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ꨄ︎ warnings : a lot of fluff & humour, cursing, bickering, suggestive in some!
ꨄ︎ slide count : 27 (3 per member!)
ꨄ︎ author's note : i’ve been wanting to make smau type of works for &team for the longest time!! i really hope this does well, it took so long to come up with so many different scenarios (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) lmk if i should do more! all support is appreciated, i hope u enjoy jokitties 🪽
𐙚 in which you get in an argument with the teamies and they say some not so nice things
𐙚 masterlist | taglist | requested? yes!
𐙚 warnings - established relationships, idol teamies, mean words, arguments, hurt/comfort bcs writing heart aching angst hurts my soul, 5/9 teamies bcs i was too lazy to write the rest of em
𐙚 a/n: this took me a minute to write but this helped my fear of writing angst... i hope its everything you wanted and more anon !!
𐙚 koga yudai
you knew kei was exhausted from preparing for the upcoming comeback. it was going to be their biggest one, and yudai always wanted to work his hardest to make sure not just himself was perfect but everyone else was as well. he told you and reassured you that even if he was upset, or tired, when he got back home that it wasnt your fault, and that just being around you made him feel better. and today was no different. he'd come home a little later then usual from practice but it wasnt unexpected. he just wanted to take a shower and sleep. and thats what he had started doing, until after he stepped out of the shower. "yudai, you have to eat something." your voice, quiet, but stern, called out. he just sighed, not having the energy to even speak. your hands found the sides of kei's figure, wrapping around his waist as his head hung low and his hands gripped the sides of the sink. "can you not." it wasnt loud, not snappy or cold. just sad. "i'm just trying to take c-" "just right now, loving you is exhausting. i just need to be alone." he said, still in the original position he was standing in. except now your arms werent holding him. they were holding yourself. you knew he wasnt saying this out of spite, or to hurt you. he was just tired. but it hurt. hearing the person you loved the most telling you that you were too much to be loved at this moment. lip trembling as you held back tears. "okay." is all you could muster out. stepping away, leaving the bathroom as you headed to your shared bedroom. collecting your things. you knew it was probably a little overdramatic, but he wanted to be alone. who were you to not give him what he wanted?yudai realized what he'd done. that what he'd said hurt. even if he didnt mean the words that came out of his mouth, he still felt horrible. "baby.. i'm so sorry, please dont leave me." yudai's eyes glazed over, his lip now trembling as he knelt down on the ground in front of you. palming your calves as his forehead rested against your knees. "i dont want,,,, i dont need to be alone.. i just need to be with you, you always make me feel better. i'm so sorry i didnt mean anything i said." you could feel his wet tears against your legs, he was shaking as he gripped your legs tight, scared you'd walk away, scared you'd leave him. meeting yudai on the floor, you pulled him into a deep hug. leaving kisses all over his cheek, ear, and neck. "i'm not gonna leave you, yudai. i'm here... i'm here." small sobs still coming from kei as you pet his hair, calming him down. "i love you so much." he whispered before drifting off in your arms.
𐙚 murata fuma
"fuma you need to talk to me!" "i am! we're talking right now!" communication with your boyfriend recently has been choppy. he's been at the dorms more than home and in the practice room even more. you barely have time to even say hello to eachother, and you know its not either of your faults. but it feels like you've just hit a brick wall. "this isn't talking, this is arguing." "well i feel like every conversation we've had for the past two months has been just an argument." "you're right." it was exhausting, for the both of you. the upcoming comeback was weighing on not just him but you as well. knowing he wasnt going to even be in the same country as you for who knows how long, you hadnt been apart for that long before and you didnt know what was going to happen. sleepless nights without fuma in your bed, thinking about your relationship and how it was going to survive this. you've gone through so many other hardships and have come out strong but this felt different. like something bad was going to happen, it was your gut feeling but you didnt want to trust it. you wanted to just have the love of your life back. all the thoughts running through your head at once. it was overwhelming, too much for you to handle. you could feel the tears start to well up. you didnt want to cry, not now, not in the middle of whatever this was. "whats going to happen fuma." voice cracking, holding back tears. "whats gonna happen when you're overseas? you've already been so distant, i just.. i just dont want to loose you." tears finally shedding, falling down your face as your lip quivered. he just shook his head. "i dont know." is all he said, barely a whisper, but you still heard. did he not want to fight for the relationship? did he not want this as badly as you did? legs giving out, feeling weak as you slumped on the couch. hunched over, face in your palms as you cried. losing fuma would break you. more then you'd already been. then you felt it. his warmth enveloping you. strong arms wrapping around your body that'd been shaking. "i cant lose you either. you're everything to me." your arms finally wrapping around his body as you cried into his shoulder. his hands rubbing up and down your back, soothing you. murmuring how much he loves you while kissing your temple. maybe it would be okay.
𐙚 wang yixiang
you honestly had no clue what was going on. nico had come home in a bad mood. you assumed it was something to do with being at the studio all day so you tried to make him feel better. ask him what'd been bothering him and if there was anything you could do to help and he just brushed you off. not even responding to your questions. not even a look at you. you'd decided to give him space because that's obviously what he wanted. but it'd been almost two hours he'd been home and he hadnt spoken a single word to you. "nico, seriously, please tell me what's bothering you. maybe talking about it will make you feel better?" "right now you're the one bothering me, just leave me be." yeah, that stung right to your core. just wanting to be there and help your boyfriend made you annoying? your lips tightened into a thin line before just walking away without a word. not wanting to 'bother' him anymore. sure it was petty, maybe he didnt mean it, maybe he just had a bad day. but there was no reason to take it out on you. you sat on the couch after leaving your shared bedroom —where nico had been camping out— and just turned on the tv and started watching your show. paying no mind to how nico had just treated you. if he was going to act like a baby he can be treated like one. then your head started racing. what if you'd actually done something to upset him? what if you were bothering him? picking at your nails and staring blankly as your mind spun. before you even realized you felt arms wrap around you. looking over and seeing nico's head burried in your neck as he breathed you in. "i didnt mean it, you dont bother me ever, thank you for worrying about me baby." he hummed into your collarbone. a giant sigh of relief came out of you before your arms wrapped around nico, fingers running through his hair. "its okay, i know,,,, never speak to me like that ever again though or else you'll be sleeping on the sidewalk." "yes ma'am."
𐙚 asakura jo
you and jo never got into arguments. i mean never. not even over a food place. you were just always in sync and just knew what each other always wanted. jo'd gotten home particularly late one night. you always would stay up late —even if you'd had work that day— to greet him and so you could go to bed together. you were waiting and waiting.... and waiting. and nothing. you'd even texted him asking if he was going to get home late, and no answer. just left on delivered. you sighed, giving up for the night as the clock read 2:00 am, you'd just see him in the morning, or at whatever ungodly time he climbed into bed with you because you werent a particularly heavy sleeper. while gathering your things to move into your bedroom you heard the lock on the door click and the door creak open. you watched as your boyfriend's tall frame slide through the door, closing it behind him. after looking at him for a moment, you continued grabbing your things. "not even a hello?" "not even a text you wouldnt be home until 2 am? i'm not playing that game jo. goodnight." is all you said before going to your shared bedroom. you didnt expect him to follow you. "whats your problem?" "are you actually serious right now? i texted you like ten times and you just left me on delivered. you could've been dead on the side of the road for all i knew." you continued getting ready for bed as you ranted to him, about himself. he just scoffed and shook his head. "do you seriously think you're not in the wrong here? a text would've been nice. i have work in the morning you know." "i never asked you to stay up for me." "you dont have to jo.. i always do. i do it because i love you and i want to see you before my day ends." "well loving you is exhausting sometimes." that stopped your whole world. your heart dropping to your stomach,, or maybe it jumped out of your throat? you couldnt tell at this point. you just stared at him. blank. emotionless. while all of the emotions that werent showing on your face, went crazy on the inside. the man you loved just told you that being with you was exhausting. "just go. you shouldn't have even come back home." you sighed out, eyes finally breaking, all the emotions that you were trying to hold back, spilling out as you pushed him out of your shared bedroom. closing the door, and locking it. choked sobs leaving you as you slid your back down the door. jo on the other hand. didnt even realize what he'd said. he was just talking out of his ass. he wanted to be in the right so bad —even if he knew he wasnt— that he wouldve said anything in that moment. he could hear your cries from the other side of the door. all he wanted to do was kick it down and hug you. tell you that he didnt mean it and that he was wrong and he should've texted. but he couldnt. he just sat there. on the other side of the door, listening as you cried. eventually the cries stopped. but he could still see the shadow under the door. he knew you were still there. "please, open the door." he whispered, just loud enough to if you were awake, you'd hear him. and you did. the lock clicked, and you shuffled away from the door. staying on the ground, not having enough energy to get up. jo on the other hand, rushed in, not giving it a second thought before seeing your hunched over figure on the ground. immediately enveloping you in his arms. "i'm wrong, i was wrong. i should've texted you, i shoulda told you i was going to be home late, im so sorry. and you're not exhausting, you're everything to me." jo word vomited out, trying to say everything he was thinking for the past —what felt like— eternity. sniffles and more tears came from you, jo's warmth felt so good, even if you didnt fully forgive him. "please dont cry, i hate knowing that i made you cry. i love you so much."
𐙚 maus riki
the week of your period was always the hardest. on the worst days, the pain would physically debilitate you, not being able to stand without your uterus feeling like it was ripping out of you. maki was always there to help. always bringing your favorite snacks and herbal teas. always there with a heating pad and a smile to tell you everything was going to be alright. well,, almost always. it was different. today was just,, off. is what it felt like. maybe he was just having a rough day. or maybe it was the upcoming comeback that was stressing him out more than usual. but he was distant, still there, but distant. not even a hand on yours or a sweet smile. not that you expected it, he always helped out of the care in his heart for you, not because you asked. but without his help, for some reason, you felt empty. it wasnt his job to help you but you still appreciated it so much and it felt like a loss when he didnt. "maki,, can you pass me-" "i'm not your arrand boy you know." he snapped, it was quick, a short quip that stung you in your core. leaving your jaw dropped. you always felt bad when maki went out of his way to help you, always telling him how he didnt need to and that he was too sweet to you. that just made you feel 10 times worse.. did he always feel like that whenever he helped you? like you were taking advantage of him? "i.. i'm sorry." is all you could muster out, bringing your knees into your chest on the couch that had been laid out on maki's thighs. now on complete opposite sides of the couch, you sat divided. "yn.. i didnt-" "no its okay, you did." you just got up walking away to your bedroom, not wanting to be around him. maki on the other hand was racking his brain to find out why he'd even said that. he loved helping you. it made him feel like the best boyfriend ever when he saw the smile on your face when he handed you your favorite snack. he was just stressed out and he took it out on you when he didnt mean to. he ended up following shortly after you to your room. the door was closed and he didnt want to intrude. a gentle palm against the door before he called out your name. "please let me in." he sighed out. he was willing to stand there and wait all night if necessary. but the door cracked open, creaking as it slowly opened. maki met with your sad face as you looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. his hands instantly cupping your cheeks bringing your face up so his eyes could meet yours. "i didnt mean it, i love being your arrand boy." "like that makes me feel any better." maki smiled at the cute pout that enveloped your face. his arms wrapped around you in a comforting hug. "i'm sorry, just been really stressed recently, i didnt mean to take it out on you. please keep asking me to do stuff for you, it makes me feel like the best boyfriend ever."
synopsis | sfw and nsfw headcanons for sweet, sweet boyfriend!jo, who has been hiding some interesting drawings from you.
details | boyfriend!jo x female!reader, non idol au, established relationship, fluff, jo is a sweetheart of course, below the cut is SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, sub!jo, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex (WRAP IT!), cum eating, cursing, not proofread, requested
wc | 1.1k
from the author | ive never written headcanons before and im 90% sure i did not do them Right. i wrote a normal fic in a horrifically complicated way. enjoy anyway i had fun :D also let me know if the cut placement is annoying and ill edit it to put everything under the cut !!
boyfriend!jo who, after mustering up every ounce of courage within him, planned an elaborate, romantic, and very public first date for the two of you. the restaurant was notoriously fancy, so he rented a tux and asked that you, too, wear something nice. although he thought you'd look beautiful in anything.
boyfriend!jo who visibly sighed a breath of relief when you suggested abandoning the dinner reservation and ordering a pizza to his apartment. the two of you sat in his floor dressed to the nines, stringing beads on plastic thread and bordering on madness when the fully constructed bracelets slid from between your greasy fingers before you could tie it off.
boyfriend!jo who carries the shopping basket while the two of you are grocery shopping because you once complained that the metal handles dig into your fingers.
boyfriend!jo who slowly piles blankets on top of you while you watch movies together, hoping that you'll be too comfortable by the time the credits roll to leave. alternatively, you'll just be stuck on the couch with him.
boyfriend!jo who feeds you popcorn while your arms are trapped beneath nine blankets.
boyfriend!jo who hangs onto your every word when you speak to the point that you reconsider what you're even talking about. what am i even saying, you wonder. he cant possibly be this interested in your friend's secondhand workplace drama. but he's listening, actively, attentively. because its you.
boyfriend!jo who secretly loves being little spoon, curling his long legs into yours and sinking into your hold.
boyfriend!jo who attempts to bake you a cake for your anniversary and ends up with more ingredients outside the mixing bowl than in.
boyfriend!jo who stole your heart, yes, but also steals glances at you more often than not, sometimes snapping a candid photo to use as a reference when he draws you in his notebook later.
boyfriend!jo who nearly cried when you gifted him the expensive set of pencils he'd been wanting forever but couldn't justify buying for himself. after giving you a swift kiss, he crammed his sketchbook and pencils into a bag and pulled you to the nearest cafe. he spent the next hour having you pose in sunlight, experimenting with shadows and basking in every moment with you.
boyfriend!jo who used his new pencils to add rich, blended color to a different, secret sketchbook, one you were never supposed to see.
boyfriend!jo who left his private sketchbook on the table, spine cracked and pages face down. he should have known you'd be curious about his work. you're always astonished by his varying styles, vivid interpretations of shared experiences. this time, however, you flipped the book over to reveal something you've never seen, at least not from that angle.
boyfriend!jo who has dedicated several pages of the sketchbook to lewd illustrations. ultra detailed, vibrant depictions of you, your pussy stretched and leaking, your lips swollen and coated in white. all hand drawn and from memory. you flip through the pages, thighs clenching, ideas brewing.
boyfriend!jo who comes home and sees the sketchbook face up, whose heart drops into his stomach as he anxiously peers into the kitchen in search of you, and who eventualy finds you on the bed, waiting for him with your clothes in a pile and your knees falling open.
boyfriend!jo who freezes in the doorway, watching your fingers pump in and out of your desperate hole. he feels his dick strain in his pants as your free hand gropes and twists at your nipple.
boyfriend!jo who manages to choke out a generous, "c-can i help you?"
boyfriend!jo who, after you reply with, "no, thank you, baby," seethes with lust, watching you bring yourself to completion in front of him. your orgasm racks over your body, your mewls and gasps sending all the blood to his cock.
boyfriend!jo who is so obedient, fetching his special sketchbook and sitting on the bed in front of you, just like you asked. as he settles, shifting uncomfortably from the way his dick is pressing against his jeans, you say, "i saw your drawings, jojo. you're very good, wouldn't you say?"
boyfriend!jo who cant stop staring at the crease of your thigh as you speak, your legs folded to one side. he knows what he wants from you but he just cant take it. he needs you to give it to him. "y-yes," he gulps, "especially when its you."
boyfriend!jo who has never been so needy, his mind actually spinning when you suggest, or rather insist, that he use you as a live model. "pose me however you want," you had said with a smile despite the venom of your intentions seeping between your words, "and if its good, i'll let you touch me."
boyfriend!jo who outlines your body on the page, truthfully and precisely. every curve, every shadow captured on paper to the best of his ability. with his tongue tucked between his teeth, he shades with a slanted wrist, washes the whole image in a gentle pigment, highlights the glistening slopes of your breasts and the pulsing slit of your pussy. and when he turns the book around to show you, you feel your face grow hot. his interpretation of you is perfectly honest and raw, beautifully executed.
boyfriend!jo who sighs into your pussy when you finally let him touch you, taste you.
boyfriend!jo who whines as you thread your fingers into his hair, grinding desperately against the bed as the taste of you covers every inch of his tongue. he was so good in every way.
boyfriend!jo who gets the most satisfaction just laying helplessly beneath you and letting you use him for your own pleasure. he loves watching your body roll and twist above him, caressing your thighs and, if he's feeling brave, ghosting his fingers over your nipples.
boyfriend!jo who knows hes not allowed to cum inside of you, so he fists the sheets and rolls his own hips to bring you closer to the edge. you know he's close when his frantic whimpers regress into concentrated breathing, teetering on stifled groans but just controlled enough that you know he wants to make you proud.
boyfriend!jo who lets you ride out your high before pulling out and spilling hot cum all up his stomach.
boyfriend!jo who shivers when you lower your tongue to his skin and lap the majority of it up, just before pulling the freshly drawn page out of his sketchbook and using it to wipe up the rest.
boyfriend!jo who takes the paper from your hand and drags it over the scattered droplets on his chest.
boyfriend!jo who, after a sudden rush of confidence, slides his sensitive tip through your pussy and sighs, "let me draw you while im inside?"
oh, never underestimate how touchy this boy can be.
when you first got together, jo was so polite, so gentle. he'd ask to hold your hand like he was asking for something precious, eyes sparkling as he hesitantly gestured toward you. his ears almost always gave him away. the pretty glowing pink that crept down the back of his neck proved just how shy he really was around you.
but the more time you spent together, the braver he became with his touch.
now, he keeps your skin touching his in some way, though he makes it so subtle that you barely notice half the time. sitting next to each other on the couch, his knee is bent and raised to press against your hip. if youre seated across each other, his hand is draped over yours, not gripping, just loosely holding.
in the morning, jo brings you coffee with fleeting touches, fingers grazing yours for a beat too long. he makes sure to leave a soft kiss on your hair before taking the seat next to you, sharing your breakfast together as the warm quiet wraps around you.
before he leaves for work, he intertwines your hands and brings them close to his lips, whispering that he'll be back early for you. his eyes carrying all the love in the world, swelling hearts threatening to jump out of his eyes.
his favorite form of touch is a forehead touch as you sleep. he loves pulling you close, and when you protest because of the heat, his pout is audible in his voice. his hand rubs over your sides, lingering on your hips. his voice is soft and gentle when he asks for you to flip over and face him. he can't sleep unless your forehead is touching his, and that precious smile that spreads across his face when you finally comply makes you forget all about the sweltering heat.
jo just loves being close to you, the simple warmth of your presence. if he spends too long without you, his lips finds a pout. he just wants to be near his one and only. 𖹭
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
-- jo hates whenever jealousy consumes him, but you love it.
18+ | jo x fem!reader | wc: 1.2k | masterlist | smut + comfort
warnings: language, kissing, piv, vvvv small spanking, kinda mean!jo, overstim, squirting, mentions of euijoo, no protectionnn but he doesn't cum inside
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
jo never fucks you face down.
you never questioned it—always assuming that he wasn't a fan of the position. thinking he preferred the gentle closeness, the way he could cup your jaw with a featherlight grip to have you face him—brows furrowing when be leaned into the kiss, his mind on overdrive.
he always handled you with such care when the two you had sex. his breathing shaky as he was constantly whimpering out an, "are you alright? what do you need from me?" his warm palms tracing your hips and stomach and waist.
but everything he's doing tonight is completely out of character, and you're doing your best to take advantage of it.
his hands are pressing down on your lower back, practically forcing an arch out of you as your cheek pressed against the freshly cleaned sheets of his.
"fuck, jo," you moan out, your voice rough as your breathed heavy through your mouth. your eyes rolling back as his hips never slowed, slamming into your wet cunt over and over and over.
his grip on your hips vicious, you feel the addicting sting of his fingernails digging into your skin, sure to leave marks. but the way it all felt, you didn't care.
your body twitches involuntarily, your body jerking foward.
he groans, "get back here." he gruffs out, tugging you back to him. he doesn't even sound like your jo anymore.
you feel more juices gush out of you as he roughens. your shaky fingers are digging into the sheets, having nothing else to grip onto.
you feel him pull out, his tip barely kissing the entrance of your cunt. you churn your head around, watching as he stared directly into your pussy. he was regaining himself. he had to, if he didn't, he knows he would've came in seconds.
you laugh, "whats wrong, baby. don't tell me your close already." your voice echoes in his head, he mutters out a curse as he leaned over your body, his chest right against your back.
you groan at the motion, feeling his sweaty, hot chest and rapid heartbeat thumping against your back.
his hand snaked around your body, resting right on your collarbone. "you don't know how hard I'm holding myself back right now." his eyes dark as he stares back at you.
your body slumps, "mmm... i don't know if i believe that." your push your ass flush against his cock, grinding your hips as your hand lowers itself in between your thighs.
drawing your moans as you toy with your clit, your head falling forward and your voice becoming pitchy as you held eye
you could feel the anger bubbling inside him, his eyes darting between your face and your body.
his jaw clenched, "you think this is funny?" his body lifts off of your back. "you're such a fucking brat." he shakes his head, his palm slides down your spine, over the curve of your ass. you're waiting to feel his grip on you there, your hole clenching around nothing.
his hand raises up, hovering right above the skin for half a moment before coming down sharp. the sound cracks im the room as you moan out, the sound erupting from within your chest.
the sting fluttering under your skin, your hips jerking forward as you felt his hand again.
he was thanking all that was holy that you couldn't see him right now, his mind was running wild as his eyes and heartbeat grew frantic.
he never did this to you, always too afraid to mark and dent your delicate skin. he never smushed your face against the sheets or spank you. but he couldn't deny that his cock jumped everytime he did, watching as your eyes rolled back and you gripped on the cotton sheets beneath you.
he knew if you told him to stop, he'd do it in a second.
but not a word as escaped your mouth. he bit his lip hard, poor cock aching for some attention. the head red and leaking, he needed to be back inside of you.
he lines himself up with his other hand, the one on your ass kneading the skin, almost apologetic.
his stills for a beat, rubbing the head in your gushing juices as he listened to the way your squelched, speaking to him. practically begging him.
his cock pushed in, slamming all the way into your tight cunt as it sucked him in. gripping him in a way that made him never want to pull out.
the thick stretch causing a burn between your legs, the most delicipus burn as he never let up. his cock bullying into your gummy pussy, not pausing to check on you.
because he knows. he knows your body so, so well.
and you can tell from the way his thighs slap against your ass, his hands holding onto your hips as he pulled it back against him.
heavy breaths, groans, and moans escaped him. you tried your best to focus on him, but the moment he brought a hand down to rub your clit roughly, so suddenly, you screamed out a moan.
"jo!" your mind completely blanked as your body grew hot. you fell limp against the matress, too weak to hold your body up anymore as sounds escaped you. sounds that don't even sound like you—they're broken, glutteral, desperate.
your walls clamp down on him, spasming around him as you heard him whimper. whimper?
he's holding off his own orgasm, still fucking into you as your body shook beneath him. he groans like it hurts, his hips stuttering as he heard you whine.
"too much, 's too much... i can't jo, fuck." your voice wobbly as tears welled up in your eyes.
fuck. he hates how beautiful you look.
"yes, you can," his long fingers didn't stop even when he slowed his thrusts. your clit throbbing as your hands came up to push his wrist weakly, clearly not working.
you shook your head, head turned as your pleading eyes met him. "y–you're so mean, jo." you pouted, legs shaking as his cock picked up their pace again.
he laughed, laced with amusement. "me? i don't think i was being mean when you pressed your all up against euijoo."
you whine at the memory. "c'mon, I–I wasn't serious!" you pushed out the words, hiccuping as your letters slurred together.
he scoffs, "euijoo thought you were. his face was fucking red and his hand covering his cock when you sat next to him. he's probably jerking off right now," his chest burns as he speaks, a dry chuckle escaping him. "thinking about you, about your body. you like that don't you?" was this really jealousy? he needed this feeling out of him. his mind trying to push the image of his bandmate touching himself to you out of his mind.
you did it all on purpose, of course.
you just wanted to tease your boyfriend, rile him up. and you got that. but you got a completely different jo now, too.
"you made me wait the whole night. and I couldn't even say anything, not to you, or–shit, to him." his pace quickened, his words breaking as he spoke.
your breath catches as the second wave builds quickly, more intense than the first. thighs clamping shut pathetically as your back arches. "j–jo it feels weird." your brows furrowing as whimpers escaped you, a heavy feeling settling within your lower belly.
"it's okay, pretty, cum for me. c'mon I know you can."
jo's hips stutter against yours, his cock buried deep inside you as he feels your walls beginning to flutter. his dark eyes lock onto yours, watching the desperate pleasure build on your face. "that's it," he groans, his voice strained with his own approaching release. "let go for me, baby."
the pressure in your belly becomes unbearable, like a dam about to burst. "I can't— 's too much," you cry out. his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles as his thrusts become sloppy.
"fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, feeling your pussy clamp down on him. "gonna make me cum too."
the dam breaks. your orgasm tears through you as a gush of liquid sprays from your pussy, soaking his thighs and the sheets. your vision whites out as your body convulses, a strangled scream tearing from your throat.
"fuck, baby, that's it," he drawls out the words, groaning as his hips still, feeling your pussy gush out its release around him. his eyes widen at the sight of you squirting, his cock throbbing deep inside you. for a moment, he hesitates, clearly torn between filling you with his cum and pulling out.
"god, I want to stay inside," he growls through gritted teeth, the words barely comprehensible as he reluctantly pulls his throbbing cock from your still-spasming pussy. he wraps his hand around his shaft, stroking rapidly as he watches your body trembling through the aftershocks.
with a guttural moan, Jo spills across your back, thick ropes of cum painting your skin as your pussy clenches around nothing. he watches the cum pool in the arch of your lower back before he collapses beside you, breathing heavily as he watches you shudder through the last waves of pleasure.
"fuck," he whispers, trailing his fingers through the mess on your back before leaning down to press a kiss against your shoulder.
he grabs a tissue from the nightstand, gently wiping the release off your body.
he turns you over, pulling your body into his arms, the shift from rough to immediate tenderness making your already hazy mind spin. the aggressive man from moments ago is gone, replaced by the jo you know, his eyes soft and full of concern as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead.
"hey," he whispers, his voice raspy but gentle. "you okay? did I hurt you?" his thumbs stroke your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of distress.
you can only shake your head, your body still tremblingk with aftershocks. "no," you manage to say, your voice hoarse. "just… a bit sore." you say, stretching your shoulders, the ache between them bearable but present.
a flicker of relief crosses his face before guilt sets in. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I got… carried away. seeing you with euijoo, I just…" He trails off, his hold on you tightening slightly. "I never thought I would feel this way. I hate the way I felt." He shakes his head.
"It was my fault," you admit, snuggling closer to him. "I wanted to see what would happen. I wanted to see if I could get you like this."
jo chuckles softly, the sound warm against your ear. "brat," he says affectionately, nuzzling your neck. "but you're my brat." his hands begin their familiar gentle exploration of your body, tracing the curves he knows so well, the touch a stark contrast to the rough handling from before.
"let me take care of you," he murmurs, reaching for the water on his nightstand. He helps you sit up slightly, holding the glass to your lips as you drink, his eyes never leaving yours. When you're done, he sets the glass aside and pulls you back against his chest.
"better?" he asks, his fingers combing through your hair.
you nod, feeling the tension drain from your body as you relax into his embrace. "better," you echo, your eyes growing heavy as sleep begins to claim you.
"rest now," he whispers, pressing a final kiss to your forehead. "we'll shower later, pretty.
ෆ ･ 𝓢YNOPSIS: jo is a quiet, shy art student, lost in sketches and ceramics. you can’t help teasing him, brushing his hands, and testing his obedience. he’s shy, sensitive, but he trusts you more with every touch. ෆ ･ 𝓦/𝓒: 3272
ෆ ･ 𝓜.LIST! & 𝓣AGLIST!
the art building wakes up before the rest of campus.
the halls still echo a little, footsteps too loud against concrete floors, sunlight barely stretching through tall north-facing windows. jo likes it this way. early means quiet. quiet means he can breathe.
he’s already there when most people are still asleep, sketchbook open, pencil moving in soft, practiced strokes. hands, mostly. always hands. he draws them like they’re something sacred. curved fingers, careful tension, the way palms tell stories without words.
he doesn’t notice you at first.
you’re leaning against the doorway, watching him with your arms crossed, expression unreadable. the kind of presence people feel before they see. someone passes behind you. one of the football guys, loud even this early.
“damn, you’re fine, you—”
you: “no.”
just one word. calm. effortless. he stops talking immediately. jo’s pencil pauses when the room goes quiet again. he looks up, eyes wide, startled like he’s been caught doing something private.
j: “oh—hi. sorry, i didn’t hear you.”
you step inside, heels clicking softly, gaze drifting from his face to his sketchbook.
you: “you’re here early.”
j: “i, um… yeah. i like the light better.”
you hum, leaning over slightly to look closer.
you: “you draw hands a lot.”
his ears turn pink.
j: “they’re expressive.”
you: “they’re honest.”
that makes him look at you. really look. you sit on the edge of the table beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, knee brushing his leg. he stiffens but doesn’t move away.
j: “do you… need something?”
you smile, small and unreadable.
you: “just wanted to see what you were working on.”
your fingers hover near the page, not touching. he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. the pencil starts moving again.
and for the first time in a long time, jo doesn’t mind being watched. by the end of the week, jo starts expecting you. it’s subtle at first. the way he glances toward the doorway when he sits down. the way he listens for footsteps that don’t rush or hesitate.
you show up between classes, always unhurried. sometimes with a coffee you don’t offer him. sometimes with nothing at all, just your presence filling the room. he pretends it doesn’t affect him. it does. today you drop into the chair across from him, chin resting in your palm as he sketches.
you: “you always get that look when you’re concentrating.”
his pencil stutters.
j: “what look?”
you: “like you’d do anything if someone told you how.”
he swallows.
j: “i’m just… focusing.”
you lean forward, elbows on the table.
you: “you’re really good at it.”
praise lands harder than teasing. he ducks his head, ears warming.
j: “thank you.”
the room fills with quiet again, broken only by the sound of graphite on paper. jo relaxes into it, until you shift closer, your knee brushing his this time on purpose. he tenses. doesn’t pull away.
you: “sorry.”
he shakes his head quickly.
j: “it’s okay.”
it feels like permission. outside, raised voices drift through the open window. laughter. someone shouting his name. one of the guys from ceramics class, loud and careless. jo’s shoulders curl in instinctively. you glance toward the window, unimpressed.
you: “they always this annoying?”
j: “kind of.”
you: “you don’t have to talk to them, you know.”
he blinks at that.
j: “i don’t want to be rude.”
you smile, slow and knowing.
you: “you’re not rude. you’re just quiet.”
he risks a look at you then.
j: “you don’t mind?”
you: “no.”
you reach out, briefly covering his hand on the pencil. just a second. grounding. intentional.
you: “i like that you don’t talk much.”
his breath catches. later, when you finally leave, jo realizes something unsettling. his sketchbook is open to a page he doesn’t remember starting. it’s you. not detailed. not perfect. but unmistakably yours. and he doesn’t erase it. jo learns things about you without meaning to.
it’s hard not to, when people talk the way they do. your name travels faster than you do, carried in half-whispers and exaggerated stories. untouched. unbothered. impossible. the kind of girl people try once and never again. he sees it play out in real time outside the student union. he’s sitting on a bench, sketchbook open but forgotten, when a group of guys pass you. one of them peels off, confidence loud and unearned.
“you should let me take you out sometime.”
you don’t even slow down.
you: “i’m good.”
“c’mon, i’m just asking—”
you stop walking. turn just enough to look at him.
you: “and i already answered.”
something about your tone shuts him up. he mutters something under his breath and backs off, embarrassed in front of his friends. jo watches, stunned. when you spot him, your expression softens immediately. you walk over like the shift is instinctive.
you: “hey.”
j: “hi.”
he hesitates, then gestures vaguely.
j: “does that… happen a lot?”
you shrug, sitting beside him.
you: “more than i’d like.”
j: “i don’t get why they think they can just—”
you: “because they think i owe them something.”
you glance at his sketchbook.
you: “i don’t.”
that settles something in his chest. a group of girls walk past, eyes flicking between the two of you. whispers follow. jo feels suddenly self-conscious, aware of how close you’re sitting, how your shoulder brushes his.
j: “people are staring.”
you: “let them.”
you shift closer, deliberate.
you: “they’re not the ones i’m here with.”
his face warms, heart tripping over itself.
j: “why… me?”
you look at him then, really look.
you: “because you’re gentle.”
your fingers tap his knee once, light but grounding.
you: “and you don’t expect anything from me.”
he swallows, nodding.
j: “i like that you choose me.”
you smile, small and real.
you: “good.”
and for the first time, jo sits a little straighter beside you, sketchbook forgotten, letting the world see what you’ve already decided. it starts with convenience. that’s what jo tells himself, anyway.
the art building couches are old and sunken, placed too close together like someone wanted people to sit wrong on purpose. when you drop down beside him, there isn’t enough space not to touch.
your thigh presses into his. steady. warm. he freezes. waits for you to move. you don’t.
you: “you okay?”
j: “y-yeah.”
he means it, too. his body just hasn’t caught up yet. you lean back, stretching your arms over the back of the couch. relaxed. unguarded. like this is normal. like he is normal. after a few minutes, you shift without warning and sit sideways, one leg draped easily over his lap. casual. unthinking. devastating. jo’s breath stutters.
j: “i—”
you: “is this too much?”
he shakes his head quickly.
j: “no. i mean—no, it’s okay.”
your weight settles. grounding. your hand rests briefly on his shoulder, thumb brushing once, absentminded. he melts. later, it flips. you tug him down gently by the sleeve, until he’s half-sitting on your lap instead. he’s stiff at first, posture awkward, hands hovering uselessly.
you: “relax.”
your hands guide him, firm but gentle, settling him where you want him. his body listens before his brain does. he exhales, shaky.
j: “i don’t usually… do this.”
you: “i know.”
your tone is soft. understanding.
you: “you’re doing great.”
that does something to him. his shoulders drop. his head tips forward, resting briefly against your collarbone like it belongs there. he makes a small sound before he can stop himself; embarrassed, needy.
j: “s-sorry.”
you: “don’t apologize.”
your fingers slide through his hair once, slow and deliberate.
you: “i like when you let yourself be held.”
he nods, cheeks burning, hands clutching lightly at your jacket like he’s afraid of falling. when he finally pulls away, he looks dazed. softer. changed. and when you stand, he reaches for your wrist without thinking. just for a second. you look down at him, smiling.
you: “yeah?”
j: “…nothing.”
you squeeze his hand anyway before letting go. jo spends the rest of the day feeling like something has shifted. like he’s crossed a line he doesn’t want to uncross. it happens after hours.
the art building is quieter than usual, lights dimmed, the air cooler. jo stays late to clean brushes he doesn’t need to clean, to wipe down tables already spotless. anything to keep his hands busy. you notice.
you: “you’re stalling.”
he startles, glancing up from the sink.
j: “i just—wanted to finish up.”
you step closer, leaning against the counter beside him.
you: “you always do that when you’re nervous.”
his shoulders tense.
j: “i’m not—”
he stops. exhales.
j: “okay. maybe a little.”
you don’t tease him this time.
you: “talk to me.”
he hesitates, fingers twisting in the hem of his hoodie.
j: “i don’t really… know what i’m doing. with this.”
you: “with me?”
he nods.
j: “i like you. a lot. and i don’t want to mess it up by being… too much. or not enough.”
the words come out rushed, like he’s afraid they’ll disappear if he doesn’t say them fast enough. you reach out, lifting his chin gently so he has to look at you.
you: “jo.”
your thumb brushes his jaw once, grounding.
you: “you don’t have to perform for me.”
his eyes shine, emotions too close to the surface.
j: “i just want to do things right.”
you: “you are.”
you step closer, closing the space between you until he can feel your warmth.
you: “you listen. you ask. you stop when you’re unsure.”
your forehead rests lightly against his.
you: “that’s not nothing.”
his breath comes shaky.
j: “i don’t have a lot of experience.”
you: “that’s okay.”
firm. certain.
you: “we go at your pace.”
his hands lift hesitantly, hovering at your waist.
you: “you can touch me.”
they settle there like they’ve been waiting for permission. he exhales, shoulders sagging in relief.
j: “thank you.”
you smile, soft and real.
you: “come here.”
you pull him into a slow, careful embrace. nothing rushed. nothing taken. just closeness. just choice.
and when you pull back, the air between you feels charged. fragile. dangerous in the best way. something has been crossed. neither of you wants to go back.
the studio is empty. the sun has gone, and the overhead lights hum softly, casting long shadows across tables and easels. jo is already there, hands busy with a half-finished ceramic piece, but he’s distracted. he knows you’re here before he hears your footsteps.
you: “finally alone.”
he swallows, heart hammering. his pencil hovers over the clay like he might drop it at any second.
j: “i… didn’t expect—”
you: “didn’t expect me to follow?”
j: “i… no, i mean—”
your smile stops him mid-word. the kind of smile that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing. you step closer, close enough for your hands to brush his shoulders. the warmth sends a shiver down his spine.
you: “you’re tense.”
j: “i—i am.”
you laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. he flinches a little, but doesn’t move away.
you: “good. i like when you’re nervous around me.”
his ears burn. he drops his gaze to the table, fingers fidgeting, but he doesn’t pull back.
you: “hands.”
his eyes snap up, and you lift one of his, holding it gently in yours. you trace his knuckles, fingertips brushing lightly.
you: “so capable. do you know how good they could be?”
j: “…i… i—”
you: “shh.”
your fingers linger on his jaw, holding him steady as you lean in for a kiss, his lips swollen and parted the second you pull back, chasing more. the studio's dim light catches the sheen of sweat on his skin, his chest heaving under the thin fabric of his shirt. you can see the bulge straining against his pants, his thighs shifting restlessly where he stands before you, close enough that his heat radiates toward you.
you: “on your knees, jo. show me how much you want this.”
he drops without hesitation, knees hitting the cool floor with a soft thud, his hands hovering uncertainly at your hips. his eyes flick up to yours, wide and pleading, that flush creeping down his neck. you nod encouragingly, guiding one of his hands to the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to see the lace of your bra peeking out.
j: “like this?”
his voice is a whisper, fingers trembling as they push the fabric higher, exposing your stomach, then your ribs. you arch into his touch, letting him take his time, his palms sliding up to cup your breasts through the thin material. he squeezes tentatively, thumbs circling the hardening nipples, and you hum in approval, threading your fingers through his hair to keep him close.
you: “yes, just like that. don't stop now.”
he leans in, mouth brushing the edge of your bra before he tugs it down with his teeth, freeing one breast. his tongue darts out, licking a hot stripe over the peak, then closing his lips around it to suck gently. the pull sends sparks down your spine, and you press his head firmer against you, rocking subtly against the air between your legs.
he switches sides, lavishing the other with wet, open-mouthed kisses, his free hand trailing lower, tracing the line of your waistband. you spread your stance a bit wider, inviting him, and he takes the cue, fingers popping the button on your jeans. the zipper drags down slowly, his breath hot against your skin as he peels the denim away, along with your underwear, leaving you bare from the waist down.
j: “... can i taste you?”
you: “not yet. use your fingers first. make me feel good.”
he nods eagerly, one hand steadying on your thigh while the other slips between your legs. his fingertips brush your folds, slick already from the buildup, and he gasps at the wetness coating them. slowly, he parts you, middle finger circling your entrance before pushing inside, the intrusion warm and careful. your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, and he watches your face for every reaction, adding a second finger when you moan softly.
you: “curl them... find that spot.”
he does, twisting his wrist, the pads of his fingers pressing against your inner walls until he grazes the sensitive ridge. your hips buck, pleasure blooming sharp and sweet, and he starts thrusting in earnest—pumping steadily, his thumb finding your clit to rub in tight, uneven circles. the lewd squelch of your arousal fills the quiet space, his arm flexing with each motion, face buried against your stomach as he works you higher.
j: “am i doing it right? you feel so tight... so perfect.”
you: “you're learning fast jojo.”
that fueled him up. his fingers plunging deeper, faster, scissoring to stretch you open while his mouth sucks bruises into your hip. the coil in your core tightens unbearably, your thighs quivering around his shoulders, until it snaps. orgasm ripping through you, pussy pulsing around his digits as you cry out, juices soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist.
he doesn't stop right away, easing you through it with gentler strokes, kissing your trembling skin until you tug him up by the hair. his face is wrecked. lips shiny, eyes dark with need, cock tenting his pants painfully.
j: “please... i need to be inside you. let me in you. i can't wait anymore.”
his plea tumbles out desperate, hands fumbling with his own belt, but he waits for your permission, body taut like a bowstring. you smile, predatory and fond, stepping back to the nearby stool and perching on its edge, legs parting wide.
you: “come here. show me what you've got.”
he shoves his pants down just enough, freeing his cock. thick, veined, tip flushed and weeping pre-cum. he steps between your thighs, gripping the base as he lines up, rubbing the head through your slick folds. with a shared groan, he pushes in, slow at first, your pussy yielding to his girth inch by inch until he's seated fully, balls snug against you.
j: “... so warm. so good.”
you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his ass to urge him on.
you: “move. take me like i taught you.”
he starts thrusting, shallow at first, testing, then building to a steady rhythm—hips snapping forward, cock dragging along your walls with each plunge. you guide his hands to your breasts, showing him how to pinch and twist, and he follows, leaning down to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he fucks into you harder. the stool rocks under the force, his grunts mixing with your moans, sweat slicking where your bodies meet. he angles his hips, grinding against your clit on every inward stroke, chasing both your pleasures under your watchful eye.
you: “that's it... deeper. make us both cum.”
he pounds relentlessly now, one hand bracing on the wall behind you, the other stroking your thigh. the pressure rebuilds fast, your second orgasm cresting as his cock throbs inside you. you clench down, pulling him over the edge. he buries himself deep with a broken whimper, cum flooding your pussy in hot pulses, spilling out around him as he shudders.
you hold him close through the aftershocks, praising softly into his ear, bodies entwined in the hazy quiet of the studio, the night far from over.
the studio smells faintly of clay and paint. the lights are dim, just enough to see, but the room feels quieter now. jo sits curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled a little tighter around him, fingers twisting in the fabric. his cheeks are still pink, eyes wide, uncertain.
you: “hey.”
he startles, looks up.
j: “i… i’m sorry.”
you: “for what?”
he swallows, voice small.
j: “for… everything. for being… too sensitive.”
you kneel in front of him, lifting his chin gently so he has to meet your eyes.
you: “jo. look at me.”
he blinks, hesitant.
you: “you didn’t do anything wrong. i wanted you exactly like this. every whimper, every nervous glance. all of it.”
he exhales shakily, shoulders sagging. relief floods his expression.
j: “really?”
you: “really.”
you reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. your fingers linger on his cheek, thumb tracing lightly.
you: “i like you. like this. like… you.”
his lips part slightly. he leans into your touch without thinking.
j: “…okay.”
you shift so he’s leaning against you, still on the couch, and he melts into your side. your hands rest lightly on his back, rubbing circles, slow and grounding. he nuzzles against your chest, quiet now, but completely present. after a moment, he hesitantly lifts a hand. you catch it in yours, holding it gently.
you: “you’re safe. always.”
he exhales, tiny whimper of contentment.
j: “i… i like being with you.”
you: “i know. i like it too.”
later, he shows you the small sketch he made after everything, quiet but proud. a little smile tugs at your lips as you lift it carefully, setting it somewhere meaningful. you lean back against him, forehead to forehead, and just breathe.
you: “we don’t have to rush anything. we’ll take it slow.”
j: “…slow is good.”
the tension from before lingers, but softer now. heavier with trust. heavier with warmth. and jo realizes, fully, that he’s not just a boy you notice. he’s someone you choose. and that thought is the quietest, strongest kind of intimacy there is.
@snowzxki actually requested this so like all props to them for the idea. i fucking love submissive jojo and this shit literally gave the movie "babygirl" vibes.. also so sorry if i missed a few things i've been mind fucked bc of school.😓
