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?"
𐙚 this trend {nsfw} (yes this is my own contribution) but with the teamies
𐙚 minors dni ! masterlist ! request? no!
𐙚 content/warnings! ot9, lots of titty talk, tbh not super smutty but def suggestive, fem reader, nicho sends a picture of him hard w ur pc back, titty sucking, mentions of being hard, maybe more idk
【 18+ 】 tw ──── soft dom!jo . . kitty hybrid!reader, kissing, petnames, reader is mean and bratty, size difference, light degradation with heavy praise ( f. rec ), size kink, collaring, creampie, unprotected p in v, manhandling, mentions of neglect, reader calls jo names. 2426 wc
don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
the apartment was destroyed.
shredded pillows everywhere, jo’s manga knocked off the shelves, houseplants tipped over. in the middle of the chaos sat you—his tiny kitty hybrid, ears pinned back, silver bell collar jingling furiously with every lash of your black tail. you were drowning in his massive hoodie, the hem brushing mid-thigh, arms wrapped around your knees as you glared at the door.
the second jo stepped inside, ducking under the door frame, you let out a loud, dramatic hiss.
“took you long enough, asshole,” you snarled, lips curled. “what, did you finally remember you have a kitty at home? or did you just come back to fuck me and leave again?”
jo’s shoulders dropped, but his voice stayed low and even. “baby…”
“don’t call me that.” you bared your teeth. “you don’t get to ignore me for nine fucking days and then play sweet owner. i hope your deadline choked you.”
he crossed the room slowly, eyes soft despite the way you growled at him. when he reached for your collar you slapped his hand away.
“don’t touch me.”
jo’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t raise his voice. he simply crouched in front of you, all six feet of him folding down until he was eye-level with your furious little face. the shredded pillows crunched under his boots. your tail lashed hard enough to smack his knee.
“i know,” he said quietly. “nine days. no calls, no texts that weren’t three words long. i fucked up, kitten.”
you hissed again, ears flat. “don’t call me that either.”
he didn’t flinch when you tried to shove his chest. instead he caught both your wrists in one big hand—gentle, but unbreakable—and pinned them to your chest. the hoodie rode up your thighs. your bell jingled wildly.
“you’re right to be mad,” he murmured, voice low and warm like dark honey. “but you don’t get to destroy the whole apartment and think i’m just gonna let you keep snarling at me.”
you bared your teeth, trying to twist free. “watch me.”
jo’s free hand slid under your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushed your lower lip, pressing just enough to part it. “brat.”
the word was soft. fond. it made your stomach flip even as you growled.
he stood, pulling you up with him like you weighed nothing. one arm hooked under your ass and suddenly you were off the ground, legs dangling, hoodie bunching around your waist. you kicked once, claws catching on his shirt, but he only walked you straight to the bedroom like you weren’t trying to claw his back open.
“jo—put me down, i swear i’ll—”
he dropped you on the bed. not hard, but firm enough that you bounced. before you could scramble away he was over you, knees bracketing your hips, one hand planted beside your head. the size difference always undid you. he looked massive like this, shoulders blocking the lamp light, eyes dark but gentle.
“safe word?” he asked, calm as ever.
you glared up at him, chest heaving. “…red.”
“good girl.”
he kissed you before you could spit another insult. slow, deep, the kind of kiss that said he’d missed you more than he knew how to admit. you bit his lip. he only hummed, slid his hand down your body, and cupped your bare cunt under the hoodie.
you were already wet. embarrassingly so.
jo hummed into the kiss as you bit his lip again, the sting only making him press deeper, tongue sliding against yours in a slow, claiming rhythm. his long fingers teased lower, brushing over the soft skin of your tummy first—feather-light, sweet—before drifting down to your soaked folds.
he traced lazy, maddening patterns there. two thick fingers gliding up and down your slit, spreading your wetness without giving you any real pressure where you needed it. your hips jerked, chasing friction, but he kept it torturously light, circling your entrance, skimming just past your clit.
you growled against his mouth, frustrated and aching. “stop teasing, you fucking—ah—just fuck me!”
he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before pulling back just enough to look at you. his eyes were dark, pupils blown, but that soft, patient glint was still there.
“baby,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-rough. “i know you’ve been waiting nine days…but you can wait a few more minutes, i need to prep you.”
jo’s fingers didn’t stopped their lazy exploration, still gliding through your slick folds with that infuriating gentleness. he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your flushed cheek, his breath warm against your ear.
“i know you’re aching, kitten,” he whispered, voice like velvet dragged over gravel. “but i’ve been gone too long. you’re tiny, and i’m not rushing this and hurting you. let me open you up first.”
you snarled, hips twitching uselessly under his weight. “i don’t need prep, just fuck me already, you jerk—”
he silenced you with another deep kiss, swallowing the rest of your curses as he finally pushed two long fingers inside you. your walls clenched hard around the sudden stretch, a broken mewl escaping into his mouth. jo groaned softly at how tight you were, curling his fingers slowly, deliberately stroking that spongy spot inside while his thumb finally gave your swollen clit the attention it so craved.
“such a filthy little mouth when you’re needy,” he murmured against your lips, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm now. “but you're still soaking my hand, sucking me in like you missed me.”
your ears flicked back, tail thrashing wildly as you tried to ride his hand. the hoodie had ridden all the way up to your ribs, leaving you exposed under him. jo took full advantage, leaning down to mouth at one of your sensitive nipples while his fingers worked you open, scissoring gently, adding a third when your moans turned desperate.
every time you tried to snap something bratty, he’d curl his fingers harder or suck harder on your nipple until the words dissolved into whimpers. your claws dug into his shoulders, leaving little red lines, but he only hummed in approval.
“jo—fuck—please—” the bratty snarl had cracked, replaced by a trembling whimper.
he finally pulled his fingers free with a wet sound that made your ears twitch. you whined at the emptiness, glaring up at him with glassy, frustrated eyes, but he only smiled that soft, devastating smile and sat back on his heels.
“shhhh, kitty. i’ve got you.”
he shoved his pants and boxers down in one motion, freeing his cock—thick, heavy, flushed and leaking at the tip. the sight made your mouth water and your cunt clench. jo wrapped one hand around the base and rubbed the fat head up and down your soaked slit, teasing your clit with slow, deliberate strokes until your hips were jerking desperately.
“eyes on me,” he murmured, lining himself up. one big hand gripped your hip, holding you still. “breathe, kitten.”
then he pushed in.
slow. inevitable. inch after thick inch stretching you open until your lips parted on a silent cry and your walls fluttered wildly around him. the burn was perfect—almost too much, but exactly what you needed after nine empty days. jo’s jaw clenched, a low groan rumbling out of his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush to your ass, balls pressed tight against you.
jo stayed buried deep inside you, perfectly still, his big body curved protectively over your much smaller one. his thumb kept stroking your cheek with unbearable gentleness.
“easy, kitten,” he whispered, voice low and warm. “breathe for me. i’ve got you.”
you glared up at him through glassy eyes, ears still pinned back even as your walls fluttered and clenched greedily around his thick cock. the stretch was intense, but the overwhelming fullness only made the brat in you hiss louder.
“don’t… patronize me,” you snapped, voice cracking despite how wrecked you sounded. “just because you’re finally fucking me doesn’t mean i’m not still pissed at you, asshole.”
jo’s lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. he rolled his hips in one slow, deep circle, pressing right against that spot that made your toes curl.
“oh?” he murmured, soft as ever. “still got that attitude, huh? even with my cock splitting you open?”
you bared your teeth and attempted to buck against him, but his weight kept you pinned. “especially with your cock splitting me open. nine days, jo. nine. i should bite you instead of letting you—”
he cut you off with a deep, lazy thrust that punched the air out of your lungs. a broken mewl slipped out before you could swallow it. your tail lashed hard against his thigh. bell jingling amongst the sound of heavy breathing.
he hummed fondly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “my angry little kitty. do you need me to fuck that out of you?”
jo stayed quiet for a long moment, just watching you with those deep, thoughtful eyes. his breathing was steady, controlled. even now—buried to the hilt inside your clenching heat—he didn’t raise his voice. he simply studied your flushed, furious little face like you were the most precious, complicated thing he’d ever known.
he finally whispered, barely above a breath. “i think i do.”
he pulled back slowly…then drove forward hard.
the thrust was powerful, deep, and deliberate. your whole body jolted, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as he filled you completely in one smooth, devastating stroke. but jo didn’t growl or grunt loudly. he just let out a soft, shaky exhale against your ear, forehead pressed to yours, like the feeling of you around him was almost too much.
“shh, kitten,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-soft, almost reverent. “i’ve got you.”
then he started fucking you into you, hard..
each thrust was rough and deep, hips snapping with quiet intensity. the bed creaked under you, but jo remained nearly silent—only low, breathy sounds escaping him as he drove into your soaked little cunt again and again. he kept you pinned beneath his much larger frame, one hand gently but firmly holding your wrists above your head, the other cradling the back of your neck so you couldn’t look away from him.
your silver bell jingled wildly with every heavy thrust. your tail lashed and wrapped around his waist, claws digging into his shoulders, but he never faltered.
“still mad at me?” he whispered against your lips, voice quiet and intimate, even as he fucked you harder, grinding deep on every stroke so his pelvis rubbed perfectly against your clit. “you can be. i deserve it.”
your words remained trapped in your throat—nothing fell from your lips other than a pathetic whine when he angled his hips and hit that spot inside you that made your vision spark.
“j-jo—fuck—too much—”
“i know, baby,” he breathed, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, then your fluttering eyelids, never once stopping those deep, punishing thrusts. “but you’re taking me so well. look at you… so tight and wet even when you’re angry.”
just soft, murmured praise escaped him as he fucked into you—steady eye contact that made your chest feel tighter than your cunt.
every brutal snap of his hips was paired with gentle touches—his thumb stroking your cheek, his lips brushing your ears, your neck, your collar. the contrast made your head spin.
you came with a shattered sob, back arching hard off the bed as your pussy clenched violently around him. fresh tears slipped down your cheeks while your whole body trembled and spasmed. jo groaned quietly, the sound low and reverent, but he didn’t stop—he fucked you through every pulse, slow and deep, drawing it out until you were a whimpering, overstimulated mess.
jo’s quiet voice stayed right against your ear, warm and low, barely louder than a breath.
“such a good kitty,” he murmured, still rocking into you with those deep, punishing thrusts that never lost their rhythm. “even when you’re crying and hissing at me… you cum so beautifully for me.”
you tried to snarl something mean, but it only came out as a pathetic, teary whimper instead. your walls were still fluttering and pulsing around his thick cock, oversensitive and greedy. tears kept slipping down your temples, and jo kissed every single one away without slowing down.
only when your cries quieted into shaky little mewls did he finally let himself follow.
he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, pulsing deep inside you as he filled you with slow, thick ropes of cum. his arms wrapped around your trembling frame, holding you impossibly close while he rode out the last tremors with lazy, deep rolls of his hips.
for a long minute afterward, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the soft jingle of your bell every time you twitched.
jo carefully pulled out and rolled onto his back, immediately tugging your tiny, limp body on top of his chest. his long arms wrapped around you completely, one hand stroking slow, soothing lines down your spine while the other gently rubbed behind your twitching ears. just how you liked.
he was quiet again, just holding you. letting the silence wrap around both of you like a blanket.
“…i missed you,” he finally whispered, voice barely audible. “every single day. i’m sorry i made you feel forgotten.”
you buried your face in his neck, still sniffling, tail curling weakly around his thigh despite the lingering bratty tension in your body.
“…still mad,” you mumbled hoarsely.
“i’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head, your damp forehead, your flicking ears. “my sweet, bratty little kitty. i’m right here. not leaving you again.”
you nuzzled into his neck, still sniffling and panting, but already starting to purr hoarsely. your tail curled possessively around his thigh, claws lightly kneading his chest as you came down.
“…hate you,” you mumbled, voice wrecked and small. jo chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling under your cheek. “i know, baby. i love you too.”
he held you tighter, one arm banded around your waist, the other continuing those gentle ear rubs that always turned you into a melted puddle.
“bath in a minute,” he promised softly. “then i’ll order your favorite food, clean up your mess, and spend the rest of the night spoiling my neglected little hybrid until you forgive me.”
you huffed, but the purring only got louder as you pressed closer, safe and full and finally claimed again in his arms.
heyy could you maybe write &team’s hyung line & 04z reaction to you moaning in your sleep? (specifically they’re name)
-🎐
k: i just know he would love this. he would think you’re the sweetest thing in the world the minute he hears you softly moaning out his name while you’re sleeping. for a long time, he’ll just sit there and watch you, letting his cock get hard to the sound of your heavy breathing and whimpering, but eventually it gets to a point where he can’t hold back anymore. he would just have to help you out and make you feel good :( so he gently slides his hand past your waistband and into your shorts, rubbing your wet pussy until you’re cumming around his fingers in your sleep.
fuma: like k, he would love this a lot. but…he’s meaner than k. instead of helping you, he just sits there and watches you cry out for him in your sleep. like he knows how badly you need him, you’re literally begging for him in your sleep, but he doesn’t care. he’s having way too good of a time just watching you. he’s having such a good time, in fact, that he would start touching himself, choosing to make himself feel good instead of helping you out. so mean :((
nicholas: oh i knowwww he gets real excited catching you moaning his name in your sleep. he’ll take this situation as an opportunity to do something with you that he’s always wanted to do…give you head while you’re sleeping. he’ll ever so carefully spread your legs and lay between them, gently pushing your underwear to the side and leaning in. he starts with a long lick up your slit, gathering all your warm arousal. it doesn’t take you long to wake up with how good he’s eating you out <33
ej: he’d get so turned on from this :( like you’re having a wet dream? about HIM?! he’d be so excited and immediately presses himself against you, slowly starting to jut his hips into your backside. you’d be whining and whimpering out his name and he’s just like “i know, baby, i know. just take it.” like FUCK and he’s just pushing his hard, sweatpants covered cock into your ass, slowly awakening you from your slumber before he slips it in <3
yuma: gets mad cocky knowing that you’re getting turned on from him IN YOUR SLEEP. like are you really that needy? yes, you are! and he loves that. he gets too eager and excited so he just immediately shakes you awake, pulling you out of the dream you were having of him. “need me that bad, huh?” he’d ask while pulling his pants down. you’re half asleep, but all of a sudden, he’s buried inside of you, slowly fucking you until you’re cumming all over his cock.
jo: just like FREEZES the minute he hears you whimper out his name in your sleep. he just looks over at you with wide eyes, shocked that you’re seemingly having a wet dream about him. poor thing doesn’t even know what to do and where to start, so he’s basically torturing himself listening to you beg for him in your sleep. you end up waking up on your own and he lets you dry hump him, too shy and nervous to do anything himself </3
【18+】 ₊˚⊹ᰔ studying turns to sex, dom!jo, fingering, making out, unprotected sex
you’re sitting close on the bed, notes spread out between u. jo’s quiet like always, focused as he explains something softly, not wanting to overwhelm u. u nod along, pretending you’re paying attention, even though you’ve been hyper-aware of how close he is for the past ten minutes. every touch feels louder because neither of u ever touch much. your knees bump. you both freeze. “sorry…” you mumble at the same time, laughing nervously. it gets harder to focus after that.
“do you get it?” he asks softly. u look up at him instead of the notes. he’s already looking at u, eyes flicking down to ur mouth for half a second too long. his ears turn pink. “i—yeah.” u say, even though u don’t. ur fingers twist together in ur lap before u look up at him again nervously. “jo?”
“yeah?” he answers immediately like he was waiting for u to say his name. u hesitate, cheeks burning, eyes on anywhere but his. “can i…can i kiss you?” who would’ve thought that jo wasn’t as shy as he portrayed to be.
his shyness melts away the second he realizes u want him just as much. u end up with his tongue in ur mouth, kissing each other messily while his fingers pump inside ur soaked pussy repeatedly. you’re a whiny mess, barely able to breathe with how hard he's kissing u—not that you want him to stop. ur fingers dig into his arm, “jojo… p-please!” you gasp. he pulls back just enough to look at you, “what is it, baby?” u swallow, cheeks burning. “wan' you to fuck me—ah-h please!”
he grins and slowly takes his fingers out of u, making u whimper from the loss. he flips u on the bed, pulling ur ass up and close to him. he slides his sweats and boxers down, gliding his cock up and down ur puffy folds, coating himself in ur slick until he finally slips in, making u cry out softly.
the rhythm turns relentless, big cock hitting u in all the right spots. “f-fuck—couldn’t help myself. you’re so fucking hot, baby.” his hands are gripping ur ass cheeks hard, keeping u right where he wants u. you clutch at the sheets, a blabbering mess. “so so good—nghh! please, i wanna cum!” his grip tightens, dragging his cock deliciously inside u again and again, his balls hitting ur clit. “go on, baby...we’ve got all night, right?”
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.😓
genres & tropes: established relationship, fluff, jo gaining confidence to tease you lol
word count: 1,242 (excluding summary)
author's thoughts: this has been my draft since March 18th and... yeah. Jo really gained his confidence lately and been fighting back his members, so this was purely inspired by that! enjoyy!
The view from Tokyo Skytree Cafe is magnificent – you’ve been in awe ever since you stepped out of the elevator. Though, you had to hold onto Jo tightly because the height is making you feel slightly dizzy. The cafe itself is yet to be crowded – maybe because it’s weekdays, or maybe because the cherry blossoms are yet to be in full bloom.
You and Jo looked at the menu and decided to order the seasonal food, before sitting down on the vacant table, facing each other. You then began staring out, carried away as your eyes wandered around at the sight of the vast Tokyo skyline. Both of you fell into a deep silence – the reason why Jo brings you up here is because he wants to find something to draw, so while he busies himself drawing something, you get yourself engrossed in the cityscape.
“Excuse me, here’s your order. Sorry for the long wait, and thank you for waiting,”
The waitress's voice surprised both of you, and you immediately thanked the waitress before pushing Jo’s drinks and food closer to him.
“Did you find something to draw?”
You ask Jo as you find that his sketchbook’s page has something on it – you can’t make out the thing as he covered the page with his pencil case.
“Yeah,”
“Really? What is it?”
There’s a beat of silence, and you notice that Jo’s neck and ears start to turn red.
“You.”
“Oh.”
Surprised is an understatement – you never thought that Jo would draw you. Sure, you have seen plenty of artists draw their significant others, but it just didn’t cross your mind that Jo would do the same. Before the blush was able to heat up your cheeks, a thought popped up in your mind.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I moved. Uh, what kind of pose I was doing earlier…”
You slightly panicked – you know that it’s crucial to stay still (you’ve seen the drama, like the model would spend hours standing still until their portrait completes). Jo giggles at your reaction, and shakes his head.
“It’s okay,”
“Huh?”
“I memorized it.”
He… memorized it? He memorized your pose? You look at Jo with your eyes full of questions, and your reaction causes him to giggle more.
“You, whenever you are staring at something, you always have your hand propped like this,”
He rests his head on his palm, recreating the pose that you had forgotten you did – it must be your habit.
“Oh. But don’t you need me to stay still, for, you know… to draw my eyes and stuff?”
He shakes his head at your question.
“I memorized that too.”
You can feel your cheeks begin to grow warm – the blush from earlier returns and adorns your cheeks properly.
“I spent too much time staring at you to the point I can draw you from my memory,”
You scrunched your face before turning away, feeling extremely caught off guard by his words. Yes, he’s your boyfriend – has been for almost a year now. But his words make your heart flutter still. And will make you feel like a middle schooler girl – you want to squeal, jump around, and melt over his words.
You can hear Jo giggles, before he reaches out for your hand to make you look at him again. You turn at him, trying your best to hide your love stricken face, but fail when you see Jo’s face is as red as tomato.
“Did you like me saying that that much?”
“Shut up. You’re red and still trying to flirt,”
“I’m asking a question?”
“Just draw me whatever. I’m gonna continue looking at the scenery,”
You grab your glass and turn your body slightly away from him, trying to shift your focus from blushing and recalling his words all over again, to the view of Tokyo.
“I love you,”
His words make you crumble – you turn back at him and put down the glasses before reaching out your hands to playfully tug his collar, while putting your best angry face.
“You’re teasing me!”
“I’m confessing,”
“Shut, shut! You’re red and you should calm yourself down before flirting with me again, boy.”
“Okay, my love.”
You roll your eyes and Jo laughs, finding you extremely adorable right now.
“Okay. That’s enough. You’ve spent too much time with Yuma that you’re starting to become mischievous like him. You’re not going to see Yuma anytime soon. I forbid it,”
“If it makes you happy, my lady. I’m willing to do it,”
“Okay you’re getting on my nerves. Go away,”
Jo laughs and lightly pinches on your cheeks, before he picks up his sketchbook again. You sighed in relief as he didn’t seem like he’s going to say anything more. Three hours passed in silence – you glanced at him from time to time, admiring your boyfriend's serious side. You didn’t stare at him too long, not wanting him to notice and begin teasing you again.
“I’m done,”
Jo declares as he stares at the sketchbook’s page, before smiling at himself, satisfied with his work.
“Really? Can I see?”
“No. Not yet, no, I don't think so…”
“Huh? Why? You’re not done with the shading yet?”
“No… because it doesn’t capture how beautiful you look in real life,”
Despite the blood rushing to your cheeks, you give him a deadpanned look – earning a laugh from Jo.
“What, it’s true…”
“Are you done flirting? Can we go home now?”
“Yes,”
“Great.”
You try your best to keep a cool composure even though you know your face, neck and ears are betraying you. Jo just smiles, and begins packing his things – he then reaches out for your hands, and both of you walk out of the Tokyo Skytree tower together.
“Are you seriously not going to let me see?”
You ask, breaking the silence that surrounded both of you.
“One kiss, and I might consider it,”
You quickly peck his cheek, making Jo giggle in satisfaction before flipping through his sketchbook, and shows you the drawing from earlier. Your eyes grow wide upon seeing it – he truly captures your facial features. The mole placement, the crinkles at the corners of your eyes…
“You really stared at me that much huh?”
“What can I say? You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on,”
“Jooooo,”
You whine as he’s making you flustered again, and Jo just laughs as he pulls you closer to him.
“What, did I do something wrong?”
“You and your words… Stop teasing me,”
“I can’t. You look prettier than the cherry blossom when you blush,”
You decide to hide your face on his chest, causing Jo to giggle before he wraps his arm around your waist. You truly wonder when and how Jo gained his confidence to tease you this much – usually, you’re the one who has the upper hand, flustering him to the point he stutters every single word.
“Tell me, it was Yuma, right? Yuma taught you all these kinds of things, right? I’m gonna report him to Kei,”
You ask while resting your chin against his chest, looking at your boyfriend whose smile is still carved on his lips.
“Do you think I can’t do it?”
“No. You’re pure and innocent, so somebody must have influenced you into doing this,”
“It seems like you didn’t know me well enough yet, my love,”
He booped your nose before brushing his nose against yours, and grabbed your hand, urging you to move.
…What?
additional notes: thank you for reading till the end <3
