, your fingers lingering on her skin as you gazed into her eyes. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

"Thank you," Kazuha whispered, her voice soft with emotion. "For everything."

You smiled, a surge of affection swelling within you as you pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "No, thank you," you murmured in response. And as you lay together in the quiet embrace of the night, you knew that this night with Kazuha would be one you'd never forget.

#bitchiswild #BIW.WRITES #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim x fem reader #lesserafim imagines #lesserafim smut #lesserafim kazuha #le sserafim kazuha smut #kazuha nakamura #le sserafim kazuha #nakamura kazuha #kazuha x female reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #kazuha

[pin-k-ink]

(Since you were asking for a thirst HAHDNDJDNDSN)

My man (Fukuzawa) has few smut here in tumblr, he needs justice.

And I needed to be manhandled by that fine dilf.

— 🌊🪷

crucible // fukuzawa yukichi

tw ⇢ jealous!fukuzawa, possessive!fukuzawa, so much sexual tension, fukuzawa in denial, making out, teasing, office sex, sir kink cx its fukuzawa, rough sex, manhandling ofc, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, spanking

wc ⇢ 5.2k

a/n: anon, you just reawakened my love for fictional characters nearly twice my age

The oppressive August heat blanketed Yokohama, the air heavy and thick, clinging to your skin like a damp cloth. In the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, the ancient air conditioner wheezed and rattled, providing little relief from the sweltering temperatures. Beads of sweat gathered at your brow and trickled down the back of your neck as you sat at your desk, trying to focus on the stack of case files in front of you.

But your mind kept drifting, your thoughts inevitably drawn to the Agency's distinguished leader, Yukichi Fukuzawa. From the moment you'd started working here, you'd been captivated by him - his sophisticated air, his commanding presence, the way his steely gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was more than just physical attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something about him, an aura of power and control, that drew you like a moth to a flame.

You knew it was risky, knew that getting involved with your boss was a recipe for disaster. But you couldn't help yourself. Every interaction with him left you wanting more, your skin buzzing with a kind of electric anticipation.

It started small, innocently enough. A smile that lingered just a beat too long, a brush of fingers as you handed him a file. But as the months went by, you grew bolder, more overt in your flirtations.

Each morning, you greeted Fukuzawa with a smile that bordered on coy, your voice low and honeyed. "Good morning, sir," you'd purr, leaning in just a little too close as you handed him his daily schedule. The subtle widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, was all the encouragement you needed.

You started putting more effort into your appearance, choosing blouses that hugged your curves, skirts that fell just an inch shorter than was strictly professional. You told yourself it wasn't for him, that you just wanted to feel good about yourself. But deep down, you knew the truth. You wanted him to notice you, to feel the weight of his gaze on your skin.

And notice he did. You'd catch him watching you as you moved around the office, his eyes following the sway of your hips, lingering on the exposed slice of skin at your throat. His face would remain impassive, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers would tighten around his pen.

It became a kind of game, a forbidden dance of push and pull. You'd lean over his desk to point out a detail in a report, letting your blouse gape open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. You'd brush past him in the hallway, your hand grazing his arm, letting the contact linger a moment longer than necessary.

Each small victory sent a thrill through you, a heady rush of power. You were getting to him, chipping away at that legendary self-control. It was only a matter of time before he snapped.

But it wasn't enough. The more you got, the more you wanted. Stolen glances and fleeting touches only fanned the flames of your desire, leaving you aching and restless. You found yourself daydreaming during the long, humid afternoons, your mind conjuring up vivid fantasies of Fukuzawa's hands on your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin. You'd imagine him bending you over his desk, his fingers digging into your hips as he finally fucked you, claiming you as his own.

The fantasies were so real, so visceral, that you'd often snap out of them flushed and breathless, your heart racing and your pussy throbbing with need. You'd clench your thighs together, trying to quell the ache, but it was never enough. You wanted him, needed him, with an intensity that frightened and exhilarated you in equal measure.

And so, you started pushing harder, growing bolder in your advances. Determined to shatter his iron self-control, to make him admit that he wanted you just as desperately as you wanted him.

You began openly flirting with the other men in the office, particularly Atsushi, the youngest and most naive of the bunch. You'd perch on the edge of his desk, leaning in close as you pointed out details in case files, letting your breasts brush against his arm. You'd laugh just a little too loudly at his jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder and fixing him with a dazzling smile.

And all the while, you'd feel Fukuzawa's gaze burning into your back, his eyes tracking your every move. You'd see his jaw clench, his fist tighten at his side, and a dark thrill would course through you. He was jealous, you could tell. The knowledge was intoxicating.

Late one sweltering evening, as you were leaving the office, you suddenly felt Fukuzawa's hand close around your wrist. Before you could respond, he was guiding you into his office and shutting the door behind you. Your heart raced at his proximity, the air practically crackling between you.

"Your behavior has been quite inappropriate," he said in a low voice, his eyes boring into yours. "If you continue this way, there will be consequences."

His gaze drifted to your lips and for a wild, breathless moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you. But then he released you and took a measured step back, leaving you dizzy and aching for more.

In the days that followed, the memory of that charged moment in Fukuzawa's office lingered, a constant distraction. Your skin prickled with awareness whenever he was near, your body attuned to his presence like a tuning fork. You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept conjuring up the phantom sensation of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, the heat of his gaze on your mouth.

You dialed back on your flirtations with the other men, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop teasing Fukuzawa. If anything, you became bolder, more overt in your intentions. You started staying late at the office, finding excuses to be alone with him. In the evenings, when the rest of the staff had gone home, you'd slip into his office with flimsy pretexts, perching on the edge of his desk and leaning in close as you spoke.

During one such encounter, emboldened by the late hour and the intimacy of the dimly lit room, you placed your hand over his as you pointed out a detail in a case file. Fukuzawa stilled, his eyes flickering to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his hand over beneath yours, his palm hot against your own.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His fingers curled around yours, just for a moment, before he drew away.

You knew he was right, knew that you were both wading into treacherous waters. But you were too far gone to turn back now, too intoxicated by the simmering tension that coiled between you.

As the summer heat rose, so did the stakes of your forbidden dance. Stolen glances turned into fleeting caresses, plausible deniability becoming paper-thin. The air grew heavy with unspoken desire, with the tantalizing promise of what could be.

And then, one storm-dark night, the levee finally broke.

You were working late again, poring over witness statements, when the power suddenly cut out. The office was plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the occasional flash of lightning outside the rain-lashed windows. You heard Fukuzawa's office door open, heard his measured footsteps approaching.

"The whole block is out," he said, his tall silhouette appearing in your doorway. "We might as well call it a night."

You nodded, your tongue suddenly feeling too thick for your mouth. A strange anticipation crackled through you as you gathered your things by feel, every nerve ending alight. You startled when you felt Fukuzawa's hand on the small of your back, guiding you out into the pitch-black hallway.

In the darkness, every sensation was magnified. The sound of your breathing, the warm press of his palm against your spine, the electric awareness of his body mere inches from yours. Your heart was beating so loudly, you were certain he must hear it.

And then, between one step and the next, Fukuzawa halted. His hand slid slowly up your back, his fingers curling around your nape. You turned to face him, dizzy with want, scarcely daring to breathe.

For a long, suspended moment, you hovered there in the charged darkness. The air felt thick, weighted with expectation. You could just make out the gleam of Fukuzawa's eyes, could feel the tension emanating from him in waves.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough as gravel, "and I will."

But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to finally unleash the pent-up hunger that had been consuming you for months. Throwing caution to the wind, you closed the last breath of distance between you and captured his lips with your own...

Heart pounding, you melted into Fukuzawa's embrace, your lips moving feverishly against his. His mouth was hot and insistent, his strong hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the wall. You gasped as your back hit the cool surface, the contrast with your overheated skin sending sparks rushing through you.

Fukuzawa took advantage of your parted lips, deepening the kiss with a low groan that reverberated through your body. You clung to his broad shoulders, dizzy with sensation, your head spinning with the headiness of finally, finally having him exactly where you'd wanted him for so long.

His hands roamed your curves possessively, setting you alight even through the barrier of your clothing. His hands slid up your thighs, under your skirt, his fingers digging into your flesh. Dimly, you registered the rasp of his stubble against your skin, the throaty sounds of desire he made as he kissed you senseless. It was better than anything you had imagined, the reality of him overwhelming your every sense.

Lost in a haze of lust, it took you a moment to realize that Fukuzawa had suddenly stilled. His lips broke away from yours and he drew back slightly, his breath coming harsh and fast. Confusion cut through the fog of your arousal as he grasped your shoulders and gently but firmly set you away from him.

"We can't do this," he said, his voice strained. Even in the darkness, you could see the conflict etched on his face. "It's not right."

"What?" you managed, your kiss-bruised lips still tingling, your body thrumming with need. "But I thought-"

"This is a mistake," Fukuzawa cut you off, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I'm your superior. I have a responsibility to maintain professional boundaries. No matter how much I..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. This ends now, before it goes any further."

You felt like he'd doused you in ice water, shock and hurt warring within you. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears.

Fukuzawa exhaled heavily, his expression pained. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have let it get this far. It won't happen again."

And with that, he turned and strode away, leaving you alone in the dark hallway, your lips still swollen from his kisses, your heart in shreds at your feet. You hugged your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled despite the muggy heat.

The storm raged on outside, rain lashing against the windows, wind rattling the panes. But it was nothing compared to the tempest inside you - a maelstrom of frustration, rejection, and an ache so sharp it stole your breath.

How were you supposed to face him after this, knowing how good it could be between you, only to have it snatched away? How could you just forget the searing press of his mouth, the urgency of his touch?

Somehow, you'd have to find a way to lock down your treacherous heart, to bury your desire so deep that even you couldn't feel it anymore. The alternative - pining for a man you couldn't have, burning for his forbidden touch - was unthinkable.

But as you finally turned to leave, your legs unsteady beneath you, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. That the undeniable pull between you and Fukuzawa was too powerful to be extinguished by duty or propriety.

One way or another, you knew you'd end up back in his arms. It was only a matter of time.

In the days following your heated encounter with Fukuzawa in the darkened office, you couldn't stop thinking about the electrifying feel of his lips on yours, the urgent press of his body against your own. The memory seared through you at the most inopportune moments, leaving you aching and distracted.

Though a part of you knew you should heed Fukuzawa's words and maintain a professional distance, you found yourself incapable of letting go. If anything, his rejection only fanned the flames of your desire, your need to prove yourself irresistible. You became utterly determined to shatter his iron self-control.

You began putting extra effort into your appearance each morning, choosing outfits that clung to your curves, leaving tantalizing slices of skin bare. You made sure to bend over just so when placing documents on his desk, relishing the way his eyes would follow the lines of your body before he caught himself.

In meetings, you started openly staring at him, your gaze heated and unwavering. You'd trace your lower lip with the tip of your pen, gratified to see his eyes dart to your mouth, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on his pen. Under the guise of friendly touches, you'd graze your fingers along his arm or shoulder, feeling the way he'd tense at the contact.

But you didn't limit your newfound boldness to Fukuzawa. You dialed your flirtations up with all the men in the office. You'd perch on the edge of their desks, crossing your legs so your skirt rode up just a little too high. You'd casually touch their hands or face while laughing at their jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder coquettishly.

All the while, you could feel the weight of Fukuzawa's stare boring into you, his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a potent mix of disapproval and barely suppressed jealousy. You reveled in his attention, positive reinforcement for your provocative behavior.

Late one night, as you were once again working overtime, you decided to up the ante. Slipping out of your heels, you padded silently to Fukuzawa's office, easing the door open without knocking. He glanced up sharply from his paperwork, his eyes widening when he saw you leaning against the door frame.

You smiled, slow and feline, stalking towards Fukuzawa's desk with deliberate sways of your hips. Each step seemed to echo in the charged silence of the dimly lit office. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken desire and anticipation. You could feel Fukuzawa's gaze on you, tracking your every movement with an intensity that made your skin prickle with heat.

As you reached his desk, you placed your palms flat on the polished wood, leaning forward slightly. The action caused your blouse to gape open just a little, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. You heard Fukuzawa's sharp intake of breath, saw his eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before he wrenched them back up to your face.

"What are you doing here so late?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

"I thought you could use some company," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "And I had a few...questions about the case."

Fukuzawa's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His hands, resting on the desk, curled into fists as if he was physically restraining himself from reaching for you. "It's late," he said, his tone carefully measured, but you could hear the undercurrent of strain beneath the words. "Any questions can wait until morning."

Undeterred by his dismissal, you circled around the desk, trailing your fingertips along the smooth surface. Fukuzawa watched you warily, his body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. When you reached his side, you perched yourself on the edge of the desk, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately. The hem of your skirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of thigh, the lacy edge of your stockings just peeking out.

Fukuzawa's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening with barely suppressed hunger. His hands clenched on the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking under the force of his grip. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him, the air between your bodies crackling with electricity.

Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned in closer, placing your hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "But I want your input now, boss," you breathed, your lips just inches from his ear. "I'm sure we can find a way to...stimulate some insights."

For a long, suspended moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the ragged tempo of your breathing, the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. Fukuzawa seemed frozen, torn between the compulsion to maintain his professionalism and the undeniable pull of his desire. You could see the conflicting emotions warring in his eyes, the desperate struggle for control.

Then, in a sudden flurry of movement, Fukuzawa surged to his feet. His chair clattered backwards, forgotten, as he gripped you by the upper arms, hauling you up with him. Before you could even gasp, he had spun you around, pressing you up against the wall with the solid heat of his body.

Your breath left you in a rush as your back hit the hard surface, your chest heaving against his. Fukuzawa's hands slid down to your wrists, pinning them beside your head as he loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes were wild, almost black in the low light, boring into you with an intensity that made you tremble.

"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly with barely leashed hunger. "You're determined to drive me to madness."

Your lips parted, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but it dissolved into a soft moan as Fukuzawa ducked his head, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. A shudder rippled through you at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly. You arched into him instinctively, craving more, desperate for the feel of his hands, his lips on your body.

"I only want to drive you to honesty," you managed to gasp out, your fingers threading through his silver hair, holding him to you. "Admit it - you want me as badly as I want you."

Fukuzawa groaned against your throat, the sound vibrating through you like a tuning fork. His grip on your wrists tightened reflexively as he fought for control, his breath coming in harsh pants against your skin. "We shouldn't," he ground out, even as his hips pressed more insistently into yours, betraying the depth of his need. "It's wrong. But..."

You writhed against him, desperate for more friction, more contact. "But what?" you prompted breathlessly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.

Fukuzawa raised his head, his eyes locking with yours. In their depths, you saw the last vestiges of his resistance crumble, the iron bands of his control shattering like spun glass. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, weighted with promise and dark, delicious threat.

"But...I can no longer stand by while you openly flaunt yourself at every available man in this office," he growled, his gaze dropping hungrily to your parted lips as if he was resisting the urge to claim them with his own. "No more games, no more teasing. You're mine, and I intend to make sure you never forget it."

You felt a delicious shiver rush through you at his tone - was this the unraveling you had been hoping to provoke? Boldly holding his smoldering stare, you replied, "Is that so? And what’re you going to do to me...Sir?"

A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as he seemed to wrestle with his self-restraint. Then, quicker than you could react, his hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back roughly.

"This..." he growled an instant before crushing his mouth against yours in a searing, hungry kiss.

You gasped at the ferocity of his passion, all the built-up tension he had been holding back now pouring into his ardent caresses. Your hands clutched at the front of his kimono as you met his fervor with your own desperate want.

Your fingers fumbled with the fabric as your mouth hungrily moved against his. He groaned into the searing kiss, the vibration sending sparks of need coursing through your veins. You managed to part the fabric enough to rake your nails over his toned chest, relishing in the way his muscles twitched at your touch.

Fukuzawa broke away with a ragged breath, his forehead pressed against yours as he gazed at you with molten eyes. "You've tormented me for far too long with your wanton behavior," he murmured, his voice strained with restrained desire. "Did you think I was blind to the way you paraded about, taunting me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but any retort was swallowed by another kiss. This time he didn't hold back, pinning you firmly against the wall as one calloused hand boldly skimmed over the curve of your hip and thigh, squeezing your ass. You shuddered and arched shamelessly into his touch, silently pleading for him to continue his intoxicating exploration.

He trailed scorching open-mouth kisses along the column of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your sensitized skin. "Perhaps now you'll learn there are consequences for playing with fire," Fukuzawa rasped, his husky tone and the roll of his hips against yours making you dizzy with longing.

With your pussy throbbing and breath coming in shallow pants, you sought purchase by clutching at the broad planes of his back. All this time you had been determined to make this unshakable man crack - but now that he had, you were overwhelmed by the force of his smoldering passion. You wanted to drown in it, consequences be damned.

Fukuzawa's normally immaculate appearance was in delicious disarray - his kimono hanging open, hair tousled from your roaming hands. He pinned you with a look that made your insides liquify as his large, calloused hands skimmed over the bare skin of your thighs and lower back.

"Look at the temptress now," he rumbled, his voice husky and laced with want. "So responsive to my touch after batting those pretty lashes at every other man here."

You opened your mouth to respond, but only a breathy whimper escaped as Fukuzawa rolled his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the undeniable hardness of his cock. Heat lanced through your cunt at the delicious friction.

"I should have acted on this long ago," he murmured against the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Shown you exactly where your teasing leads..."

His words had you trembling with heady anticipation. You fisted your hands in his kimono, tugging him even closer as your pulse thundered in your ears. "Then show me," you managed to rasp, throwing caution to the wind.

Fukuzawa's intense gaze searched yours for a molten moment before he captured your lips in another searing, demanding kiss. His large hands cradled you almost reverently as he walked you backwards towards the sofa, your sense of surroundings fading until there was only the roaring need between your entwined bodies.

With a resolute tug, your clothing began to peel away, his fiery caresses branding your bare skin as you finally surrendered to the lust that had been simmering for far too long. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of your desire, the office silent save for the mingled sounds of your heated breaths and moans.

The sofa bumped against the back of your legs and you tumbled onto it, gazing up at the imposing man towering over you. Even in this compromising position, Fukuzawa radiated authority, his gaze dark and intent as he drank in the sight of your naked, sprawled form.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he rasped, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his barely leashed control.

You could hardly breathe, your heart pounding as his burning gaze devoured every inch of your exposed flesh. He knelt between your legs and you could only watch, entranced, as his rough hands skimmed slowly over your trembling thighs.

"Such a tempting little vixen, teasing her superior," he continued, his voice low and gravelly. "And now she's finally within reach."

He parted your legs further, his thumbs tracing torturous circles on the tender skin of your inner thighs. "I'm going to show you exactly what happens to girls who flaunt themselves."

You shivered as his breath ghosted over your damp folds. The anticipation was torture, the aching need between your legs throbbing with each passing moment. He continued to torture you, peppering kisses all across the taut skin of your inner thighs.

Then, just when you thought you couldn't stand it anymore, Fukuzawa's tongue dragged along your slit. You arched into him with a startled moan, his large hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. His tongue delved deeper, slipping right between your soaked folds.

"Oh God," you whimpered, fisting your hands in his silver hair as pleasure coiled within you, winding tighter and tighter.

"That's right," he rumbled against your slick pussy lips. "I want to hear every sound you make."

His words were punctuated by the firm press of his tongue against your clit, sending a bolt of electricity arcing through you. Your head fell back against the sofa, a cry of pleasure escaping as he licked and sucked at the swollen bud.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the pleasure so intense it was almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, every muscle coiling tight, desperate for release.

Then, just as you were about to cum, Fukuzawa pulled away. You whined in protest, the loss of his hot mouth on your dripping pussy nearly painful.

"Not yet," he said, his voice thick and hoarse with arousal. "I'm not finished with you yet."

With a strength that sent another surge of heat to your core, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand pushing the small of your back to arch your ass into the air. Your breath caught as you felt him kneeling behind you, his thick length pressing teasingly against your folds.

"You have no idea how many nights l've imagined doing this to you," Fukuzawa growled, the head of his cock sliding slowly up and down your soaked pussy. "How many times l've had to stop myself from bending you over my desk and fucking you senseless."

You moaned and wriggled against him, desperate for him to fill you. "Please, Yukichi," you gasped, his name slipping past your lips without thinking.

At the sound of his name, he grinned widely, one hand coming up to swiftly slap your rear. "You will address me as 'sir'."

Another, harder, smack had you whimpering, the stinging sensation reverberating through your core. "Yes, Sir," you breathed, fingers baring a white-knuckled grip on the couch cushions.

He teased your folds with his cock, his hand kneading your reddened flesh. "Good girl," he murmured, watching the mushroom head of his cock disappear between your puffy lips.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, he gripped his thick length and guided it to your slick entrance. You moaned as the tip slid into your cunt, your walls stretching deliciously around his girth.

"God, you're tight," he groaned, slowly easing himself deeper.

You gasped as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The feeling of being so full, so stretched, was exquisite. You pushed back against him, wanting more.

With a deep groan, Fukuzawa began moving inside you, his thrusts slow and deep. He built a steady rhythm, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours was obscene, echoing in the quiet office. Pleasure coiled tighter within you, the tension ratcheting higher and higher with each thrust.

You could hear him grunting with exertion, the soft, guttural sounds of his pleasure driving you wild. The heat, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being fucked by the man who had consumed your every waking thought for months was almost too much to bear.

"Sir. Yukichi…fuck!" You gasped, your words dissolving into incoherence as his cock rubbed against that sweet spot deep inside you.

He grunted, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "Say my name again," he growled, his voice strained.

"Yukichi," you moaned, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

At the sound of his name, he groaned, his cock throbbing within you. He pounded into you harder, his fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the wave of pleasure cresting inside you.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his thumb found your clit, circling and rubbing the swollen nub.

That was all it took. You came with a wail, your walls clamping down on his thick cock. Your vision whited out as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, rippling through your entire body.

As you trembled through the aftershocks, Fukuzawa continued to fuck you, his pace erratic, his breathing ragged. He groaned as his cock pulsed within you, spilling his hot release.

He paused for a moment, his weight holding you down before he slowly pulled his hips back, letting his softening cock slip out of your cunt. He hissed softly as he watched his seed slowly seep out of you, unable to resist the urge to use his fingers to push it back where it belonged.

The room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the air heavy with the scent of cum and sweat.

You were spent, your body languid and boneless in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Fukuzawa gathered you tenderly into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he settled onto the sofa. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as he held you close.

For a long moment, you simply sat there together, catching your breath, your racing hearts gradually slowing. The silence between you was comfortable, weighted with the significance of what had just transpired.

Eventually, Fukuzawa shifted, pressing a kiss to your temple before murmuring in your ear, "Come home with me."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice despite the seriousness of the question.

Fukuzawa's mouth quirked up at the corner, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. "Probably not," he admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder. "But I find myself throwing wisdom to the wind where you're concerned."

You couldn't help but smile at that, a rush of affection and exhilaration coursing through you. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown. But the thought of not taking that leap, of letting this chance slip through your fingers, was unthinkable.

"Well then," you said, your decision made, "lead the way."

Fukuzawa's grin widened, his hand tightening on your hip. "With pleasure."

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[i2ycat]

our first kiss

pairing bf!jungwon x fem!reader synopsis the awkward first kiss with ur first love, yang jungwon genre established relationship, fluff, angst if u squint enough word count 0.6k warnings none main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

jungwon’s hand sways towards yours in an innocent attempt to share the warmth of his hotpack with you, but fails to do so when you unknowingly retract your hands to warm them up with your own hot breath. at this, he coughs at his own embarrassment, then continues to look around, making sure that no one else had noticed him miserably trying to hold your hand.

it’s been just over a few weeks since you’ve officially become jungwon’s girlfriend, and things have been... more than awkward, to say the least.

stolen glances and failed attempts like now were occurring more often than not, and it made jungwon wonder if he made a mistake—putting a label on whatever you guys had, that is. he didn’t want to believe so, but he just couldn’t stop the seeds of doubt within the small cracks of his heart and mind from sprouting any more than they already did.

your love language has always been physical touch, and jungwon was just one of many to be a recipient of your tight embraces, but somehow it seems so much easier for you to pull him close when you are surrounded by friends rather than one-to-one with love overwhelmingly palpable in the air.

in your head, you didn’t want to overwhelm or scare him away with your way-too-physical way of showing affection, even though he’s already been there. the boy standing next to you wasn’t just the student council’s vice president or your best friend since middle school anymore, and he’s definitely not the fantasy one you made up between the lines of your diary. he’s your real-life boyfriend now. in short, you didn’t want to mess anything up; this had to be perfect.

what if he thought you were too touchy? or what if you made him uncomfortable? you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.

“what are you thinking about?” he tilts his head slightly at you. he knew you like the back of his hand. he's memorized that whenever you started mindlessly picking at your lips, you were getting lost in the drift of your thoughts. this was just one of your many habits that he’s learned to heart over the years. you never noticed, but he always paid much attention to every single thing you did and every single thing you liked; it was his silent way of showing his affection, even as friends.

with the winter monsoon arriving just in perfect timing, standing near the shore in the mid-afternoon of october did not feel like a complete death wish. jungwon’s hair swished around with the cool wind, and his twinkling eyes stared right into yours, making your body buzz with an emotion you couldn’t quite describe.

your lips twitched ever-so-slightly, and yet not a single word could be formed. it was as if all the words had left your entire being, except for six letters: g, j, n, o, u, and w.

“jungwon.” your voice mimics a whisper that’s barely there.

“hmm?” your gaze locks in at his lips, which jungwon takes notice of almost immediately.

before you could even properly think it through, you jump into his arms and crash into his lips.

the need and want to finally be close to each other again burst at their seams, leaving the both of you breathless. you finally let yourself indulge in your own desires, just wishing that he would feel the same intensity of emotions you did.

the kiss was amateurish, neither of your lips moving, but it made you so overly giddy. you were his first, and he was your first. you wished this moment would last forever; him right in your arms as you kissed under the orange-painted sky.

© i2ycat 2024 help this is so ass, i’m so sorry my pookies…

#i2ycat #jungwon fluff #enhypen ff #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jungwon fic #enhypen jungwon #enhypen soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha ff #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon fanfic #jungwon ff #enhypen #lyn’s archive

[elryuse]

Yandere Gaeul x male reader

SNAP!

YANDERE GAEUL X MALE READER

Y/n gripped Gaeul's hand tightly, his knuckles white. The sterile hospital room smelled faintly of disinfectant, a stark contrast to the vibrant perfume that used to cling to her. The car crash had taken more than just her mobility, it had stolen the bubbly, energetic Gaeul he knew and loved.

"Don't worry," Y/n murmured, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "We'll get through this together. You'll be back on stage, dazzling everyone again."

Gaeul's gaze, once playful and sparkling, was now a dull echo of its former self. A faint tremor ran through her hand, the only response she gave. Despair gnawed at Y/n. The doctors had been brutally honest; the nerve damage was extensive, dancing an uncertain future before them.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Y/n became Gaeul's constant companion, a rock amidst the storm raging within her. He spoon-fed her, helped her with physical therapy, and listened to her tirades of frustration. Slowly, a flicker of the old Gaeul reappeared, but it was laced with a bitterness that made his heart ache.

One evening, as Y/n helped her into bed, Gaeul's hand snaked around his wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "Stay," she rasped, her voice a mere whisper.

Fear, a cold, slithering thing, coiled in Y/n's gut. The playful spark in her eyes had been replaced by a dark intensity that sent chills down his spine. He forced a smile, "I can't stay all night, Gaeul. You need your rest."

But her grip only tightened. "No," she hissed, her voice gaining strength. "Don't leave me. You can't leave me now."

Y/n tried to reason with her, but her words were laced with a possessiveness that terrified him. He knew then, with a sickening certainty, that the crash had shattered not just her body, but her mind too.

The tipping point came a week later. Y/n, his own life put on hold, had finally managed to secure a freelance writing job. As he excitedly shared the news with Gaeul, a terrifying transformation unfolded before his eyes.

Her face contorted in rage. "A job? What about me? Who will take care of me? You can't just abandon me now!"

Y/n tried to calm her down, explaining that he needed to work, to build a future for them both. But his words were drowned out by her hysterical screams. It was then he saw it – a glint of steel in her hand, a pair of medical scissors glinting under the bedside lamp.

He backed away, fear paralyzing him. "Gaeul, what are you doing?"

But she was beyond reason, her manic eyes locked on him. "You won't leave me," she shrieked, her voice a chilling parody of their former love songs. "You'll stay with me, forever."

Y/n scrambled back, escaping just as the scissors slashed through the air. The memory of that night haunted him even after he finally managed to leave. The guilt of abandoning her warred with the terror of staying.

Months passed. He moved on, tentatively building a new life, a life without Gaeul. Then, one sunny afternoon, as he strolled hand-in-hand with his new girlfriend, a black pickup truck screeched to a halt next to them.

His heart lurched. He knew, with a chilling certainty, who it was before he even saw her. Gaeul, her face a mask of cold fury, emerged from the truck. Her once vibrant eyes gleamed with a psychotic glint.

"There you are," she purred, her voice devoid of warmth. "I finally found you."

A scream tore from his girlfriend's throat as Gaeul lunged. The world dissolved into chaos. Y/n watched in horror as the woman he loved, twisted by obsession and fueled by madness, took his new happiness away, just as she intended to take everything else.

Gaeul knelt beside him, the cloying scent of her old perfume mixed with the metallic tang of blood now a permanent memory. Her smile, devoid of love, sent shivers down his spine.

"Now," she purred, her voice a chilling whisper, "We'll be forever together".

Y/n's world shrunk to the terrifying reality he now faced. He was trapped, forever bound to a love that had morphed into a monstrous obsession, leaving him with a future as bleak and horrifying as the glint in Gaeul's eyes.

The wedding bells seemed to mock Y/n as he stood stiffly at the altar. The sterile hospital room, the memory of a life stolen, felt a lifetime ago. Gaeul, resplendent in a white gown, beamed a manic smile that sent chills down his spine. Every saccharine vow felt like a knife twisting in his gut. Her possessive hand tightened around his, the diamond ring a cruel reminder of the freedom he'd lost.

The "honeymoon" was a twisted parody of romance. Gaeul clung to him with desperate intensity, her every touch laced with paranoia. Gone were the playful moments, replaced by a suffocating possessiveness. She monitored his every move, his phone calls screened, his emails checked. The world outside their gilded cage was slowly cut off.

Y/n became a prisoner in his own life. He missed the way Gaeul used to smell, a vibrant mix of perfume and backstage dust. He missed the easy laughter they once shared, the way she used to light up a room just by walking in. But voicing any discontent was met with icy glares and veiled threats. He saw a glimpse of the old Gaeul once, a flicker of sadness in her eyes as she watched a couple strolling hand-in-hand on TV. But it was fleeting, swallowed by the monster her obsession had become.

Months bled into years. Gaeul's career skyrocketed, fueled by the dark energy that coursed through her. Y/n, a ghost in her perfect life, became known as "the supportive husband," a carefully crafted image for public consumption. In the dead of night, she'd wake him up in a cold sweat, accusing him of infidelity with fabricated women. Each night, he died a little inside.

One day, a news report sent a jolt through the carefully constructed facade. A forgotten photo of a vibrant Gaeul, before the crash, flashed across the screen. The caption read: "Gaeul's mysterious past: Who was the man by her side?"

Gaeul, the picture of a concerned friend, visited the network demanding the photo's removal. Y/n, watching the news with a detached curiosity, felt a strange tug in his chest. Something about the photo, the way Gaeul's smile seemed genuine… it sparked a faint memory, a feeling he couldn't quite grasp.

Later that night, Gaeul, eyes blazing with murderous intent, stood before him. "You saw it, didn't you?" she snarled.

Fear choked Y/n's voice. "G-gaeul, I swear…"

"Don't lie!" she shrieked, brandishing a vial filled with a clear liquid. "This will take care of those pesky memories."

He watched in horror as she forced the liquid down his throat. The world spun, his thoughts dissolving into a hazy fog. The next morning, he woke up with a blank slate, the past a blurry mess. Gaeul cradled his face, her smile triumphant.

"Now," she whispered, "you'll only remember me. We can finally be happy, forever."

Y/n looked back at her, a stranger in a familiar face. He smiled, a hollow echo of his former self. Gaeul, her twisted love a twisted victory, had finally won. But in the vacant depths of his eyes, a single tear rolled down his cheek, a silent testament to the life, the love, and the man he once was, forever lost in the labyrinth of her obsession.

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[fikefries]

warm; draco malfoy pt 3

part 1 part 2

summary: after many gentle touches and stolen kisses, draco finally asks you the question you've both been anticipating.

warnings: suggestive

as the morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your peaceful slumber, feeling draco's steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. with a content sigh, you opened your eyes to find him already awake, watching you with a soft smile.

"good morning, love," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before trailing his lips down your jawline, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses that sent shivers down your spine.

your breath hitched as draco's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their on your skin. every touch, every caress, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, until you were lost in a haze of desire.

just then, the door to draco's dorm room creaked open, and blaise zabini sauntered in, a mischievous grin on his face.

"well, well, what do we have here?" he teased, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you and draco tangled up in each other.

draco rolled his eyes, but a hint of amusement danced in them as he reluctantly pulled away from you. "mind your own business, zabini," he retorted, amused.

blaise chuckled and flopped down onto his own bed, feigning innocence. "just making sure you're up for breakfast. wouldn't want to miss the feast, would we?"

with a shared eye roll, you and draco pulled yourselves from each other's embrace and got ready for the day ahead. as you made your way to the great hall, hand in hand, draco's touch lingered on your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body.

breakfast was a lively affair, filled with laughter and light-hearted banter. you couldn't help but steal glances at draco, who sat beside you, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

after breakfast, you found a quiet corner of the common room and took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to come. it was time to tell pansy.

"pansy, can we talk?" you began, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

pansy looked up from her book, her curiosity piqued. "of course, y/n. what is it?"

taking a seat beside her, you took a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. "i... i wanted to tell you about me and draco," you started, your words cautious yet earnest.

pansy's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, a smile tugging at her lips. "oh, I see. well, it's about time, isn't it?"

relief flooded through you at her supportive reaction, and you couldn't help but return her smile. "you're not mad?"

pansy shook her head, her expression softening. "of course not, y/n. I just want you to be happy."

with a grateful nod, you wrapped pansy in a hug, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. as you pulled away, you caught sight of draco watching you from across the room, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

after finishing up the days homework, you and draco decided to go on a walk around the castle to have some much needed alone time with each other. you found an empty room on the third floor, hidden from prying eyes. with a hunger in your eyes that mirrored draco's own, you pulled him close, your lips meeting in a fevered kiss. draco's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepened the kiss, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both. your fingers tangled in his soft blonde hair, a soft moan escaping your lips as you felt the heat of his body pressed against yours. his lips were warm and demanding against yours, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving into your mouth in a passionate dance. every touch, every caress, sent waves of desire coursing through you, until you were lost in a haze.

in the days that followed, you and draco explored every inch of each other, giving in to the passion that burned between you. every touch, every kiss, was a symphony of desire that left you both craving more.

and as the weeks turned into months, draco finally found the courage to ask the question that had been lingering between you.

one evening, as you lay entwined in each other's arms near the lake, the moonlight casting a soft glow over your bodies, draco took your hand in his, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"y/n, there's something i've been meaning to ask you," he began, his voice husky with emotion.

your heart skipped a beat as you waited for him to continue, your pulse quickening with anticipation.

"will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, his eyes filled with admiration.

a smile spread across your face as you leaned in to kiss him, the answer to his question clear in the joy and love in your face.

"yes, draco," you replied, your voice filled with desire. "i would love to be your girlfriend."

draco's eyes sparkled with relief and joy as he held you tighter, as if afraid you might vanish if he let go. "y/n," he whispered, "i've dreamt of saying those words to you for so long."

your heart swelled with affection as you traced patterns on his chest with your fingertips. "i've dreamt of hearing them," you admitted,

draco's lips found yours again, this time with a newfound urgency, as if each kiss was a promise of a future together. and in that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

but amidst the happiness, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of your mind. draco's father, lucius malfoy, loomed over your perfect romance. his disapproval could spell disaster for both of you.

as if sensing your unease, draco pulled back slightly, concern etched into his features. "y/n, i know my father... he won't be pleased about us."

you nodded, your heart sinking at the reminder of the obstacles ahead. "i know, draco. but we can't let that dictate our happiness, can we?"

draco's gaze softened, his fingers tracing circles on your back in a soothing rhythm. "no, we can't," he agreed, determination flickering in his eyes. "we'll find a way, y/n. i promise."

hope this was okay !! @ameliat-13

#draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco smut #james potter #marauders #harry potter #fanfiction #remus lupin #drarry fic recs #blaise zabini #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy smut #slytherin boys #harry potter universe

[starscelly]

#okay . sorry. i’m at the acceptance stage of grieving but i had to have a little bit of a not normal moment #thinking abt tyler having to just chuckle saying hockey is hard #tyler seguin who has been to 3 stanley cup finals and the only one he didn’t appreciate was the one he won #trying to chase the feeling of being 19 and the top of the world again #with a group of guys you actually love. a room you’ve cultivated to be loving. to be a family #and hockey is hard. the sport is hard and the emotions are hard and the toll it takes on your body and mind is HARD #but you can’t be the overpaid millionaire who complains that hockey is hard #you can’t stand up there and cry #acknowledge how it’s stolen time from your family you love so much away from you #it’s stolen your body from you. your mind. your heart. #and you give everything to it and it just keeps spitting in your face #and hockey hasn’t loved you since you were a teenager but you loved it and you love the people it brings into your life #and you can’t even cry about it because you’re a millionaire man playing a game for a living #so you just have to laugh and say hockey is hard like more pieces of your heart aren’t being torn off every year #okay anyways #yap yap yapping #dallas stars i love u and u will always be famous. the love will be enough eventually. tyler i need you to know the love will be enough

[littlejuicebox]

You'll stay still, won't you, little love?

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: Sometime in the beginning of Act 3; you and Astarion are exploring intimacy/sex

Rating/Warnings: M+ / 18+ only please/ Smut with little to no plot / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers / PiV / CW / fingering / teasing and overstim if you squint / not beta read or edited too much

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I'm a degenerate, idk what else to tell you guys. I’m shocked this came out of my brain, but here we are. Enjoy or be totally flabbergasted or avoid it entirely I don’t know about you all but I simultaneously want to do all three. 💀

-----

You suspected Astarion enjoyed exploring intimacy with you, perhaps more than he thought he would. The first few weeks after his confession at Moonrise Towers resulted in a rather chaste arrangement between the two of you. Days were filled with stolen pecks and occasional hand holding between missions; nights were spent mostly cuddling half-naked or sometimes simply making out.

When a situation became particularly heated, he would always break away, panting. The flush on his face and the thrumming of his undead heart told you he enjoyed these moments, and his erection pressing into you always became quite the distraction. 

Gods, how badly you wanted more. But you had to force yourself to pull back and allow him to take the lead, never pushing further than he was willing to give. 

For a few weeks, a bit of grinding and caressing above the waist was as far as Astarion would advance. But shortly after leaving the Shadowlands, something within the silver-haired elf changed. He’d become quite intent on exploring your body almost every night, putting his masterful fingers and tongue to work, almost desperate to watch you come undone.

“You don’t have to, Astarion,” You pant one evening, after a few weeks of nearly daily interactions quite similar to this one. The rogue was working his nimble fingers inside the edge of your small clothes, aiming to delve into your already soaking folds. The bulge of his cock, barely covered by his own underwear, pressed against your rear as he slowly rocked his hips into you.

“I know, my love,” He murmurs, removing his mouth from where it had been tenderly suckling your neck. The vampire licks along the fresh love bite, eliciting a little whimper of pleasure from you. And then he smirks as his fingers find the already engorged bundle of nerves between your legs, causing you to instinctively buck toward him with a whine, “But I want to. I quite like the pretty little sounds you make for me, you know.” 

He continues his ministrations for a few moments, reveling in your desperate keens. Nothing else stroked Astarion’s ego quite like this. 

“Darling, I’d like to try something different tonight, if you don’t mind.” He purrs as his fingers change their rhythm from the languid circles over your clit to gentle, teasing strokes between your folds. The rogue’s hand dips just enough to tease your entrance with two digits before he retracts again, leaving you mewling in frustration.

You need more. He knows it. And he aimed to give you more tonight, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to toy with you for a moment or two.

“What is it, Astarion?” You ask breathlessly, as he pauses his movements entirely. You whine again and then turn your head to look at the rogue, where he is smirking down at you, clearly enjoying the desperation he’s elicited from his lover. You are caught between his cock and his hand, slowly rolling your hips back and forth, practically begging the silver-haired elf to fuck you with his fingers. 

“I want you to come on my cock tonight.” He responds, arching his eyebrow just slightly, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “If that’s what you want, my sweet.” 

Your eyes widen in shock, and you swear you feel yourself grow more slick at the mere suggestion. You lick your lips, attempting to moderate your own excitement, trying to avoid making him feel obligated in any way. Astarion’s fingers have resumed their teasing movements, and the newly found wetness causes the vampire to chuckle in delight. 

“Judging by the slickness of your perfect little cunt, that certainly is what you want. Am I correct, love?” He purrs into your ear, fangs grazing against your lobe as he rolls his growing erection toward your ass once again.

“Y-yes,” You gasp, and as soon as you do, Astarion rips your underwear from your body before tossing the ruined undergarment across the tent. 

“Then you will get what you want on one condition, darling.” He continues, and you feel the engorged head of his cock stroking between your folds from behind. The sensation makes you shiver in delight; you desire nothing more than to have him buried inside you.

“What is it?” You ask, instinctively rolling your hips back against him again, moaning when his length rubs against your clit.

Astarion grabs your hip firmly, digging his nails into the side of your ass and ceasing your movements entirely. You whine and then he’s practically laughing in your ear, you can feel how entertained he is by your predicament. He places a tender kiss on your neck before he purrs, “You aren’t allowed to move one bit, sweet girl, or else I will pull out and leave you with nothing.”

You groan in dismay at this stipulation, “Astarion! I don’t- I don’t know if I can hold still.” 

“Oh but my love, the choices are simple,” He continues, his voice playfully condescending as his other hand wanders up to lightly tease a nipple, ripping another little moan from you, “You can either be filled by my cock or by my fingers. So which will it be?”

You whine as the male elf uses one hand to stimulate your breast and the other to barely plunge into your sex again.

“Your cock!” You cry, unable to contain yourself any further, “I want your cock.”

Astarion chuckles, quite content with this response. He slides his erection between your folds again, using your arousal to lubricate his length, “And you’ll stay still, won’t you, little love?”

“Yes, I won’t move,” You agree, and this earns you a delighted groan from the vampire. He reveled in the power dynamics of your coupling, and your willingness to surrender control in the bedroom.

“Good girl,” He coos, and then he’s pressing himself into the entrance of your sex. You moan as the head of his rock-hard cock stretches your cunt; there is a bit of resistance at first; it’s been several weeks since more than two fingers have been inside you, after all.

He takes you inch by inch, slowly dragging himself along your velvet walls. Before long, Astarion’s length has filled you completely, and you’re basking in the sensation of being stretched by your lover.

His breath is ragged behind you as he struggles to remain in control, almost entirely overcome with the desire to simply have his way with you. But that’s not the game tonight, he reminds himself. 

In one swift motion he’s rolled you both so that you are straddled over him, your back pressed to his chest. He uses his knees to spread your legs wide, fully opening you up for his seasoned hands to explore. His long fingers drag over your stomach and then travel down between your legs, where they easily find that sensitive nub.

“How does it feel to be sitting atop my cock, darling?” Astarion asks as he slowly, teasingly strokes his slender fingers up and down on your drenched folds. You are seeping arousal at this point, coating him with his well-deserved reward. His cock throbs at the thought.

“Wonderful,” You respond, honestly but breathlessly as you struggle to keep yourself from rolling your hips at all. Your legs are positively shaking with the effort to exert such control, and the little tremors running along your spine are urging the vampire on.

Astarion guides your own hand up to your breasts, where he urges you to tease your own nipple. He palms the flesh of the other breast in one hand as he continues to drag his nimble fingers around your throbbing bud.

You are instinctively clenching around him now, your body desperate to milk every ounce of seed from the vampire. Astarion himself is shaking with the amount of restraint it’s taking him to not lift his hips and fuck up into your warmth. 

You cannot restrain yourself any longer, your hips buck and you’re instantly rewarded with the delicious sensation of Astarion’s length running against your walls. But then a sharp, stinging smack singes the side of your ass, and a shocked gasp escapes your lips.

“What did I say, darling? Be a good girl and hold still. Try that again and I will pull out.” The rogue warns while speeding up his efforts on your clit.

You sharply pinch your own nipple, trying desperately to keep yourself from moving any more. But gods, how badly you want to. You’re so close. Your walls are clenching tighter and tighter, and the sensation is causing Astarion to grunt in response. He’s trying just as desperately to hold back as you quiver around him, tempting him to do the exact opposite.

His hips buck just once before he regains control and stills himself, but gods the walls of your tight pussy wrapped around him felt divine. The sharp thrust made you moan loudly in delight, and your entire body was shivering from the self-control you were using to hold still. He felt you standing on the precipice of pleasure, so close to the edge. You just needed a little push to fall into a world of ecstasy, and that, he could provide.

“Let go, little love. Come for me,” He whispers hoarsely, and the command sends you tumbling over the edge. You feel the wave crashing over you, rippling through your sex and up to your spine. You clasp your hand over your mouth as you whine, signaling your release.

You are mid-orgasm when Astarion roughly grabs both sides of your hips and hisses, “Fuck it.” 

And then he’s thrusting upwards, repeatedly burying himself inside you, intent on fucking you through the second half of your orgasm. You cry out in pleasure as the vampire moans into the side of your neck, continuing to piston himself into you as he chases his own release.

Once again, his fingers find their way to your over-sensitive clit and he’s working at it frantically, in the practiced motion he knows to be your favorite. You keen and try to clamp your legs shut; the sensation is almost too much. But Astarion growls and forces your legs open with his knees as he quickly brings you to the edge of another orgasm.

Your lover is panting with exertion as he holds back his own release. Through gritted teeth he urges you on, using the hand not playing with your clit to grab your hip and slam you down to meet his thrusts.

“One more, darling. You can do one more, can’t you? Let go, I’ve got you.” He coaxes, his voice near breathless but filled with gravel.

“Oh, fuck!” Is all you can respond as the second orgasm rips through you, stronger than the first. You’re seeing stars as your pussy throbs around Astarion’s shaft, rewarding his efforts with a deliciously tight grip and another gush of your delectable juices. The high-pitched, uninhibited whine that escapes you while you’re drowning in ecstasy is music to the rogue’s ears.

As your greedy cunt clenches around him again during that second wave of pleasure, Astarion emits a strangled moan of his own.

He buries his face in your neck as he soon struggles to buck forward, shakily dragging his sensitive, swollen length in and out of your walls just a few more times before he buries himself balls-deep. Thick ropes of his spend shoot up into your warmth as he groans, consumed by his own euphoria behind you. His cock continues to pulse for a few moments longer, urged on by the relentless spasming of your sex around him.

Both of you are heaving and shaking slightly once he finally relaxes his legs. You’re still laying atop him as he slowly roams his hands over your body, idly stroking your curves in soft, soothing motions.

“I thought you said we couldn’t move,” You finally say, voice completely hoarse from the cries of ecstasy you uttered moments ago.

“I said you couldn’t move, darling. I didn’t say anything about me.” The vampire responds with a self-satisfied smirk as he playfully nips at your earlobe, “Are you truly complaining that I did all the work?”

“No,” You respond, finally pulling yourself off of the vampire, releasing the slick combination of your respective arousals as it drips between the two of you. “But at some point I’d like it to be me making all that effort to bring pleasure to you.” 

He pulls you down beside him with a little hum. You pull the blanket over the two of you. No other words are exchanged as you drift to sleep, thoroughly exhausted by the events of the day and this satisfying but unexpected evening. Astarion watches you sleep, and for the first time he allows himself to acknowledge that he might also like to let you have a bit of control in the bedroom… perhaps next time.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion reader insert #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #astarion x reader smut #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfiction #astarion #spawn astarion #soft dom astarion #soft astarion #dom astarion #smut

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts imagine #bts fanfic

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: YUTA (PT. II)

A/N: Special grade lover boy finally has you, his dream girl, in his hands. Surely he’ll be able to handle it…right?

S/N: This one is for the anon(s), the Yuuta girlies. I hope this means I get to rush Yuta Phi Alpha next year!! 🤭 (you can read part I here )

C/W: Yandere themes, aged up characters (21+), Mature, 18+

Any minute now.

You should be calling, any minute now.

Yuuta rolls his favorite pair of your underwear into a cylinder.

Even. Perfect.

He tucks it next to the 14 other perfectly even cylinders he’s taken from you.

An impressive collection, considering that it’s been only 3 months since he’s been back from Morocco.

3 months since you eviscerated the barrier between fantasy and reality.

You touched him. You kissed him. His building blocks came crashing down at your feet.

And yet, you still don’t see him.

It’s been torture.

Purgatory.

Falling back into the platonic, easy insteps of friendship. Breathy giggles. Air tight hugs. Feather light kisses.

On his cheek.

Friendly gestures as thin as the air on the summit of Mount Everest.

Leaving Yuuta the same way, every time.

Desperately tugging his cock.

Filling your stolen lingerie with his seed. Marking you. Branding you as his over and over again. In the confines of his quiet, sterile apartment.

Sullied by his lewd coping mechanisms. Babbling your praises day in and day out. The paintings on his walls know you by name.

Because you’re his.

Yuuta has chosen to love you every minute between sunrise and sunset and sunrise again. Ever since his cold met your warmth.

From afar. In the dark. Meticulously crafting the blueprint of your future together. Where you love him, freely. Openly. Without input from your friends or exes.

You need him.

Why else would he be the first person you call after every date?

Agonizing about whether you said the right thing. Or wore the right thing. Leaving a long list of people Yuuta has to take care of.

Not that he minds. He loves helping you.

Beautiful, silly girl.

Can’t you see?

He’s already created a gorgeous life for you two. He’ll give you the stars. The moon. A whole galaxy if you want it.

True, mutual love.

He just has to make you see it.

See him.

“There you are.” Your ringtone is his personal call bell.

Yuuta was starting to think you were going to use your girlfriend’s shoulder to cry on instead of him.

You were supposed to be out on a third date tonight. But you’re not. When it comes to picking up the pieces after your frivolous little flings — Yuuta is always your go to.

“Hey you.”

His palm caresses the heavy bulge in his pants. Tone is steady. Unassuming.

“Yuuta?” Soft sobs intertwine with his name, and it’s decadent.

“Hey. Hey.” Yuuta’s fingers impatiently tug down his zipper. Adams Apple sliding down the column of his neck, swallowing a moan.

You sound so pretty like this.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Can I…can I just come over?”

“Yes..of course you can.” Each word rolls off his tongue carefully. A stark contrast to the storm winds rattling his heart around its cage.

Broken, teary whines kiss his ears and glide down his spine. Yuuta pulls his cock free. Smearing pearly beads of pre cum around his swollen head. His body is so well trained for you. Primed to your voice. Your touch. Your gaze.

“You’re the best, Yuu.”

A satisfied grin blooms across Yuuta’s face. He uncurls his long fingers from around his base.

No more self indulgence. Not yet.

Tonight is about you.

“See you soon.”

—-

Is this wrong?

This is wrong.

…right?

Your fingers plait together. Shifting weight between your feet.

Staring at Yuuta’s door, knowing your dark-haired, sleepy-eyed friend is probably watching the clock. Anticipating your arrival.

Maybe you shouldn’t vent to him about other guys.

Maybe you shouldn’t use him to soothe your broken heart.

But he’s so soft with you.

Patient. With open ears, open arms. His capacity for you seems limitless.

Always peering at you with those deep set, graphite eyes. Opaque, winter fog. Quick to muddle your sense of direction if you look into them long enough.

Kind, but so, so unsettling.

Before you can reason yourself away from his apartment, Yuuta pulls open his front door.

“Hey pretty,” his mellow greeting is a warm weighted blanket around your shoulders.

“Hi Yuu,” your arms snake around his neck. Because it’s comfortable. He’s comfortable.

His toned arms sink into your lower back. As if your waist was tailored to the contour of his muscle. A low sigh breezes against your neck.

“Come in.”

Yuuta is hushed. He always is. Perpetually whispering secrets for your ears only.

You follow the gentle sorcerer into his apartment. Low lit. Shadows from the candle wicks dancing along his walls. Beckoning you into his lair.

“I made you some tea, is that okay?”

Yuuta’s lithe fingers fidget against his thighs. Almost 4 years of friendship and he still hasn’t shaken his nervous ticks around you.

Sweet boy.

“Yes please,” your smile is already less gloomy.

Yuuta mirrors you with a lopsided smile of his own. Small dimples dusting a boyish charm over his otherwise haunting features. He shuffles to the kitchen. And you take in his broad shoulders. Lean, muscular physique.

He really is handsome.

Eerily beautiful.

Effervescent porcelain skin, deepened from the Moroccan sun. Acute, angular jaw line. High cheekbones. Thick, raven hair that’s always a little storm-tossed.

A crescent moon against a clear night sky. Watching over souls trapped in their own personal graveyards.

There’s something about him that always seems…heavy.

Constantly balancing the weight of the world on his back.

Or something.

You settle in the couch just as Yuuta materializes into the living room. Stealthy, quiet footsteps. If he wasn’t the one who let you in you could be convinced that you’re alone in his apartment.

“Be careful, it’s still hot.” Yuuta warns. His eyes linger on your lips. Memorizing each pucker.

He’s so close.

Sweet steam kisses his face with each blow. And he sits there. Perfectly opposite of your mug.

Unphased. Unblinking. Still.

Close enough to take a sip of his own.

“Thank you for letting me come over on short notice, Yuu.”

Your thighs startle beneath his wintry touch. Both palms, larger than you remember, knead the fleshiest part of your hips.

“Don’t thank me. I’m here for you.” His tone descends. A deep drawl laced with conviction.

“I’ll always be here for you.” Yuuta repeats, pads of his fingers indent into your skin.

Your eyes metronome between his.

Slowly evanescing into his firm, glacial touch. Hazy from his half lidded gaze. There’s no time space continuum between you two.

“Yuuta—“

“Tell me what happened.” Shards of glass rain down his dry windpipe. Willing with every cell in his body to remain neutral.

The gates open.

You’re so animated. It’s captivating. How you feel so many things.

The way your eyes flutter while telling him about how you were stood up. A call came out of the blue. A short, unsatisfying cancellation of your dinner date.

And Yuuta leans in. Nodding. Petting your mouth-fucking-watering thighs. Forcing himself to remember to move his eyebrows. And blink. And look away from Aphrodite every so often.

He knows the story.

He wrote the story.

And for the record, gorgeous. Your crush sounds pathetic when he’s begging for mercy.

Weak.

A man like that is beneath you.

Yuuta’s jaw loses tone.

Pretty crystals line your eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen. Red like Merlot stains on a bottle cork. Your mini skirt rides up a quarter inch higher by the second. Mostly from his fingers. Every time you gesticulate he caresses just a bit higher.

White noise fills the space between Yuuta’s ears. He’s inebriated. Incapacitated by the honey that seeps from your mouth every time you speak.

And he can’t keep ignoring the way his cock is thrashing against its barrier. Begging. Pleading for reprieve.

The Apple in the Garden of Eden.

And the consequences of his inevitable bite mean nothing to him.

“Please,” Yuuta interrupts. Barely above a whisper.

Your eyebrows crawl together at the center of your barbie doll face. So oblivious. Blissfully unaware of how you fuck his brain to nothing but smooth, empty, mush.

“I’m sorry I’m rambling—“

“No. No.”

Yuuta’s body moves before his mind can catch up. He slides off the couch to his knees. Nudging his hips between your legs. His muscular arms hook beneath your legs at lightening speed.

You have no time to gather words when he pulls you to the edge of the couch.

“Yuuta?” Delicate hands fly to his shoulders. Steadying yourself in this new, sudden position.

You’re heady. Shocked. Glassy eyed. Fully flushed from your button nose to ears.

You have no idea how addicting you are. Working sticky heat out of Yuuta’s needy length without even touching him.

He presses his lips into your inner thigh. Instinctively gripping your hips forward when you reflexively jump back.

“So perfect,” Goosebumps cascade along where his moist mouth traces.

“Y-yuuta, we...we’re friends.”

Yuuta drags his drunken gaze to meet yours. Resting his head in your lap. Feathering his icy hands up your butter soft skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He murmurs. Purposefully evading your observations.

He has some observations of his own.

Yuuta doesn’t miss the way his praise affects you. How your breath hitches. And your nails dig into his shoulders. Pupils blown to a full moon.

And the slow growing damp spot at the apex of your pink cotton panties. Yuuta can’t bring himself to stare at your precious rose. Not yet. He’ll cum in his pants if he looks now.

His slender nose traces up your quivering leg. And you bloom. Thighs drifting further apart. Making space for him. Inviting him in. Rewarding him.

“I can make you feel better.”

You gift him a pitiful little whine in response. Timid fingers travel into his nape. Yuuta’s heavy eyelids curtain his vision.

The room is spinning.

And Yuuta is kneeling at the only alter he will worship at. The only alter that will ever receive his devotion.

Those years of waiting. Wanting. Watching. Unsent love letters. Saved texts. Practiced conversations in the mirror. Stolen trinkets. Pieces of you he’s kept along the way.

It was all worth it.

Because the love of his life is spread open for him. Vulnerable. Needy. Melting beneath his touch like your body knows it belongs to him.

Yuuta couldn’t hold back if he wanted to.

“D..do you know how perfect you are?” Yuuta asks the warm, sore flesh beneath his lips. Admiring the trail of bruises he’s left up your inner thigh.

“Yuu, you don’t mean that.” You mewl and squirm like a brand new kitten. Mousing his hair between your fingers.

“I mean it. Y..you’re so…” his voice trails off when his trembling, pale digits finally press into your wet heat.

“S-soft. You’re so soft.” Drool pooling in his mouth chips away at his coherence.

Yuuta’s stormy eyes find the meeting point of his hand and your sex. The sight alone bucks his diamond hard shaft off of his leg. The friction from his damp boxers and rigid jean blurs his vision.

“Oh pretty girl.”

“Mmghhhh Y-Yuu..ah god.”

Both of your husky musings collide. Yuuta drives his long two fingers into your accepting, driveling opening.

He immediately curls up into your pleasure point. Eliciting the most dreamy, listless curve to your back. Tossing your head into the pillows behind you. Gripping his roots into your hand.

“Y-yuu, I need…please.”

Whimpers wrap around Yuuta’s cock and jerks him out of his fucked out state.

He didn’t realize he was open-mouth staring at how your cunt squeezes and tugs on his fingers. Leaking your dew onto your thighs. His fingers. His couch. Saliva streams down the corner of his mouth like he’s a starved animal.

He blinks up at you. Debauched. Lusty. Filthy in the way your hips are undulating against him. Taking your pleasure right out of his hands.

“I need…I need to hear you say it baby.”

Yuuta swipes his tongue against your clothed pussy. And you nearly buck off the couch.

“Please, y-yuu,” diamonds line your eyes again. So much pleasure in the pain of being teased.

“Say it, baby.” His breath kisses your swollen clit. “T-tell me what you need.”

“Lick..please, suck…Yuu,” He’s never heard a more beautiful plea. And his restraint was already teetering on a hair string.

Yuuta’s other free hand rips your panties away from your dewy folds. And his spine is set on fire.

The dull ache in his pelvis crashes into him like he’s at the deadly meeting point of the Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans.

“So..so pre..god.” Nonsensical words. Unintelligible noises.

Then his tongue circles your bud and he is gifted a taste of your elixir.

Somewhere between his pathetic sobs into your pussy, your gorgeous melody filling the room and how you grind your pretty petals along the length of his tongue — Yuuta isn’t sure he’ll be able to survive this.

At some point he pulled his cock free from its restraint. Spearing high and heavy in the air. Constant needy dribbles of pre cum staining his shirt, rolling down the length of his shaft. One or two drops even escaping to the floor between his knees.

He hasn’t stroked his length once. And he is this close to release.

And it is infuriating.

Yuuta hates how closely he is riding his peak right now.

Because he is not nearly done with you yet.

He wants you on his tongue. On his cock. For hours. He needs to coax orgasm after orgasm out of his one true love.

“Y-yuuta,” your right hand pulls at his head with all your strength. Yuuta has to bite back a whine.

His murky gaze meets your darkened one.

“Inside.” A clear, high-pitched command.

And Yuuta couldn’t dream of denying you. Of saying no to you, ever.

“O-okay, yes baby.”

He stumbles to his feet. Shakily working his jeans and boxers into a pile around his feet.

Your wide eyes and oh shaped mouth stains his face cherry red.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Is he not enough?

Were your other lovers bigger?

He’ll get rid of them if—

“Yuuta…will it fit?”

You shatter his spiral to stardust. He can breathe again for the first time since you came over.

Yuuta eagerly chases you up the length of the couch. Until he’s nestled comfortably in your legs. Your heat kissing along his drenched rod. Mixing your arousal with his.

“It’ll fit, because you’re made for me”

Yuuta rasps through tight lips. Burying his head into the gentle slope of your neck.

How is everything going exactly right and completely wrong at the same time?

He is more disciplined than this.

He is supposed to be in control.

But your warm, sweet petals sheath his length.

And you begin to circle your hips underneath him. Rubbing your nectar along his cock like you are marking him as yours.

Yuuta loses his sense of reality.

Unrelenting waves of heat ram into his groin. His cock stutters and beats against your precious cunt. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Because everything dampens.

“No…n—no no wait!”

Yuuta smears protests into your neck. Hips rutting against your opening. Pressing you deep within the cushions. Rabid, uncontrolled movements. Ascending in pace faster than you can keep up.

“Fuck, fuck..”

“Yuuta? Are you cu—“

You have your answer the moment his hips hover over yours. Cupping his thick, blushing tip.

He fails to contain his explosion. Yuuta is mortified when stark white globs contrast your black mini skirt.

Air settles thick between you.

Circulating breaths between his clipped and your shocked ones. Decades pass between you before silence is broken.

“Don’t worry, Yuu! This doesn’t change anything.” Your smile is light and playful. Kind in the way that makes him fall in love with you again.

But…what do you mean?

Of course this changes everything.

He can please you.

He knows that.

This was just…

This was just one time.

The first time.

Amidst the cyclone of thoughts decimating Yuuta's brain, you’ve managed to wiggle around him. Currently lacing up your strappy heels.

Yuuta’s mouth lolls open but words fail to materialize.

Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you prance over to his side. Still frozen on the couch with a handful of his cum. In the messy remnants of his unwanted peak.

Your lips meet his cheek. And your next words run his blood subzero.

“We’re still friends! We’ll always be friends, Yuu.”

Yuuta’s steely eyes laser into your retreating figure with sniper precision.

Beautiful, silly girl.

You two will never be just friends.

#jjk fanfic #jjk fanart #jjk smut #yandere yuta #yuta okkotsu #jjk yuta #yuta x reader #yuta smut #okkotsu yuuta #obsessedseries #okkotsu yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk yuuta #yandere #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta x you #yuuta headcanons #yuuta x y/n #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuuta fluff #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jjk season 2 #jjk x y/n #geto smut

[elixrr]

Within the frame, you.

— They're still stuck on you, even after your death.

ft. various genshin men + star rail men

cw. angst, no comfort. your implied death.

He stares at a portrait of you across the room. Beneath their dull expression, a world of chaos, despair, and rage explodes and drives him to madness.

– Xiao, Alhaitham, Diluc, Wanderer, Dr. Ratio, Blade

Your death has already passed. You have come, and you have gone; he knows that this is simply the way of life, but he can't let it go. You meant the world to him— you mean the world to him. He dares not to say a word, nor is he able to bring himself closer to the portrait. You stare uncomfortably back at him, but your eyes are so full of life. You're dead, your body hones no being, but in there, in that photo, your eyes sparkle with life and prosperity. In that photo, you captured a special kind of love and light, and he can never feel it— never touch it again. He will never feel your light; he will never feel your love.

Yet, he still feels your hands. Your hands in the photo stick out to him, and he is reminded of your ghostly touch lingering across his hands. He can not tear his eyes away from your portrait, your hands, your smile, your bright eyes— it fills his own with tears. It's irrational, it's incomprehensible. The tears rapidly stream from his eyes, and he begins to sob. Alas, he breaks free from your gaze, but he is not free of you.

You were his, he is yours.

It is irrational, yes, but he will never let go. Not of you.

He can't stop crying over your death. He knows that, in order to heal, he needs to throw your photos out, but he can't bring himself to.

– Lyney, Kaveh, Venti, Freminet, Yanqing

Why you? Why did it have to be you? He can't handle your death, hell, he can't even bear to look at you! You've stolen his heart, and now he can't ever have it back. He's managed to turn all of the photos he has of you around, letting himself breathe once again. There was one instance where he had turned every portrait of you except for one in the hallway, and he broke down for a good ten minutes when he saw your illuminating glow.

Thoughts of you began to resurface, and he cursed at himself for letting this happen to you. He thought of your face, your eyes, the way your clothes swayed and swept with the winds. You were everything, and he let you slip past his fingers—

He stood up. He couldn't take this anymore. He stumbled from his seat and to the door, yet he stumbled too much and fell on a table. Crap! Photos of you wobbled and fell off of the table, and he managed to catch one picture. Involuntarily, he turns the frame over and looks at you.

And yet, at the sight, he drops the photo, and he realizes what happened: three portraits of you have fallen and shattered, and pieces of you and glass have scattered across the floor.

Everything, every part of you fell, slipping past his fingers, and you laid there. In each photo, you were full of life. But now? The message screams loud to him, like the glass shards, the realization stabs his heart a million times over, and he falls to his knees.

You're dead.

He starts sobbing; he can no longer hide the hurt. You're dead, the love and light of his life has shattered and dulled, you've disappeared. He pleads, begs, and cries for you to come back to life—he can't take another day of waking up knowing that you're gone.

He lays on the ground and sobs, scrambling the floor any piece of you he can find and grasping it tightly, no matter how much he bleeds.

He's been healing significantly, yet he still sometimes ponders back on the thought of you.

– Kazuha, Zhongli, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Albedo, Welt, Jing Yuan

You've brought him comfort and happiness, but you have passed. Most days, he can bring himself to work, to travel, to do things he'd normally be able to do before your death, but sometimes he finds his mind lingering back to you. He still keeps a photo of you with him, and sometimes– like today– he pulls it out of his pocket or bag, and he stares at what once was, what he once had and took for granted.

He will not cry over it anymore, not like he used to, but it still sinks in his heart. When he looks at you, he yearns to feel your touch, to feel your presence, but that alone is impossible, lest he visit your grave with one of his own. Yet, he still longs to hear your voice, to feel loved by you again, even if those are things unreachable. He knows that, though, and he has managed to distract himself from his longing for you.

He's tried rebounds once or twice, but his love for you remained, and none of those new relationships got anywhere. You have his heart, but he doesn't regret it. Someone will take it from your grave, perhaps. If not, then he doesn't mind being single.

Besides, he'll then be able to die, too, and reunite with you.

But for now, he safely tucks the photo of you back into his pocket, and he continues on with his life. (Albeit, still trying to live comfortably without you).

#genshin x reader #star rail x reader #xiao x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #wanderer x reader #dr ratio x reader #dr. ratio x reader #kuni x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #blade x reader #lyney x reader #kaveh x reader #freminet x reader #venti x reader #yanqing x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #albedo x reader #welt x reader #jing yuan x reader #light angst #angst #angst no comfort #character x reader #genshin fic #star rail fic

[peachesofteal]

Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.

The chair at your kitchen table is small. 

It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone. 

“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit. 

“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.” 

You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you. 

“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?” 

“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile. 

“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches. 

“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.

“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“ 

“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back. 

“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.” 

“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again. 

What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely. 

“I can take her, if you want to-“ 

“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again. 

“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty. 

“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“ 

The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled. 

“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control. 

He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.” 

It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself. 

“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside. 

“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod. 

“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth. 

It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.

It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.

"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.

"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"

"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.

"I know it doesn't-"

"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.

"Captain."

"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.

"We don't need anything from you."

"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."

"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.

"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.

"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.

"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley

[buckyalpine]

Bodyguard Bucky x Drunk reader

This little drabble is for an idea from one of my favorite angel babies, its SO CUTE. Might make a longer version of this at some point but for now: 

“Buckyyyy” You clung onto him like a koala, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the heady scent of his cologne. After a drink too many, you were happy to crawl into his lap, tipsy enough to happily wrap yourself around him, though still mostly aware of your surroundings. He remained silent, a classic grumpy scowl on his lips, keeping his eyes straight to the SUV. 

He wrapped his strong arms around you, carrying you and walking to the car, his broad frame keeping you snug against his chest while moving through the crowd with ease. No one stood in his way, immediately moving aside from his facial expression alone. Piercing blue eyes and a clenched jaw daring anyone to make the mistake of coming near you. 

“M’so sleepy” You whined against his neck, letting your hangs cling around his neck, squeezing your legs tighter around his tapered waist. 

“It’s okay pretty girl, I’m taking you home” He murmured, not wasting a second getting you outside and into the all black SUV that was parked at the club entrance. He swallowing thickly when he felt your soft lips press gentle kisses along his neck, the warmth of your breath tickling his skin as he slid into the back seat, nodding to the driver to get going. 

“So handsome” Your nose nudged into his shoulder, burying yourself into him as much as you could, refusing to let him move you from his lap. He spent the entire ride letting you cuddle into him while he held you securely, carefully holding you as he stepped out once you’d reached home. He carried you right to your bedroom, setting you down on your bed. You whined when he tried to pull away, pulling him back, giving him your sweetest pout, glassy and wide. 

“Please don’ go” You mumbled, tucking yourself into him, “Stay? Please?”

How was he supposed to leave you when you were so sweet and cuddly and so utterly adorably drunk. 

“Alright babygirl” He whispered, kissing your forehead, “I gotta get you clean up first through, okay?” He went to you bathroom, well versed in what your night time routine was, making note of the smallest details in everything you did in a day. He found some wipes, and your lotions, bringing them over and gently rubbing the makeup off your face while your mind was still stuck on the name he called you. 

“M’your babygirl?” You asked hopefully, noting the way his cheeks blushed, trying to ignore the way his heart fluttered but it was impossible around you. 

“Always, you’re always my babygirl” He smoothed the cool lotion onto your skin before helping you out of your heels. He convinced you to get changed out of your dress, staying stationed outside of the closet in case you fell over but you were changed seconds later. You came out in an oversized tshirt- his oversized tshirt to be exact, that you’d stolen unbeknownst to him. 

So that’s where it went he shook his head to himself, biting back a smile while you flopped back onto bed, stretching on the covers like a kitten before giving him grabby hands. 

“What is it princess” He knew what you wanted but it went against what he was there for. He had to protect you and to do that he couldn’t ever let his guard down. Not one moment of vulnerability, not when he had to protect you. 

But fuck, you were so utterly irresistible and he’d be lying to himself if he thought there was nothing he felt for you. He came down to tuck you in, hoping the warmth of the blankets would help you sleep but you tugged him into bed instead, wrapping your entire body around him. 

“You’re blushing” you giggled, cupping his scruffy cheek, letting your thumb trace his pink lips. He could help but chuckle, hoping you’d forget all this by morning, letting his fingers trace over your delicate features. 

“You act all grumpy but you’re actually a teddy bear”

He cocked an eyebrow while you tried to copy him, scrunching you brows together instead making him grin. He smoothed the line that formed between your brows, loving the way you continued to contort your face trying to match his grumpy face. 

“A teddy bear, huh?”

“My teddy bear” You sighed contently, snuggling into him, a yawn slipping past your lips. You let the warmth of his arms drift you off to sleep, still smiling as you snored softly. 

“My babygirl” He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, allowing himself to fall asleep with you; after all you’d always be safest in his arms. 

#Bodyguard!Bucky #bodyguard bucky barnes #bodyguard!buckybarnes #bucky barnes bodyguard au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x drunk reader #bucky barnes x fluff #Bucky Barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x F Reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x freader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x fluff #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x fluff #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel fluff #marvel au #bucky barnes body guard au #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

[risuola]

FACE MASSAGE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN ft. Yuji Itadori

You give your boyfriend a nice, relaxing face massage when Sukuna, being bored out of his mind, takes over Yuji’s body.

cw: fluff, Itadori is 18 and is a vessel for Sukuna — 1,3k words

a/n: alrighty, this one I wrote randomly thinking of how the lines actually are quite a good guide for a face massage (also, if you never had face or a scalp massage, you're missing out!). i usually write Sukuna as his separate person, but here he's in a vessel. it's nothing but purely fluffed up piece of late-night babbling, enjoy 🩷

It was already late, the clock showed almost 11pm, but you were not asleep. Yuji had just gotten home, taken a shower, and breathed out loudly, whining to heavens about how he had worked his butt off during the training session with Gojo. Your boyfriend came back all tired, and the hot shower didn't do much to soothe his strained muscles.

"I'm soooo tired," he whined again, and you couldn't help but smile at the adorable pout his lips had formed as he walked into the room you shared with him.

"'My poor thing," you cooed, kissing his forehead as he sat down next to you. "How about I give you a little face massage?"

"Yes, please," Itadori nodded vigorously and you giggled as you instructed him how to position himself and when you had his head comfortably over your lap, you warmed up a nice portion of face cream in your palms.

"Relax for me, baby," you told him, and he closed his eyes the moment your fingers made contact with his skin.

Yuji loved the magic your hands performed upon his aching muscles, and he found head and face massages particularly relaxing, so it wasn't surprising when he began to doze off in a matter of moments. With him half-asleep, you could take your time to admire the boy who had shamelessly stolen your heart with just one of his wide and extremely kind smiles, and as you glided your fingers smoothly across his forehead, down his temples, cheekbones, and jaw, you fell in love all over again. At first you were extremely gentle, stroking along his features, warming the skin as you went, before applying more pressure to the knots under his skin.

You rubbed small circles across his forehead, paying a little more attention to the space between his eyebrows and near his temples before lowering your hands to work the lotion into the large muscles over his cheeks. Using your thumbs, you forced the tension away with enough pressure to make Yuji purr softly. Then something unexpected happened. Black, tattoo-like lines appeared under your fingers and you slowed your movements, startled by the sight.

You knew that there is a curse living rent-free in your boyfriend, and you've seen Sukuna before, but he had never come out like that, for no reason, without a fight, without a single trigger, so you had no idea what to expect.

"Continue," he ordered, and you swallowed, pressing your fingertips back to his cheeks. Ironically, the lines that adorned his face made for a perfect guide for the massage, and you unconsciously followed them.

"Is there a reason for your appearance now?" you asked cautiously, keeping your fingernails away from the extra pair of eyes as you brushed over the bones beneath them.

"Nothing in particular," he replied lightly, looking up at you as his expression turned more serious. "Although I don't like you looking at me from above."

"You're literally on my lap."

"That's why I'll allow it, once. As for why," he relaxed his face again as you slid down his cheeks to work the muscle around his mouth and along his jawline. "Can you imagine how bored I am inside this brat?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You can't, that's right." A sigh left Sukuna's mouth. "What a pity, I'm bored out of my mind."

"I see, but please don't tire Yuji any more, he's already exhausted."

"You should worry about yourself rather than him being tired."

"I probably should, but if you were to decide to kill me now, you wouldn't get to experience the wonders of my scalp massage, so if you're okay with such a loss..."

You were really pushing his buttons here, being way too brave for your own good, but he seemed comfortable with the situation, which gave you hope that you wouldn't be decapitated anytime soon.

"Proceed then, and I'll make my decision afterward."

You finished his facial massage with a few light strokes along his features and wiped your hands with a tissue to remove any excess cream that hadn't absorbed yet, before you sink your hands into his hair. "Could you flip over to your stomach?" Once that was done, and Sukuna turned almost too obediently as you guided his head back to your lap, you used your fingers to brush through his blush-toned hair, pushing it back and purposefully scratching the skin between the strands as you dragged your hands to the nape of his neck. Once again, you used circular motions and quite a bit of pressure to stimulate the circulation and relax the tense muscles. You knew it was pleasurable, you knew how Yuji's body reacted to your touch and the fact that it was the King of Curses at this moment couldn't change that. The only thing different was the silence, which would normally be filled with constant mewling and whimpering from your boyfriend, but you couldn't expect those from Sukuna. Frankly, you'd be startled if he suddenly started purring.

As you worked your magic, the man remained calm, his cheek pressed against your thigh and his arms behind your back and around your legs, and it didn't really bother you too much. His touch was almost non-existent, he just kept his hands there because they had to go somewhere.

"Do you find this acceptable?" you asked quietly, lowering your fingers to graze the back of his neck. Your thumbs slid down the line of muscles that connected them to his shoulders, and he moved his arms down, giving you more access to that area.

"Acceptable is a good term," he muttered, exhaling deeply as you firmly squeezed the shoulder muscles, working out the tight knots there. Normally, this would turn Itadori into a whining mess, needy of affection and ready for endless cuddles, but for Sukuna, you put more effort into what you were doing. It felt strange. Technically, it was still your boyfriend's body that you had touched many times before, but somehow it felt like you were massaging a foreign man. Even though your fingertips knew the dips and curves of his silhouette, your mind found it hard to process.

Lost in thoughts, you let your hands go lower, onto the shoulder blades and near the spine, following the line down, working your palms into his toned back, only snapping back to reality when one of your hands brushed over the stitches. Oh yes, Yuji had injured himself the day before and because of Shoko's absence, he had to have the wound stitched up. He shouldn't be training with that at all, but he's so stubborn...

"Sukuna?", you addressed him quietly, trying to sound as respectful and polite as possible.

"What do you want?" he replied, his voice indifferent, but he knew from your tone that you needed something from him.

"There is a wound on Yuji's back. Could you heal it so that I can massage that area as well?"

“I don’t mind the pain. I don’t feel it,” he informed bluntly.

“But I can’t massage over stitches. I know it’s nothing for you, so pleaseee?”

"You're pushing your luck, you know that, right?" Sukuna laughed. Oh, how sneaky you were, he loved it, and it's only because he really enjoyed the massage that he granted your request. The sewn-up wound healed before your eyes and black stitches fell away. Your whole face lit up as you ran your hand over the spot.

"Thank youu," you smiled, and as if on autopilot, your body bent forward. You planted a soft kiss on the top of his head before you could think twice and only realized what you'd done when it was too late. Oh. "I'm sorry," you muttered quickly.

"You're so fucking clingy," he scoffed. "Humans..."

"Don't be mad, I'm just grateful," you cooed, returning your nails to his scalp to hopefully distract him from wanting to cut you to ribbons, and it seemed to do the trick as he melted over your thigh, relaxing his body once again.

In few minutes the black markings disappeared, your boyfriend was back and you were left confused but relieved.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #itadori #itadori yuji #itadori fluff #itadori yuji fluff #itadori x you #itadori yuji x you #itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #itadori imagines #itadori yuji imagines

[ncroissant]

I was feeling a little silly :3 (I wrote a whole ass fanfic on Sub! Francis Mosses :|)

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You sighed, the sound of your door unlocking echoing in the vast silence of the hallway. Stepping inside your apartment, you closed the door behind you, before taking off your coat. A breath of relief escaped your throat. Work had been particularly unforgiving today, and you were glad to finally be home and away from it all.

You hung your jacket on the hook that stood on the plain wall before you. You slipped your shoes off your aching feet, a delightful scent wafting your way. You perked up. A smile tugged at your lips. Despite the hardships you faced daily at your bore of a job, you could always count on one thing at the end of the day: your beloved husband, Francis Mosses.

“Darling?” a call resounded from the kitchen, enunciated in that tired, gravelly voice that you had grown to love.

“I’m home! Just give me a second, dear,” your response was short lived, as you heard hurried footsteps in your direction.

Before you could blink, two warm arms had wrapped themselves around you, breaking you away from the real world if only for a couple moments. And just as soon as they had appeared, they were gone. You could feel your beloved husband dutifully remove the rest of your work attire before those same warm hands guided you towards the living room.

“How was work, my love?” a gentle tone graced your hearing, followed by a ginger peck on your cheek.

You let out a tired chuckle, “The same as always,” you sighed, taking a seat on the couch, “John can’t keep his mouth shut and Mary’s always on my trail.”

There’s a droop in Francis’s tone. “That woman from HR?”

You’re too tired to speak so instead you just nod in response, the weight of your day creeping up on you.

“Well, don’t worry about that now, love,” you feel his palm cup your cheek, heat bouncing off his skin and onto your own as he turns your head ever so gently. Your gazes are locked together now; a faint sparkle in Francis’s.

“I made your favorite.” the words are uttered so softly that you would not be able to catch them if you weren’t paying full attention to him. The tenderness of the moment overwhelms you, and you can do nothing but smile at the man that had stolen your heart. He returns the expression whole-heartedly.

You feel his warmth break apart from you abruptly, and your eyes trail after Francis as he heads towards the kitchen. The aroma is much stronger now.

You can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude as you get up to follow him.

—————————————————

“Hic—wait—not there-mmgf~!” your husband’s eyes roll back into his head for the umpteenth time tonight, a dizzying flush coating his body.

Your hand is wrapped relentlessly around Francis’s cock, erect and leaking uncontrollably. He lets a gasp as your thumb begins to rub over his slit, a keen clawing at his throat. Your touch glides almost painfully slow across his tip, and the poor man doesn’t know whether to buck into your touch or away from it…it’s just too good.

Instead, his hands paw uselessly at your sides. A series of hiccups escape him from all the crying he’s done, and you lap up the sounds like a man in the desert. You absolutely loved how vocal Francis was. He bites down on his bottom lip in an effort to silence his cries, flush coloring his cheeks out of embarrassment. It doesn’t work, of course.

“Ngh! F~uck…why..”

“Why what, darling?” you crooned, relishing in his state, “Use your words.”

Francis’s mind goes blank. A helpless whine leaves his mouth, and a shaky breath exits him when he feels your hand tighten around the base of his ruined cock.

He lets a sob, “Hnng! I can’t stop..leaking! S-shit~” tears begin to wet his face once again, rolling down to frame his features in a way that you never imagined up until now.

—————————————————

…was that OOC—:0

imagine him falling apart in your lap, his back pressed up against your chest, squirming in your grasp...twitching with whiny moans and drool dripping down the side of his mouth with fat tears in the corners of his eyes. turning back to look you asking if he did a good job ......

AHHHHHH. u did so amazing anon, not ooc at ALL. REAL FRANCIS IS SOOOOO SUB CODED. like he's so inexperienced it hurts and it just makes me wanna UGHHHH.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #sub francis mosses #milkman #that's not my neighbour #you did great!! #love this so much. #ncrescent asks