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#idk it would make me feel less guilty i think

bibibbon · 3 days

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MHA CH 421 rambles

Ok so this was a chapter ok. Iam personally not a fan of what happend here but you do you.

I hated AFO's little monologue. introspection thingy and to be honest sukuna does it better. Look Iam critical of both jjk and MHA as they fail in their own aspects on certain things but dam I couldn't care less for AFO and his monologue I seriously couldn't. Yoichi as already dead and if AFO's goal was to be a supervillain from a comic and to reunite with yoichi then why not just idk get the doctor to do it for him or just die to reunite with AFO 🤷‍♀️. His whole thing about tragedy making people stronger or him not feeling anything didn't even hit well because his development sucks and him coming back feels repetitive anyway

Sero getting to respond to the things about tragedy felt so underwhelming I didn't like it. Sero throughout the whole and entire series lacked any screentime and development for him to be getting a big moment that should be given to another character feels like a horrible move. We seriously don't know of anything that has affected sero aka hurt him directly in the manga (aka something just him) so it all feels underwhelming and disappointing. Unironically, I feel like sero should of been one of those characters who left the story or just stayed as a minor character because hori is trying to develop and give him importance way too late into the story.

Where is inko?!?!?! So we see everyone heck we see the civilians, gran Torino, Kota and Eri all comment and hope for izuku to do something but inko his own mother isn't present. Now this probably means something bad is happening or will happen to inko but if nothing happens and she isn't present then dam classic neglectful inko strikes again ig or if they make it a gag that she fainted out of stress i will just hate it even more

I hate that this is something out of the endgame and if hori was trying to be like gege by making everyone join it felt rubbish. Iam not a fan and I mean it I HATE the whole everyone joining in to fight AFO together type thing and I just do. To me it's Izuku's time to shine and people take down villains and do their jobs in other areas at this point everyone is doing more damage to AFO than Izuku who hasn't even landed a hit on izuku. Also why is it that character like Todorokis who have had their big moments here?!?!? It seems like this is a fight where hori is trying to make everyone have a moment before Izuku lands the final hit which doesn't sit right with me. Like there are characters here who have already had their moments like jirou, camie, yuuga, asui, mina and way more but they're here to ... Assist in the fight have another big moment and make AFO more of a potato character then a proper scary villain

present mic is back which I love. One of the good things is that present mic is alive, it's good to have confirmation of that

Even though I think erasers writing is heavily flawed at least someone is holding Izuku. At least izuku is getting something , some comfort out here at least someone is holding him but dam this seems like a disservice all of this seems like a disservice to izuku. Like I wonder do the civilians feel guilty does anyone feel sad or guilty for having this 16 year old child fight something way bigger than him in the name of peace and other peoples safety?

I think the whole thing with Izuku getting that guy's shirt is rubbish and underwhelming. It just doesn't sit right with me, that guy's shirt would of probably been dirty as hell considering it's the only thing we have seen him wearing. Like @mikeellee told me it would of been more impactful if the shirt was given to izuku and that guy had a healing quirk or helped izuku more directly. Now I get that this is supposed to make the guy more likable and show that he ahs developed which we can see and dam hori can actually give some decent development when he wants to but it all falls flat and doesn't do much for me. Also I have seen someone say that izuku wearing this shirt and it covering his upper half is showing how he is losing his ability to be a hero and dam that breaks me.

I can't with the Izuku running to the battlefield and the parallels kill me (we haven't really developed/moved on from chapter one considering the story just loops around itself). Izuku running towards danger quirkless thinking that it's his job because people who were supposed to help and protect him failed. Izuku now quirkless with only the tiny and fading embers of OFA thinning trying to defeat OFA with the damage of kudos quirk still effecting him. All of this to protect others to help them something he never got during the past. This fight will probably parallel all might but all of this happening and I feel nothing all of it falls flat and I feel bad for izuku that's it.

It was a chapter and considering how I hated previous writing decisions I was also gonna hate on the developed/expanded writing decisions either way

#mha critical #bnha critical #mha #hori is a bad writer #horikoshi critical #izuku deserves better #bhna critical #bnha #mha 421 #bnha 421

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 3 days

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Can you make some sad libby headcanons? I swear all your other sad headcanons made me cry😭

sad libby head canons

YES! libby is literally the fucking best and she's so underrated. trigger warning for self-harm, suicidal thoughts/attempts, eating disorders, and sexual assault. hope you like them <3.

she used to apologize to her mother after she would hit her (in tig she says her mother used to hit her when she was stressed)

she's been self-harming since she was like 12. she used the blade in her pencil sharpener and cut the tops of her thighs (you can't see them even when she wears shorts)

drake convinced her that him SAing her was out of love, and that he knew she 'wanted' it so she should stop complaining. she'd be the one who ended up apologizing to him after he'd assault her

in high school, because of how tough things were at home, she used to do drugs (she had this really bad group of friends that sort of influenced her) (she didn't get addicted to the drugs though, if was more of a once in a while thing when she couldn't handle her life anymore)

at some point, her mom was doing really badly financially, and they were forced to move into a smaller one bedroom apartment. libby thought her mom deserved the bed bc she worked so hard so she slept on the floor.

she's so used to people hitting her that it doesn't even hurt anymore. when someone does, she sort of dissociates in order to not feel anything.

her mom used to tell her she was overweight (she was literally underweight, her mom was just jealous). libby then developed an eating disorder (bulimia)

the ED was sort of an on and off thing for her. every once in a while, she'd get the idea in her head that she was overweight and ugly and should do smth about it, but, then, avery or one of her friends would help her get better.

the reason she's drawn to men like drake is bc it's the only thing she's familiar with. her mom was a piece of shit too, so for her its what's normal/what she deserves (this is less of a head canon and more psychology but eh)

she'll do anything anyone asks of her. she can't say no even if it makes her uncomfortable/she doesn't have the time/doesn't like that person.

she sometimes gets so mad at the world that she punches walls until her bones almost break.

she hates getting mad at people bc she reminds herself of her mother.

she's terrified of becoming a mother (even though she wants to be one) bc she's convinced herself that she'll be like her mom, if not worse.

her mom used to get mad at her for ricky (her father) leaving. so much so that libby started blaming herself for it

drake used to tell libby that if she didn't let him have his way with her, he'd hurt avery. libby, of course, didn't want that so she would let him do awful things to her.

she hates taking baths bc drake used to waterboard her (if you don't know what that is, search it up)

when libby used to do things her mom didn't approve of/like (mistakes all children make and learn from like spilling a glass of milk), she would deny libby basic needs like food, water, a bed to sleep in etc.

idk if this one will make sense (it makes sense to me but idk), but libby dyes her hair a new color very often bc its a way for her to start anew. like lets say she breaks up with drake again and she hates herself for getting back together with him in the first place, she dyes her hair a new color to signify the beginning of a new era.

she will literally break her back to please people/be the person they want her to be. if they think she talks to much, she'll stop talking, etc (people's opinions of her matter a lot to her)

tw prob one of the darkest hcs i've ever written: libby ended up in the hospital once bc she slit her wrists trying to off herself. this happened right before she took avery in. the doctors didn't think she'd make it.

she'd considered offing herself multiple times before and after the last hc, but she doesn't bc just the thought of it makes her feel guilty. she doesn't want people to cry over her bc she thinks she doesn't deserve their tears, and she doesn't want to leave people she wants to help

she insists everyone get therapy but herself bc, to her, other people matter more

the only thing that brought her comfort as a child was this stuffed bunny. she used to press it to her wounds bc it would dull the pain (this might not make sense but whenever i get hurt (cause im ass clumsy bitch), putting pressure on the wound dulls the pain). she also found comfort in how soft it was.

drake threw that bunny away cause he thought it was worthless. libby told nash about this and he searched the entire fucking country until he found that damn stuffed bunny (idk how he did but he's a hawthorne so...)

when she has panic attacks, she'll either be very silent/still in a corner or she'll be clawing/pulling at anything around her (including herself)

she didn't do well in school not bc she wasn't smart but bc the students and teachers were so creepy towards her (would harass her constantly) that she felt uncomfortable even stepping into the school

absolutely hates it when drunk people interact with her/get too close to her bc whenever drake got drunk, he'd hit her

hannah's death hit her hard too. they were actually much closer than people thought they were. hannah helped her through a lot of shitty things that happened in her life. she would visit her grave every once in a while to tell her she wished she was still here bc her life (and avery's) was absolutely shit without her. she would breakdown in the middle of the graveyard every time

whenever she felt like hurting herself but didn't have a blade nearby, she would dig her fingernails into the already existing wounds to make them bleed again.

drake once beat her up so bad she ended up in the hospital with brain swelling and a fractured arm. the swelling in her brain was so bad they didn't know if she'd make it out alive.

here's a happy libby head canon to (hopefully) make it all better:

she used to be this supervisor at a daycare when she was younger (that's probably not even a thing but lets pretend it is). the kid would make her drawings all of the time with hearts and proposals and stuff. she loved the kids so much, she would hug every single one of them and bake them cupcakes. they were literally her best friends, and some of them still send her messages through their mom/dad (she would befriend their parents and give them her number/email)

not proof read bc i'm a lazy ass bitch. i say this in every post, but pls talk to someone if you need help (if there's no one in your life you can talk to, contact a helpline). sending lots of love to everyone <3.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #libby grambs

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ibeblizzard3 · 2 days

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Tw ED

😭😭 so a couple months ago(before I relapsed again) I invited my friends over for a sleepover which is gonna be today💀that’s why I can’t fast today. The only reason I even invited them was just so I could talk to one of them. I think one of my friends also has an ed I’m not sure though.. maybe we all have EDs lol. We’re all thin. One of them is a small portion Queen💅 the other told me at are last sleep over that she actually feels guilty eating around other people and that so feels even more guilty if she doesn’t finish her plate if everyone else does. Also once I told friend A(guilty girl) that I was 89 lbs and she said she weighed less than me in a shocked voice. Could have been some way to make me feel bad but idk she might have been lying. But then again you probably don’t expect to see someone 19 inch waist and you weigh less then them. Anyway, at the last sleep over me and friend A stayed up all night and shit. And we had a somewhat deep conversation. I wanted to continue it tonight(I can’t do it during the day cuz friend B(small potion queen)will try to turn every deep conversation into a silly one)and since my parents don’t know friend A’s parents very well, she can’t sleep over(friend B can tho) friend A is just gonna stay over for a bit ig. It’s kinda annoying cuz I have more in common with friend A, but I’ll live as long as friend B doesn’t get to comfortable and start acting like a 5 year old all of the sudden for literally no reason. Otherwise friend B is somewhat pleasant to be around(sadly no deep convo’s tho☹️) but that’s not the real problem. Eating is… I got to choose the food cuz it was at my house duh, but my mom acted like I was trying to starve them when I made our meal 300cal so now it’s 500cal. It’s a lot more than I would like and my mom still wants to get them soda. If they do actually have EDs they’ll hate that. Plus they can also have bread(I don’t like bread) I’ll probably try to pick at my food and shit and not finish anything I eat. It’ll be hard but i really don’t want binge, and i try eating normally I will. I will also give options for the calories tho. I’ll let them choose what and how much they want(I hope it doesn’t cause to much stress) they can choose between a 200 or 300 cal ramen or just have bread or just fruit or whatever. I’m honestly scared that I’ll binge(when I eat in front of others I tend to get super nervous and binge which makes them think I have a super metabolism lol, I hate when they make jokes like “you’ll eat anything” or “wow that’s a lot” or “you eat a lot for your size” though) funny enough another friend of mine used to skinny shame me a lot like “your so skinny” or “that’s because your so skinny” or “you don’t eat(me literally eat ten buckets of candy I don’t even like)” that shit ya know? She stopped now, either she realized it was rude and pointless or I’m not skinny to her anymore(I did gain 10 lbs but also lost 3 inches of my waist) so idk. Anyway I just invited friends A and B to my sleepover. And I’m kinda dreading it, I didn’t lose enough weight so I’m dry fast until 3:30pm and eating at 5:30pm (which will mean a 24 hr water fast and a 22 hr dry fast). I really hope it helps me lose weight today 🤞also I can’t purge cuz one of them will be sleeping over💀💀😭😭😭

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ilwonuu · 5 days

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video games

ִ ࣪𖤐 han jisung

༝༚༝༚ pairing- best friends with benefits, nonidol!han x fem!reader, meanishdom!han x sub!reader

༝༚༝༚ synopsis- your fuck buddy best friend knows the perfect way to cheer you up when you have a bad day;)

༝༚༝༚ warnings- pure fiction!!, reader has a bad day, PURE smut lol, filming sex, unprotected sex(I KNOW,,,), creampie(yum) lots of kissing, lots of dirty talk (jisung is guilty), kinda mean han but he’s overall a sweetheart (i love him bye), they’re lowkey in love but,,,multiple positions, fingering(f receiving), oral(f receiving), big dick hannie<3, MDNI, lmk what else!!

༝༚༝༚ a/n- why do i never proof read idk but literally the title has nothing to do with the fic lmfao??? this was all over the place what??? also i kinda wrote this for my own horny thoughts,,,anyways please send any your hard thoughts im in need of them!!!!

work was awful. you were beyond glad to be away from that hell of an place. you wanted to just curl into a ball. you had a better idea though, why not invite over your best friend? well what would you call this relationship? he’s your best friend,,,he has been for a decade. you guys do fuck sometimes but hey! what are best friends for? as soon as you shower and change into comfy clothes you immediately look for your phone.

once you find it you see you already have a text from him. reading “miss you. u didn’t text me after work:(“ you laugh as you can see the pout from the text. you smile and click on his contact calling him. he takes less than two seconds to pick up. “finally! where have you been? i miss you.” you smile mindlessly.

“i had a bad day- but here you are cheering me up.” you laugh a little as you lay back more. “what happened? talk to me, you know you can.” his tone more serious as you hear shifting through the phone. “no-no it’s nothing. people are just assholes to workers. but enough about that please! i really need you to come over now.” he chuckles deeply. “why would i need to come over baby?” he knows exactly why you’re asking him to come over he just wants to hear you say it.

“hannie- i need you to fuck all the anger and sadness out of me. is that what you wanted?” you can sense his smirk through the phone. “okay baby- i’m leaving now.” he hangs up the phone quickly. you sigh in relief as you throw your phone somewhere on your bed. you suddenly get butterflies thinking of the boy being so close to you again. this little- situation you had has been going on for a few months now. you two agreed at first to not get feelings involved but how could you not?

he’s your best friend, you know every little thing about him. and now he’s fucking you,,,so what did you think would happen. a bad idea to begin with. you are definitely in love with him. you have come to terms with it. you are fine with that and a little part of you thinks he feels the same.

he’s been acting different towards you. he’s been more touchy and just more needy in general. you are more than loving it. you are taken out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on your front door. you almost run to the door opening it. “hi.” you say with a smile. he smiles back pulling you into a hug.

“i want to make sure you’re actually okay before we just do this. i want you to talk to me if you need to.” he rests his head against yours as he rocks you in his arms. “i love you jisung.” you sigh into his arms.

“i love you more.” you pull away from the hug and smirk at him playfully. “okay now fuck me.” you smile at him innocently. he shakes his head at you laughing. “you’re so needy baby.” you lead him into your bedroom. “i’m not as needy as you.” you give him a playfully glare as you lay on the bed. “i know we’ve been having sweet sex- but i want mean hannie back-“ you pull him down to kiss your lips. he his already dominating your kiss with a hungry pace. his hand that isn’t holding himself over you is roaming your body. not leaving a single part of your beautiful body untouched. he pulls awhile after a deep kiss.

“fuck what are you doing to me.” he grunts out after taking a look at you. you don’t know what he means behind his words but you moan anyways. “hannie- why are you so-slow!” he flips your body so you’re laying on your stomach, careful not to hurt you. he looks at you again and realizes you’re wearing his hoodie. “keep the hoodie on.” he smacks your ass without warning causing you to moan.

“shit you like that baby?” you nod back at him. he leans down to kiss your neck in response. “take these off for me.” he tugs at your panties as he works at his own pants. you pull your panties down your legs throwing them across the room. you turn back to see your best friend in his shirt only. “baby lay back.” he smiles as he leans in between your legs. his grip is tight against your thighs as he spreads your legs wider. he looks up at you through his eyelashes. “do not move. got it baby?” his expression in innocent but his act is sinful. he licks a stripe from the side of one of your thighs to your clit. you shudder under the sensation. he looks up at you. his gaze is threatening as he pulls from you.

“you moved baby- i didn’t even fucking start and you already can’t take what i’m giving you.” he looks at you with a mocking expression as he starts eating you out roughly. you try not to move as he devours you. he watches you the entire time his mouth is against your cunt. “oh- fuck hannie-“ you throw your head back in pleasure as he spreads your legs as far as they can go.

he watches you try to close your legs but his grip just gets tighter. he pulls away from your cunt with a smile. his lips and chin is covered in your arousal. “get back on your stomach.” he smacks your thigh signaling you to turn over. you turn back onto your stomach pulling the hoodie up more so he can see more of you. “look at my beautiful girl. can’t wait to ruin you baby.” he rubs your ass gently, leaving soft kisses against your neck. you moan at his words. he called you his. you are going to die right on this bed. you’re brought out of your soft thoughts and right back to your hard thoughts as han rubs the head of his dick against your folds.

“you’re so fucking wet.” he chuckles in disbelief as he rubs your pussy with two fingers. he pushes them inside fucking you with them. “hannie- p-please.” you cry as you relax into his touch. “please what?” he speeds up his fingers earning a loud whine from you. “y-you know what- j-just fuck me.” he shakes his head.

“all this whining for what? just for dick. tell me you want it.” you shake your head as you feel defeated. “come on say it. i want to hear your pretty mouth say it.” you turn your head to look at him fully. he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss. “just say how much of slut you are for my dick and i’ll fuck you like one.” you clench around his fingers as he pulls them out of you. “say it and i’ll give you a little reward. hm? how does that sound?” he smirks at you as you lay your head back against the mattress.

“i want your cock soo- bad hannie. want you to fuck me dumb pretty please?” you wiggle your ass a little to entice him and he pulls your body closer to him against the bed. “wait hannie- can i film this?” you say in almost a whisper feeling nervous for his reaction. he smiles at you grabbing your phone from your bed. “fuck- yes. of course you can.” he watches you prop up the phone at the perfect angle to show where he’s lining up with you. you relax after setting up the phone feeling another wave of excitement jolt through you as he lines up with you.

“you ready baby?” he looks down at you, pushing in when he receives a yes from you. “fuck- me. you’re so deep-“ he laughs at you as he rubs your sides softly. “i haven’t even pushed in all the way baby.” you roll your eyes at him even though he can’t see your face fully. “what an asshole, i love him.” you thought as you feel him bottom out. you feel him start to fuck hard as he grips your hips. “ah- such a good girl. look at this fucking pussy.” he grabs a handful of you hair making you to arch your back. “hannie- so g-good.” you let a tear escapes your eye.

“yea? fuck take it- just like that.” his grip on your hair tightens when he watches your ass bounce with his thrusts. the camera is getting the perfect side angle. jisung’s moans are the loudest thing in the room. his breathy groans and moans making your high come quicker. he stops suddenly holding your hips. “fuck i’m sorry i need to see you when you come.” he helps you turn back on your back. he doesn’t waste anytime to push into you again. he starts fucking you at a quicker pace. “f-fuck.” you are crying as you start to feel dumb under him.

“you said you could take it. what now? feels too good?” he teases you leaning down to kiss you. he makes out with you as he fucks you into oblivion. he pulls away from the kiss after a couple minutes(ya man can last long), his hips stuttering.

“i’m gonna fucking cum. want it? tell me where you want it slut.” he grabs your face making you look him directly in the eyes. “i-inside hannie- please- w-want it so bad.” more tears fall from your eyes as you clench around him. “such a good girl.” his smirk is mocking you as he kisses your head. you see stars as you cum on his dick. “s-shit- why are you so fucking perfect? can’t get enough of you.” he gives you a few more thrusts until he’s filling you up. he lets out a breathy moan slowly pulling out of you. “made a mess baby.” he leans down to kiss you before cleaning the two of you. he pulls you fully on top of him.

“do you feel better?” he plays with your hair and leaves soft touches against your back. his touch is relaxing you just as you needed. “so much better hannie.” you look up at him and he’s already looking down at you. “i love you jisung.” you sit up a little as your words leave your mouth. “i-i love you more than you know.” he smiles as you lay back against his chest. he shuffles a little bit grabbing an object from under him. he grabs your phone to see it still recording.

“we we’re still recording-“ he stops recording putting your phone next to you. he laughs with you as you joke about having to edit out the aftercare. you shift in his arms getting more comfortable. he helps you fall asleep with more back rubs. you can always count on him to make you forget about what you were even upset about. oh and you can NOT wait to watch that video when u wake up hehe,,,

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mariahcarreyyy · 1 month

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Hii!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON 2K! I love reading your work, it’s always amazing 💕

Do you think you could write something with this angst prompt “lashing out even though they know they will regret it” for Oscar ? And maybe he is the one lashing out?

# prompt no.7, lashing out even though they know they will regret it

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

Sometimes, Oscar wishes he could scream at everyone who calls him unbothered.

He wishes they could see him now, irritation coursing through his veins, mixing with his blood like water and oil; he wishes they could witness the dark cloud looming over his muscular frame, following him and more ever-present than his own shadow; he wishes they could cower at the sight of the scowl on his face, nose scrunched in distaste at all times.

The results of his race had been enough to send him over the edge. A less than satisfactory eighteenth, and it echoes bitterly in his head the entire race debreif.

Lando squeezes an encouraging hand on Oscar's shoulder as they both walk out of the papaya garage, and Oscar can't bring himself to do anything but send Lando a shaky smile.

A prolonged car ride, and a few hours later, the driver twists the doorknob of your shared flat. Oscar's shoulders visibly drop, leaving the remains of a bad race on the floor and letting his body (mind and soul) rest.

"Osc? Y'home?"

Your voice cuts through the silence, and Oscar wants to punch his own gut at how his jaw clenches at the sound. Relax, he reminds himself. But Oscar can't—he knows he can't.

Because the residual pounding in his head is making him wince; he's sweaty and shivering; he's famished and cannot bear the thought of food; he's put off by the sight of you before him and he wants to be cradled in your arms, too.

It's all too confusing for him. Oscar decides being angry would be easier, flow smoothly against his tongue. He almost forgoes his plan when his brown eyes meet your pity-laced ones.

"Hey, baby," you murmur, hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheeks. "I'm sorry, 'bou—"

Sweet nothings die in your throat when Oscar swerves away from your touch, wincing distastefully. Seemingly refusing to look at you, his eyes dart anywhere but the comfort of yours.

"I don't need you to baby me," Oscar grits out, his hips swaying to glide past you and the crestfallen look on your face.

"Oh," you bite the inside of your cheek, hands flailing helplessly to your side and watching him pad against the cold floors. "Okay, uh. There's pasta on the stove if you're hungry."

Oscar pinches his wrist. The thought of tangible pain seemed more comfortable than the guilt gnawing in his heart. Still, Oscar laments, you are too nice; I'm cruel now, and you shouldn't be this way towards me. He refrains from turning around when he hears you audibly exhale shakily.

"M'not hungry," he shouts again, slamming the door behind him without looking back.

Without looking at you.

authors note. i dont like this honestly i feel like its very ooc bcs i dont see osc lashing out a lot. i made him feel guilty idk if that helped. en e wayz enjoyy xx

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koqabear · 10 months

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「 Camera Shy 」

♫: Automatic, Red Velvet // Movie Star, CIX // Color Me, JUNNY // Kitty Cat, KISS OF LIFE

“You’ve always tried to live an honest and responsible life; never spending money on anything ridiculous, scoffing at the things other people would be so willing to drop their paycheck on. But when life gets hard, you’re bound to give into your guilty pleasures, right?”

camboy!Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: f2l, smut, pw/minimal plot

Word count: 14.4K (there’s like three different smut scenes here)

Warnings: gyu has a thing for glasses idk don’t question me, (mc wears glasses, not necessarily prescription), gyu is lowkey manipulative if u squint, slight possessiveness on his part? nothing toxic (i think), alcohol consumption, gyu has a tattoo..

smut warnings: gyu is a bit of a perv! mean dom!Beomgyu, sub!mc, masturbation (f&m), filmed sex, (consensual), dirty talk, degrading, use of toys (f&m rec.), exhibitionism, voyeurism technically, bit of a voice/hand kink? slight humiliation kink, mentions of safe words & subspace, mentions of squirting lmao, manhandling, spanking, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, dry humping, handcuffing, biting, unprotected sex, dumbification, dacryphilia, creampie (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: lemme tell you. i wrote abt the tattoo before i stumbled upon that pic, when i tell you i was just ??? barely proof-read heehee. the thought of this au hit me like a that-so-raven vision, and I literally spent the whole day making sure I could finish this. enjoy bc i love camboy aus sm. (oh and pls, do me a favor and reblog— i have an ominous feeling about what’ll happen to this fic once i post it.)

Beomgyu has always found the idea of his work a bit ridiculous.

Day by day, he’s a normal college student— he spends his early mornings in classes, taking all the morning slots everyone was always reluctant to enroll in before he went off to work; he was known as that cute server amongst the women that visited the restaurant he worked at, able to upsell and gain tips with ease as he quickly became a favorite amongst his coworkers.

He liked the attention— of course he did, he needed to in order to thrive in the field of his actual job, his hours at the restaurant nothing but a side hustle compared to the hundreds he could make of a single stream.

Those hundreds could always breach into the thousands— but those were on especially good days, like his annual Valentine’s Day stream he always held for his lonely, single viewers.

Beomgyu was quite the sweet talker— he got the practice from his day-to-day shifts, watching girls his age and older fawn at his words and flutter their eyes playfully. It was clear they enjoyed the attention just as much as he did, a cute smile on his face as he faked a shy laugh whenever they would compliment him.

Your hair looks really nice today. You smell amazing. Do you work out? You have a really nice voice.

He got that last compliment a lot.

“Do I?” he would purr, a sultry smile crawling on his face each time, like a practiced action as he would tilt his head teasingly— the reaction would be positive each time, without fail, and he would always end up with a collection of napkins with scrawled phone numbers every time he would clock out— his coworkers would poke fun at him every time they watched him dump them all out apathetically.

You weren’t into that one person? Dude, the lady at table seven was so fucking hot.

Beomgyu never really paid mind to their teasing— he could care less for the men and women that tried to butter him up during his shifts, forced to act as though their shameless flirting didn’t make his stomach twist unpleasantly— instead, he would be forced to smile, laughing sheepishly before he would slip away with one last comment.

“I’m flattered, really— but, I have someone I’m interested in.”

That someone was you— the pretty girl that sat across from him during his ten am lecture, finding himself spacing out every time and staring off into your direction; though you never seemed to notice, much too caught up in taking notes as he watched the way your brows would furrow, biting at your lip and adjusting your glasses as you remained focused— whether those glasses were for reading, blue light, prescription, or even decoration, he didn’t care— all he cared about was how unnecessarily attractive you looked in them.

He thought about you more than he liked to admit— it was frustrating at first, his thoughts starting as nothing more than puppy love to something worse— it was only after you piqued his interest that he began streaming more.

This was both a good and bad thing; good because, well, he began to climb the ranks of popularity and earn more, but bad because he would find himself thinking of you. Each. And every. Time.

“Wish I could fuck you,” he would sigh out, his comments going too fast for him to keep up with as his eyes fluttered shut; leaning back against his headboard, he shifts, making sure everything but his lips remain out of frame before he’s back to closing his eyes, “would you let me make you feel good? God, I’d do anything just to feel you, taste you…”

As far as his audience knows, he’s speaking to them— the comments grow wild and tips flood in, all asking him to stop being a tease as they watch the way he palms himself through his sweatpants; grabbing at his length, stroking it slowly as he lets his imagination run wild.

He’s not wearing boxers; Beomgyu knows it drives his viewers mad, able to see as a wet spot begins to form on the light material, his tip leaking furiously as his other hand tugs the hem of his sweater over his chest— his vision is hazy as he reads the requests, laughing softly as he allows his fingers to trace along his chest absentmindedly— tracing over the muscle of his abdomen, circling his nipples slowly as he reads a comment under his breath.

Stop teasing and hurry up already !! >///<

The comment has him rolling his eyes— yet his usual tippers begin to request the same thing, and his hand is slowly tugging at the tied strings of his pants as he smiles, mocking and mean as he bites his lip.

“Hurry up? You want to command me while you’re over here throwing money at me like a whore? All just to watch me fuck myself, dreaming that it could be you?”

The comments start speeding up; it’s all a blur to him, but the sound of money coming in is enough to tell him that his usual audience is active again.

“Pathetic,” he sighs, his voice deep and grumbly as he reads over the requests that come in with the money: yes, i wish it were me there… please, can we see your cock?

“Desperate little sluts,” Beomgyu hums, tugging his waistband down and allowing his cock to spring up; it smacks against his stomach, and though the people in his comments attempt to regain his attention with dirty words and useless requests, he knows it’s all because of you— guiltily, he finds his thoughts straying the moment his hand wraps around his cock.

His streams have a certain formula to them; the more money, the better the show. Which is exactly why he ends up kneeling in front of the camera, fucking his cock into a clear flashlight as he listens to the sounds of tips coming in left and right— but his eyes remained shut, spilling enough filth to have his audience satisfied as he allows to let his imagination run wild.

In every stream, he cums to the thought of you; he has to bite his lip to not moan out your name like a pathetic bitch in heat, flooding his fleshlight with cum and continuing to fuck into it until his next orgasm.

In every stream, he finds himself thinking the same thought at least once— do you watch his streams?

»»»

The concept of camboys is ridiculous to you.

Why in the world would you spend all your money and emotions on a single person, when you can just go on Twitter and find the next best account that has yet to be suspended? Well, it’s not as though you find the idea of sex work appalling, but you don’t think you’d ever feel good about yourself spending a hard-earned paycheck because you were horny.

You’re not stupid; you know sex workers make bank, and you know that there are people in the world that love emptying out their bank accounts to such workers; whether it’s due to a kink or to feed into their parasocial relationship, you’re not sure.

You find that a good session on Twitter and your fingers usually does the trick— maybe a toy or two, if you find yourself feeling that needy.

Today’s session quickly becomes both disappointing and humbling; every account you try to look for has either been suspended or deleted, and every video you come across is something that’s not to your taste or something you’ve seen many, many times.

You feel weak as you come across the same account again; guiltypleasures— and he’s damn right, because you’re unable to resist the urge to click on his icon, feeling your thighs rub together with impatience as you sit back in bed— scrolling through, you’re surprised to see that he’s posted another video— without a second thought, you’re watching it.

“Fucking pathetic,” he sighs out, the familiar growled phrase making you gulp; you never found yourself to be too attracted to men who are extremely dominating and mean, but the man on your screen is somehow able to make it work as you find yourself getting wetter, “are you touching yourself right now? Don’t you wish I was there with you?”

And shit, you think you know why he’s able to make you come back to him every time, even if he’s posted nothing new and you’re forced to rewatch old videos most of the time; maybe it’s because of his hands, delicate and thin as they wrap around his favorite pocket pussy, or maybe it’s the way he slowly fucks into the said toy; stretching it out, his tip poking out and oozing enough cum that you can hear the wet squelching sounds that come from every thrust.

Or maybe, it’s his voice, deep and breathy and addicting as he mumbles out filthy things like it’s the only thing he knew how to do; his lips are red and swollen as he groans, hissing through his teeth as you watch the way his hands tighten around his toy.

“Shit, I’d fuck you so good,” he sighs out, hips rutting into the toy in his hands as he laughs; his head tilts, and though you’re only able to see his lips, you know his eyes are teasing as he looks into the camera, “fuck you so that you’d never want anyone else but me.”

His thrusts are picking up— you didn’t even realize the moment you began touching yourself, embarrassing whimpers and breaths falling from your lips as you keep your eyes honed in on his motions; you’re close, so close, your ministration speeding up as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“You’d be my good little cumdump, just for me to use— right?”

The video ends shortly after.

God damn it! your mind screams, the sudden cut-off catching you so off guard that you completely ruined your orgasm; you feel insanely embarrassed by how frustrated you feel, not realizing how short the clip he posted was until now. Clicking away, you feel as though your mood is ruined as you read the contents of his tweet.

A small clip from the stream. Watch the rest here: https://…..

Shit. Of course he would be a camboy. How did you not realize this sooner?

Honestly, if you sounded like that, you would be one too— and frustratingly enough, the brief cutoff is a damn good marketing strategy, because after a moment of thought, you’re clicking on the link.

You could just rewatch the video— you could also just go rewatch his previous videos, or even use your imagination to help you finish— but the idea of doing so is much more unpleasant than usual. (And humiliating, because you’ve found with horror that you’ve begun to memorize how his previous, equally as short, clips go.)

Your resolve begins to weaken the moment you click on his page— because of course, everything costs money— It costs to see his previous streams, costs to message him, and costs to get a fucking membership.

Who is paying for all this?!

You, apparently— because after some serious, slightly horny-impaired thought, you decide that getting a low-tier membership wouldn’t be too bad, right?

The cost is monthly (because of course it is, this website seems to want to charge you for just looking at his page) and you wince slightly as you watch your transaction go through.

Once you see the notification of your purchase pop up on your phone, you feel dreadfully sobered.

Because shit, being a low-tier subscriber only gets you a part of his most recent streams— about less than half of it, you notice— only able to get full access to streams prior to this month. It’s enough for now, but you can’t help but feel as though you’ve become the very thing you’ve despised as you lay back in your bed, staring at your ceiling for a moment before you’re sighing.

You’re still horny.

»»»

You think you can get behind the whole camboy thing. One may say you’ve been swayed, and quite honestly, you don’t think you could dispel such claims at this point.

Because it’s been a few months, and you’ve managed to stay through the whole thing. You’re surprised that you’ve begun to keep his streaming times in mind as you go about your day, ending your study sessions early or wondering if you’ll get home from work in time to watch his streams.

You always do. Maybe it’s a deity above making sure you get your money’s worth, or maybe it’s the fact that guiltypleasures is a human too, with a normal life and better shit to do than sit in front of a camera and jerk off all day.

The idea of following in his footsteps has crossed your mind more often than you expected; anything would be better than being a hostess at this god-awful job you have, forced to sit through the way people take out their anger on you and proceed to flirt with the servers— one of those servers being Beomgyu.

You were able to realize how popular Beomgyu was after your second shift— it didn’t take a genius to figure out why as you were left to deal with the way women of your age and older (mostly older. So many older women.) would creep up to you shyly, putting up a front of innocence as they asked you is Beomgyu here today? Could we sit in his area, please?

Seeing him rack up tips after a busy shift is always enough to have you wondering if you should switch to being a server— but then you see the way the women are treated, your stomach flipping in disgust at the way men leer and comment at them— you’ve even seen Beomgyu get cursed at plenty of times as well, shivering at the jealous partners and the way they’ve been blacklisted for threatening him.

Tonight is one of those nights. You’ve clocked out, shrugging on your jacket and gathering your belongings when you see Beomgyu storm in through the employee entrance; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him angry, but the sight has your eyes widening as you watch the way he frowns at his uniform, cursing angrily under his breath as he approaches the break table you stand by.

“Fuck,” he hisses, low and breathy and mean as he continues complaining, berating the customer that had the audacity to throw their drink at him— but you, in your very depraved state, remain stuck on the way he sounds, his voice far too attractive for a person who is spouting out filth.

This feels familiar.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask softly, feeling awkward as you mentally slap yourself for your train of thought; it seems as though Beomgyu hadn’t even realized you were there, his head snapping up as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights— his mood is immediately shifting as he sends you a sweet smile, acting as though his clothes aren’t soaked as he waves you off causally.

“Yeah. Just some ridiculous customers,” he says, laughing softly as he grabs at a pile of napkins on the table; you wince as you watch him scrub roughly at the stains, unable to stop yourself as you jump to his aide.

“Here, you’ll only get the stains in deeper if you do that,” you say, taking the napkin from his hands as you begin to dab at his uniform without much thought; you’re much closer than you should be to someone you’ve never really talked to, but you don’t seem to realize it as Beomgyu practically forgets to breathe from your proximity.

Shit, how did he find himself in this situation? He might as well go back out and thank the jealous, “tough guy” boyfriend that threw his drink at Beomgyu, because he feels as though every guilty fantasy is coming back to mind as he takes in your concentrated expression, your hand placed firmly on his chest for support as the other dabs at the stains in his uniform.

You smell so good. Even though you’ve been in the restaurant just as long as him and have been around food this whole time, he’s still able to pick up on your scent with every shaky breath he takes.

You’re wearing your glasses, too.

Beomgyu’s mind is wandering off to dangerous places; he knows he needs to get himself under control, because the danger of him popping a boner just from how close you are is a higher probability than he’d like to admit. It seems as though you’re snapping out of your trance the moment he clears his throat, your face growing hot and slightly horrified as you jump back; Beomgyu can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, finding your embarrassment oddly endearing.

“Sorry, got carried away,” you say, smiling shakily as you take in the way Beomgyu practically beams at you— always a sweet, nice guy, waving you off without a problem as he laughs softly.

“No, it seems to have helped,” he says, and you can’t help but notice how oddly charismatic he is even now, during this mundane interaction that has you stuttering over your words stupidly— but to be fair, how are you supposed to give him advice on how to get the stains out when he’s looking at you with the cutest god damn puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, his brown eyes round and sparkly as he listens intently to every word you say?

“I wouldn’t have thought to do that,” he smiles, his cheeks puffing up cutely and oh, is it weird that you want to coo at how cute he is and pinch his cheeks…?

Definitely weird, you decide, letting out a soft laugh as he tells you that he’ll try it as soon as he gets home.

“Speaking of which, I’ll let you go; you probably don’t want to be here longer than necessary,” Beomgyu is so kind and considerate even as you tell him it’s fine and that you didn’t have any plans after work anyway.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as Beomgyu asks you to wish him luck, the smile he sports coy as you follow his command without any hesitation— you take this as your chance to leave before things get awkward, but a part of you itches to go back and talk to him more.

Beomgyu’s good, you realize as you’re exiting the building, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you realize that he managed to charm you just from that short interaction.

You get why he’s so popular.

»»»

Any plans to go to bed early and rest are immediately thrown out the minute your phone buzzes beside you.

You were just about to put your laptop away— just on the verge of falling asleep, until your eyes reluctantly drifted to read the words that take over your screen— it’s a Twitter notification, the username making your eyes widen as you’re scrambling to unlock your phone and read the rest.

guiltypleasures

had a shitty shift today, let me take it out on you? https://…….

Oh. oh, oh lord… you can feel the exhaustion lifted off in an instant; suddenly, you’re wide awake, eyes widening as you quickly copy the link of his tweet into your browser— while your mind scolds you for trying to stay up and possibly ruining your sleep schedule, the other, much more sinister part of it tells you that you’re paying for a reason.

The stream starts in five minutes.

While you wait anxiously in your room, your hands swiftly going to your nightstand to take out some toys— your trusty vibrator and a dildo you recently bought, all because of him— Beomgyu paces around his setup, gathering his own toys and changing into something that the viewers might like; today's ensemble is a bit more bothersome than usual, but he knows how much his viewers like when he dresses up and role plays a bit with them.

He was tired; today's shift took a toll on him, and he’d rather be fast asleep than putting on a stream— but after looking at today's earnings, he couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied with it all, deciding on impulse that he would put on a stream to make up for his lack of tips— instead, he’ll earn tips in another way.

“Hey,” he starts quietly, sitting back in his seat as he takes a glance at his monitor, making sure his face is out of frame. The viewer count rises and comments flood in no time, all of them freaking out about how good he looks in the suit he wears; the all-black ensemble feels stifling to him, but he knows taking it off will be worth it in the end.

Bad day today? Let us make you feel better :(

His top tippers are all begging for his attention, desperate and needy as always as they beg for him to get started— but he feels a lot more sluggish than usual, his gloved hands caressing his thighs slowly as he reads the comments out loud.

“Yeah, today’s shift wasn’t that great,” he speaks, his voice deep and sultry as he allows a moment to pass, reading all the comments that beg for him to use them, “I only thought about you though. Just wanted to see you.”

There he goes again— he’s no longer talking to his audience, but to you instead, closing his eyes and imagining a world where you’re in front of him, or even on the other side of this screen, one of the many faces that lusts over the way his cock begins to harden, the bulge becoming much more apparent as he lets his mind wander.

Unbeknownst to him, you are on the other side of your screen; a shy and flustered mess as you shift in your bed, watching the comments fly by as you wonder if you should join in— not that you could, anyway, your low-tier subscription excluding you from doing such things, as ridiculous as it is.

You’re practically devouring the man on your screen with your eyes; taking in the way he’s dressed, his pretty hands covered with leather gloves as he runs them slowly over his black trousers; stopping as they run back to his hips, a hand beginning to palm at his bulge as he spreads his legs a little wider in his chair— today's setup is a bit different, along with his attitude as he seems to sweet talk the audience more than usual.

“Seeing you is the only good part of my day,” he sighed, his free hand trailing up his chest before it stops at his tie— he’s tugging at it, loosening it and allowing it to hang around his neck as he continues, “Can’t stop thinking about how much I want you, how I’d fuck you until all you can remember is my name.”

The offer is tempting; you groan a little as you watch him begin to slide off his blazer, throwing it to the side before he’s unbuttoning his white shirt— he’s making quick work to become undressed, you notice, untucking the material and undoing his belt as the sounds of it jingling ring out in the room.

Yet, no one knows his name— no one knows anything about him, except the tattoo that runs across his side as he slides off his shirt, the sharp, elegant lines running all along his ribs, trailing down to his hip bones and disappearing under his pants— the rest of him remaining a mystery as you’re left to lust over a nameless, faceless stranger.

That’s probably where the appeal comes from; you’re able to imagine anything about him, from what his face looks like to what he may do when the cameras are off; you’re free to mold him into the perfect fantasy, using him and projecting onto him as you watch him slowly unzip his pants, a hand slipping under as he begins to jerk himself off teasingly, slow as always as he waits for the requests to come in— like clockwork, your eyes fall to the end of his tattoo, taking in the cute heart that rests by his hip bone, the ending of the elaborate piece that always has you wondering what it’d be like to see in person.

“Hmm? You want more?” he says, tilting his head slightly as he smiles; it’s mocking as always, biting into his lip as he begins to roll his hips into his hand— making a show out of it, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy moan that has you shivering.

“How about you show me just how much you want it,” he sighs out, smiling evilly as tips begin to come in left and right as a response; you find the way he’s able to manipulate the audience impressive, always able to get them to blow their money on him without hesitation.

He leans forward, towards the screen, and you’re able to admire his lips as he reads the comments, mouthing them as the lights cast a glow on his pretty, pouty mouth, his neck tempting and begging to be marked as you watch the way he displays it so teasingly.

“Good girl,” he laughs softly, your eyes flickering to the comment section for a moment; his top tipper has spent an egregious amount on him yet again, and you listen to the way he softly begins to fulfill her request, the rest of the audience momentarily disappearing as he begins to speak to her.

“Always such an obedient thing for me, hmm? Tell me, what do you want to see?”

His manipulation is seamless as he watches another tip flood in; all from the same person, the amount doubled in order to get his attention past all the others that blow a measly twenty on him, nothing compared to the three hundred that is highlighted in gold, the comment momentarily pinned for the man to read it.

I want you to fuck your favorite fleshlight and use a vibrator while you think of me. Can you moan my name please? It’s—

Her comment has your eyes widening for a second; it’s bold and demanding, and the idea of requesting such a thing from the camboy in front of you is daunting as you read her request over and over— your face feels hot and you’re already taking off your sweatpants from how needy you are, wondering if the man on your screen will accept such a request.

The first two are nothing to him— in fact, it’s more on the tamer side as he already finds himself reaching for the aforementioned toys.

The problem lies in the last request.

He’s not one to moan names on a live stream; he usually saves it for personal requests he gets, the videos much more personal and calculated as he gets to take his time with them— so for his top tipper to request such a thing on his livestream is a bit more difficult; especially when he spends this time thinking of you.

But then again, it’s three hundred dollars.

“Okay then, is that what you want? Hmm?” he teases softly, purring out her name at the end as he watches the way she tips him again; it has him laughing in amusement, sitting back in his chair before he’s crossing his arms over his chest, singing out her name with a soft lilt as he watches the way she continues to pour money at him like it’s nothing.

Soon enough, more requests come in; all with the same amount and request, hoping that they’ll be able to hear their names fall from his lips as he slowly begins to tug down his pants, raising his hips as he’s left in nothing but his underwear, the briefs straining painfully as his cock twitches, begging to be free.

“One at a time,” he murmurs sweetly, patronizing as he mumbles that it’s her turn now, watching the way she seems to react with every purr of her name.

The sudden trend of requests makes his stream slightly difficult; he’s always found himself to be a lot more into them when he’s mentally moaning out your name, lips ghosting over the syllables every time he’s coming undone. Instead, he’s forced to moan out the name of a stranger as he begins to palm himself slowly, even though his mind thinks back to you and the small interaction you had today.

He feels his cock twitch at the mere thought. It’s painfully hard and won’t stop leaking as he takes it out, not needing to use any lubricant as he begins stroking it slowly, hips jumping at the feeling of the leather against his skin— and though his lips moan another’s name, his eyes remain closed, thinking about you.

You and your meek personality, always letting guests take out their anger on you before they’re turning around and sucking up to Beomgyu— he’s always had to resist the urge to fuck them up as a response, knowing that you think no one else notices your sullied mood and your crestfallen gaze every time they seem to get away with it.

He’s never free to comfort you. You’re both far too busy to be around each other for longer than a few minutes, and today was like a blessing as he caught you at just the right time— he would have stayed the rest of his shift back there talking to you, if only he hadn’t been playing the part of a sweet, considerate guy.

He thinks back to how you felt against him. How, even though your actions were innocent and you were much more focused on taking out the stain of his uniform, he still felt the warmth of your hand against his chest, delicate and smaller than his as you leaned in close enough to allow himself to get a whiff of your sweet scent.

And those glasses.

He never thought he would find himself hung up on such an item, but the way they make your eyes look big and sparkly is practically enough to make him cum on the spot. Instead, he grabs a hold of his newest fleshlight, soft and tight, just how he imagines you would be.

It’s perverted, but as he slides his cock into the tight sleeve, groaning slightly at how he’s barely able to push through, he imagines that it’s you. His mind begins to wonder what it would be like if you were above him right now, your thighs encasing his and your pussy leaking onto his cock as he fucked into you without abandon.

As he turns on his vibrator, running it along his balls and letting out pathetic moans, he imagines what it would be like to use it on you while he fucked you, imagining the way your tits would bounce and your eyes would squeeze shut as he made you cum until you were unable to hold yourself up.

On the other side of the screen, you imagine the same thing. Your legs are shaking and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as you follow the pace he’s set, pressing your vibrator firmly against your clit and letting out weak whimpers at the sensation. You try to ignore the way he calls out the same name over and over, wondering instead what it would be like to hear your name from his lips— the sound is ringing throughout your mind the moment you imagine it, burying your face into your pillow as you increase the intensity of your toy.

“Let me fill you up, want you dripping with my cum,” he growls out, the sloppy sounds of his thrusts only spurring you on as your thighs close around your hand, hips grinding into your dildo as you sink your teeth into your lip ruthlessly— it’s almost enough to draw blood as you watch the way he cums into his toy, hips continuing to rut into the it even long after he’s come, a white ring forming at the base as he turns the vibrator off from the overstimulation.

“_�� Shit,” Beomgyu almost slipped up for a second, proceeding to moan out his requested name repeatedly as a distraction.

And you know you’re imagining it, but you’re briefly coming undone after that, your pussy tightening against your dildo and your legs shaking as you run your vibrator along your clit, imagining that it’s him inside you, that he’s currently spilling his load in your cunt— your mind swearing that you almost heard your name slip from his lips for a second— and it isn’t until you recover from your orgasm, the sound of another name leaving his lips repeatedly making you come to, that you realize it was your brain playing trick on you to help you get off.

But you weren’t imagining things.

Beomgyu hopes his audience didn’t pick up on his small mistake, but he’s relieved to see that they’re none the wiser as they continue to request to hear their name next.

“Let’s see…” he says, and you’re barely able to keep your eyes open as you watch the way he leans towards the camera again, reading requests off the monitor as he grinds his hips into his toy absentmindedly throughout it.

He’s barely getting started.

In turn, so are you.

»»»

Beomgyu is the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.

After your brief conversation at the restaurant, you quickly found yourself talking to him more often.

It turned into him sitting next to you during the one class you shared, your friendship growing stronger day by day as you got to know him better.

He acts like a puppy; he’s so sweet and kind, his voice soft and endearing every time he spoke to you— and, like a stark contrast to the flirty and outgoing guy you saw during your shifts at the restaurant, he was very shy, ever the gentleman as he always treated you with nothing but kindness.

“Good morning,” Beomgyu hums, sitting in the seat next to yours before he’s placing down a cup of coffee, “I got this for you. I already finished mine, but I thought you might like some too.”

Sweet gestures like these were common with him; despite your insistence that he really didn’t need to, he always did it anyway, ever the charming man as he sent you a cute smile that would have you unable to say no.

“Hey, I heard you’re friends with Yeonjun?” you ask, reluctantly accepting the drink after he insisted that you didn’t need to feel bad; your lips are curving into a small smile as you take a drink, stomach flipping at the realization that it was your usual order— you’re surprised he was able to remember it after the first time you got coffee together.

Beomgyu nods in confirmation. You’re a bit surprised by his answer, unable to see the two be friends due to their contrasting personalities. You can tell that he’s curious as to why you’re asking as he pouts slightly— a habit he always does when he’s confused— and you’re quick to swallow down your drink and give him context.

“He’s having a party this weekend. I was wondering if you’re going?” you say, and Beomgyu feels his stomach drop slightly; not because you were going— well, not entirely, at least— but because if you were going, you’d definitely end up seeing a different side of him. And after seeing how fond you are of his puppy-like behavior, he dreads seeing your reaction to a much more reckless side of him.

“I… think so,” he says sheepishly, wondering what kind of excuse he should make to not go— but he pauses, seeing the way you pout at him, grabbing his arm desperately as you lean into him as you plead.

“You should go— pleeeasee? Yeonjun’s parties are super over the top and he always invites hella people, I don’t wanna be there alone.”

You have this man wrapped around your finger; with one look at your face, your gaze sweet and pleading as you cutely pout at him expectantly, he finds himself agreeing, unable to fight back a smile as he watches the way you cheer triumphantly, quieting down the moment the lecture starts.

Beomgyu will definitely have to be careful this weekend— but seeing you will be worth it, even if he’s risking the chance of potentially changing the way you’ll view him forever.

»»»

You have yet to see Beomgyu.

The party started hours ago, yet you’ve only been present for a few as you’ve already both greeted and lost Yeonjun, forced to mingle with people you barely know as you all hang out in his backyard— because lord knows how packed and stuffy the place would’ve been if he held it inside.

You currently find yourself playing cup pong, teaming with the girl in your communications class as you go against two strangers— Yunjin is much friendlier and outgoing when she’s drunk, cheering you on and yelling triumphantly with every ball you get in— you’ve barely had anything to drink as a result, and Yunjin is eager to fix that as she hands you a small shot cup; you’re hesitant at first, only accepting it after she explains that it isn’t strong at all, the soju mixed in with other things as she tells you you’ll barely feel it.

It’s not that you’re a lightweight that would get drunk off one shot, but you’d rather not get shit-faced when you have yet to find Beomgyu; your eyes scan over the place once more after you take the shot, Yunjin’s cheers falling deaf onto your ears as you allow the team in front of you have their turn.

“Drinking already?”

Beomgyu has snuck up on you successfully— you’re flinching in surprise as you feel his hand fall gently on the small of your back, leaning in close so he’s properly able to speak to you over the music.

Beomgyu feels as though looking at you is a sin; he’s forcing himself to keep his eyes off you, listening to the way you ramble into his ear about how happy you are to see him, your head tilting back and exposing the column of your neck to him to get him to hear you.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he comments, oddly hung up on it as he watches the way your smile only widens.

“Yeah, didn’t feel like it,” you say lightheartedly, leaning back against Beomgyu and finding comfort in the position that allows the two of you to speak over the booming music.

Unbeknownst to you, he takes this moment to drink in your appearance. The white, oversized button-up you wear is left completely open as it drapes over your figure, the light blue denim shorts entirely too tempting as they ride up your thighs, much too short to even cover you properly— but of course, that’s the look you were going for, leaving your bottoms unbuttoned and folded down as you allow your bikini to peek through— the color is flattering on your skin, and Beomgyu wonders if he’ll be strong enough to resist you, eyes flickering over to the pool that’s filled with plenty of people as a distraction.

“You wanna go in?” you ask, and Beomgyu realizes you’ve followed his line of sight, shaking his head quickly in response. You laugh, turning around briefly as you listen to the sounds of Yunjin telling you that you have to drink— you freely down the shot in the plastic cup this time, much more at ease now that Beomgyu is around— and turn back to him, pulling at his shirt slightly as you take in his attire.

“Come on, you’re definitely dressed for the part!”

And that much was true— though he realized halfway through his drive here that doing so would not be a good idea, especially if he wanted to keep up this cute, innocent act of his.

“It’s too full right now,” he says, his excuse valid as you study the pool for a moment— only to agree, turning back to the game as you tell Beomgyu to cheer for you with a cheeky smile.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to get tipsy— all because you made the mistake of trusting Yunjin to play properly during her turn, missing entirely and proceeding to get the two of you obliterated after she went against one of the guys on the opposite team (Jake, he later told you.)— but you’re quick to make sure to bring Beomgyu down with you, handing him every other shot you get as you tell him he’s now on your team.

What you don’t seem to realize is that Beomgyu is not a lightweight— far from it, watching with amusement as you slowly begin to get tipsy, your mouth loosening and your personality becoming much more outgoing after losing the game to Jake and his friend— three times in a row.

“Again?” you ask, laughing at the way Yunjin yells in agreement— Beomgyu has to tug on your shirt to get you away, telling you that it’s definitely not a good idea to go again, especially with someone as uncoordinated as Yunjin.

“Why didn’t you play with me then?” you say, leaning against him as you smile up at him prettily; he’s leading you away from the table and towards the grass, over to where a small campfire is lit, plenty of chairs scattered about as the music becomes louder in this area.

“You don’t like games?” you ask him, stumbling to a stop and tugging at his shirt to stop with you, just so he’s able to hear you better. Coyly, you smile, your eyes twinkling mischievously as you lean in to speak to him quietly, “Don’t you wanna play with me?”

Your words are fairly innocent— but your delivery is not, and it has Beomgyu sputtering in surprise as he wonders how he should respond to such a random advance— though he doesn’t need to in the end, watching as you break character and laugh at your own antics, perking up immediately as you listen to the song that’s playing.

“Oh, I love this song!”

You’re dancing carelessly to the song without a second thought, pulling Beomgyu in and laughing at the way he seems reluctant to let loose; it’s probably the alcohol in your system that’s making you act like such an idiot, leaning against him and smiling at the way he seems adamant to avoid your gaze.

“You know, I just realized that we’re matching!” you laugh, tugging at the collar of his white button-up before you’re glancing down; it’s tucked neatly into his denim shorts, and your smile is only growing wider as you look back up at him, “we look like a couple or something.”

Your words affect him much more than he’d like to admit— but he has no time to dwell on it, eyes looking past you and at Yeonjun, who walks straight toward the two of you with a grin stuck on his face.

“Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were here?” Yeonjun yells, grabbing your attention as you’re turning to greet Yeonjun; you’re bubbly and seem to find everything funny as you giggle slightly, waving at him happily before you’re stepping away from Beomgyu.

“I couldn’t find you,” Beomgyu mumbles, watching the way Yeonjun slings an arm around your shoulders casually— he feels oddly angered at the sight, unsure why it irritates him so much to see the two of you act so close.

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Yeonjun says, and he watches as you begin to ramble about your history with Beomgyu with a small smile— scanning your outfit, he frowns.

“You haven’t gotten in the pool yet?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow at your entirely dry figure; you shake your head, which only makes him tilt his head in confusion, “I thought you said that’s the only reason you were coming?”

“Well, I just haven’t gotten the chance to,” you say sheepishly, the shy smile on your face quickly turning to one of confusion the moment Yeonjun hugs you; he’s got you tight, and you’re stumbling along with him as you begin questioning what he’s doing, your eyes widening the moment you peek over his shoulder— you’re heading straight to the pool, the volume of your yells rising significantly as you begin to struggle against your friend, yelling at Beomgyu to come to your rescue.

(It’s all for dramatic effect. Yeonjun laughs at the way you pretend to struggle against him, and he pretends he doesn’t hear your laugh of joy the moment he falls over the edge, letting go of you in time and forcing the two of you into the water.)

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that the water isn’t freezing; you personally thank Yeonjun’s heating system as you come up for air, wiping at your face and adjusting your hair as you begin to splash Yeonjun, insulting him for being such a bully.

Your movements are immediately stopping the moment you spot Beomgyu at the edge— Yeonjun is quick to leave, sending you a small wink (the term “wink” used loosely) before he’s off to find his next target—he’s taken his shoes off and he looks more than ready to jump in, and you can’t help but laugh sweetly at his concern before you realize that you should probably take off your shoes as well.

“You okay?” He asks you, watching the way you cringe as you take off your shoes, tossing them over the edge and leaving them to dry as you swim to where he stands.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you smile, watching the way he seems hesitant to do anything— to get in or leave, you’re unsure. A second passes before an evil thought pops into your head, taking notice of your equally soaked clothes that remain stuck on your body.

“Oh. Hey, could you hold this?” you begin, shedding off your shirt before you’re bundling it into a ball, holding out the fabric for him— he crouches down, arm reaching out for your shirt— and you seize your moment, both hands grabbing onto him and tugging as hard as you can.

And Beomgyu, in his unguarded state, falls in immediately.

The laugh you let out is pure evil as you watch him fall in, flailing for a second before he’s coming up for air— and honestly, Beomgyu can’t even be mad, at least not when you’re laughing so hard, your face lit up as you take in the way his hair is completely flat on his head.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” you say, but you don’t look sorry at all as you swim over to your shirt that’s now sunk into the bottom of the pool. You’re diving down to get it, quick to throw it over the edge and by your shoes before you’re tugging off your shorts. You’re glancing back at Beomgyu, relieved to see he doesn’t look angry at all, when you spot something peculiar.

“Woah, what’s that?” you ask, approaching Beomgyu eagerly as he’s quick to follow your gaze. His cheeks are on fire and his hands are quick to fly onto his ribs, turning away from your curious hands and even more curious gaze as he stutters out an excuse.

“It’s nothing.” That’s probably one of the lamest things Beomgyu has ever said, and you’re not believing him for a second as your eyes widen at his sudden change in behavior.

“Is it a tattoo?” you ask, trying to get a peek through the cracks of his fingers; but the water makes everything blurry, unable to get the details of it before you’re humming appreciatively. “Hmm. That’s cool— I didn’t know that was such a common spot to get tattooed.”

“Is it?” he asks, and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to want to hide it anymore. Your curious gaze and awed compliments have him smiling, raising a brow as he feels himself become more confident— the idea that you of all people would judge him seems ridiculous now.

“Who else do you know that has a tattoo here?” you’re late to process the question— only because your eyes are widening as he admits that it is a tattoo, the words flying out of your mouth before you can truly process if it’s a good idea.

“I don’t know. I’ve just seen it online, I guess.” Of course, this could mean many things— but it means one thing to you, and you’re practically biting your tongue from the sheer terror that you inadvertently admitted to a guilty, secret pleasure of yours.

“Online?” he asks, and you try to not look suspicious as you choose to simply remain quiet and nod.

“Yeah, like on Pinterest and stuff,” you add, hoping that it’s enough to prove your innocence (to yourself) as you watch Beomgyu nod along to your words.

“Aren’t your clothes weighing you down?” you ask, eyeing the way he’s barely moved with a small smile, “or like, are you not wearing anything underneath?”

Most of the people here came with their swimsuits underneath— some just opted to strip to their underwear, which is why you didn’t feel alarmed to find people stripping their layers in order to jump into the pool.

Though, now that you think about it, you feel a bit bad for forcing Beomgyu to get in without much of a warning. Your concerns are quickly soothed, however, when Beomgyu shakes his head, hands coming up to unbutton his shirt before he’s laughing softly at your words.

“I was wearing my shorts underneath these,” he confesses, your eyes widening as you find yourself going silent— because wow, was Beomgyu always this ripped?

You feel odd as you watch him strip, sliding off his shirt as most of his torso remains underwater; he’s slowly making his way to where you stand by the edge, and you can feel your heart stopping as you take in the look in his eyes.

Dark. Dangerous. Tempting. You think you’re imagining things as you look away, gulping heavily as you feel yourself sobering suddenly. He’s throwing his shirt in the direction that your pile of clothes lie, and you feel oddly embarrassed by the way you have to look away as he strips his bottoms off as well.

You’re only glancing back in time to see him hover out of the pool for a second, his upper body coming out of the water as he takes a moment to lay out both your clothing properly.

Holy shit.

Was it common for people to have the same tattoo? It surely was, right? Those are the only things that are going through your mind as you observe Beomgyu’s tattoo, taking in the familiarity of each line as your eyes drift down to his v-line— your eyes spot the small, perfect heart that rests right at his pubic bone.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god oh god, you think, trying your best to not lose your shit and melt in a puddle of horror and embarrassment as you realize that Beomgyu has the exact tattoo as guiltypleasures.

It had to be a popular tattoo. Or maybe it was a reference to something, or a drawing a tattoo artist put out to let other people use— anything, it had to be anything else than the conclusion your mind was terrified of making, meeting Beomgyu’s gaze shyly as you realize that he’s caught you staring, hard.

“It’s pretty,” you breathe out, unsure you can trust your voice as you watch Beomgyu sink back into the pool, “Is it… a reference to something?”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Thanks,” he starts, leaving you on edge as he takes a moment to inspect his tattoo— running his fingertips over it, tracing over the delicate lines in a way that has you gripping onto the edge of the pool, “and no, it’s not. I designed it myself.”

You’re gonna pass out.

“Really?” you grit out, hoping he can’t pick up on the tension of your voice as you smile, albeit forced, “Like, it’s one of a kind?”

“Yup,” he grins, staring down at his tattoo with a proud look on his face, “One of a kind. My tattoo artist didn’t even post it, upon my request.”

You’re gonna cry. Maybe you’ll scream, or even sink into the pool and try to drown yourself.

Because Choi Beomgyu, your closest friend for the past few months and the man you may or may have not been beginning to crush on, is guiltypleasures, the man you lust after every night and fucking pay to watch.

You know they say that quiet guys are the freakiest, but this is too fucking much.

“That’s so cool,” you say, sinking into the pool so the water is up to your mouth, hoping that you won’t blurt out any more stupidities as you stare off into the distance, attempting to let this new information settle in.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and you hate how attentive Beomgyu has become— even more because everything is starting to click, his husky and deep voice a replica of your stupid camboy’s, your body reacting involuntarily to the sound of it as you simply nod softly.

“Mhmm,” you hum out, coming out of the water a bit so you can speak, “I think those drinks from earlier fucked up my stomach— I should go home.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu says, and you feel awful for the way he’s become confused at your sudden shift in mood, “Are you sure you’ll be okay driving—?”

“I Ubered here,” you mumble, oddly embarrassed at your words, “cause I knew I’d probably drink a lot.”

“Well then let me take you home,” he insists, ever the gentleman as you try to say that he shouldn’t, that he should just stay and enjoy the party.

“It’s dangerous to call an Uber at this hour though,” he continues, his stupid fucking puppy eyes taking a toll on your resolve as you bite your lip, “Plus, I only really came to this party because of you.”

God, what the hell was this behavior?! This innocent, shy, and sweet Beomgyu was a complete one-eighty— scratch that— was an entirely different fucking person than the one that always talked down at you at night, spilling filth like it was in his nature and treating you like you were worthless.

It was a bit terrifying as you watched the way he remained entirely oblivious to the Earth-shattering realization, getting out of the pool and reaching out to help you out with a sweet smile.

After a second, you take it.

You feel so awkward as you gather your clothes; you’re jumpy and you’re sure Beomgyu has picked up on it as he eyes you from time to time, watching as you wring out your clothes as much as you can before you’re slipping on your shirt, your shorts left in your hand as you avoid Beomgyu’s eyes entirely.

“I have a few blankets in my car— you should use those to keep yourself warm,” he says softly, looking back at you and frowning at the way you only nod with a tense smile.

Was he wrong about you? Were you lying when you reacted positively to his tattoo? Beomgyu has no idea why something as simple as a tattoo would change the way you treat him entirely, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this as you enter his car, entirely stiff as you wrap one of his aforementioned blankets around yourself.

“Hey, did something happen tonight?” He asks you halfway through his drive, licking his lips nervously as he watches the way you jump in your seat, not expecting his question at all as you remain silent for a second.

“Uhm, no?” you say, though you seem unsure of your own answer as you wrap the blankets a little tighter around yourself, “I’m telling you, it was probably the drinks— I didn’t think my stomach would be so sensitive tonight.”

Your explanation is entirely plausible, but Beomgyu doesn’t believe it as he watches the way you remain tense, his car slowing to a stop as the two of you wait at the stoplight in an awkward silence.

“You’re lying,” Beomgyu says, deciding that it’s better to just be bold instead of tiptoeing around the subject, “Is it because of my tattoo?”

Your lips press together.

“It is,” he says, and he feels an unexpected wave of disappointment and anger wash over him, “did something that small put you off that much?”

“That’s not it,” you say, your heart pounding against your chest and your body heating up as you realize that you’ve upset him— and greatly, because you’re able to see the way his brows knit together and his hand tightens on the steering wheel as he begins to drive again.

Did he think you were judging him? That you thought less of him because of such a small thing?

“Then what is it?” he insists, and you’re mortified to see that you’re stuck in traffic, victim to Beomgyu’s sharp gaze that demands answers, “Cause you’ve been acting weird since I showed it to you.”

“I’ve seen it before,” you mutter quietly, sinking into your seat from the humiliation, “I recognized it. Your tattoo.”

Beomgyu pauses. Then he thinks of the many times he’s had his shirt ride up when he’s around you, from stretching to taking off his hoodie and having his undershirt get pulled up along with it.

“Okay?”

“Like. Online.”

That’s enough to leave him silent. Stupefied, even. One glance at you and your body language is enough to confirm that it’s exactly what he’s thinking, your posture so small that you look like you wish you could disappear.

“You’ve—“ he swallows, wondering what else to say as traffic begins moving again, “like… Twitter—?”

“Your streams.”

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, Beomgyu needs to get the fuck out of the car this instant, because his dick is already hardening and he can feel his brain short-circuiting at your words— you watch his streams.

In your mind, you feel as though you’ve completely dug a hole for yourself— Beomgyu is probably horrified at your confession, but it’s not as though you knew it was him, or that you had any malicious intent, or that—!

All Beomgyu can think of is how he shouldn’t park the car in the middle of the road and fuck you stupid.

“Did you watch them a lot?” he asks you, his voice eerily quiet and stable, and oh no he’s interrogating you right now, this is the end for you.

“Yeah,” you say, deciding to be completely transparent now that you’ve decided to tell the truth, “I’m sorry.”

Is it possible to come untouched like this? Beomgyu might just find out, because the way your voice is so meek and shy and guilty has him biting down on his lip, his mind growing foggier and his foot pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder as he begins to weave through lanes.

“You were a subscriber then,” he says calmly, and you feel as though he’s trying to humiliate you on purpose as you nod your head in admittance— unbeknownst to you, that’s exactly what he’s doing, enjoying the way he’s breaking you down from just a few questions with sick pleasure.

“How much money did you spend on me then?” You’re finding his line of questioning a bit odd at this point, but you refuse to look up from your lap as you find yourself answering anyways.

“I was just a low-tier subscriber…” you say, and it feels even more humiliating to admit that you cheaped out on him— what the hell was wrong with you?

“Low-tier? Not even a single tip?” he repeats, and you don’t seem to register the way he pouts at you until it’s far too late.

Stopping at a red light, he grabs your chin, turning your face roughly so you’re looking at him— and he’s back, the man behind the screen, except this time you can see the sheer pity that fills his gaze as he speaks to you as though you’re lower than him.

“How are you gonna make it up to me now?”

»»»

God. Fuck. Are you dreaming? You think you might pass out.

“I know, I know I said I wouldn’t stream tonight— shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here?”

Your stomach is twisted in knots and you feel small as you attempt to take in everything properly— Beomgyu’s setup, the same room you’ve seen countless times before— you’re able to see it all, from his large computer monitors, his filming camera, to his grandiose bed and the insane amount of toys he keeps on standby.

You shift restlessly on your feet, entirely bare save for a shirt that Beomgyu let you borrow— another white button-up, the very same one that he loved to wear when he dressed up, now hanging from your figure as he allowed the two of you to freshen up the moment you got to his home.

Nervously, you had left the shirt completely buttoned up; you watched from behind his camera as he continued to sweet talk his viewers, dressed comfortably in a sweater and sweats, his attire a complete contrast to your own.

“You’re happy to see me? I don’t believe you,” he smiles, and you feel as though you’re back to being a faceless member of his stream as you press your thighs together, able to hear the way notifications pop up on his computer, all of them signifying a new tip.

“You know, today’s a pretty special occasion actually,” he begins, pausing to see his comments and the reactions within them, “you’re curious? Do you wanna try something new with me?”

Yes. It’s the only thing he sees in his comments, and he lets out a soft laugh before he’s turning back to his camera.

Then, he’s looking past it.

“Come here, baby.”

You knew this was coming— you agreed to this, for crying out loud, but you still feel as though your legs are made of jello as you hesitate, biting your lip before your eyes are widening nervously, the safe word the two of you established beforehand running through your mind like a mantra you mustn’t forget.

“Come on, you don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” he asks, eyes flickering over to his screen, watching the way everyone seems to go haywire from his words, “See? They’re curious, they want to see you.”

You’re taking your first step towards the camera— then another, and another, until you’re walking past the setup, your back facing the camera as you make your way to where he sits at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do as you remain frozen in front of him.

“What, are you nervous?” he asks, and he’s only able to let out a mean laugh the moment you’re nodding in response, unable to use your voice properly— that’ll change soon, he thinks, reaching for your hands and guiding them to his shoulders.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, aiming for your thighs next as he’s tugging at them, pleased with the way you let him mold you to his desired position, your thighs on either side of his as you hover over him pathetically, “I know they’ll love you.”

Neither of your full faces can be seen— but the audience can definitely see the way he captures your lips in a harsh kiss, filled with nothing but pure need as he finally gets to feel you properly— you feel as though you’re about to run out air when he finally pulls away, laughing as he feels the way you buttoned every single button of the shirt he gave you.

“Now why would you do that?” he whispers against your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulders pathetically as you watch him rip it open— the viewers are going wild at the sight, tipping ridiculous amounts of money just so they can get Beomgyu to see their requests; curiously your eyes drift to his monitor.

You practically collapse at the things you read on the screen.

Finger her. Eat her out. Use a vibrator on her, tie her up, breed her until she can’t walk straight, use a dildo on her—

The horror comes from the fact that Beomgyu is clearly considering doing all of it.

“What do you think baby?” he asks you, pressing his hand on the small of your back and forcing you to arch into him, your ass perking out and your cunt left to be entirely displayed as he trails his hand up your back, lifting your shirt along with it as he allows the viewers to get a good look at you.

“Anything that piques your interest?” he whispers, your head buried in his shoulder as you shake from the embarrassment of it all, “or…”

You jolt at the way his hand lands a sharp smack on your ass. He’s quick to soothe the area, smiling at the way he takes in the small whimper you let out, burying your face deeper into his shoulder and arching more in response. He lands another one, much more harsher than the last as his hand immediately drifts to your pussy, spreading you for the camera and watching the way you practically glisten under the light.

“Should I decide how I get to use you for myself?”

He’s a bit surprised to find that you’re quick to nod at his second request, much too shy to even lift your head from where it rests as your fingers dig into his skin.

He smiles, his eyes drifting back to the monitor as he begins reading over their requests.

“Hmm, are you shy, princess?” he asks, fingers trailing along your slit, feeling the way your hole flutters at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside as you whine quietly, nodding at his words.

“But you’re so fucking wet, and we haven’t even done anything,” slowly, his fingers slip inside— you’re both moaning at the feeling, and Beomgyu thinks that he might just be the one to cum as he feels the way you stretch around his fingers.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, beginning to test out the waters by scissoring you— spreading you out for the camera, watching over your shoulder as your arousal practically leaks out; he gulps, unable to keep his eyes away from the sight as he sighs.

“Feels so soft and warm,” he mutters, placing a kiss on your temple before he’s reaching for something off-screen— the box of toys, you realize, forced to keep your face buried in his shoulder in an attempt to not show your face to his audience.

“Just like I thought you would be,” he says, smiling against your skin as he murmurs the words into your ear— just for you to hear, not for the thousands of people who are currently watching the stream.

“Do you know what I thought about every time I went live?” he asks, sitting up and shifting so that you’re back in position, shaking your head softly as you feel his fingers begin to circle your entrance.

“You.” the stretch you suddenly feel has you moaning pathetically, the first sound the viewers are able to hear as the comments begin to fly past— your legs are shaking at the feeling of him slowly pushing the silicone dildo into your pussy, thick and long as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling tears prick at your eyes from how full you feel.

“I thought of you. Every time.”

Beomgyu’s eyes are dark as his hand grabs at your ass, spreading your cheeks and showing off the way the dildo begins disappearing into your tight cunt, your arousal already beginning to drip down the toy with every slow thrust of his.

“Wished you were there every time I would stream. I thought about fucking you the way I would fuck my toys,” his thrusts begin speeding up; you’re a moaning mess against him as you push your ass back, showcasing yourself perfectly and pushing up against the toy that he continues to ram into you— you’re jolting back into him with every thrust, your hands beginning to cramp with how hard you’re holding on to him.

“I would always moan your name too, did you ever notice?”

Your mind goes back to the time you thought you heard it— and, unexpectedly, you’re coming undone, reaching your peak as you respond with a pathetic yes…! The realization that it had all been real much more overwhelming than you thought.

Beomgyu continues to fuck the toy into you even long after you’re done coming; you’re a whimpering, crying mess against him, the stimulation making your mind muddled as you quietly attempt to get him to stop.

“Hmm? What do you want baby?” he asks, lips trailing down your neck and to your shoulders, where he begins to slip off your shirt so that you’re more exposed. He remains fully clothed as he begins sucking bruises into your skin, following one of his requests to mark up your pretty skin— his hair falls over his face, covering him momentarily as he begins drifting along your body carelessly.

It’s too much— yet, it’s not enough to have you using your safe word, and the fact makes Beomgyu smile as he bottoms out the toy inside you, grinding it into your pathetic pussy as he watches the way a ring of your cum begins to form around the base.

“Come on, talk to me. We’re waiting,” you’re hesitant to speak— that much is clear, especially when you know how much traction this stream is currently getting, the sound of tips constant as you shake your head in defeat.

“No? Okay then,” your shirt is being slipped off, leaving you naked as you wince slightly at the feeling of your garment being removed. Once again, Beomgyu is moving you around, and you’re facing the camera now as your legs are pried open by his own, the toy still stuffed inside you as you sit on Beomgyu’s lap— right on his hard cock, whining softly as you feel him begin to hold your hips down, grinding into you for some release.

“Don’t wanna use your words? Don’t wanna say anything to me or the viewers?” he tries again, eyes narrowing at the way you remain disobedient and shake your head, laying back against him as you pant softly.

“You’re not gonna thank our viewers for wanting me to please you, you fucking whore?” his hands are swift, and before you realize what he’s doing, your hands are cuffed behind your back, the fuzzy feeling reminding you of the cuffs he uses on himself sometimes.

“Fine. You wanna be ungrateful, stay quiet?” every sound that leaves your lips is unsure and soft, barely able to reach the microphone of the camera as Beomgyu scoffs at you. “Then stay fucking quiet. I don’t wanna hear a single word from you, understand?”

He doesn’t let you respond— of course he wouldn’t let you— but the way your mouth falls open suggests that you almost went against his command, the vibrator that he now pressed onto your clit making your legs shake with the sudden stimulation, threatening to close before Beomgyu’s own pried you back open swiftly.

“Look at you. Like a bitch in heat, only thinking about yourself,” he growls, his other hand beginning to thrust the toy back into you at a harsh pace, listening to the sounds of your arousal and the toy smacking against your skin with a satisfied groan, “Do you have any idea how many people wish they were in your place, wish they could be getting fucked stupid instead of having to sit and watch as I do it to you?”

He pauses. Then, he turns up the intensity of the vibrator with a cruel laugh.

“You would fucking know,” he seethes, taking in the way you writhe against him pathetically, biting at your lip to keep quiet as your hands struggle behind your back, “shit, can’t you hear how pathetic you sound? I bet you were a lot louder when you watched me, just another of my useless viewers that wish that I would fuck you— that I would even fucking acknowledge you.”

Everything that happens next is all a blur— your mind is foggy and you’re coming undone as you feel Beomgyu bite down on your neck, unable to hold back the pure keen of pleasure that rips through you, a string of unintelligible sounds flowing out of you desperately as you cream around the toy, feeling tears sting your eyes the moment Beomgyu decides to turn the intensity up again.

“Take it. I know you can,” he laughs purely because he knows that you have yet to use your safe word. It’s even worse because he’s right, the overstimulation fogging your mind and making you melt in his arms, still able to trust him even if your mind isn’t entirely there.

After a moment, the vibrator is turned off— you can hear him toss it to the side before he’s pulling the dildo out of your aching cunt, your body twitching at the sudden feeling before your cum is oozing out, dripping all over Beomgyu’s sweats and onto his sheets as he merely laughs at you.

You’re being turned around again— you feel woozy as you cling to Beomgyu, barely capable of hovering over him as he simply looks up at you, his eyes holding that same, innocent puppy-like look that got you trapped in his clutches in the first place.

“I feel so stuffy,” he pouts, tilting his head up at you as you simply whine incoherently in response, “I know baby. Won’t you help me out?”

It takes you a second to even register his request, your hands suddenly freed by him before you finally realize what he asked; your hands are slow and clumsy as you reach for the hem of his sweater, barely able to tug it up before he’s helping you out— your hands land on his shoulders once more for stability, your gaze falling on his chest and trailing down curiously.

And there it is. The very tattoo that got you into this mess, though this time you’re free to gawk at it, not paying attention to the way Beomgyu realized he caught you staring until he’s grabbing your hand, placing it on his chest and trailing it down, allowing you to feel him up as he shudders slightly at the feeling.

Your fingers trace over the tattoo. All the way down, following every elaborate line until you’re stopped by the hem of his pants, hands immediately slipping under before you’re tugging them off, pulling off his boxers too as you feel him lift his hips, left just as bare as you before he smiles.

You feel his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he begins to rub it against your slit; teasing you with the tip, looking over your shoulder to see what his viewers may be saying.

“What do you think?” He asks, pushing his tip into your cunt before he’s pulling back out. The action has you whining hopelessly, and Beomgyu has to take a second to recollect his resolve, pausing all movements in order to not come then and there.

“Should I fuck her? Does she deserve it?” He asks, looking over at you, cooing softly at the way your eyes remain glassy and fucked out, “Don’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry, not when you’ve been so ungrateful to our viewers.”

A tip catches his attention, and he’s briefly scanning over the amount and request before he’s biting back a smile.

“See? Even though you haven’t said a word to them, they still want to see me fuck you,” he says, taking your hands off his shoulders and leaving you to wobble momentarily as he places your cuffs back on.

“Aren’t they the sweetest?”

You’re barely able to process what’s going on— all you know is that your position changes within seconds, and your face is buried into the mattress while your ass is up in the air, your legs shaky as you’re barely able to hold yourself up; luckily for you, Beomgyu is there to help, hands grabbing onto your hips before he’s making you lean back.

His cock is poking at your entrance, and he’s already able to feel the way your cunt tries to suck him in as he passes his tip along your entrance, left entranced with the way you look under him, a complete, ruined mess as you quietly whine out to him, your voice muffled from where your face remained in his sheets.

It’s cute, really, the way you’re able to focus so hard on keeping your face hidden— if you lifted your head now, every single viewer on his screen would be able to drink up your expression as he fucked you— the thought irritates Beomgyu.

He’ll just have to make sure to fuck you until you’re too weak to move.

“God, you’re such a brat,” he groans out, entering you slowly and feeling the way you clamp onto him dangerously; even with how wet you are, he finds it difficult to fuck you, gritting his teeth and taking a moment where he merely concentrates on not coming inside you then and there.

“Stop fucking squeezing like that— ah— shit—,” it seems as though your pussy has him going stupid, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slowly pulls out— the whine you let out is long and lethal, so desperate and carnal that Beomgyu finds himself losing control; tightening his hold on your hips, he begins to fuck into you without a care.

“Such a good little pussy,” he grits out, watching the way your ass bounces against him with every thrust, “fuck, wish you’d let me fuck you sooner— would’ve made you mine, wouldn’t be able to get enough of you— god, fuck—!”

The way you tighten at his words is dangerous. He’s cursing and talking down like he always does, but this time, it’s just for you. The very thought is enough to have you clenching around him again, mouth agape and drooling against his sheets as your sounds get louder.

Another tip rings through— the same person from before, repeating the only part of their previous request that Beomgyu has yet to fulfill.

Won’t she say thank you?

The words have him stuttering out a laugh, unable to help the way he moans in between. His thrusts slow, and he’s bottoming out inside you before his motions are nothing but a slow grind, rutting his hips into your aching pussy while he reaches for something off-screen.

Your whines and soft complaints at the sudden change of pace are brief— because soon after a familiar buzzing sound is filling your ears, and before you can react, the same vibrator form before is pressed against your clit on the highest setting.

“Gyuuuuu…!” you whine out, long and desperate and incoherent as Beomgyu grabs at your cuffs, using them as leverage to make you slam back into him. His thrusts are brutal and the sound of skin against skin is enough rivalry to the buzzing of the toy as he begins to use the last of his energy to fuck you to your orgasm, watching as the chat buzzes with excitement from your sudden word.

What? What’d she say?? Was that his name? omg?!

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he sneers, his voice gruff as you shake your head, knowing damn well that you haven’t been perfectly compliant to him like he wanted you to be, especially now that you may have just slipped up and let out a personal fact about him.

“Exactly,” he continues, his thrusts toning down in speed, but not intensity— he pulls out to the tip with every thrust, only to slam back into you and have you jolt forward from the harshness of his pace; the vibrator that was once relentless on your clit is now hovering mere centimeters from you, taunting you as all stimulation becomes insignificant to what it was before.

“Maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come,” he begins, watching the way you can only nod eagerly against the sheets, your hands struggling against your cuffs— he’s holding your hand at the sight, fingers interlocking as he watches you grip onto his hand with both of yours tightly.

“Will you be good for me? Are you gonna listen to whatever the fuck I ask you to do?” he says, his voice hardening at the end as he looks at you expectantly— a second passes before you’re nodding again.

“My viewers have been so patient with you. The only reason you got all this was because they wanted it— if it were up to me, I would’ve dumped my load in you already and left.”

That’s a lie— the biggest fucking lie Beomgyu has ever told, knowing damn well that he would’ve done all this and more to you any day, entirely unprovoked. But he knows his viewers love it, and so do you, because your cunt squeezes him so tightly he’s afraid he might just come early.

“Aren’t you grateful they loved you so much? Hmm?” you’re barely registering his words anymore. But you’re nodding nonetheless, your thighs beginning to shake from the sheer pleasure of feeling Beomgyu rut into your cunt throughout all this.

“Tell them thank you,” he says sweetly, not giving you enough time to speak before he’s back to fucking you wildly; his pace picking up, aiming for that specific spot that leaves you dumb and drooly as he places the vibrator back on your clit— any chances of sounding sane are thrown out the window as he begins tugging on your cuffs, bouncing you back against him as the wet sounds of his thrusts ring out through the room.

“Did you hear me—?” he asks, landing a smack to your ass before he’s soothing the area, slowing down so he can smack you again, “I said say thank you. Do you think you’re above us, pretty?”

Your first attempt to speak is a garbled mess.

“Come on, I know you can do better than that. Or— do you just wanna be a cute little cumdump for me—? Ah, let me use you every time I stream… don’t need any fucking toys when I have my pretty doll for me— right—?” His own sentences are becoming more incoherent the longer he fucks you, addicted to the way your pussy practically sucks him in deeper in response.

“Try again,” he growls, feeling his own orgasm approaching slowly, “show me you’re not a— shit, a fucking brat, and maybe I’ll let you… ugh, let you come.”

Beomgyu swore he got rid of his habit of rambling like this long ago. But, you seem to be able to bring it out of him, his calm and collected speeches crumbling like paper in his mind as he takes in the way both your arousals are smeared over skin and dripping down your thighs, forming a ring around Beomgyu’s cock as he feels his resolve beginning to crumble— he begins to fuck you carelessly, not able to think about anything else but reaching his high as he waits for your response.

“Mmh—! ugh… fuck…” your voice is increasing in volume, the shy person from before long gone as you begin to chase your orgasm, much too afraid to lose it as you try to form a single, coherent thought.

“Thank…. thank you…” you whine out, but it’s all too slurred and quiet and pathetic to Beomgyu as he growls out a sharp what? His hand pressing down on the small of your back as he glues your hands to your skin, forced to take the way he fucks you as you moan out uncontrollably.

“Thank you..! Thank you thank you, oh, fuck—!” holy shit, you’re full on crying right now, reduced to nothing but a mess of moans and tears as you ramble on repeatedly, only able to remember those limited words as you feel Beomgyu come inside you— warm and deep, stilling for just a moment before he’s back to fucking you, his own moans becoming much more needy at the feeling of overstimulation.

“Thank you thank you thank youuuu, fuck, fuck fuck mmh—!” you feel stupid. You’ve definitely been fucked stupid, moaning out those stupid thank you’s like a prayer as you feel yourself slumping completely, a boneless, gooey mess as you rely on Beomgyu to hold you up.

He continues to fuck into you slowly, even after you’ve gone entirely still; he thinks you might’ve passed out, but it’s only for a minute before he sees you shifting again, burying your head into the mattress as he hears the distant sound of you sniffling.

Beomgyu feels concerned for a second, ready to check up on you and end the stream before you’re grabbing his hand again; then you’re clenching around him, mumbling his name so sweetly while you try to press yourself against him.

You’re straight up gone, he realizes, stilling for a moment and waiting for you to use your safe word— but you don’t, and he sees you peeking subtly at his monitor before you’re burying your face back into his sheets.

“You got a new tip.”

The words are barely audible to him, but he’s quick to glance at it upon your request; he almost chokes as he sees the five-hundred dollars that have been sent to him, his eyes reading over the request a few times before he’s looking back at you.

Could you try to make her squirt ?

“It’s five hundred dollars,” you mutter, and all Beomgyu can do is let out a bewildered laugh, leaning down to place a kiss on your shoulder before he’s whispering in your ear if you’re okay to continue— the small nod you give him is enough to have his cock hardening inside you.

Fuck, he’s gonna give you the aftercare of the century after this.

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot

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tojivu · 6 months

Text

# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

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vixensbrainrotts · 3 months

Note

hiii i just discovered ur blog and I love it and was thinking if you could write for smiley/Baji and reader that plays sports(volleyball maybe) and maybe they meet when she hits them accidentally... Feel free to ignore my request💝

Lovestruck — Nahoya <Smiley> Katawa

Content: ask-based

Tropes: Volleyball player! Reader, (kind of) loser! Nahoya (he is a loser you cant tell me otherwise)

Warnings: brief mention of fainting, cursing, (slight disrespect towards the end but idk?)

Summary: Nahoya isn’t an easy match, especially not easy to take down, but against your mighty float-serve he stands no chance.

Vixen‘s two cents: Hello! I got a new keyboard so writing feels like butter right now :) smooth. Yeah anyway sorry this took forever to write but i LOVE this request, i love playing Volleyball so im so happy that i could write about it as one of my passions. Anyway, i hope you enjoy this cause i enjoyed writing this! (Also tell me why whenever i write for Smiley he‘s always getting beat the fuck up? Lol)

Bouncing the ball on the court a few times, you smiled, hearing your teammates cheer for you, calls of „Float serve!“ and „Serve it up Girl!“ echoing through the hall. Fulfilling your little pre-serve ritual you bent your knees and crouched a little, batting the ball towards the floor with one hand three times before chucking the ball upwards. Overcome in a rush of confidence thanks to your mates, you took a short run-up, jumping and stretching in the air, swinging your arm in one powerful motion to reel up for a nearly perfect serve.

The ball cut through the air, soaring over the net. The opposing Libero sizes up, readying herself for a receive but at the last moment she decided that it must be falling into the out, leaving it be as she hears her teammates suspicion. Shouts of „Out!“ and „Leave it“ made you falter a little as all eyes were on your ball, watching it meet the ground, right inside the upper right corner of the court.

The whistle blows and the Referee gestured to your half of the court. „In!“ He gestured with his hands sticking up and you and your team, along with a few onlookers erupted into cheers. „ACE!!!“ your teammates chanted shortly, celebrating the point before returning to positions. The ball gets tossed back to you, and the whistle counting eight seconds in which you have to serve blew.

Pounding the ball on the floor, you completed your ritual again, your teammates calling „Again!“ and „Get‘em!“, and you threw the ball into the air again, winding up for another powerful blow. You hit the ball, sure that this would be another point when the referee blew the whistle unexpectedly, mid-serve. Confusion hit you, afraid you had served a foul ball, or waited too long, but when you looked towards where the ball was flying, you noticed why the whistle sounded.

There was someone on the court. Seemingly in his own world he cut the corner of the court, unaware of his surroundings, most of it shrouded by his hair. The ball was barreling towards him at top speeds, and despite the collective calls of „Watch out!“ and „Ball!“, he barely had enough time to respond when your ball hit him, violently smashing against his head and ricocheting off, rolling towards somewhere in the distance as he‘s knocked off his feet.

Guilty, you stood still in shock for a second, the hall quiet as nobody makes a sound as people looked between you, him and the ball. In a haste moment you jolted alight and broke into a quick jog over to him to see if he was alive.

—

Nahoya had simply been tasked to grab a mop from the storage room in the gym to clean up some of the mess one of his pranks had caused. Nothing more nothing less. When he entered the gym hall , his mission was clear: in, mop, out. Glancing into the hall he noticed that there was a game of volleyball going on, but decided that he could just quickly cross the court to reach his destination.

He regretted that decision now, lying on the floor, clutching the side of his head where he fell. His world was spinning, and not in the way it did when he got hit during fights. This was a wider surface area, and he felt himself get queasy as he swore that his brain was rattling from the impact.

„A— ou—o- ay??“ a voice faded in and out of his ears, eyes cracking open to look at a pair of gym shoes. „Huh?“ he grunted, trying to figure out speech again. „Oh—- od—- he— as- a—con- usion!“ his ears picked up, but the cut off words dont register fully. Instead, his eyes traced up the legs that stood before him, a pair of kneepads catching his gaze shortly before it moved further up. Entranced, he let his eyes map out a pair of (rather wonderful) thighs before the angle he was lying in forced him to look at the face of his saving grace.

„Wow..“ he whispered as he studied your features, the world behind your face blurry as you leaned down towards him, kneeling as a hand came up to his neck to check his pulse. You wove your free hand towards something, somewhere, and then he felt the world slip from underneath him, his hearing muffling as a vignette closed in around the corners of his vision. From one second to another, he went slack on the floor, everything turning black.

—

Completely panicked, you wove over some of the bystanders, asking for assistance to get him over to the sidelines for some immediate attention. In a rush, his body was lifted onto one of the spare equipment room at the side, the referee calling for your team to get back onto the field and play on, trusting you to treat the fallen boy. You were team captain after all.

His pulse was stable, you decided after a minute or two of counting and feeling the thumping on the side of his neck. Slightly relieved that you didn’t just commit murder you rolled him onto his side, shifting into stable position that aimed for him not to choke on his own tongue. You kneeled beside him, holding a damp wash cloth in one hand, a waterbottle clutched in the other.. Slowly and carefully you got closer to his face and whispered “please don’t flinch” as a quiet warning before pushing his hair out of his face to drape the cloth over his forehead.

Once the task was done, you remained sitting beside him, monitoring him for any movement or potential issues. There were a few moments of pure silence between you two which you spent just kind of observing him. You didnt think that you’d seen him before, not recognizing a haircolor as bold as orange to be very familiar to you. Your eyes traced his neat curls as they laid over his head, the coils shining slightly. The slope of his nose was oddly pretty, and you found yourself envious of the little gem that sat precious on his left nostril. His lips were full and lush, the same flushed shade as his cheeks, and judging by the twitch of his eyebrow he might be waking up soon.

His shallow breathing picked up, his nose twitching as his eyelids started to flutter, a soft noise falling from his lips. You readied yourself with the bottle of water you had picked up earlier and shuffled closer to him to ensure that he doesn’t panic too hard when waking up in the foreign space of the storage room.

„Hi…“ you carefully called out to him, hoping that your voice would serve as a smooth transition between conscious and unconscious. „please don’t scare, you’re alright…“ you continued, tapping the bottle nervously as he groaned again, eyelids fluttering open but screwing shut again due to the bright lights.

„Mmmh, what?“ He mumbled, voice gravely as he spoke. „Hi there, you’re currently in the open storage room connected to the gym so dont be confused.“ you said softly and watched his eyelids slowly crack open, now receptive to the bright overhead lights.

„Why am I on the floor though?“ The boy mumbled, raising one of his arms to swipe a hand across his face, pulling the washcloth off his forehead as he regained his bodily sensations. You cringed a little before you answered, a tad embarrassed. „Youre laying on the floor because you briefly lost consciousness-“ you were about to elaborate, but his confused grunt cut you off.

„What? Who did I lose to? Lemme- lemme rematch!“ he sounded distressed, now moving to get up- something he clearly shouldn’t do- so you stopped him before he could sit up fully. Planting a palm on his chest you pushed him back down, to which there was little to no resistance. „You lost to my serve, no rematching to be made.“ you clarified, leaning over him with the water bottle in your free hand.

„What? To you?“ he opened his eyes all the way, having adjusted somewhat well to the bright lights as he got a good look at you for the first time. His eyes widened, albeit still a little drowsy „Oh… damn Mama…no wonder I lost to ya, you could lay me down any day..“ You both gasped in synchronization as you flinched back from him, hand retreating from his chest as you stared down at him. He, likewise just as bewildered as you stared back up at you, a hand slapped over his mouth as his face transitioned into a darker, redder shade.

„Oh my god. I didnt mean- it‘s- Im so sorry.“ He stuttered out as he tried to scoot away from you to give you both some space to breathe. „Yeah, its ok, I mean its my fault really, I knocked you out, its clear that you have a little bit of a hazy mind…“ You utter down at him bashfully, a small smile wavering on your lips as you think about the absurdity of the situation.

„No no no I mean thats really inappropriate and I really shouldn’t have said that at all, I promise I don’t mean to be disrespectful but you’re so… you know? And maybe I should just shut up actually cause I think the more im talking the worse im making this all..“ He trails off as he comes to sit up fully, eyes filled with guilt as his focus darts around the room.

„Hey, hey, its alright! I mean, yeah ok maybe that was not what I was expecting but uh… you know… maybe take me out beforehand?“ you giggle as you scoot closer, taking the wet washcloth from where it lay forgotten beside him. Chuckling, you fold the cloth and set it, along with the water bottle, down next to him. „You‘re kinda cute, you know?“ you smile down at him as you stand up completely, boldly winking at him before turning on your heel to leave.

„Wait you serious? Hold on-“ he called out after snapping out of his daze, and you felt your smile widen across your face, cheeks tingling in a warming sensation. „Rest. Stay there until you feel better, they need me on the court, I’m the captain after all.“ you walk out of the open storage room, briefly throwing the boy a look over your shoulders.

„Im Nahoya by the way!“ he called out to you when he noticed your attention, and in smooth response you pulled your hair over your shoulder, revealing the lettering of your name on your jersey as you took your spot on the field. Your teammates noticed, immediately, and started giggling and whispering, teasing you about Nahoya who was now setting down at the side of the court, next to a line-judge he seemed semi-familiar with.

„Dang…“ Baji muttered and shook his head. „Knocked out clean with a Proxi-slap…“ he pondered, a hand on his chin as his eyebrows furrowed. „Baji-San i dint think that that‘s-„ Chifuyu was going to correct him, but Baji kept talking „That chick must have one hell of a punch then...“. Nahoya nodded, almost proud as he recounted it. „Yeah! It was so forceful i thought i was being hit by a train! You know what, it‘s sorta comparable to one of Hanma‘s hooks…“ the crowd of captains and vice captains ah-d and ooh-ed at the comparison.

„And you stayed there? Watching? They allowed you?“ Souya questioned, in slight disbelief. „Yeah! Oh my goodness you wish you could have seen…“ Nahoya swooned, fanning himself with one hand at the very thought. The surrounding members of Toman grumbled and snickered, some giving encouraging whoops to the twin.

„So a Volleyball-player…“ Pah-chin coughed, „She got—?“ „Thighs! Thighs for days oh my lord you wont believe it! And her smile! The way her hair falls, when she cheers and celebrates…“ Nahoya cut him off, a dreamy smile streatching across his face as he started to recount every thought he had when watching you.

The others shared a knowing glance and Mitsuya snickered „Damn, she‘s got you bad, huh?“ Nahoya stopped and looked at him, eyes blank as he thought for a second. „Yeahn… I guess…“ he trailed off to which Draken burst out into a loud laugh.

„She done ‘nd tamed one of the wildest guys I know, damn! You said she knocked you clean out? With a serve? You know damn well that shawty could beat ya ass!“ Draken went on, leaning onto Mistuya for support who joined the laughter.

„Hey listen! You‘ll shut ya mouths once you see all she brings! Full package I tell ya!“ Nahoya scrambles to defend his dignity (or yours, he wasnt quite sure).

„Right Romeo. You‘ve got her number then?“ Mitsuya quizzed, to which Nahoya fell silent.

„Shit.“

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokrev #tr content #tokyo manji revengers #x reader #tr headcanons #tokyo rev #smiley #smiley x reader #tokrev nahoya #nahoya x you #tokyo revengers nahoya #kawata nahoya #nahoya x reader #nahoya kawata

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hyunjinners · 4 months

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𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 - Stray Kids Headcanons

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 - During a serious argument he attacks you, raising his voice with hurtful words. || 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 - hyung_line¡ x fem!reader || 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 - angst, sad, established relationship, fights. || 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 - possible trigger, fight, offensive words (maybe swearing? idk) || 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 - ?? (I got a little carried away ;) || 𝗔/𝗡 - I really love sad themes, I think it makes me immerse myself in the story in a cool way. Remembering that these are just fictitious situations and that nothing in this chapter matches reality, in other words, just an imaginary scenario created by a fan, nothing is linked to the boys' real attitudes or personalities! Hope you like it, Remembering that English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any grammatical and/or spelling errors. Have a good read! feedbacks are welcome. 🤍🌼

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 ¡!

You two are definitely what people identify as the perfect couple, always understanding and understanding each other, But that doesn't mean you don't have your differences. You guys don't really like to fight, usually just silly fights or small vows of silence that are eliminated at the end of the day with a warm hug and kisses with vows of love. Chan wasn't one to raise his voice and neither were you, but perhaps due to the stress of the day, this discussion became loud and noisy.

You just wanted to spend time with him, as you were busy with your work throughout the week and barely got to see each other, but he just tried to explain how much he needed to finish reviewing some tracks and that he was too tired to do that. You rebutted tiresome arguments until he simply exploded at you, "CAN YOU PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE? SHIT! I just want you out of here, can't you see that I never wanted you here?" He shouted at you and you remained static in your place. Your eyes widen and you can't swallow the lump that forms in your throat. You couldn't speak, in pure shock and, as incredible as it may seem, he was no different. Regret and worry fill his chest in an overwhelming way instantly and he feels nothing short of guilty.

He opened his mouth, stammering failed attempts at an apology, his eyes glistening with tears that matched yours, that overflowed and ran down his face. Chan's heart sank as he realized that the cause behind your tears was him, wishing you would realize that he didn't really mean it. "...all good. I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want." You spoke softly, unable and tired of debating with him. "No- love…I'm sorry, I- that's not what I meant, please…" He whispered, trying to get to you, but it was too late. You were leaving his apartment with a broken heart and a new insecurity hanging over you, wondering if during your relationship he had thoughts like this, if he felt uncomfortable with your presence. It could have been a misunderstood mistake for Chan, words spoken without thinking that he bitterly regrets, but for you, it was a new milestone in your relationship.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ¡!

Your relationship from the outside has always seemed a little strange. Minho is not the type to show affection in public and loves to make jokes to annoy you, but you know he means nothing and you know he respects and loves you above all else, so you never really cared about it, always taking it in stride. However, this nagging side of him gains strength when it comes to arguments and you find it particularly irritating. He has a strong temper during fights, being stubborn in his ideas and opinions, making it impossible for you to reach an agreement. You don't fight often, but when it happens, it takes you days to resolve it, out of sheer stubbornness and pride on both sides.

The stray kids' comeback was just around the corner, less than a month away and everything was moving quickly. Minho, who has always been committed to his work, he was working hard this week and his mood was technically sensitive, so to speak. You, being a good and understanding girlfriend that you are, He thought about something throughout the week to try to alleviate some of his tension, usually affection placed on your private person made everything better.

When he didn't show up at the dinner you prepared especially for him, you tried to be understanding because you knew Minho's physical and mental exhaustion. It was almost midnight when he appeared tired and sullen. He had stated that he would arrive on time, so you asked him why he was late. You remained calm throughout the conversation, but when he said he preferred to go out to eat with the boys and forgot about you, you felt the burning start to rise in your throat, "Minho, I really don't understand you. I really tried hard to see the good in you and you just act dismissive like it's nothing, as if we were nothing…” the anger was evident in your voice, but you couldn’t fight back, and apparently neither could he. He sits on the living room couch, leaning with his elbows resting on his knees as he runs his hands over his face and hair. He stands up looking into your eyes and you could see a different glow in his eyes, he was exhausted and angry.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT IF YOU'RE SO NEEDY! I'm tired of this, if you're going to be clingy like this, stay far away from me." Her eyes flutter unconsciously, your vision blurred by the tears that accumulate. You bite your lip in an attempt to contain them, you didn't want to cry in front of him. Minho clenches his fists as he slowly watches your reaction, scared of himself. He couldn't say anything, but you knew he wanted you to stay. He was sorry. You let out a shaky breath nodding your head, “right… whatever you want.” Minho felt helpless watching you forcefully close the door of a now cold and empty apartment, his absence making him feel incomplete. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't find words in his mind, only the fear of losing you, because he knew it was all his fault. And you, the uncertain doubt as to whether this would be a lasting relationship.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 ¡!

You have been friends since you were very young, always supporting and helping each other and that was a good reason for you to almost never fight and if you do, They make up very quickly, reaching a consensus that they both made a mistake at some point. He was always very sweet, so usually he would apologize first, unsure that maybe you would abandon him and that hasn't changed since he asked you to be his girlfriend. And that fact scared you because of what happened. He was never really jealous, it was more like fear and insecurity, but you always assured him that you loved him and he always trusted you. But this time it was different and you didn't understand where it came from. You have been invited to an alumni reunion at your old school where you graduated from high school.

You met many old colleagues but there was one in particular that you both were somewhat uncomfortable with. The boy was an ex-boyfriend of his and tried to start a conversation with you. The atmosphere during the event got a little heavy when he clearly looked at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. At the end of it all, Changbin rushed you home and when they arrived you immediately questioned him, worried about his change in mood. Of course, you weren't stupid, you knew everything was involved in this specific situation, but you were still worried about whether he would be okay. You thought he was angry because the guy was clearly inconvenient, but when he confronted you asking why you were paying attention to him you were confused.

It was supposed to be just a conversation, but it all piled up and became a noisy mess. You didn't want to change, but he knew it was unfair for him to place non-existent blame on you and he wanted to defend himself. "Binnie, I don't understand what I did. I swear I-"

"Don't you understand?" He interrupts you, anger overwhelming him and making his next words come out unconsciously, "YOU WERE CLEARLY HITTING ON HIM! I don't even know why I'm still wasting time being with you, honestly." Silence. You watch him in silence. You felt like you didn't need to say anything else because apparently everything that was stuck in your throats was carelessly deposited one above the other, weight forming on your back. Still scared by his response, you pick up your bag that was on the coffee table and quickly walk towards the entrance. You stop abruptly when you feel your wrist held by Changbin, strong but still light so you can let go. "My love, please- I, I don't know what came over me... forgive me but please don't go." Tears roll uncontrollably down Changbin's face and it makes his heart hurt even more, but you remember that he was the reason your heart was broken in the first place. "...I need to get away from you for today, Changbin." You go out. Now there were two hearts broken by an insecurity that unconsciously generated another.

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 ¡!

Hyunjin is definitely a hopeless romantic, so it's almost impossible for you two to fight. Of course, there is no perfect relationship, but your fights, If you can call it that, they are small arguments over silly things and, if they fight over something serious, It's discredited in a short time since you can't stand being away from each other, especially if you're fighting. You've been together for almost a year, but even with this considerable passage of time, Hyunjin hasn't taken you to meet his parents. Of course, you didn't care so much, you knew and respected the limits imposed by Hyunjin, knowing that he just wanted to be sure if it was meant to be. But with your one year anniversary approaching, you couldn't help but feel a little insecure, naughty thoughts about herself invading her head like an avalanche of worries.

It was quite late when you were sitting in your room studying as usual. You were so immersed in your duty that you missed the sound of the front door. Not long later, you hear the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and notice Hyunjin's presence. Entering the kitchen, you watch him prepare some ramen for himself, a tired expression was visible on his face and sighs constantly left his lips. He looked exhausted and your heart squeezed seeing him like this. He doesn't seem to notice his presence, huffing impatiently at the water that was heating up. You surround him from behind, your arms hugging his waist and placing your head on his shoulder. He trembles a little from the fright, leaving it a little stiff. "Hey, my love. Relax, it's me." You laugh, patting his right shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm really tired today, y/n." He walks away to get the cutlery from the cabinet, you sigh, moving away to respect his space. "You know, Jinnie… I've been thinking and our anniversary is coming up, in less than a week." He looks at you for a few seconds, seeing where you're going and then goes back to what he's doing. Okay, his disdain brought a small pang to her heart. "And I thought maybe, just maybe, Can you take me to meet your parents." His voice was a little louder than a whisper and he stopped what he was doing. He ran his hand abruptly through his hair, looking at her with a different light in his eyes. "Look, I just want to eat this ramen and sleep, I don't have time to listen to that shit again." You were trying to be understanding, but you insisted. “I know, but- but I’m afraid you’re… ashamed of me. That's why I'm insisting on the matter. I know you're tired-"

"SO WHY DON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? If you're well aware that you're being a pain in the ass, just shut up and leave," he says all this with a humorless laugh on his lips, "Maybe I don't really want to take her to meet my parents, maybe this will make me rethink whether our relationship is really worth it." That was the last straw to spill the water in his cup of anxiety. You could no longer blame it on tiredness. You didn't mind crying in front of him, but you felt helpless. You take a step back, uselessly drying your tears. You go up and grab your bag quickly, heading towards the main door, not bothering to look back. Hyunjin pulls her towards him, lightly holding your arms and looking into your eyes. "My love, please, please don't, don't go! I was wrong, I- I really shouldn't have said that-"

"But you said it, and you can't take it back. I'm going to sleep at my friend's house. I want to get away from you as soon as possible." You cut him off, now you were the one who was tired. You hurt him too, but he cut you first and plunged the knife deep into the wound.

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𝗔/𝗡 - I'll be posting the maknae line soon! I confess that I didn't intend to write something long, but I really can't write something with less than 500 words 😭 I hope you liked it. Please don't forget to leave comments, I'm happy when I hear your opinion on my chapters ;) like × reblog!¡ original by:: @hyunjinners ^-^

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

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𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Meguru Bachira x reader [ SYNOPSIS ] You're Bachira's good luck charm. idk there's no plot, don't think too hard about it. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.6k [ CONTENT ] Aged up!Bachira, he went pro (ayyyy), knife play, blood play, sadomasochism, praise, marking, scars, y/n is kinda needy (but so is he), vaginal sex, size kink (I believe in big dick Bachira), teasing, nipple play, overstimulation, pet names (baby), creampie.

You hated away games, loathed them. They were an inevitable occurrence, something you should have grown used to over time. But still the night before every flight you spiraled, lamenting that you couldn’t follow Bachira around. It wasn’t because you were insecure or lacked trust; you just hated sleeping alone. There was nothing more disappointing than rolling over in bed at three in the morning, reaching for him, and then remembering, Ah, yeah. He’s in Sapporo. You had always assumed you’d build up a callus, one to protect you from the melancholy known to overwhelm you on those lonely nights.

Unfortunately every away game was a wound reopened.

In six hours Bachira would be flying first class to Fukuoka, sleeping with his face pressed against the window. His team’s manager was less than enthused with this arrangement. He thought it was ridiculous to spend an extra day at home and fly out the day of the game, but denying the left back was easier said than done. Bachira’s beguiling whimsy and immense talent rendered most people under his spell. The world was effectively his for the taking, his manager no different.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you sighed.

You tried to ignore the looming dread that hung around you, but it was nigh impossible while straddling him. He fluttered his long, dark eyelashes and looked up, leaving you bewitched by his golden gaze. It radiated a fervent adoration no other man was capable of. He was artful in his mastery, his affection unmatched.

“I know,” he said, pinching your cheek.

You batted his hand away.

“You sure you don’t want to get some rest? I’ll feel moderately guilty if you fuck up tomorrow.”

“Stop,” he whined. “I’ll be fine. It’s a short flight and it’s not like I’m gonna be playing the second I get there.”

He would be fine, he always was. He had his ways; the absurd things he did in the name of good luck never failed him. So you surrendered yourself and bought into his vision like you had many times before. There was nothing to worry about, all you needed to do was trust him.

Still you couldn’t hide your melancholic expression. You’d miss him all the same, win or lose.

“C’mon. You believe in me, don’t you?” he asked. He gave you a cat-like grin, one that would make you sign your life over to him.

“Yes, yes, yes. I believe you.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, tickling your sides.

You groaned. “I’m—ugh—I told you. I'm going to miss you, alright”

“Aww. I could come inside you if that’ll help,” he teased.

“You were going to do that anyway!”

He playfully stuck out his tongue as he slipped his hands under your shirt. His hands were big and weighty, but his fingers were elegant. His palms rough; his touch tender. He tugged at the hem of the shirt and giggled.

“You thief,” he said, pulling it off of you. “I was looking for this while I was packing.”

“Not my fault it’s the perfect nightgown.”

He tossed it in the general location of his half-packed suitcase.

“At least it’ll smell like me now,” you said coyly.

He sat up and buried his face in your neck, taking in the scent of your skin. He let out a dreamy sigh as he exhaled. It was such a lovely noise, one you wanted to hear again and again. You reached down and stroked his soft cock. You pulled back his foreskin and rubbed your thumb around his sensitive tip. He shivered with delight.

“I need all my stuff to smell like you. Go roll around in my suitcase for a little bit.”

“How about I give you some pairs of dirty underwear to remember me by instead?” you snickered as you squeezed the base of his cock.

He rutted against your fist. “Fine, but they have to be those tiny, cotton ones. They feel the best against my skin.”

“Anything for you.”

He looked so sweet lying beneath you. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his pecs, and felt the rise and fall of his chest. His warm skin was dappled with water, his sinewy body fresh out of the shower. The towel he haphazardly wrapped around his hair had unraveled, each strand exuding the scent of your shampoo. His cheeks were glassy, a sure sign he slathered on your facial serum and night cream. Even his skin smelled like yours. He wriggled under you, trying to guide your attention to his semi-erect cock. You decided you wanted to tease him a bit, make him earn it.

“Don’t you need a good night’s rest so you can win tomorrow?” you asked, dropping your arms to your sides.

He scoffed. “I have my ways,” he said, eyes fixed on the thin scars etched on your upper chest.

You decided to change your tune. Wasting time was criminal.

“Hm. Remind me of what those are. I forgot.”

He grinned and began to dig around the bedside table for his tools. He pulled out a wooden box with a floret of goldenrod painted on the lid. Inside were some single-use scalpels and a modest first aid kit. He pulled you close, hand resting on the small of your back, and licked the cluster of scars. Each one was a thin line about an inch in length and spaced close together like tally marks. They were all perfectly straight, the handiwork of a master. You were proud to bear them.

Bachira held the scalpel between his fingers, his eyes narrowed and focused. You froze like a statue awaiting the chisel of a sculptor. The blade glided across your skin; you barely registered the sensation.

“Deeper,” you urged.

He ran the blade across the slit once more. Blood trickled freely from the wound. He made another cut underneath. It was deeper and hurt more than the first one. He watched as the blood made its way down your breasts and let out a giddy whine as it clung to your nipple. Unable to contain himself he swirled his tongue around it. Your cunt throbbed as he held it in between his teeth. He looked up at you, his eyes wild with adoration. You loved seeing him like this. You felt special, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He licked up the trails of blood before rolling his tongue against the cuts. It was like getting stung by bees. You loved finding ecstasy in the ache. You’d forever be in debt to Bachira for aiding you in your libertine awakening, for leading you hand-in-hand down the proverbial primrose path. He was the first to show how to walk the line between pain and pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he whimpered before sucking on your breast once more.

You lifted his chin and kissed him. You ran your tongue over his lips, the taste of your blood still lingering on them. He eagerly opened his mouth, overtaking yours. His kisses were always sloppy, wet, and needy. His desperate passion knew no bounds and you wouldn't have it any other way. You slowly stroked his cock, his precum sliding in between your fingers.

He panted, “I need it now.”

You kissed his forehead and slid his cock inside your dripping cunt. He tossed his head back and let out a heavenly moan. You bounced up and down, driving his cocktip into your cervix. His girth was a gift from god. You felt so full, almost like you would burst at the seams.

He lapped at the blood trickling from your cuts. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair, letting the strands snake around them. You wanted to become a part of him, for your bodies to meld into one. Both of you were swept up in a euphoric frenzy. As he rutted against you he pinched your swollen clit. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of your desperate yelps.

“Gentle! Gentle!” you said, squirming.

It was too strong a sensation. You were so full as it was; you weren’t sure you could weather another intense sensation. You felt like his cock was buried deep in your stomach.

“Ah,” you winced. “Me—Meguru, it’s too mu—”

He forced you to look at him, his yellow eyes overwhelmed by dark pupils, and sweetly said, “Your body can take it.”

Five words was all it took to bewitch you. He alternated between pinching your clit and massaging it. You felt like you were ascending as your orgasm inched closer.

“You gonna come all over my cock?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” you whined.

His thrusts were relentless, not a hint of mercy in his touch. It was maddening. You kept babbling his name, begging him for more. Shame was a concept neither of you were familiar with. Neither of you could quiet yourselves. It was a chorus of panting, whimpering, and moaning. As your orgasm crescendoed all you could do was choke out a few expletives and drool.

“That’s it, baby,” Bachira said, jaw clenched and completely charmed by your demeanor.

He held you close and took the lead, driving his cock into your cunt, lips pressed against your still bleeding cuts. You felt like you were operating on a different plane of existence. The only thing that brought you back to reality was the warm feeling of Bachira’s cum filling you up. You collapsed in his arms, and tried to catch your breath.

“Was… that… helpful?” you murmured.

“Oh yeah. I’m gonna bring you home a win,” he purred against your ear.

#bachira meguru x reader #meguru bachira x reader #bachira x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #bachira smut #.fics #.bllk #.bachira #x reader #reader insert

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

Note

Oooh idk if someone already asked for it but what about how TADC cast would react if they were under a mistletoe with their S/O

TADC cast x reader under the mistletoe!

i know i literally just said that i was going to post because i just came down from a little..... emotional high (negative) but i feel too guilty not answering stuff today so im probably going to answer this and a few more simply because im going to feel so guilty if i dont do anything today which is just going to make me feel worse than i already do so uhuhuhuhuh... jack stauber coming in clutch rn i know i usually answer stuff in the order of them being sent in but to do a silly compromise for my silly people pleaser mindset im going to knock out the ones that are easier for me sooooooo

CAINE:

oh you just know that hes the one who planted the mistletoe in the first place.... i mean as soon as he found out about the tradition, assuming he didnt already know.. i just know hes going to do whatever he can to get you under it. does he know that he can ask for a kiss? yes! but he wants to be festive and do some traditions and stuff! gives you the biggest "kiss" he can give you when you finally get stuck together under one... probably knocks you back a little bit from how enthusiastic he is...

POMNI:

very shy about it, i think she would give you a cheek kiss rather than a mouth kiss, especially if there are other people around. pomni doesnt strike me as the type to one to full on kiss their partner when theres an audience, so i hope you can understand her aversion! its not that she doesnt want to kiss you, shes just shy about the eyes watching the two of you... though, she would be more inclined to do it if it were just the two of you in the area!

RAGATHA:

honestly she looks like she would love christmas. i dont know why and i cant explain why. so i think she would love most of the activities and traditions surrounding it. and yes, this includes the mistletoe! i think for most of these, the mistletoe would be hung up by caine to really sell the festive mood.... and ragatha likely wouldnt have planned this, but inevitably you guys get under it at the same time. not as against PDA as some of the others, i think, so i think she would give you a very gentle kiss on your lips. very bashful if you beat her to it, though. kind of folds her hands together and digs her foot into the ground... you know the stance, hopefully.. kind of swaying a little while her face is burning up

JAX:

probably makes a big stink of it, whether trying to deny the kiss or to lean into it. i can honestly see both... does NOT let you be the one to initiate the kiss, since while he hates PDA, i think he hates it more when hes on the receiving end. say it all the time, its a vulnerability thing for him. he doesnt like other people seeing him flustered... now will a simple kiss from you make him pink in the face? probably not, but he would rather not risk it! plus, he wants to take this as a moment to tease you! will not let you live it down if you even get the slightest bit embarrassed from whatever hes going to do under that mistletoe

KINGER:

think i mentioned this in the kiss cam request, but kinger is not against giving you kisses when theres an audience. like he wont full on make out with you in front of others (ignoring the fact that he doesnt have a mouth, much less a functional one) but i am a firm believer that he and other characters with a nontraditional mouth just nuzzle into your face in place of kisses... hmm... probably make a big show of asking if he can go ahead, afterall hes royalty! whats a royal without chivalry! very gently presses where his mouth would be against your lips for a few seconds before walking you guys to where ever you were planning to go before someone stopped you and alerted you both of the mistletoe above. generally very sweet and dorky, i think

ZOOBLE:

does not like giving or receiving affection in public, the furthest they are willing to go is hand holding and simple name calling.... if no one is around when you guys are under the mistletoe, theyre more than willing to let you have your kiss, but if theres even one person around, theyre going to show a little aversion to it... on one hand i want to say that they might suck it up and lean into their "its whatever" attitude, but i dont feel... like that suits them, and on top of that whats the point if someone is clearly not having fun/not comfortable, you know? so theyre more likely to gently reject you... though i like to think that they make up for it by giving you a kiss behind closed doors!

GANGLE:

freezes like a deer in headlights when someone loudly announces that you guys stopped together under a mistletoe, the eyes of her mask going wide and her mouth just going straight... if she has her comedy mask, she might be a little less.. frozen, but not by much... but with her tragedy mask? nope, shes totally still and quiet, poor thing.... you almost feel bad, so really theres a chance you just take her away from the scene rather than kissing her.... doesnt like being put on the spot for things like that, especially if the person alerting you guys of the mistletoe is making a huge scene (either caine or jax... though with caine it would be more so lighthearted fun with no malice, whereas jax is just being jax)

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

Note

Hi darling today i am into angst (idk why) so this is my ask

So, creator reader was tortured and killed (by literaly everyone) so when she comes back TRAUMATIZATED OF DEATH she doesn't speaks to anyone, she doesn't scream if she is angry or so, she just cries until the persons who hurt her are not near her. She also has a fav tea(you choose darling), a comfort meal (you choose again) and a COMFORT PLUSHIE(it can be any plushie sweetie) who gets carried in the creators arms

What do you think darling?

✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*｡

Ooh, super cute idea, anon! Angst it shall be, though I can't promise I'll be any good at it lol- And sorry, idk if you want Fem!Reader, but I mainly do GN!Reader so- :')

Also, before anyone gets confused or I have to use repetitive words:

F/T = Favorite Tea F/F = Favorite Food/Meal

As for the plush, I'll simply use the basic teddy bear. I know, kind of plain—but tbh I kind of like it so we're keeping it, bois.

I hope you enjoy this oneshot!

Disclaimers! This Oneshot includes: Bad Grammar, Spelling Mistakes, Angst, Mentions of Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of torture (briefly), & Arguments.

If you are not okay with these terms, or are facing some sort of mental illness yourself, please skip this story.

Please let me know if I mess a warning!

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭.

It was over.

It was finally over. You were finally free from that torment—that torture. You knew it the very moment you closed your eyes, and the world went dark.

Yet, Teyvat wasn't letting you go. No, it refused to let you go. You were stuck, in this stupid hellhole you once used as your get-away from reality.

You're stuck in an absolute nightmare you had once dreamed of being in. And you hate how you still feel guilty for hating it.

But, most of all, you hate how you're still stuck in this miserable world. You hate it, you hate it, you hate it.

These "acolytes" of yours were sickening. They kept begging for your attention, no matter how many times you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. You felt like you could keel over puking whenever they get down on their knees and beg for forgiveness.

You already forgave them. What were they continuously pestering you for? Isn't forgiveness enough to ask from their victim? The person they hurt the most?

You took a sip out of your F/T, trying to calm your nerves. Your "followers" were all nothing but heartless NPCs, you reason with yourself. You've given them enough.

And yet, you still felt guilty for ignoring them. Their eyes tear up like the day you were killed, after the most, horrible, bloody, and messy—

You shudder, shutting down that thought as best you can. You've drank all of your F/T just thinking about this entire thing to begin with, so you focused on your F/F. Only half of it was eaten.

You take a bite out of it, trying to fight away the tears as you remember another memory during your time in this wretched world. A person, out of nowhere, just straight up yelling at you, threatening you, insulting you...

You hate to feel weak, but at the same time, you feared to be too mean. So you stayed there and took it, praying that this annoying and upsetting person would just go away already.

They eventually do, but it felt too long. Your heart was broken, and your eyes just shed a tear or two. You were glad you had your teddy bear in your bag, as you cuddled it to your chest in that spot to make you feel less sad.

Truly, damn this world. Even if your heart couldn't let go just yet.

The End.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I have no idea if I did this good or not but I do hope you like this, anon! And, if anyone's curious for whatever reason, the GIF was chosen because it's like Reader drowning in their memories :')

✦ Check Out the Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#yandere sagau #sagau genshin #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #sagau angst #sagau fluff #genshin self aware #genshin x reader #imposter au #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #genshin cult au #self aware genshin

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