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writingouthere · 4 months

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singledad!Sukuna x neighbor!reader-Sukuna and Yuuji really want you to join their family! role reversal from my other series, think this will just be a one-shot though. Yuuji is Sukuna's brother but he's raised him since he was a baby and Yuuji calls him dad.

cw: Sukuna is manipulative and also a murderer but everyone's happy and you're both aware so it's okay. this is really just fluff.

"I....want you to be my mommy?"

Sukuna scowled as Yuuji looked more confused than ever.

"No, no that is not what you're saying kid. You're just going to tell her about how the other kids' mommies on the playground make you feel left out."

"But they don't, Megumi's mommy always gives me a snack when I'm hungry!"

"That's not his mommy, that's Megumi's daddy," Sukuna corrected, wondering if this was just a hopeless endeavor. He could have easily followed a plan this simple when he was four, but Yuuji was too soft. This was what happened when you raised a kid in a stable, loving environment. They lost the ability to go for the jugular when needed.

"But Megumi's daddy calls him mommy?" Sukuna didn't hold back his groan. You were going to be coming back from your morning walk any minute. He didn't have time for Yuuji to not get basic directions or to explain the dynamics of that Gojo family.

"Look when we go out there, just look sad and I'll handle the rest."

"But I'm not sad, I'm happy. We're going to the park and Megumi's mommy is bringing mochi today!"

"Shit kid, do you want a mom or not?" Sukuna asked, trying not to roll his eyes as be bent down to snap on the velcro straps on Yuuji's light up sneakers.

"I don't need a mom, I have you," Yuuji said. He looked uncharacteristically defiant and Sukuna couldn't help feeling proud of his little brother.

It had been touch and go when Yuuji was a baby. Sukuna had still been a kid himself and they didn't have any money and Yuuji's mom was even crazier than Sukuna's. Their father nowhere to be seen. Since Sukuna and Uraume had spread the pieces of his corpse around the city.

Sukuna pushed these memories aside and ruffled Yuuji's hair. "I know you don't need one, we only need each other." Yuuji nodded, his little head moving with all his conviction. "But it might be nice, right?"

Yuuji seemed thoughtful before finally biting his lip and looking down at his sneakers. He tapped them, making the red and black lights flash.

"She's really nice, I like her."

"I like her too," Sukuna said and he heard the sound of your sneakers slapping against the tiled hallway. "So let's go and look sad, okay?" Yuuji nodded, determined now and Sukuna grabbed his backpack before the two brothers went out into the hall.

You were just taking your keys out of your bag and you turned to the brothers, a smile on your face. "Good morning gentlemen, it's nice to see you. Heading out?"

That was when you noticed Yuuji's downturned expression. Sukuna saw your face shift into one of concern and he resisted a smirk.

Sukuna cleared his throat and squeezed Yuuji's hand. Good boy. "We're heading out to the park, you know the one by the high school."

"Oooh, that's nice. You like that park, right Yuuji? You said it was the biggest one in the whole city," you crouched down so you could look Yuuji in the eye and Yuuji seemed to forget he was supposed to be sad for a minute because he jumped up and down, the lights of his shoes flashing in the dim hallway.

"Yeah, it has the best swings too!" You ooohed and aawed appropriately while Sukuna tried not to smack his head against the wall. Maybe he and this kid weren't related after all, fuck.

Yuuji seemed to notice his expression because he stopped jumping to look down at feet. He put out his lower lip and used the tip of one of shoes to mess with a scuff mark on the linoleum. It would have made a more pathetic visage if his shoes weren't still lit up.

"Yuuji," you said, coming closer so you could kneel on the ground in front of the boy. The sight of you on your knees did something to Sukuna, but he pushed it aside to see what the brat had in mind. So far, he wasn't impressed with the performance. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just," Yuuji let out a sad sigh that wouldn't get him a gig in a car commercial. "Megumi and his mommy will be there and it makes me feel sad because all the other kids have mommies and I don't." God, there was no way you could be buying this, Sukuna looked at you and saw that your eyes looked a little watery.

Huh, look at that. Maybe he wouldn't have to kick the kid out, after all.

"I'm sorry Yuuji, that must be hard," you said and you reached out and swiped out where Yuuji had even managed to shed a tear. Sukuna felt so proud. "But I know that your dad is really excited to take you and the two of you are going to have so much fun!"

"Could you come too?" Yuuji asked and you bit your lip. Yuuji looked up and batted his little doe eyes at you. "It would make me really happy if you came with us. We could all have fun together."

"I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"It wouldn't be intruding," Sukuna cut in. "If you're busy though no worries, I know we'll have fun just the two of us. Right, Yuuji?"

Yuuji bit his lip and Sukuna could tell he was torn between showing how excited he was to spend time with his dad and being 'sad' so you would join them.

You looked between the two before seeming to come to some kind of decision. "If you don't mind waiting while I change, I'd be happy to join you two. Should I bring anything?"

"I think we're all set. We'll wait outside for you," Sukuna said and Yuuji went up and gave you a big hug that you returned.

Sukuna took Yuuji outside to wait for you, the kid occupying himself with a mostly washed away hopscotch chalk sketch. Sukuna alternated between watching him and texting Uraume who was claiming to be over him and his nonsense. Sukuna would take it more seriously if Uraume hadn't been saying that for going on twenty years. He knew they loved him, fucking sap.

Soon, but not soon enough, you came bounding down the stairs. A scarf tied around your neck, your turtleneck exposed by the open top button of your coat. He couldn't keep letting you be single, looking all pretty like that. He was too greedy for that.

Besides, looking the way you did and knowing your big heart, it was just a matter of time before some nice loser tricked you into settling with them and he just couldn't have that. The idea of you taking someone else home to your warm apartment with it's million throw blankets and a cookie jar, an actual cookie jar, he was convinced you kept stocked up just for Yuuji, made him want to commit another murder.

"Ready?" you asked and Sukuna nodded while Yuuji took your hand in his right and Sukuna's in his left.

"Let's go!"

Yuuji's enthusiasm was contagious and the two of you chatted all the way to the park. Sukuna saw some people shoot you all looks as you walked. Sukuna was used to people viewing him with suspicion, even fear. His tattoos, dyed hair and general demeanor making people cross the street to avoid him. Something about you and Yuuji seemed to balance him out though and people reacted as if they were just looking at a cute family going out on a Saturday.

You didn't seem to notice either way and just continued talking to Yuuji about some new anime for kids Sukuna had probably had to suffer through but hadn't retained any memory of.

As soon as you all got to the park, Yuuji took off with barely a good-bye. You seemed concerned and Sukuna bumped your shoulder with his. "Don't stress, he just sees the Fushiguro kid over there. See, they're already fucking around."

He pointed to where Yuuji was chasing around a scowling dark haired boy the same age as him. Sukuna didn't buy the scowl for a second.

He had once run into the kid and his weird dads at the grocery store and the kid had scolded him when he figured out Yuuji wasn't with him. Sukuna would have knocked the kid down a peg if he wasn't actually four years old and if his 'mommy' didn't low key give him the creeps. Sukuna was pretty sure he wasn't the only person guilty of homicide currently at this playground.

"That's so cute," you cooed and Sukuna nodded along while he took you over to some picnic tables. Unfortunately one of them was already occupied.

"Aww if it isn't Sukuna. How nice it is to see your lovely face on a Saturday morning!"

"Gojo."

Sukuna was ready to leave it there but then the bastard got up and walked over. His partner continued sipping on a large cup of boba, watching from his seat although he gave you a little wave.

"Who is this, new girlfriend?" Gojo asked tilting down his sunglasses to look you up and down.

You laughed and introduced yourself while Megumi's parents did the same. Gojo grabbed your hand when you held it out and kissed the back of it, his lips curved into a smile even as he lingered, his fingers clearly holding onto where your pulse would be. Sukuna moved closer to you and put a hand around your waist, the gesture a clear sign for the other man to back off which Sukuna knew Gojo understood because the bitch fucking smiled at him.

Sukuna didn't necessarily take any of Gojo's flirtations seriously. He flirted with every mom and dad on the playground, including him when they first met. He'd even seen him flirt with the guy who worked the ice cream truck so egregiously the kid had looked on the verge of passing out. His partner never seemed bothered and Sukuna wondered if he was just that secure in the relationship or if he hoped someone would finally come along and get the annoying man away from him.

As usual though, Gojo lost interest quickly and went back to his husband who didn't say anything as Gojo lay across his lap like some kind of housecat.

"There are children here," Sukuna said. Mostly out of spite and not jealousy that the two of you weren't curled up like that.

"Don't be homophobic," Gojo said and you snorted before looking innocent when Sukuna shot you a look.

"Alright, let's go see what Yuuji's up to." Sukuna went along with your excuse, mostly just because he liked the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you wandered closer to the playground where Megumi and Yuuji were currently engaged in a game with some other kids that Sukuna couldn't have possibly guessed the subject of.

The kids alternated running around the large structure, disappearing into tunnels, jumping down to hide underneath slides and behind climbing walls. Every time Yuuji popped back up to view he would wave and call out to you both. Sukuna still felt a little warm whenever the kid called him dad and the look you gave him after made him feel caught.

"So, I can see why Yuuji was so sad those morning. Megumi's parents are just vicious monsters," you said and Sukuna was so taken aback he knew his expression didn't hide it well. You smiled and swung your hand that was still in his, turning so you could look at him.

"I don't think that's what the issue was," Sukuna managed and you nodded.

"Right, it must have been because he's so lonely," you said before the two of you were interrupted by the sound of children's ecstatic laughter. You both looked to where Yuuji was now being chased by an entire horde of children.

"I'm the curse, you have to catch me," he yelled out and the other children screamed and laughed as they tried to grab him. Yuuji had never had a hard time making friends and that was very evident in the way he got kids of all ages, even the quiet ones to join in on his game.

"You can have friends and still be lonely," Sukuna argued and you gave him just the softest look. It wasn't fair for you to see through his schemes and still look at him like that.

"Are you lonely, Sukuna?" You got closer to him, your hand still got in his and you were so warm. "Maybe I should come home with you, then?"

Sukuna couldn't have stopped himself from kissing you even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face in both of his palms. You moaned your approval into his mouth and he responded by nipping your upper lip, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned down to kiss you. Sukuna was about to risk another arrest by taking you right here in the park before a familiar voice called out to the both of you.

"Hey now, there's children here."

Sukuna turned to give the infuriating dumbfuck a piece of his mind when you distracted him by pulling him back to you and giving him a quick peck on the lips. He could leave the fight with Gojo for another day, he supposed. He knew he'd win anyway.

You're smiling and you look so happy and Sukuna doesn't feel the least amount of guilt in getting you here. Even if you knew it was a trick.

Although.

Did this mean you knew that all those times he was "stuck at work" and needed someone to watch Yuuji were a lie too? Or that he actually could cook and the one time he set the building fire alarm off had been because he started an actual fire and not just him burning dinner and two of them didn't actually need you to invite them to dinner so much? Did you also know that your radiator hadn't just stopped working randomly but he had broke it, knowing you would call him because your super never answered, and when he said a part was still missing and you would just have to stay the night at his and Yuuji's place-

Sukuna looked at you more closely and you just kept smiling.

As Yuuji called for the two of you to come help him and Megumi on the swings, Sukuna wondered if he had ever trapped you, even once. Or if you had just let him catch you.

Watching you push Yuuji as the boy screamed for you to go "higher, higher!" he decided he didn't care. Fuck, it might just be better. Knowing you were maybe as crazy as he was.

shout out to the dad at the park today who had the audacity to play with his toddler and have a cute dog at the same time.

also I liked the end of this so much I may just write a prequel of Sukuna and reader taking turns gaslighting the other into a relationship, we'll see.

Edit: wrote the prequel, here!

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you

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screampied · 6 months

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FANTASIZE. — GOJO SATORU. ☆

synopsis: it's the middle of the night and your mascara's streaming down your face. man, breakups are the worst-so what do you do? go to your fwb for "comfort." he gives you comfort, alright. ★

wc: 4.7k+

warnings: fwb trope , pwp, quickie , size kink, dacryphilia, degradation, unprotected sex, mating press, breeding, overstimulation, oral [m], face-fucking, praise kink, dumbification kink, pet names, hair pulling, not yet proofread

an: my first request!! Heavily based off Ariana's "fantasize" bcos that song iz still stuck in my head :/

3:29 A.M

you: wake up. please.

typing . . .

gojo: girl.. it's like three am.

you: you know why i'm texting u this late, satoru.

typing . . .

gojo: oh yeahh, true. well? come over then ;)

seen

you were on gojo's doorstep in nothing but some two year old university hoodie and a simple skirt, despite it being around the middle of the night, you couldn’t sleep, and you needed any sorts of distraction from your previous breakup. mascara raced down both sides of your cheeks, practically sticking to your skin, you were a devastating mess—sniffling, you wipe your eyes once the door creeks open, and there he is.

“i gotta say, babe. your taste in men is pretty shitty,” he scratches his head with a simple shrug. he chuckles, spotting you shoot him a glare from his peripherals as he held his front door open for you to step inside. “…then again, you always come crawling back to me after getting dumped so-”

“i didn’t come here to talk.” you sighed, slipping off your shoes before staring directly up at him.

“oh, i know.” he smiles with reassurance in his voice, almost as if he was mocking you. “this the part where i take my pants off right? baby, even if you’re all heartbroken, you’re still so so predictable..”

“…damn, no f-foreplay?” he nervously smiles, averting his eyes towards you—gojo wore nothing but simple sweats, grey at that, his hair was slightly messy but it made him ten times more attractive. a simple tank top covered his abdomen, and you could just about make out his ripped pecs just poking through the thin cloth piece of fabric.

you didn’t wanna waste any time, he could tell by the way you just easily shoved him with ease, against his own bed. you started to feel yourself throb, just having your fingers tangled against the thin white strings of his sweatpants. “shut up.” you mumbled, starting to pull his pants down.

“ya sure you wanna go down on me, babe? that gag reflex of yours—”

“satoru.” you glared, and he just smiles, so eager to use every second to get under your skin. but god, was he annoying. he knew he was too, the both of you knew it, gojo satoru was just purely infuriating.

sometimes you wonder why you’ve been fucking him on the low. of course not during your relationships, but he was the only person there for you in the aftermath, the only one there to comfort you, so to speak. even if that particular way was to be inside you—alas, if it was anything gojo was good at, it was fucking you. making you forget about your shitty exes. it was just something he knew how to do. he knew how to do it right too. gojo was a perfectionist after all.

“gonna suck me off with cute tears streamin’ down y’er face, yeah?” he praises, bringing a hand towards your hair, giving the crown of your head a light stroke, it’s soothing. though it causes you to let off a soft whine, feeling yourself start to throb just a bit more just from his strong, loud cologne scent that scattered across the entire room. “look at me while you do, then. wanna see that pretty face while it gets ruined.”

“your dirty talk is improving.” you sulked, and it makes gojo the one glaring at you now—it's cute.

gojo doesn't reply.

instead, he wraps a hand slightly around the back of your neck, bringing your face close towards his bright white briefs. rubbing your face against his bulge and he grunts. “shame how you make me hard even with that annoying bratty mouth of yours.”

after that little snarky remark, gojo couldn’t wait anymore. he was getting impatient, and your teasing wasn’t helping. he stares at you, watching you with close intent on the way you pull down his boxers just halfway, leaning in close enough to give his shaft a nice long lick, from his base to his very reddened coloured tip.

“s-shit.” he grunts, and you keep your eyes remained on him the entire time, his grey sweats were just visibly pulled down to his ankles as he sat up near the very edge of his un-made up bed.

gojo lets off a soft sigh, and it's more of a grunt with the way his voice pitches—his legs spread just a bit, a hand rubs against his leg. your tongue softly swipes against the head of his cock and he nibbles on his lip a little to quiet himself.

he gets a bit of shivers, feeling the very tip of your tongue playfully caress the few veins that poked out on his dick. gojo was surprisingly well trimmed, just a few tiny specks of white hair covering near the lower part of his base, but he was heavy and oh was he hefty as well. gojo satoru was the epitome of a 'packer.'

“open that mouth. tired of waitin’,” he grumbles, and he’s growing so frustrated, you can tell from his facial expressions and the way he kept shifting on the cushions. your blink at him, slowly opening your mouth before he intakes a sharp breath. “stick out y’er tongue, babe.”

you do, lolling it out and gojo grunts, wrapping his fingers around his dick before slowly slapping his thickness against your tongue. “think you deserve it?”

a pout makes its way against your lips, you were eager, whines were getting pulled from you at his consistent teasing and him slapping his pretty glossed tip against your tongue. all you could do was nod, you were on your knees while he was sat upright near the very edge of the bed.

“nuh uh,” he clicks his tongue, bringing a hand towards the back of your head to give hair a light pull, moving your head just slightly in a moving rotation. “need 'ta hear you say ya want me, gorgeous.”

what an egotistical jerk.

you wondered why you put up with someone as such as gojo satoru, but then you remembered. he always knew how to fuck good.

“i- i want you, satoru. i want it..” you mewled, the mess between your legs only making you dampen more and more. your thighs squeezed shut against each other as it was hidden beneath your pretty plaid skirt, and once you voice those sweet words. gojo lets off a cheerful yet cocky hum, using a hand to open your mouth just a bit before pushing himself inside.

it’s been a while since you sucked him off, usually it’d be him to eat you out. for hours, not to mention.

“shit,” he curses, feeling you immediately waste no time, wrapping your lips around his cock. your lashes fluttered before glancing up at him. gojo stares right back down at you—his abs flex beneath his shirt and it's sexy, his posture is even attractive. gojo’s slouching a bit with one leg stretched towards his side, it doesn’t take that much long before his eyes start to seductively go back, along with his uneven pink lips opening just a bit to breathe and pant. “missed y’er slutty throat, babe. always know how ‘ta suck it good.”

you wrap a hand swiftly around his base, and your head starts to bobble up and down, he was huge and his girth only doubled that.

your tongue meets against a few of his veins and he grunts, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“must have been hungry, yeah?” he pants, faking a pout on his lips as he pushes you down just a bit further on his length. you nod, using as much of your own spit as you can to make the experience more pleasurable for him—who were you kidding though? you just wanted to forget.

about everything, your heartbreak, the past arguments, literally everything.

“shit, with a face that pretty,” he huffs out, growing more hornier from your tongue sliding and grazing against his tip. “gotta fuck it, babe.”

you start to gag just a bit once gojo tilts his hips forward a bit and he starts to thrust in your mouth. your nails dig into his thighs, wanting for him to continue and he swipes a thumb across your cheek that was full of your ruined mascara from crying many hours ago. “good girl. you should be cryin’ like this, not wastin’ those pretty tears because of some scumbag.”

you whined, reaching down to play with yourself just a bit, still sucking him off and trying your best not to use your teeth. “eyes on me, babe,” he reminds you, tapping the side of your temple and you’re just about weak in the knees.

you started second-guessing yourself, there had to be some reasonable reason why gojo fucked better than any of your exes, boyfriends, anyone.

even if it killed you to say it, you had to admit, he knew just how to please a woman—especially if that woman was you. you knew you had to be careful though, gojo wasn’t the type of guy to settle down in a relationship, he made that known the moment you two started your little 'fling.' if you could even call it that, friends with benefits.

were you starting to … fall for him? damn, that would be bad to say the least. outside the bedroom, gojo would always tease you, he was more so playful and of course, flirty.

“think 'm getting close,” he pants, and his breathing patterns change, and your head just goes up and down—he’s got a good strong grip on some strands of your hair as he watches you with dilated pupils, the way your tongue works around his tips sends him shivers, his leg starts to bounce as he’s chasing his incoming anticipation.

the build up, it makes his mouth go dry that he’s almost speechless, which is so ironic because of how he’s literally always talking your ear off.

“fuck, doing so good f'r me,” he says, and his voice starts to get a bit whiney from how sensitive he’s growing. that feeds your ego just a little, just knowing that you’re making him like this. all just from your tongue, and maybe a little bit of stimulation.

gojo moans, feeling your tongue flick against the frenulum part of his dick and he pauses for a moment, the way his eyes roll back just a bit was so sexy—that was one way to make you throb even more, and it certainly did.

your tongue runs up and up, almost as if it was a race and he’s so close to loosing focus. he’s not thrusting his hips into your mouth anymore, instead he plops flat on his back against the bed. you giggle, standing up while your mouth was still attached to his soon-to-be flaccid dick.

“c-cumming,” he grunts, watching your own drool pour down your chin. you were so messy, you couldn’t help it. it was one of the many things gojo loved about you, actually. once he came, he shakes a bit. shuddering, and letting off a cute moan, he catches his breath as you look at him with half-open eyes. “swallow ‘n show me, baby.”

within seconds later, you swallow his load and it tastes sweet, yet bitter. your eyes squeezed shut for a moment before you stuck your tongue out again, and he brushes a thumb against your chin to remove your spit.

“cock hungry whore,” he whines, still catching his breath before leaning down towards you only to squeeze your cheeks together. “now gimme a kiss.”

you whined, sitting up to kiss gojo and he wraps a hand around your waist, tasting himself on your lips, his tongue drags against yours and you whimper before making your way onto his lap. he chuckles at your enthusiasm, sliding a hand up and down your waist slowly to make you moan even more for him.

after a few moments, gojo pulls away to breathe until both hands of his attach to your waist. his gaze was just enticing, you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

“barely touched ya and you're nothin' but a sticky mess,” he grunts, and gojo snickers once he feels you start to grind and grind your hips against him sensually, you’re so needy and desperate for more of his touch. “walkin’ around with no panties, don’t tell me you’re just a dumb slut who just wants a crumb of dick.”

“satoru—please.” you begged, aching and itching for him to be inside already. he trails his lengthy fingers against your ass, no panties behind displayed and all you had covering you, just barely, was a plaid skirt. he grins, giving your ass a two-second squeeze before spanking it to hear you whine out. “fuck me satoru.”

“fine.” he says, stroking your chin to reach down between your legs. you moan and that single motion makes your back arch whilst your hands were thrown over his shoulders. “go slow baby, don’t want you to hurt y’erself.”

“shut t-the fuck up.” you whined, barely able to keep up your facade. gojo’s dick hovered against your achy folds. just a few inches and he’d be inside, just imagining him fucking you ruthlessly made your mouth start to water, you were hungry for it.

'desperate' was the perfect word to describe you.

“how ‘bout ya make me, hmm.” he teases, and he was so cheeky. you hated it, but then again, the way he fucks you always made up for it.

no reply.

instead of using words, you decided to let your pussy do the talking. aligning yourself against him, gojo sits upright with such a cocky grin. “go slow, babe. wouldn’t want ya to hurt yourself. been a while since i've—shit…” he pauses before nervously smiling. “…been inside this tight pussy.”

it was warm, you chewed on your bottom lip as you sank down on him, immediately leaning into him to give him… a hug?

gojo was just as surprised as you, it seemed you were acting a bit different. of course you’d be, you’d just gotten out a relationship. so you’d tend to be a bit more clingy than usual. not that he ever minded, he preferred you like this, so cute and sentimental, all in your feelings. but despite that, it was just sex and nothing more.

or was it?

“fuck,” you moaned, practically straddling him now. gojo’s hair is messy, it’s all in his face, white stands splattered all across his forehead to where it was just effortlessly attractive. he didn’t even have to do much to make you pulse between your legs. “quit looking at me.”

“but you’re so pretty when you try to take control,” he shrugs, flashing a cheesy grin and you’re just embarrassed. he was certainly enjoying this, getting underneath your skin. and you let him.

every.

single.

time.

your lips tremor as you whimper, he’s nearly all the way inside and he stretched out your cunt, you’re dizzy out of nowhere and your eyes get a bit droopy—but fuck, gojo’s amused, using one hand to rub down your back as you start to rock your hips against him, biting down hard on your bottom lip as the tip of his cock mashed and kisses against your sensitive areas.

“uh oh,” he huffs out in a short mini pant, swiping a tongue against his lips before grunting. you were sopping wet, he spanks your ass to quicken your pace and you moaned. “this what you call ridin' someone? thought i taught ya better than that, babe,” and then he sniggers at seeing your face drop once he holds your hips firmly still and in place. “if you can’t do it right, maybe we should just end this thing-”

“n-no, okay okay okay,” you stuttered, so desperate for him to fuck you, but you had to fuck him first. gojo hums to himself, and you start to ride him. a tiny mewl exits past your lips once you move against him before you’re bouncing on his lap. your head’s spinning, mind s racing miles a minute and it’s just euphoric.

gojo’s got such the cockiest grin on his lips as you maneuver yourself against him, chewing on your lip every few seconds to suppress your sweet sounds, he eyes you up and down before his voice gets a bit rapsy, turning you on ultimately.

“speed it up, baby,” he grunts, spanking your ass once more and you whimper from feeling his touch press against your skin. “touch yourself while you ride me. give me a little show. show me what i’ve been missin' since you’ve been away from me for so long.”

“o-okay.” you breathed, bringing a shaky hand towards your body, panting as you rode him. his dick reached deep—damn. his girth, it was just appetizing, you needed gojo satoru carnally, more than anything.

you and him both knew that.

gojo smiles, watching you start to fondle with your perky nipples that visibly poked beneath your tank top, rocking your hips against him back and forth to where a low grunt leaves from his mouth every few seconds.

it was strenuous on how repetitive your movements were against him. who were you kidding though, you missed this. you missed him. perhaps though, in reality you just missed his dick.

yeah…. it was probably that.

“touch yourself as in..play with your pussy, dummy.” he teases, watching you whimper once he spanks you again, you’re feeling yourself become close each time he reaches deeper.

now your mouth starts to become dry, your head’s still spinning and you’re just about at a loss of words.

“…g-gonna cum soon, 'toru,” you alerted him, slithering your fingers down towards your throbbing clit. the stimulation made your eyes nearly close shut as his thick length drags across your cunt so righteously thorough, making sure to not miss a spot to reach you deep where you can feel his pure existence.

“aw,” he hums, gripping your hips to make you bounce harder on him. you whimper from gojo taking such initiative, holding onto him as he’s drilling himself into you basically since your legs were starting to become numb, you could barely ride him but you continued to bounce against him again and again, leaning into his neck to softly nibble and suck against his skin. “mhm. i missed you too.”

you could hear such arrogance drip from his voice, causing you to become more wet for him in the process. again, a perfect word to describe the entire situation would be:

embarrassing.

before long, you came and that was one of the best orgasms you’ve had in a long time. no matter how much you denied it, no one could you please you, fuck you, hell—pleasure you as much and good as gojo did. you throbbed immensely with your legs joining from how it was just shaking and shivering, your body practically going limp.

this brings such a smile to gojo’s face, still shamefully playing with yourself.

a hand dug deep between your pried open legs, your chest heaves as you stare at gojo and he pecks a kiss on your lips, muttering something along the lines of, “my good fuckin’ sloppy girl.”

but once he had you on your back, it was an entirely different story. gojo had completely dominance and control now—vigorous mean smacks and hits against your pussy, making sure to grow quiet purposely to hear how sinful your cunt was to him.

to say the least, he was addicted. your pussy was too good for him to not constantly fuck you.

gojo wasn’t too interested in relationships, but who was he to turn down a good fuck?

exactly.

you had so many orgasms pulled out of you, you practically lost count.

you were currently now just laid flat on your back, just about being folded. your pussy sang constant harmonies by how many times gojo made it squelch and cry out for him, for some reason he always loved putting you in mating press. partially because of the eye contact.

but also, he just loves to gently press against your tummy while staring deep into your eyes, speaking to you in such a phony-mocking tone, asking you if you feel him.

it’s a rhetorical question, you weren’t supposed to answer it because of course you feel gojo. his dick was pummeling in and out of your sweet cunt to where your vision started to turn a bit hazy. this position gave him an excuse to fuck you deeper, striking his hips against you repeatedly with your cute legs just sticking up in the air. perfectly hanging over his shoulders.

“you’re such a slutty girl, babe. always lettin' me break this pussy,” he pants, his voice turns more raspy to match his ruthless thrusts and you whimper, dragging your nails against his thick calves. his balls thwacked and thwacked against you, you felt so warm and you’re just a noisy mess.

you don't even realize you’re drooling while maintaining initiate eye contact with gojo. “..cute,” he raises his brows, bringing a thumb up to your lips to wipe it. “only i can make ya drool for cock, hm?”

you eagerly nodded, tears poking in your eyes. the dried up mascara sticking to your lashes still remained. “y-yes, satoru please. ‘s really good. want more.”

“course ya do,” he cursed, deepening his hits against you and you feel him reach more once he dips and pivots his hips. you moan, your mouth opening—a dramatic gasp type moan leaves your lips and he leans in to kiss you. you’re taken by surprise, but you sink into his warm embrace, running your needy tongue against his while he’s still occupying his cock between your tight stingy walls that was never gonna let him go.

the kiss was one word, sloppy.

partially because of you. you couldn’t think straight while you were getting mercilessly pounded in his bed. gojo tasted sweet, minty and a bit honeyed flavored, his tongue softly clashed against yours and you feel his lips form into a smile once he playfully sucks on your tongue.

his breathing along with yours was warm, it was really intimate, for a second you forgot about your depressing heartbreak—and it was all because of what’s between gojo’s legs, who knew.

butterflies started to form in your stomach, and it made you cringe, you really hoped you weren’t falling for him but he made it so hard. gojo’s been fucking you for hours and hours non-stop, his name approximately lived inside your head rent-free.

it’s all you were ever moaning out anyway, or just blabbering how you were about to cum again and again and again, he’s got you in a chokehold.

“f-fuck,” he groans, feeling himself swell. reaching his very peak. he felt a sensation brew up in his thighs as he continued to drill himself into your tight pussy that kept hugging onto him tightly. he loved how clingy you were. and you couldn’t exactly help it too, it was as if your body had a mind of it’s own. gojo’s strokes were so delicious, your eyes slowly roll back now just like his were, piercing the edges of your nails into his skin as you’re being fucked limp quite again. “gonna make me dump another load, babe. overflow your sloppy heartbroken pussy with s’much of me.”

his voice was a bit shaky now, it was honestly cute. droplets of sweat beads raced down gojo’s forehead as he’s panting, his breathing patterns were staggeringly fast-paced and rapid as he stares at you and—oh shit, he’s feral. you could see from how his pretty cerulean eyes never leave yours. it’s as if his pupils dilate just slightly each moment he gets more close.

he’s hungry, gojo licks his lips at just envisioning himself pumping you fell again, watching his own sticky cum pour out of your hole just to plug it back in again.

“fill me p-please, 'toru.” you begged, and his body weight was crushing you, not literally, but he was pressed against you—you were for sure limp now, your arms were just sprawled against your sides as your head just bounces back against the cushioned mattress within each deep thrust he presents to you. “stuff me full, satoru. breed m-me.”

“would be kinda funny if i made you a mama,” he whispers, his tone was playfully yet sweet, he was purely mocking you though. he’s maintaining deep eye contact as his thrusts transmits you to such a high, you whimper for him to continue because you were coming close too. “make this perfect tummy all swollen and r-round,” he sighs, rotating his hips against you—it was sloppy, an entire mess. some of his cum from him recently spilling into you dripped down your thighs and you moaned from how messy it was. “bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

“m-maybe.” you muttered out, clinging onto his wrist and he chuckles.

“maybe?” he repeats after you, leaning in to kiss the side of your mouth—gojo’s buried entirely balls deep and you’re just panting and panting, both chasing your incoming releases.

you shiver a bit, feeling him rub a hand across your tummy, mimicking his previous action of pressing down on it. “tsk, poor dumb baby. can’t even think straight. bet all you’re thinkin’ about ‘s getting filled, huh?”

you sniffled, throwing your arms around gojo and he chuckles, licking a stripe up your neck only to sink his teeth against your collarbone lightly to hear you moan.

“s’ okay, babe. cum with me,” he says in a hushed tone, his voice was so deep and seductive, just hearing gojo’s voice against your ear was just enough to make you soaked already, as pathetic as it was. “be my messy girl, don’t be shy. love when you slut yourself out for me, it’s cute.”

“s-satoru,” you squeaked, your nails were piercing into his soft skin as your right thigh started to bounce against him as you chased your incoming high. “fuck, ‘s deep, satoru. fill me please.”

gojo kisses the top of your forehead as his hips strike and rummage inside your walls, you clamp down on his so good he grunts, it’s so raspy and pitched it makes you throb. “shit, better not waste it then. come on baby, relax,” and he’s talking you through your orgasm—acknowledging your changing breathing patterns that he knew whenever you were close, he brings a thumb towards your cheek to stroke your chin before smiling. “give it to me.”

you whimpered once another orgasm got stolen from you, you’re just being pounded into the mattress with random blabbering leaving your lips, you’re so dumb, so cockdrunk, again it’s really pathetic.

gojo groans, feeling you tighten against him before it’s his turn. his hips slow but still maneuver and pivot against you, and once he came, it was a thick load, he’s the one about to drool now. he averts his eyes towards your pussy, watching his own cum spill out of you, it’s hypnotizing to him. gojo runs a thumb against your slit and you whimper once he pauses his thrusts but slowly pulls out. a pop sound was created and you whined, wanting him to keep stuffing you full.

you craved it.

gojo leans in, kissing you for a final time and it wasn’t as sloppy like last time—more passionate and sincere, which scared you a little. you hoped you weren’t catching feelings. gojo probably hoped you were though.

“satoru.” you panted, once he pulled away. “i-i think i love you.”

he’s panting and catching his breath as well as you, he sits up with his toned biceps pressed against the sides of you before speaking in a low alluring voice. “babe?”

“babe?”

you blinked twice, and realized you were being shook lightly by the shoulders. the realization hit you like a truck once you realized geto was calling your name—he had a worried, almost pale expression on his face once he sees you come back to reality.

“suguru..?” you mumbled, in the same exact bed and still feeling dizzy from your many orgasms that got pulled from you the entire night.

“did you.. just call me, satoru?”

oh.

maybe you were just fantasizing the entire thing.

#★vegasbaby.#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #cw smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #cw sex mention #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #female reader #smut

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miniimight · 7 months

Text

MISSING A DATE . they forget about a big date with you and realize it too late

with deku + bakugou (in their pro-hero era)

one thing about him is that he always tried his absolute best to make time for you amid his busy schedule. you understood that you weren't the only one that demanded his attention due to his work and were okay with that. as long as you still got your 'me-time' with him, where he blocked out the world and focused on you and only you, you couldn't ask for a more perfect relationship.

but this was your last straw. you had forgiven the late nights, the last-minute cancellations—gotten used to being alone in your luxurious apartment, which only reminded you of the one thing you were missing.

you had planned this date for months. a set time where you both blocked off time that night to just be with each other in a word that tried everything to keep you apart.

"remember tonight, baby." you chirped as you kissed him goodbye that morning.

he hummed and gave you a tight hug before leaving.

you felt giddy as you prepared yourself, slipping into your best clothes and fixing yourself in the mirror. you felt as you did on the night of your first date with him. you couldn't be more excited.

then, you waited. and waited. the restaurant happily sat you next to a window, the streetlamps twinkling romantically against the dusky backdrop.

you waited some more. soon your bright posture slouched as your checked your phone. messaged him a couple times, called a few times more. he's probably just running late.

families came and went, and before you knew it, hours had passed.

you burned in embarrassment as you stared at the empty chair across from you, focusing your frustration as if he was sitting there. but even that didn't give you relief. every one of your thoughts and feelings came to the same conclusion—

he hadn't shown up.

IZUKU

you ordered some food to-go. why not get something out of this outing? besides, the food would do good to distract you from the dread swirling in your stomach. you flashed the server a quick smile before dragging your feet out the restaurant.

you threw your bag, coat, and shoes to the ground as you walked into your apartment, uncaring of where they ended up. you needed the couch, a movie, and the food you were carrying.

a few hours later, izuku showed up. you heard the door slide open and the jangle of his keys. his heavy sigh was familiar and it almost made you feel bad for feeling so angry about him missing this date. almost.

you made no move to greet him as he entered the living space, a big grin plastered on his face. "you look pretty."

the compliment was just salt on the wound, ironically. you hummed, remaining laser focused on your show.

he tugged off his white gloves and set them on the table. "what's got you all dressed up tonight, hmm?" he sat next to you, running his hands up and down your arm.

you just handed him one of the takeout boxes. "want some?" you said dryly.

"what's this—? oh, i recognize the name of this restaurant..." he surveyed the box in his hands, his voice becoming quieter as he sunk into his thoughts. "oh."

you got off the couch.

"oh." he repeated, staring at the takeout box incredulously. "baby, don't tell me tonight was—"

"it was." you said simply, walking into the bedroom. you couldn't bear to look at him.

"fuck." you heard him hiss. a light thudding followed as he hurried after you. "y/n, god, i'm so sorry—don't tell me you went there alone—"

"izuku, i don't care anymore." you turned around abruptly, making him skid to a halt before you. his expression read shock. "i don't."

he slumped and inched closer to you. "no, don't say that—"

"you don't give me a reason to care anymore." you laughed wryly though your lips trembled. "i—" your breath hitched and you turned away from him.

his voice sounded watery as he tried to turn your body to face him again. "i'm so sorry, there was a hangout at the agency after work today and... shit, i totally forgot—"

"a fucking party?" you snapped. "you blew off the date you and i planned for months in advance because we never get to spend time together anymore to hang out with the same goddamn people you see every single day?"

he groaned. "i know, i know—"

"you don't know, izuku." your voice quivered. "you don't, okay?" you sobbed.

he was stunned to silence, unsure of how to right something so horribly wrong.

"you don't know what it's like to always be waiting. i'm always waiting for you. you always have something better to do." you sobbed, sitting on the edge of the bed. you really didn't want to have this conversation with him; you knew you'd break down sobbing. you thought it would've been best if he didn't come back home at all.

he knelt beside you, resting his head where your knees hung over the bed. he stared up at your heartbroken face with tears threatening to flow. "there is nothing that deserves my time more than you." he said firmly.

"you say that as if it's true." you said quietly. "but you don't even..." you looked away from him to reign in your emotions.

he frowned deeply. he knew it was all his fault. you reminded him this morning and he still forgot. you had no reason to believe the words coming out of his mouth. that doesn't mean he's going to stop trying to prove them.

he rested his head against your stomach and wrapped his arms around you tightly. "you have every right to hate me right now, y/n. you've been lonely and overlooked and i haven't done anything to make things better."

you refused to look at him.

he tilted his head with hopes of catching your gaze. "y/n, i mean it. there's nothing that deserves my time more than you. anyone else would've left me. you've given me love and understanding with my hero work..." he choked on his words, finally facing the reality of his relationship. "and i've just taken it and left you behind."

you sniffled.

he stood, bending at the waist to kiss your forehead. "i love you. so much. it's time i start proving it, huh?"

your eyes flickered to his, questioning evident on your expression.

he smiled sadly. "japan has many heroes. i'm sure kacchan and todoroki can handle things without me for a while."

you huffed and rolled your eyes. "very funny. you're a hero, izuku, it's in your nature to shoulder everything." you pouted, guilt threatening to inhabit your thoughts.

he shook his head, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "i'm dead serious. the world doesn't need me everyday, you do. and i'll adjust my schedule to suit."

"but..." you groaned. "god, why do i feel guilty now?" you mumbled.

"stop it. you're not keeping me away from anything. this was long overdue. nothing would make me happier," he grinned and kissed you again before tackling you in a hug.

BAKUGOU

you left the restaurant without another word, feeling so sick to the stomach that you couldn't even bear to go home to the empty apartment.

you tried desperately to convince yourself that something important was holding him up. he didn't forget. he just had some life-threatening epic battle that he needed to attend to. he didn't forget.

you crashed at a friend's house for the night, after a very satisfying rant session about your dilemma. they were a great soundboard and didn't try to regulate your emotions. in a lot of cases, just letting your feelings fly free was the best way to cope with a situation out of your hands.

rrrring rrring

you saw the caller ID and was tempted to ignore the call. but your hands moved on their own, accepting it and putting the phone to your ear.

"y/n l/n." bakugou snarled on the other side. "where the fuck are you?"

"a friend's house."

"why?"

you shrugged, hoping your unbothered reaction would be translated across the phone. "wanted to be with someone last night after my boyfriend stood me up."

silence. a very long silence. you heard him cuss under his breath before he replied. "yesterday was our date."

you hummed.

"y/n. come home."

"i'm good here, really."

"i'm serious, come home."

"why? the off-chance of seeing you there?"

his voice grew more desperate. "y/n—" his breath caught in his throat. "i'm home. i'm waiting for you. we can do something today, maybe—"

"katsuki, you can't keep treating me like a test that you can make up whenever you fail the real thing. you're not there when it fucking matters." you snapped, your resolve crumbling as your eyes started to water.

he gave a weighted sigh. "you're right. i've been treating you like shit."

you scoffed.

"but you're always on my mind. every time i see you asleep when you were trying to wait up for me, i—" he inhaled deeply, trying to keep it together. "i'm not the best boyfriend. believe me, i know that. and i'm losing you... i can see that, too."

you waited.

he sniffed. "come home, y/n. please. i—"

you hung up. you tossed your phone aside and stretched. you gently wiped at your cheeks, realizing how many tears streaked them.

after thanking your friend for their hospitality, you decided to go home. you dreaded the conversation that awaited you. uncertainty riddled your thoughts; was this the end?

you opened the door and immediately heard pounding footsteps to meet you. bakugou stood there, looking uncharacteristically stressed and awkward.

you just gave him a passing glance as you slipped off your shoes, hanging your coat up. you walked past him, going to the washroom to refresh yourself with a much needed shower.

as the water ran down your skin, you began to feel guilty. he was a hero. he saved lives. and you were crying over a missed date with him? when his mere presence meant the safety of those around him?

no matter how valid your frustration and sadness was, you couldn't help the creeping guilt from overwriting your feelings.

you stepped out of the shower, then dressed comfortably for a night in. when you opened the bathroom door, he was waiting outside like a puppy.

you sighed. "i'm sorry." you finally said.

his neck snapped to look at you. "why the fuck are you apologizing?"

"you're a hero. i knew what i'd be signing up for when i got into a relationship with you—"

"are you crazy?" he growled, grabbing your cheeks and tilting your face to look at him. he searched your eyes with concern, as if there was something wrong with you. "you don't need to apologize. my being a hero is no excuse for the way i've been treating you."

you frowned. "but—"

"no." he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your head. "you—" he laughed dryly. "i can't believe you thought to apologize to me. you're really crazy."

you opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. "i'm so lucky to have you. seriously. i can't live without you and i will do everything to prove that from now on."

you pulled away and looked at him. "you better mean it."

he gave you a lopsided grin. "i do. thanks..." he trailed off.

you cocked your head to the side. "for...?"

he kissed you gently. "staying." he hugged you tightly, his next words barely a whisper, "i'm always gonna be there for you."

amidst a couple of tears, you believed him.

#bnha #mha #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #deku #deku x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha comfort #mha angst #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #midoriya izuku

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hoseoksluna · 2 months

Text

SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it.

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube.

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too.

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it.

He doesn’t think you could.

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts.

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it.

You don’t say anything.

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately.

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery.

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly.

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you.

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head.

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting.

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.”

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view.

Hobi.

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air.

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back.

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you.

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery.

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red.

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage.

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way.

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one.

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him—needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you.

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched.

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead.

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip.

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.”

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel.

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name.

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room.

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.”

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin.

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else.

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add.

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away.

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.”

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all.

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands.

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely.

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again.

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.”

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness.

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.”

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod.

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled.

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light.

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty.

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot.

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.”

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin.

His heart jumps.

“I didn’t catch that, baby.”

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.”

Your words tell him a lot of things.

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home.

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are.

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it.

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.”

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters.

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.”

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes.

“Make me forget about tonight, please.”

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you.

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling.

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb.

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can.

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.”

“Let’s go.”

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay.

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night.

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.”

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit.

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body.

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care.

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you.

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you.

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles.

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.”

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit.

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity.

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy.

“Oh my god.”

Serves you fucking right.

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.”

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?”

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.”

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens.

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires.

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.”

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes.

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked.

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes.

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over.

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside.

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.”

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more.

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.”

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten.

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough.

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette.

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine.

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.”

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you.

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.”

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before.

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates.

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty.

Wants you to get used to it.

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching.

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you.

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance.

When he penetrates you there, you scream.

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again.

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do.

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want.

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm.

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same.

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart.

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now.

Tears well up in his eyes.

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy.

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is.

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out.

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it.

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in.

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted.

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled.

A dream come true. A desire gratified.

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you.

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much.

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.”

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?”

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair.

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.”

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.”

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore.

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.”

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?”

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.”

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes.

One person. One mind, one heart.

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good.

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop fucking you.

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies.

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you.

Gives you all of his cock.

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you.

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?”

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy.

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?”

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it.

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs.

“No, feels good.”

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?”

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair.

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe.

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.”

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too.

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead.

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off.

He pounds into you.

You’re no longer smiling.

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard.

Merciless.

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone.

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you.

Who is he to say no to you?

“You just want it bad, don’t you?”

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him.

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.”

The air grows dense.

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time—pumping you full. Giving you all that he has.

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned.

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum.

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning.

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you.

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?”

You sound just like him.

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down.

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in.

With a barrier in between.

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.”

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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emchant3d · 9 months

Text

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week.

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it.

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger.

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing.

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?"

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep.

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching.

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

#steddie #steve/eddie #stevexeddie #eddie/steve #eddiexsteve #steddie fic #my fic #listen i was in the mood for steve whump and i won't apologize for it #don't worry there's plenty of eddie whump coming in part 2 i promise

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luveline · 2 months

Note

I love your writings about the marauders, and I recently had a thought about the boys first coming in contact with a vibrator or any sex toy really. Not even a like smut thing but just then walking into a muggle sex shop or they made a friend with a muggle girl and they stumble upon in some way lol idk, just a funny thought that’s been making me giggle a bit. If you have any thoughts I guess?? Hope you have a good day :)

this isn’t smut but it is explicit - mdni please! fem, 1k

“What is that?” Sirius asks.

You get yanked back. “God, sorry,” James says, letting go of your hand. You’d been in a weird fugue state of joy with his fingers twined in yours; it’s the first time he’s held your hand. You can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic, you can never tell with the boys. “Wait, what is that?”

“What’s what?” you ask, trying to follow their gaze. You’re on a crowded high street divided by a two way road. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, and stopping as you have has diverted foot traffic around you poorly.

“There’s a cock in the window.”

Remus yelps a laugh. You smile, befuzzled, as he takes your shoulders into his hand and turns you bodily to the right shop window. “Oh,” you say. “Oh! There really is.”

There is a vast array of the aforementioned appendage in the window, and in a variety of sizes and colours. A mannequin in dark lingerie holds a fifty percent off sign to the left, while a poster brags a multitude of ‘stimulating pleasures’ to be found inside.

“What am I looking at?” Sirius asks.

You forget sometimes how sheltered they all are. They’d gone to a rather elite boarding school, and they all lived in rural England and Wales for their summers. This is as city as they’ve ever been, and you’d thought they’d seen everything there is to see by now, but apparently not.

How are you supposed to explain a sex shop? Better, why is fate making you? They all turn to you for an explanation.

“Remus, you’re twenty three,” you say hopelessly.

“We’ve only recently relocated,” Remus argues.

“You’ve known me for six months. You’ve lived here for eight.”

“And yet we’ve never seen that,” James says, pointing at the lingerie. “You’re such perverts in the city. Why are there rainbow cocks in the window?”

“Can we stop saying that?” you ask.

“Sorry,” James says quickly. “Lovely girl, why are the dicks in the window?”

“They’re toys,” you say, feeling a little part of yourself shrivel away in shyness, their eyes like heat from your face and neck.

“For kids?” Sirius asks, disgusted.

“No! God, no, they’re for grown ups.” You shake your head uselessly. “Are you messing with me? You’ve really never seen them?”

“We’ve seen some rather tasteful underwear in our time,” Sirius says, to James’ delight and Remus’ derision.

“Stop,” Remus says.

“We have to go in. I must understand these toys,” Sirius says, ignoring him with ease. There’s something to his usually nice smile you don’t know, some burning excitement that will likely end in innuendos and teasings galore for you.

You make your way into the sex shop, shoes dragging, cheeks hot. James and Sirius seem as though they could burst into laughter at any second, but Remus is more understanding. He offers you his hand when he realises you’re behind them. You don’t have the strength to refuse him.

They’re the weirdest friends you’ve ever had, but also the best ones. They love holding hands and crossing legs and laying half on top of each other when they come around to watch a film. You’re pretty sure you saw James and Remus kissing a few weeks ago, but they’ve yet to say anything about it to you, so what do you know? You’d been jealous, but each boy has continued to love on you just a little too much considering the parameters of your ‘friendship’.

This lies firmly outside of your parameters, you decide.

Sure, you’ve thought about them sometimes as more than friends, but they don’t know that. Can you be blamed? They’re all so handsome in awful ways —Remus classic, Sirius Grecian, and James devilish. James. You shake your head in an attempt to dispel thoughts of their good looks while in close proximity to lacy knickers, turning your attention to the ridiculous gasps of awe the two idiots are letting out.

“What is that?” Sirius asks delightedly, knuckling at a row of plastic sex toys, all with different functions.

“That’s a…” You blow a breath up your face in an attempt to cool down. “Read the label, Siri.”

“Most of this stuff is for girls?” James asks you.

“I guess so.” You poke at the pink packaging of a glass massage wand. “I mean, not always. I think anybody can use all this stuff too. Or most of it.”

“What about that?”

James points at a vibrator in clear blister packaging. “A vibrator? What’s that do?” He turns to you with a surprisingly innocent curiosity.

“It vibrates.” You don’t want to say anything else, but they’re your friends. They’re nice to you, and they respect you, so it’s not like you think telling them these things will put you in an uncomfortable position. “You know how girls have a harder time finishing sometimes?”

If they’re surprised to hear you say it aloud, they don’t show it. “Not in my experience,” Sirius jokes.

“So the vibration helps?”

“It’s very intense. It makes the… climax come much quicker,” you say.

Remus seems very grateful for the energy your explanation takes, giving you a caring smile. He’s about to say something when Sirius interrupts, and asks, “Do you have one?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Remus says, hitting Sirius in the arm. “She doesn’t have to answer that, don’t ask her stuff like that, it’s private.”

Sirius’ eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” he says to you, all joking gone from his face. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just forget sometimes that you have boundaries we don’t have.”

You’re not expecting such a genuine and sudden apology, because maybe Sirius shouldn’t ask, but you totally understand what he means. You feel like you’ve known them all your life. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I know what you’re like.”

“So it’s a good time, hypothetically,” James says.

“What do you reckon that feels like?” Sirius asks, already moving on.

“Sirius,” Remus pleads.

“Sweetheart, can I ask you, hypothetically,” —Sirius taps his converse to yours, grinning— “what do you mean, it’s quicker? How does that even work?”

You frown, “You don’t know how it works?”

Remus and James laugh like bellows beside you. They laugh so much the woman behind the counter glares at you all, undoubtedly tired of people coming in here for a laugh.

“Awful girl,” Sirius says, frowning.

You smile back. “It just stimulates the nerves, Sirius. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s kinda like magic or something.”

“Magic can’t do that,” James says. Remus elbows him hard, and you’ve no idea why.

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bookshelf-dust · 2 months

Text

baby love, my baby love

gif by @corrodedcherry

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1,880

warnings: swearing, reader had a not so good day, some hair washing, reader is nude in a non-sexual way, casual intimacy, lots of lovey-dovey things

a/n: hello! i am still very tentatively getting back into writing, but i wanted to write something sweet and comforting and soft and all those things. and eddie is the best provider of all that. this is so cute i almost made myself nauseous. lemme know what you think!! happy reading!!! <333 lots of love

————

“Where’s my girl at?”

Eddie’s voice rings throughout your small apartment, echoing slightly due to it not being fully furnished. His tone is almost giddy, words taking on a little twang after having spent the day working with Wayne.

You bury your face deeper into your pillow, fighting a smile at the way he speaks to you. From your place on the bed, you hear his keys smack the wall as he hangs them up, hear his boots thudding across the kitchen tiles as he makes his way to you.

When Eddie appears in the doorway to your shared bedroom, his arms are raised, fingers working to quickly tie his hair up in a knot. His biceps flex with the movement, drawing your eye to his pale skin. A brilliant smile spreads across his face upon seeing you.

“Hey, bug,” he says.

You flush. You never thought you’d allow someone to call you love bug, let alone any variation of it. You certainly didn’t think you’d like it. It’s who’s saying it that’s converted you.

You’re laying on your stomach, hands crushed under your cheek. You try to smile back at him, but it comes out much less enthusiastic than normal. It’s a very tired gesture.

Eddie notices, kicking off his shoes and crouching before you. “What’s the matter sweet girl? You’re wearing your outside clothes still, and you look pretty pitiful.”

At least he’s honest.

You blink and let your eyes flutter shut. “Long day. Headache. Upset.”

He brings his hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your temples. “Oh, I’m sorry, bug. I know you just wanna feel all better. Is that it?”

You nod, eyes still closed. He starts to laugh playfully just because of how pitiful you really do look, at how small and scrunched up you’ve made yourself. When he kisses your cheek, you feel his smile against your skin. It makes you beam, despite how you feel. The tingle Eddie’s lips leave behind makes it seem like the first time no matter how long it's been. You’re all soft for him, and there’s no denying it. But hell, he’s the same way.

“How about…” he trails off, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, tickling your lower back where your sweater has ridden up. “How about I take care of you? Run you a bath, for starters? I know you like that.”

Your eyes open, happy to think about how nice it would feel to sink your tired body into a hot basin full of bubbles. “Okay, Teddy.”

“Yeah? C’mere then,” Eddie says gently, holding his hands out to encourage you to sit up. You slowly push yourself away from the mattress, and he easily pulls you to stand. “I’ll get the water warmed up for you.”

You give him a poor little salute, making him laugh, and then stick your fingers through his belt loop so you don’t have to do as much on the short walk to the bathroom. When you get there, Eddie bends to cut the water on and push the drain plug down. You wrap your arms around his waist and fold yourself against his warm back. You close your eyes once again, hearing him squirt a hefty amount of bubble bath into the tub. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t flood the bathroom.

The plastic top clicks shut and Eddie rises, grabbing hold of your hands and spinning around in your grip.

“Don’t like seein’ you all drained, baby,” he says. Eddie’s hands cradle your face, long and pale fingers beginning to rub at your temples. It feels so nice to have that pressure be pushed away, to feel his body so close to yours. At this rate, you’ll forget you even had a headache.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Eddie asks. “Or do you just want to have a chill night?”

You open your eyes and push up on your toes to kiss his nose. “The latter,” you say.

He chuckles, knowing you never used that term until you started reading Jane Austen.

“M’kay, bug. That works for me.” His eyes twinkle mischievously. “You want a kiss? I think you deserve a good one.”

That gets you to practically melt. I fucking love this woman, Eddie thinks. He feels breathless each time you look at him that way. You look at him like he hung the stars, like he is your knight in shining armor. He kisses you in that way that thanks you for making him feel so loved. So cherished.

You thread your hands in Eddie’s hair, fingers pulling at the chunk at the nape of his neck where it’s most sensitive. His mouth is warm against yours. He smiles at your playfulness, breaking away to kiss both cheeks.

He bends and drags a finger through the water. “It’ll be plenty warm enough in a second, bug.”

You give him a tired thank you squeeze as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“Need help undressing?” he inquires, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

You gently backhand his stomach, watching as he feigns severe injury. “Perv,” you joke.

Eddie sits down on the toilet seat lid so that he can be prepared to turn the water off when he deems the tub full enough for you. Really he’d just like to see you surrounded by a huge pile of bubbles for his own amusement, but also because he knows it’ll be the thing to coax that pure, joyous laugh out of you. The sound he’d bottle and keep on his nightstand if he could.

You remove the little bit of makeup you’d been wearing with a cotton pad, sighing in relief to have it all off. You take out your earrings and slip off your rings, setting them in an ashtray on the counter you’ve been repurposing ever since Eddie decided to cut back on his smoking.

You take off each of your socks, one hand gripping the countertop for balance. As you slip your belt off, Eddie finishes preparing your bath and turns to face you. He holds his arms out, ready to collect your dirty clothes and accessories so that he can put them in their rightful places.

He takes your belt from you only to be cheeky, snapping the thick leather as loud as he can manage. He makes himself laugh.

You turn to the side when you unbutton your jeans, flushing and shy at his attention even after all this time. Even knowing how beautiful he finds your body. How much he loves how soft you are. After all, your body allows you to live. It allows you to spend time with him, and that is all he’ll ever ask for. It doesn’t matter to him what state your body is in because it is yours. And you are his.

Eddie smiles watching you shimmy out of your snug jeans. You hand him your pants and t-shirt, now only in your bra and underwear. You don’t give yourself the time to be self-conscious, longing for the hot bath water. You turn and quickly unclasp your bra. Eddie playfully flicks your bum. It always deserves appreciation in his eyes.

When you hand him the last of your items, he presses the sweetest kiss to your tummy, thumbs rubbing at the indentations left on your chest from your bras underwire, as if he can make them go away just by sheer will.

“I love you, bug,” Eddie says, looking up at you with those watery doe eyes. His kisses your stomach again.

“I love you same, Teddy. Now let me take my bath. It’s rather chilly in this house, don’t you think? I refuse to freeze.”

Eddie laughs to himself as he walks off, taking your clothes to the hamper and storing your bra and belt elsewhere. He never could’ve imagined a world where preparing a bath for his partner would make him as happy as it does.

————

Eddie is kneeling on the bathroom floor. Your back is pressed against the side of the tub, and he’s washing your hair. Well, really he’s already given it the scrub and cleanse that it needed, now he’s just trying to make weird shapes out of it.

After you’d sat in the warm water until your toes pruned without actually bathing, he jokingly offered to do your hair while you washed your body.

You hadn’t even thought about it. You were enjoying the way the bubbles came up to your chin, the way you were completely encapsulated in the safety of them. The way Eddie sat there on the rug, telling you about his day. About the different things he’d fixed on which cars—nothing you understood in any fashion, but something you always wanted to hear about.

“You could make good money doing this, you know. You’re very talented,” you quip, scrubbing your calf with a washcloth.

Eddie snorts, kissing your wet shoulder blade. “What? Give head massages?”

You ring out your rag, having completed your washing ritual and made sure everything got the attention it deserves.

“Mhm. That felt so good.”

You pull the drain plug up, letting the water out. Eddie stands and acts as though his back is going to give out on him. You quickly turn the shower on, just so you can make sure you got all the conditioner out of your hair and feel completely clean. Eddie has never done this rinsing routine after a bath, but loves to see you do your little happy dance when you’re all clean and wrapped up in a towel.

He holds out a hand as you step over the rim of the tub, bowing for added effect. “How was your bath, m’lady?”

You lead the way out of the bathroom, on a search for pajamas. “I’d say it was the best bath I’ve ever had the pleasure of taking, good sir.”

You hug your fuzzy towel to your chest, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss Eddie’s full lips. He blushes at the eye contact you’re giving him. He knows how it makes you nervous, but getting to have all of your attention like that makes him tingly.

“Thank you for helping me, Teddy.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You turn to the side, gripping a round, wooden handle and pulling open your top dresser drawer. Eddie kisses your cheek. Sometimes you think Eddie’s kisses are lifesaving. They’ve surely contributed to your stability. They’re healing. And so is the way he cares for the people he loves. The way he so effortlessly does things just because he only wants to see you happy.

Eddie ends up picking out your pajamas while you pick out his. You’re in your own bottoms, but one of his Iron Maiden t-shirts. You told him you should match, so he pointed you in the direction of another, and you made sure to choose pants for him that had red in them, just like yours.

Before you can sit down on your shared bed, Eddie takes your hand and leans down to whisper in your ear. His chin brushes your jaw, lips parting in a bright grin before the words ever leave his mouth.��

“Now, what do you think about going to get milkshakes?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

#savannah’s fics #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader fluff

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dolcettamagica · 2 months

Text

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

ceo!sukuna x secretary!reader, modern au

tags: degradation, daddy kink, videocall-sex, dirty talk, masturbation, sexting notes: minors dni, one sequel to "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘴𝘴" - you decided to text your boss Sukuna wc: 1.7k

Finally you arrived home, your steps heavy with exhaustion yet tinged with relief. With each passing moment, the weight of responsibility seemed to lift as you approached your doorstep. Unlocking the door, you stepped into the comforting embrace of your sanctuary, where the warmth and familiarity of your home enveloped you like a soft blanket. Sighing deeply, you kicked off your shoes and let the tension of the day melt away. Settling into your favorite armchair, you closed your eyes, letting the tranquility of home wash over you, yet you were restless.

Your fingers reached into the pocket of your coat to pull out the cigarette Sukuna gave you, his number written on it. “Hm…”, you took off your coat, letting it fall next to you on the ground. “Should I really?” Flashes of the previous event came rushing back into your mind – the way his fingers wrapped around your neck and his hot tongue pushing into your mouth. That kiss alone made you incredibly wet.

You saved his number under “Boss (Private)” and stared at the texting icon. It would be so easy and besides, it's just a text. He couldn’t fuck you over phone anyway.

Hello, this is y/n.

Eager little girl. Texted me as soon as you came home?

Dumbfounded, your eyes analyzed his (instant) reply.

Don’t worry, princess. Not judging you. Bet your pussy is still wet. My cock didn’t go soft either.

Excuse me? This is highly unprofessional.

No, me fucking you bend over your workdesk would be highly unprofessional. Answer me: Is your pussy still wet, little one?

You should've known that it would end up like this. You shouldn’t reply. You should tell him that this is inappropriate. Remind him that you are his secretary and some may deem this interaction as unethical and not to forget that you are years younger than him. Why was it so hard to stop though?

Yes, Mr. Sukuna.

From now on you call me daddy.

Yes, daddy.

The sudden ring of your phone shattered the atmosphere. Surprised, you glanced at the screen to see a Facetime call flashing urgently. Sukuna was calling you. The surprise sent a jolt of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire within you. nervous anticipation fluttered in her chest like a caged bird. For a moment, uncertainty swirling in your mind. With a deep breath, you accepted the call, your heart pounding in your ears. The familiar face that greeted you was enough to send a surge of desire coursing through your body. Despite your nerves, the thrill of your virtual connection stirred something primal within you, heightening your senses and leaving you longing for more.

“Wish you could see your face right now. You look like a needy slut, princess”, Sukuna snickered. His shirt was unbuttoned all the way, exposing his upper-body. Your eyes widened in shock as you saw it. He had–

“Like my tattoos, huh?”

“I-I just didn’t know that you had any.”

Smirking his finger traced the black lines across his chest. His phone was probably leaning against something cause you could see almost everything up to his knees. Even the way he was sitting, his legs spread and a hand wide on his thigh, screamed dominance and sent shivers down your spine.

“Wanna see more of you, baby, put your phone somewhere. I need to see your face and what’s between your legs. Can you do that for daddy?”

Every bit of self-control and resistance left your body as soon as he called himself daddy. It’s no wonder that every woman and man wanted him buried deep inside their guts.

“Yes, daddy”, a simple good girl fell from his lips as he watched you propping your phone on the table in front of you against a water bottle. “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect, princess. You’re such a good slut for daddy, aren’t you”, Sukuna’s hand, which was previously on his thigh, was now on his crotch, grabbing onto his hard on, “Undress, baby girl.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. With a subtle yet deliberate motion, you reached behind your back, fingers deftly finding the tiny buttons that held your blouse together. With each successive button undone, the fabric began to loosen, revealing tantalizing glimpses of the soft skin beneath. As you slipped the blouse and bra off your shoulders, a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine, the cool air caressing your exposed flesh. In that moment, you felt an exhilarating rush of vulnerability, a silent declaration of self-assurance and desire. You weren’t going to stop now so you silently took your skirt off, wiggling it off your hips. The only thing you were wearing now was your thong. And Sukuna’s eyes were sitting on you the whole time, taking in every little detail. Your trembling hands, your moles and freckles, everything.He could feel himself almost bursting through his pants. At first he wanted to make you beg to see his cock but he was hard ever since you crawled over to him. Swiftly he unzipped his pants, just to give his cock a bit more space.

"Obedient little slut. Look at you, just taking your clothes off, obeying my words. Makes me want to ruin you even more, little one.”

The plan to forever reject him and never succumb to him was already forgotten. How could you ever reject him when he gets your pussy this wet?

“...I’m your slut, daddy”, it was a mere whisper but Sukuna heard every word.

Growling he pulled his cock out of his boxers. It was massive. Sukuna spit in his hand before he wrapped his rough hand around his shaft. Your eyes felt like they were bulging out of your sockets. His cock would destroy you, fill you up completely and turn you into a whimpering bitch in heat. YOu were certain of that.

“Come on, princess. Spread your legs for daddy, show me how wet your pretty pussy is”. His filthy mouth had you stifling a moan as you lifted one leg to rest against the back cushions of the chair and spread the other so that your foot rested on the floor.

“Li-like this, daddy?” God, this was embarrassing and extremely hot at the same time.

“Yes, baby, just like this”, he stroked his cock from tip to base, the other hand now palming his balls. “Now lick your fingers and rub that clit for daddy. Bet you wanted me to do that back at the bar, huh?”

You did as instructed, dragging the tips of your index and middle fingers across your tongue slowly before lowering them to your pussy, seeking your clit. Instantly your legs began to twitch – he was right, you wanted this all along.

“That’s it, little one. Fuck, imagine it being my tongue. I should’ve played with that sweet cunt after you crawled to my feet like the dirty slut you are.”

Breathy moans filled the air around you, your pussy clenching, yearning for something big to stuff it.

“Daddy…fuck, daddy”, Sukuna was still stroking his cock as he took in the alluring sight on his phone, “G-good…feels so good, Daddy.”

“Look at my cock, baby. I’m imagining that cute mouth wrapped around my fat dick. Like that, slut?”

“Yes, daddy, yes. I love it, daddy.”

His hand twisted around his tip, pre-cum leaking already. “Squeeze your tits, pinch your nipple,” he growled. “That’s my fuckin’ teeth, slut. I can see your naughty pussy clenching through the screen. You need something in there, right? I should be pounding into that cunt, take what’s mine.”

“Please”, you started to beg, primal urges taking over you, “Please let me put a finger in, daddy.”

“Shove those fingers inside. As many as you can fit. Tough it would never compare to me pushing my dick in that tight cunt of yours. You think you can take this cock, huh?”

Finally you pushed your fingers inside. Your pussy was wet enough that your fingers met no resistance at all. “Y-yours…yours is too big. Would break me.”

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy. My cock would fucking break you, fuck you real good, make you my personal fucktoy. Look at me, slut!”

Sukuna was pumping his dick to the same speed as you were fingering your cunt. This was driving you insane. He demanded you to pick up the speed, both of you did.

“Keep fuckin’ that pussy. Yeah, just like that. Go faster. Use your other hand – rub that clit again. Tell daddy how much you want his cock.”

“Want–Want daddy’s cock…I want daddy to–to fuck my slutty little pussy, please. Need daddy’s cock.”

Sukuna could feel his climax coming, his balls pulsating, something building up inside him. If only you were in front of him, begging for him to ram into you and choke you while you whimpered and cried for sweet, sweet release.

“How far are you, princess?”

You couldn’t reply with words, only strangled cries as you climbed higher. You hooked your fingers to drag across your g-spot, fucking yourself so hard that the squelching sounds could probably be heard from beyond the door. Your cunt contracted around my fingers once, hard. “Ahh…cl–close, daddy.”

“Shit, me too,” he groaned. “Fucking look at me when you cum, slut.” Sukuna started stroking his cock faster and faster while he continued to massage his balls. You swirled faster and harder as you pumped your fingers in and out of your wet cunt.

“Oh fuck daddy!” you cried, rolling your eyes back to his face as you felt your muscles tense.

“Good girl,” he breathed, looking directly into your eyes. “Cum for me. Do it.”

And, then the tension and pressure released all at once, making you scream “daddy” as the waves rippled through your body. Your cunt clenched your fingers rhythmically and you continued to finger yourself through the aftershocks.

“Fuck – shit, here it comes!” Sukuna moaned seconds before thick white ropes of his cum spurted from his cock to land on his stomach as he bucked up into his hand roughly. “Fucking finally.”

Moments later you were still panting as Sukuna gave you one last order before ending the call.

“Don’t wear any underwear tomorrow at work and come in early.”

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna jjk #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna ryomen

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seven-stars-in-his-palm · 21 days

Text

analyzing some images (for fun)

so i found this pair of promotion images for good omens season 1 on the good omens reference library server and it’s hooked me so so bad im having feelings about it. we’re analyzing them now. not really for meta purposes just fun to see the parallels and differences :)

everything under the cut !

unique traits

aziraphale:

1) his plank background. its older, its crisp, it smells like wood from the screen. mmmm

2) the pencil shavings at the bottom. he does a lot of writing honestly, so i like this. also adds a messy and cozy vibe he always seems to have in that shop…. i like that blessed shop fr

3) his SUSHI. little soy sauce drops near it too—just the right amount of deliberate mess. our first formal introduction to aziraphale in the present day and beginning the Tomfoolery just happens to have sushi... i watch that scene and i go “yeah, that sums up aziraphale i suppose” very nicely. (they dont have sushi Up There) (im literally never gonna forget that)

4) the ray of light shining on the scene. tiny thing, but a bit of the heaven is peeking through..it also sort of blurs the whole image but i think thats just me.

5) and we’ve saved the best for last: the big whopper. the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter, witch. I LOVE THAT BOOK!!!!!!! i cant remember if that ring stain was there but if it isnt in the show on the actual book i’d assume thats to add that ‘thy cocoa doth grow cold’ thing. ALSO. you know what’s being used as a bookmark in the pages?? a check for the ritz. he bookmarked their one chance for living . with a ritz check . MMMMMM. my GOD. that means so much to me even if i cant convey it in words. he KEEPS THE CHECKS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crowley:

1) let me get my favorite out of the way. crowley’s glasses have fire in their reflection. we’ll talk about the glasses themselves later but the REFLECTION IN THEM. fucking FIRE, BOOKSHOP fire, PAIN, SRIVING THROUGH THE M-25, HELL, I DONT KNOWIM HAVING FEELINGS!!! i do believe this is a bookshop fire reference though, the flames feel too Familiar. the lengths people will go to to attack others 🤧

2) the leather seat background!!!!!!! probably meant to look similar to the bentley’s seats but i cant recall their texture, exactly. maybe just meant to convey modernness—unsure. still, its there <3

3) the tiny little crisp plant </3 its trying his damned best to stay perfect. it might a specific plant that means something, but i cant tell at thsi angle, so i’ll assume its a mini version of the ficus he keeps in the flat. its so SMALL and sitting in ANOTHER POT i CANT

4) the snake slithering!! black and red (in this image it looks orange lol) bellied scales!!!! slithering there, chilling, being crowley, showing hints. love it

5) QUEEN RECORD!!!!! TRYING TO OVERRIDE IT WITH TCHAIKOVSKY!!!!!! the tape over it does a reminisence to crowley’s handwriting, but in a clean ‘this made made to be a font’ way. not exactly just yet. ive become a fan of tchaikovsky recently. amazing darling wonderful crowley, trying to push the rock up the hill for eternity 😞

6) HIS LITTLE DEMON KEY THING. HOLDING A TINY LITTLE BENTLEY CAR KEY OHHH. thats how he doesnt lose the tiny key despite probably not needing one of those. and he CHOSE that intentionally probably. little wings and red circle….URGHHHHHHH

similarities

mmmmm now here’s the good shit. similarities! i’ll bullet point most of them but ohhhhh. ohhhh these. i’ll go from top to bottom as best i can….

1) one of their shoes, obviously. crowley has them iconic snakeskin shoes while aziraphale has his old loafers like the old loafer he is /pos

2) chateauneuf de pape wine bottle labels! (crowley’s is under his glasses, aziraphale’s is next to his shoe). oh my fucking god theyre MATCHING. the labels are old, battered, of course labeling the drink’s age, but mmmmm its these tiny details that get me going….

3) their respective drinks in their mugs—crowley’s a black mug coffee (or what looks to be coffee) and aziraphale’s angel mug tea (or what looks to be tea). i think about that mug sometimes. where did he get that from?? mystery for the ages….

4) their glasses, of course. crowley’s iconic sunglasses and aziraphale’s reading spectacles. i cant really tell the reflections in this pair, but if its supposed to be fucking fire, im done with this. im giving up forever

5) their own watches! aziraphale’s is visibily older while crowley’s is visibly modern, but they function just the same. also, crowley’s is set to 2:56:59 (presumably PM), which is around the time we see when crowley starts checking his watch at warlock’s birthday party. its almost time for disaster to strike!! 😃

6) and finally….their ties!! they have their own ties!!! or more accurately, neck accessories, but i digress. i mesn i assume its crowley’s neck tie, because the fabric looks… different. either way, crowley’s neck thingie is very whispy and aziraphale has his funky little bowtie i love so much,,,

okay thats it. there’s no canonical implications, any fantheories, none of the sort. just saw a pair of images and my mind went GOD DAMN!!!!!! theyre very important to me. i need to look at more promo material 😔

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable spouses #dont have an analyzing tag so. this is it for now

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jyoongim · 3 months

Note

Can you do like pastor gets jealous over y/n before a demon guy friend approached her and when they get to the hotel he fucks her hard but with a lovely aftercare?? Tysm🙏❤️

hehehe Alastor would definitely not like some other male around his darling. Friend or not.

themes: jealous Alastor, rough sex, possessive, darling just being nice, aftercare, slight fluff

You and Alastor were out on an outing doing a little shopping and whatnot, when an old friend approached you. You smiled “Oh! Its been a age my friend how have you been?” The two of you chatted, completely unaware of the red demon approaching.

Alastor had noticed that you were no longer by his side and turned his head to see a demon fellow talking to you. He felt his eye twitch when the male wrapped his arm around you and let out a laugh at whatever you had said.

it was when the demon grabbed your hand and kissed it, when Alastor made his presence known.

”Darling who is this?”

You turned to him smiling “Ah Alastor you remember f/n? i was just telling him about the hotel”

Alastor’s smile turned sharp “Aaaaah yeeesss pleasure to see you again”

the demon gulped and gave a nervous laugh.

Alastor wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him, sneering at the sinner as the poor soul told you of his latest ventures.

”Dear we should head back. Now” Alastor said motioning gently for you to get a move on.

you nodded and bidded your friend a goodbye, hugging him and telling him you hoped to see him again soon.

As you walked way, you failed to notice Alastor turn his head around and morph slightly into his demon form scaring the poor demon to death.

Back at the hotel, Alastor swiftly led you to your shared bedroom.

Once inside, you were just chatting away happily about your friend while taking your shoes off; completely unaware of Alastor’s growing irritation.

”Oh how nice it was to see him! It has been so long. I do hope he come by so I can show him around, he seemed intrigued about our work here”

You were halfway undressed when sharp claws dug into your shoulder, turning you around to see a very fed up Alastor.

his eyes were glowing dials and his antlers had grew.

”Alastor?” You tilted your head in question, wondering what could have set off the lanky demon.

”no more talk of that riff raft dear. It is quite irritating”

you blinked surprised “Alastor don’t tell me youre jealous?”

he let out a laugh as he twirled a piece of your hair

”ooh no dear but…” you were tossed on the bed and with a bounce he caught your ankle, snatching you to be under him.

he made quick work of you panties and inserted a finger inside of you.

You let out a soft moan and gagged when a claw pressed on your tongue.

Alastor’s smile widened “ it seems my little darling need a reminder that she is mine”

With a sound of his zipper, you let out a whine as he thrusted into you.

bottoming out immediately.

”A-Alastor!” He didn’t give you anytime to adjust as he set a hard pace.

you panted as he rutted into your heat.

Pushing your thighs to your chest, he leaned his weight onto you and grunted as he continued to punish your insides.

”tu es à moi, ma chérie. ce misérable ne pourra jamais vous faire ressentir cela ! est-ce que tu comprends? hmmm?

cette chatte n'est qu'à moi et ne l'oublie pas.”

~you are mine dearest. that wretch will never be able to make you feel this way! do you understand? hmmm?

this cunt is only mine and dont you forget it.~

You nodded moaning loudly as you felt your orgasm rip through you.

”I’m yours alastor, no one else can have me, only you OOH Fuck!”

his thrusts turned erratic and with a growl he emptied his cum into you.

you whined as he gave a few soft thrusts and finally pulled out, smile returning as he watched his cum leak out of you.

Trying to catch your breathe you watch Alastor compose himself and hum and he snapped his fingers and a tub appeared with bubbles.

He lifted you off and bed and placed you in the soothing water.

You sighed as he gently washed you off and smiled softly as he peppered kissed up your exposed shoulders in apology.

”Mmm Al I’m sleepy” you sighed sinking into the tub relaxing.

he finished cleaning you up and dried you off.

bring you back into bed he purred as you cuddled into him, wrapping your limbs around him.

Letting the soft music he played lull you to sleep, you felt him tighten his hold around you.

Alastor mumbled begrudgingly “I might have been a tad jealous”

you giggled in his chest

”knew it”

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader smut

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romanticintheory · 3 days

Text

thinking about fellow soldier!reader coming back to ghost after having been mistaken for kia

gn!reader x simon "ghost" riley

-maybe he's back in your shared apartment, holding the last photo he took with you.

-it was taken the day of your birthday, with your arms around simon's waist and a gleeful smile permanently etched on your face.

-you were looking directly at the camera with your eyes crinkled at the corners. simon, however, was looking at you and only you with an expression only a lovestruck fool could manage.

-he had long since stopped crying about what he believed was your death. when price came to him with a somber expression and the news that you were on the wrong end of an explosion, the only thing he could do was cry or be angry.

-now, he felt nothing.

-you could imagine his surprise when he hears the front door open. did he forget to lock it? was someone breaking in? he didn't care enough to prepare himself for a potential attack.

-but, no, you walked in with an ungodly amount of bandaged wounds and a tired look on your face.

-you expected him to stand from his place on the sofa to meet you, but he didn't. he thought he was imagining things, again, so he said nothing.

-"simon," you said softly, not bothering to take off your shoes and throwing you things onto the ground next to you.

-still, he said nothing.

-"i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. price said he tried to contact you but that you never answered," you continued. nobody knew where you and ghost lived, and simon's grief took the form of self-isolation.

-he still didn't answer you at this point, and it was becoming unsettling.

-"simon, can you hear me?"

-"you're not real," was all he could muster. he didn't have the heart to tell "fake" you to go away or beg himself to wake up from his supposed dream. "i can't do this again. you're not real."

-you realized just how hard your false death had hit him.

-"i'm real. i promise. i was able to take cover last second and-"

-"no. you're dead with not even a body to recover because i wasn't there to protect you. god, i..." the words got stuck in his throat as he leaned forward on the sofa, holding his head in his hands and near trembling.

-you dropped to your knees in front of him like a follower worshipping their god. taking his hands, you held them tight as you could in a silent attempt at convincing him you were alive.

-there was a moment of silence between the two of you before he drew his hands away from yours. it made your heart hurt.

-"simon..." you were grasping at straws, now, trying to figure out how to convince him of what was true. maybe there was something in your luggage that might help.

-as soon as you turned your body to your bags by the front door, you were pulled right back in by a pair of strong arms.

-he was hugging you like the moment he let go, you'd disappear into thin air (and, in a way, he believed it to be a possibility). after being pulled from your shock, you immediately brought your own arms to reciprocate the embrace.

-"(y/n)," he said, trying to keep his voice stable. there was still a part of him that couldn't believe he had you with him. if he weren't so thankful, he'd be lecturing you about acting wreckless on missions and convincing you to quit your job so nothing like this happened again.

-but, for now, he was content like this.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #rara writes

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kentobb · 4 months

Text

The Promise

Character: Ushijima Wakatoshi x F!Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, slight comfort on the end.

It has been a rough month and Ushijima knows it. He has been overworking himself, pushing his limits at each practice. His typically calm and composed face is now etched with stress and strain. His temperament, once steady as a rock, is now volatile and erratic, akin to a stormy sea. The month had been grueling, a relentless onslaught of training sessions and personal workouts. His body is aching, his mind is strained, and his spirit is beginning to waver.

Today, he returns to his apartment later than usual, bone-tired, his muscles screaming in protest, only to be greeted by your sight, his sweet and loving girlfriend. Your smile always warm, eyes filled with concern, having dinner ready, a hot bath drawn, and comforting words falling from your lips.

He should feel guilty for his recent behavior, matter of fact he should apologize. He was not a man prone to emotional outbursts or thoughtless actions, and yet, he had allowed his stress to control him, to turn him into someone he hardly recognized these days.

He had ignored you, brushed off your attempts at conversations, and retreated into himself. He had been mean, cold, distant. He had forgotten your presence, forgotten the warmth you brought into his life, forgotten the love that had once made his heart flutter.

And tonight was no different, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his shoulders, his mind foggy and his spirit was weary. As he kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket on the hook, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafted through the apartment. He followed the scent into the kitchen, his eyes landing on the sight of you, sitting at the kitchen table, a spread of dishes laid out in front of you.

You looked up the entrance and your face lights up with a smile that reaches your eyes. A sight that used to warm his heart, a sight that used to make him forget about exhaustion, a sight that used to make him feel loved.

“‘Toshi, you’re home!” You smiled happily.

But today, he could only muster a tired sigh in response. He saw you on your feet in an instant, your chair scraping against the floor as you rushed towards him. Your arms wrapped around him in a tight hug, your warmth seeping into him. But he didn’t return the hug, didn’t wrap his arms around you, didn’t press a kiss to your forehead like he always does. He just stood there, his body rigid, his mind elsewhere.

You pulled away, you don’t know if it is out of embarrassment or…due to a sudden heartbreak due to the neglect you have been suffering, but your hands suddenly cup his face, eyes searching his for a sign of the man you loved. “Um, we should, well, you should go eat,” You urged, your voice soft and your touch gentle. But he shook his head, his voice coming out gruff as he muttered, “I’m tired.”

But you didn’t back down this time, didn’t let him retreat into himself like he has done all this month. You tugged at his hand, tried to lead him to the table with the dinner you worked very hard for, trying to make him eat. “Come on, Toshi, you been avoiding me this past month,” You insisted, your voice firm, your grip tight. “Just be here, yeah?” You smiled.

But he snapped. “For fuck sakes Y/N, I’m tired!” He barked, his voice louder that he intended, his tone harsher than he meant. He yanked his hand out of your grip, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “You have been nagging me all these past nights to have fucking dinner and you don’t understand that I am tired.” He yelled again.

The silence that followed was deafening, the tension in the room palpable. You took a step back, embarrassed that your boyfriend had to yelled at you like that, “Ah, sorry, I just thought—“ You were saying but were cut off immediately by his sharp words.

“Thought what? Thought what, Y/N?” He yelled in disbelief, “That you have been a pain in the ass for the past few days?” He asked as he raised his voice louder, tone meaner.

“I-I’m sorry,” You apologized, trying to mask your disappointment, “I have missed you…” You mumbled embarrassedly, trying to hide your flushed face from him.

“Missed me?” He yelled, “We live in the same fucking apartment and we see each other every night!” He yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet apartment.

“I- I know, I know, Toshi,” You said, trying to calm him down, “B-But we haven’t been able to talk, you haven’t kissed me or touched me…” You admit painfully as you looked at him with teary eyes.

“God, you’re so fucking clingy and needy,” He yells as he rolled his eyes out of frustration. “All of this mess because of that?” He chuckled, “I am tired for this crap right now.” He said.

The room fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air. He watched your face fall, your eyes reflecting the hurt his words had caused. And guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, his heart clenching at your sight.

You know he didn’t mean any single word of it, right? He was just tired, so incredibly tired. His days were filled with endless practices, his nights consumed by restless sleep. He was pushing himself to the brink, his body and mind paying the price.

He didn’t mean it.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, “I will clean the mess,” You said as you hid your face away from his, walking towards the kitchen again.

His mind raced, guilt and regret swirling within him. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to make you understand that fuck, he didn’t mean any of it. But the words wouldn’t come, his throat tight with emotion. He was trapped in his own guilt, his own exhaustion, his own regret. And he didn’t know how to escape.

He watched from the doorway as you busied yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner he had refused to eat. His heart clenching at the sight, guilt gnawing at his insides. He had been harsh, mean even, and he regretted it.

Your movements were mechanical, your usual cheerfulness replaced with a somber silence. He watched as you wiped the table clean, packed the uneaten food, and washed the dishes. Your shoulders are tense, lips pressed into a thin line.

And he noticed, noticed how you tried to compose yourself, how you tried to hold back the tears. But despite your efforts, a few escaped, trailing down your cheeks and disappearing into the collar of your shirt. Each tear was a stab to his heart, a painful reminder of the hurt he had caused.

Once you were done, you turned off the lights, plunging the kitchen into the darkness. The only sound was the sound of the soft padding of your feet as you made your way to the bedroom, where he was waiting.

Both of you sat on opposite sides of the bed, an uncomfortable silence hanging between both of you. He watched as you changed into your sleeping clothes, your movements slow and deliberate. You climbed into bed, your back to him, body curling up on your side.

He was at a loss. He didn’t knew what to do, didn’t know what to say. He was worried, his mind filled with the thoughts of you, of the hurt he had caused. He knew you had taken his words to heart, knew that you were hurting. And it was all of his fault.

In the dimly lit room, his silhouette was barely visible as he climbed into bed next to you. The only sound that broke silence was your soft, muffled sobs. His heart clenched at the sound. He reached out tentatively, his hands finding their way around your waist. He drew you close, his chest against your back, both of your hearts beating in a rhythm that was painfully off sync.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against your swollen and teary face, tasting the saltiness of your tears. “I’m sorry,” He whispered into your hair, his voice barely audible. His words hung heavy in the air, a confession and a plea all at once.

You remained silent, sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. And he could feel your body stiffen at his words. It was an unspoken tension that made his heart race with worry. He wanted to say more, you deserved way more, to explain, to ask for forgiveness, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Talk to me, love.” He implored, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers tracing circles on your waist, a silent plea for you to respond.

But you don’t. Your silence was deafening wrapping you both in a shroud of uncertainty. And he held you tighter, his mind racing with thoughts and fears. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, and that scared him.

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open to a new day. His body felt heavy, his heart even more so. The events of the previous night replayed in his mind like a haunting melody.

He found you in the kitchen, a solitary figure bathed in the morning light. You were cradling a cup of coffee, your gaze fixed in the steaming liquid. Your face was pale, eyes rimmed with red. The sight of you, so vulnerable and distant, twisted his heart.

“Good morning,” he tried, he really did, his voice echoing in the silence. But you didn’t respond, didn’t even lift your gaze to meet his. It was as if he was a ghost, unseen, unheard. He felt a pang of guilt, a sharp reminder of his words last night.

“For fuck sakes Y/N.”

“You have been nagging me all these past nights to have fucking dinner and you don’t understand that I am tired.”

“God, you’re so fucking clingy and needy.”

His mind was whirlwind of thoughts. He had hoped that giving you space would help, that it would give you time to heal, time to warm up to him like you always do. But as the day dragged on, the silence between both of you grew. His phone remained silent, devoid of your usual messages.

No updates about your day, no reminders about dinner, nothing.

It was a silence that spoke volumes, and it terrified him.

Who would have thought? Ushijima Wakatoshi, the man who faced countless opponents on the court, was scared. He was scared that his actions had created a chasm between you, a distance he didn’t knew how to bridge.

As he returned from practice on the night, the apartment was dark. The usually welcoming lights were all turned off, a stark reminder of the cold silence that awaited him. He knew you would be in bed, probably feigning sleep. There would be no warm welcome, no home-cooked meal, no soft smiles.

He lingered at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the silence that awaited him. As he stepped into the dark apartment, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread that clung to him. He was walking into a battlefield, and he didn’t know how to fight this war.

The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the noise of the world outside. He stepped in, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. The sight of the shared room, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, was a painful reminder of the happier times.

There you were, a small figure curled up on the bed, your back to him just like last night. Your eyes were open, staring blankly at the window. The sadness in your gaze was palpable, a silent cry for help that tore at his heart.

He took off his shoes, placing his gym bag in the kitchen before making his way towards you. He tried to speak, to break the silence that hung between both of you.

“How are you?” He asked softly, but his words fell on deaf ears. You didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Undeterred, he climbed onto the bed, his large frame curling around your smaller one. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, making you face him. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, each kiss a silent promise to make things right.

And then he hears it, he hears you crying. Tears falling like rain, burying your face on his chest and soaking his shirt. Your sobs were heart-wrenching, a testament to the pain he had caused.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. He held you tightly, as if his touch could somehow ease the pain he had caused. His apologies were a soft murmur against your hair, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

He gently lifted your face, fingers tracing the contours of your features. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, a silent vow of his love for you. He kissed away your salty tears, each one a testament to her pain, each one a reminder of his mistakes.

“I love you,” He whispered, his voice barely audible. His words were soft, filled with emotion so raw yet so powerful that it took his breath away. He repeated the words over and over, a mantra of love and regret.

Slowly, your sobs subsided. Your breathing evened out, your body relaxing against his. Falling asleep in his arms, your tear-streaked face buried in his chest. He watched you sleep, his heart aching with relief and regret.

He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. His eyes welled up with tears, the guilt and regret overwhelming him. He kisses your forehead, a silent promise etched into your skin.

“This is the last time,” He vowed to himself, his voice chocked with emotion. “This is the last time I’ll make you cry,” He promised.

He held you close, his arms a protective shield around you.

Reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated <3

#haikyuu #hq fluff #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #angst #fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshu ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n

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ja3yun · 4 months

Text

Stitch Me Up | L.HS

underground fighter!heeseung x nurse!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), ex heeseung, unprotected sex, cream pie, weapon and blood mention, if i missed anything lmk!

wc: 4.5k+

synopsis: after a tough shift in the hospital all you wanted was to rid yourself of the tension and your ex turns up just in time

a/n: hi! hope you're all doing well. a quick one shot from me so i hope you like it. not much to say on this one <3 ilysm

Dragging your feet behind you, you unlock your door. Everything that went wrong today could have gone wrong; first, you caught your fingers in the mobile hoist, a patient spat in your face, and you spent the last 30 minutes of your shift cleaning shit from the toilets.

No one ever said being a nurse was a glamorous job, but on days like these, you wish you picked something a little more dignifying.

You kick your shoes off and head to your bedroom to grab some pajamas. Every bit of you is emotionally and physically drained, this past month has been exhausting. Working 70-hour weeks and being underpaid for it was starting to take its toll on your fragile body.

Nights like these you miss Heeseung, you shouldn’t but you do.

Picking up scattered clothes that made a mess of your bedroom floor, you groan when your lower back aches. Someone in their 20s shouldn’t be in this much pain. They should be living their best life, staying up late, going out at the weekend, and having a healthy social life.

You love your job, it’s rewarding and you love to take care of people. Seeing people who are in your ward get better makes your heart feel full like your life is actually worth something and doing some good in this shitty world.

You used to have balance. Heeseung was your balance.

Sifting through your drawers you find some pink shorts with white love hearts and a cropped white tank top. Usually, you would settle for a set of sweats and a baggy t-shirt but after practically spending 3 days straight in unflattering scrubs you wanted something pretty.

When you walk you can feel the pain in your feet, and blisters start to form. You needed this shower asap. Luckily the bathroom is less than 5 steps away from your bedroom door so you can keep your hobbling to a minimum. The shower is so enticing as you switch the button on and set the temperature just right, or in your case, scolding hot.

A roasting hot shower is what you need to forget today. You need Heeseung’s hands to melt away the pain.

You miss him.

Heeseung and you have been broken up for precisely 1 month and 13 days. For some reason today you can’t shake him off your mind.

The water cascades down your skin, tiny droplets sit on your face as you wash your hair. The smell of coconut fills the tiny box bathroom and for the first time today, you feel content.

After you rinse the conditioner from your hair and wash your body with a matching scented soap, you pull the shower curtain back and step out carefully - the last thing you need is to fall and break a bone.

Wiping the mirror to rid it of the steam you stare at yourself. The dark circles under your eyes and the redness of your cheeks showcase just how tired your body is. Nothing an overpriced and overrated skincare routine can’t fix. You grab the cleanser and start your regime. It reminds you of him, how he used to always help you, the pads of his fingers gently rubbing the product into your skin, and when he had any left over he would use it on himself. He looked so cute and sweet during those times.

What is with you today? Why do you keep thinking about him?

Quickly, you dry your hair and body with the towel and get ready for bed. Typically, you would sit up and watch an episode or two of Brooklyn 99 but honestly, you’re too burnt out to enjoy it.

As you leave the bathroom there is a knock at the door and you freeze on sight. It’s late and none of your friends would come over, so your brain goes into panic mode. Being a girl alone in her flat was scary enough these days never mind taking in the factor of the time. All the lights are off so hopefully if you just stay still, they’ll leave.

Another knock.

Grabbing a coat hanger from the clothesline in the bathroom you arm yourself with it, it would do enough damage to the person on the other side of the door if you had to escape.

So you couldn’t second guess yourself, you briskly tiptoed to the door and swung it open, hanger tightly in your grip ready to swing.

The figure turns around and jumps, backing up when they see the coathanger ready to be lobbed at their face.

“Woah, Y/N. It’s just me.” He puts his hands in front of him in defense.

Heeseung.

You breathe out and relax, dropping your arms to your side. Although your exterior seems to have gotten over the fright, your heart is thumping still. That could be because when you look him in the eyes finally you register who he is.

“Heeseung it’s past midnight, what are you doing here?”

He steps forward and you see his face battered and bruised, his lip has been bust open and a black eye forming on the left side of his face, he was a mess. There have been countless times he’s looked like this, it’s how you two met.

A year ago there was a knock on your door, not unlike tonight, except that time your friend Jongseong was carrying a half-to-life version of Heeseung. The boy couldn’t stand on his own two feet.

“Y/N, sorry, I didn’t know where to go, he didn’t want to go to the hospital,” Jongseong explained, although it didn’t clear anything up.

“What the fuck, Jongie, who is this?” You grab the other side of the spent boy and sit him down on the couch, “What happened to him?” Looking at the guy in front of you, you see the blood on his t-shirt, slash marks on his arms, and his face is blown out.

Jongseong rushes to get the first aid kit from your bathroom, “He was fighting tonight and some arsehole pulled a knife on him, and got him in the stomach a few times,” You lift the fabric covering his torso and see wounds bleeding, “I tried to pull him out of the fight but he wasn’t having it.”

You don’t know a lot about Jongseong’s work life, all you know is that by day he’s a simple office body, filling, paperwork, a pen pusher of sorts. But when night came he was an underground fighter, all of it illegal, but he fell into it with some guys at the gym. From what you hear he is pretty good at it.

“Heeseung, buddy?” Jongseong slaps the boy's face a few times, “Stay awake, this is Y/N, she’s a nurse.” So his name was Heeseung.

“Jongie, these are pretty serious, he needs to go to the hospital.”

“No hospital.” Heeseung coughs out. You suppose if you take him to A&E how could any of them explain what happened?

You rub his legs to soothe him, “Okay, no hospital.”

That night you stitched his wounds and cleaned him up. Obviously, he survived, and you took him in like an injured winged bird. Let him stay at yours for 2 weeks, and by the time he was ready to fly away back into the world, you wanted him to stay forever.

You look him up and down to take in his outfit, he wasn’t wearing sweats so this wasn’t a scheduled fight, instead, he was clad in jeans, a White Stripes t-shirt, and a loose-fitting leather jacket, “What the fuck happened, Heeseung?”

“Is it lame if I say you should see the other guy?” He laughs but nothing is funny.

Stepping aside you let him into your flat which he does like second nature, his shoes left exactly where they used to go, “Heeseung you can’t just come here looking like this and not tell me what happened.” On autopilot, you go to get the first aid kit.

He takes a seat on your kitchen counter and looks around, “Nothing much happened, some guys being dicks.”

You come back from the bathroom and see him atop your kitchen, “Eh, get down from there. Now.” He always perched himself on anything but a seat. It didn’t bother you too much but right now after your shift, you couldn’t be arsed to pander to it, “Try and treat my place with a bit of respect please.”

Heeseung jumps off and walks to take a seat on the edge of your couch. It might be wrong of you to think it but he does look beautiful like this. You blame Leon Kennedy in Resident Evil for your attraction to busted up men.

As you open the first aid kit you feel his eyes on you, “Why did you come here, Heeseung? You could have treated this yourself.”

“I missed you.” He confesses and it’s true he did miss you.

For the past month he’s been throwing himself into fights he knows he won’t win just to feel something other than heartache. In spite of his cold attitude and reckless behaviour, he held your love so gently in his heart that he couldn’t even act tough around you. From the first day he laid eyes on you, he knew you had to be his, and if that meant opening up his heart, that’s what he did.

A first he thought it was because you were fixing his wounds and he owed you something but that thought quickly vanished when you fixed more than that.

“Heeseung, we broke up. It’s done.” You say coldly. With the thoughts of missing him earlier still fresh in your brain, you had to nip this in the bud.

When you broke up with Heeseung it wasn’t exactly because you wanted to, it was to protect yourself. His lifestyle and yours don’t mix, he was always getting into trouble and you were trying to avoid it at all costs. But more importantly than that, you couldn’t see the man you love come home every night exactly how he is now, broken and beaten.

The deeper into the fight circuit Heeseung got, the more dangerous it was. People were pulling knives, guns, and bringing back up, all for the sake of making sure their bosses won the bets. Your ex-boyfriend was a great fighter - or so you’ve heard, he never let you come to any of the fights - but these other guys played dirty and it was a threat to his life.

So when you asked him to stop and he said no, you did what you had to and called it off. You lost sleep, precious never to be taken for granted sleep, every night he fought and it was taking its toll on you. You tried to compromise with him and pleaded with him to go back to the regulated (if you could even call them that) fights, the ones where the stakes are lower.

However, Heeseung was above that now, too much of a hot commodity.

“Baby, I’m making us enough money so you don’t have to do so much overtime.”

“Seungie, I’m a nurse, all we do is overtime. Plus, this shouldn’t be about the money, it’s about your safety.” Your voice is cracking with every sentence you have uttered tonight, but he still won’t listen, “I’m not asking you to give it up, but please stop taking these high-stakes fights, you’re going to get killed.”

Heeseung scoffs and places a hand on your shoulder, “I won’t die, I’ve got you to stitch me up.”

“No, Seungie, you don’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

It was a brutal way to end it, none of you walked into that conversation expecting that outcome, but for you, it was the only thing you could do.

Soaking a cotton pad with some anti-septic, you place it gently on his lip, a hiss from him following your action, “Sorry.” You whisper. A sorry for the pain but also for breaking up with him. No matter how much you knew it was right for you, you knew it was hard on him. Opening himself up to love you wasn’t easy for Heeseung.

“I’m used to it, baby.” Your heart cries as he calls you baby, it always sounded so perfect coming from him.

“What did the guys do?” You ask and he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, masked behind purple and blue, “You said guys were being dicks, so what did they do?”

He didn’t want to waste energy on it, the fight being over in a flash anyway, “Just stuff. They got a jump on me hence the mess.” He moves his hand to gesture to his face but while his hand is already there, it engulfs yours, the one that’s cleaning the blood from his mouth, “Baby, I didn’t start it.”

“I know, Seungie.” You feel yourself falling back into how it used to be, his thumb running circles into your hand.

Once you finish up, you place a skin closure strip on his mouth, your thumb rubbing gently to secure it in place. He takes the opportunity to take your thumb into his mouth and you nearly moan at the intimate act.

But this isn’t how it is now.

“Heeseung.” You warn him.

He releases your thumb and sighs, “Habit.” He was a man of few words, you knew that, so there was no need to say anything more.

“You should go. Keep it clean, and put some ointment on that black eye.”

“I miss you so fucking much, Y/N.” Ignoring him, you walk into the bathroom to return the first aid kit, “Don’t you miss me?”

It almost makes you laugh. You missed him more than anything, so much so that after the shitshow that was today all you could think about was him. All you wanted was for him to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is fine, but that is a wish that can’t be a reality anymore.

“It’s not about missing you Heese-”

“I’ll quit.”

You turn the bathroom light off and brush past him, “No, you won’t. We both know it so don’t lie to me, don’t start that now.”

Heeseung is a beat behind you when you walk into your bedroom, “Y/N, believe me.” He knew you didn’t need to believe him, there wasn’t even a reason to believe him because he had said this before. But this time is different, “If you just listen to me,”

“No, I don’t think I will.” The stare you have on him is angry, “I offered you a solution for all of this, and honestly? I am so tired of this conversation now. I need you to go.”

Hurt flickers in his eyes, “Baby, I’m miserable without you.”

Agitation builds up inside you. He’s acting like this is solely your fault, like you were the one that caused all this. Granted, you broke up with him but it was after giving him every solution to stop it, “This is not my doing, Seungie, okay?” He wants to retaliate but you snip in before he gets the chance, “You love fighting those losers more than you ever did me, you made that clear.”

He sees red at your allegation. How dare you even think for a second you weren’t his number one. Sure, he didn’t want to give up fighting, it was who he was, but he also didn’t want to lose you, he sees that now. He has to prove to you just how much you mean to him.

Heeseung takes two long strides to you and kisses you hungrily. It’s been so long since he felt your lips in his. The stinging from his wound is dull compared to how he feels to have you like this again, he has a whole month of kisses and fucking to catch up on and nothing will stop him.

“I love you so much don’t you dare fucking say that.” It was a rarity for him to say that he loves you out loud. You knew he did, it was his actions that showed his love more than words, but hearing it made your eyes well with tears. Because he didn’t say it much, you cherished every single time he did.

You fall onto the bed behind you, his weight crashing onto you as you both lose yourselves in the kiss, all that anger and hurt dissipated each of his kisses.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you try and deepen the kiss but he pulls away. He takes off his jacket and t-shirt and that’s when you see the bruises dispersed along his chest and torso. This fight must have been a lot more brutal than he let on.

Sitting up you kiss each bruise while he straddles your lap, gently showing love for each one. The nurse in you wants to tend to them right away, they really did a number on his stomach and you’re slightly concerned about the damage done to his insides. But right now all he needs is a few kisses to make it better.

“They don’t hurt, promise.” He assures you, but if you kiss him too hard, which isn’t hard at all, he winces. To fixate on something other than the pain he whips off your tank top and just the sight of your breasts has him feeling a-okay, “Missed you so much.”

You could laugh at his obvious ogling but with your burnt out body and his just the same, you just needed to feel him, “Seungie, please,” You whine into his right peck as you kiss him over his darkest bruise again.

Heeseung understands your pleas and pushes you flat against the bed before undoing his jeans and not so gracefully kicking them off, “What do you want, baby? I’ll do it all.”

To quit fighting. That’s what you want to say, but you can’t risk the idea of an argument, not when you’re so close to having him inside you again, “Fuck me, Heeseung. Please.”

This is all he’s been dreaming about since you told him to go. Your love wasn’t the only thing he craved.

Dipping his head down to yours he kisses you again, his hands dipping into your cute pajama shorts to pull them down, “Can I eat your pussy baby?”

You would love nothing more than to feel his tongue all over you but you are truly exhausted, “I have had such a hard shift Seungie, just need your cock to make me feel better.” You’re lifting your hips into his as you say this, staring into his eyes to let him know he has to do this soon or you’ll crash.

“Okay, baby.” He brings two of his fingers to your folds to assess how easy you could take him. You’re wet but you could be wetter for him. Heeseung is an average size but if you’ve been without sex for a month like he had hoped you’d need a little more.

He clambers over you to reach the top drawer and grab some lube. His cock is basically in your face so who were you to not have a taste of it? You sit up on your elbows and your mouth engulfs his member. He's so shocked by the sudden action he nearly drops the bottle, “Shit, baby.” His free hand finds its way into your hair as you bob up and down his shaft, “Missed that mouth of yours.” He breathes out, “Missed it sucking me off, missed it saying my name, fuck I even missed it bossing me around.”

Pulling back you look at him with an unamused look but he uses it as an excuse to kiss you once again.

Slithering down to his previous position he coats his cock with some of the lube, sparing some for your hole, slipping a finger into you to slick your inner walls with it. You turn into a moaning mess as you feel his fingers for the first time in so long, your hips involuntarily buck up.

“I’ll only be a minute, baby.” Once he feels satisfied you won’t feel any pain, he slides his finger out and rubs the head of his cock on your pussy. He isn’t even teasing you but you feel like he is with how long he is taking.

Abruptly, he pushes into your heat, the feeling of you around him makes his head spin. No one will ever feel as good as you, that’s why he’s willing to do anything to have you, “So good,” he exhales, “So fucking good, baby.” Bottoming out, he can’t stop a loud groan from erupting out his mouth. You’ve missed the sound so much.

He starts to thrust into you at a fast pace once he knows your walls have settled, each hit making the room fill with sounds of skin slapping and curses. With the way he’s fucking you, you would think you hadn’t seen each other in years, but he craves you so much that even one day without the option of you around his cock was unbearable.

“Shit, Seungie please go faster.” He listens to you and picks up the pace, knowing how tired you are he needs to get you off quickly.

Between your thighs, his hand finds your clit as he starts to rub it harshly. You look unreal right now, with your mouth open and head thrown back into the mattress.

Lifting your right leg over your shoulder he reaches a deeper spot, his cock pounding into you with ferocity it makes you squeeze around him, “Oh fuck, baby, do that again.” You squeeze his shaft with your walls again, “Fucking pussy feels like heaven.” He whispers to himself.

His hips keep a harsh rhythm, the sharpness of each thrust sending you more and more over the edge, “Close.” Is all you say.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?” he smirks, happy knowing that he’s about to feel your ecstasy around him, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

And just like that your pussy comes undone on his dick that is still mercilessly pummeling into you. A loud mewl draws out your mouth and your hands grab onto the duvet under you, he’s making you feel bliss right now.

Heeseung can feel himself getting closer and if he wants full satisfaction he needs to cum now while your walls are contracting thoughtlessly, he needs you to milk his cock dry.

Feeling him lose his rhythm a little you know he just needs a little something to bring him over the edge, “Seungie, need your cum so bad.” He loved it when you begged for his seed.

“Yeah? How bad?”

“I’m starving for it.”

The last few words have his hips stuttering and ropes of his cum shooting into you, filling you up just how you like it.

You’ve finally regained composure from your own high and just in time to see his slack jaw and eyes screwed shut. He was one of the few people that looked good when they orgasmed and you loved when you got to see him in all his glory.

Heeseung falls onto you briefly to catch his breath, the pain from his stomach coming back slowly but that doesn’t matter right now, “Let me clean you up.” He slides out of you and goes to get supplies to look after you.

Because your job requires you to look after everyone around you, it was nice how Heeseung would do aftercare so well, making sure you’re okay.

He takes a while but as he comes back he’s holding a damp cloth and bottle of water in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, “Sit up for me baby.”

After placing the tea and water on the bedside table he starts to run the cloth along your sensitve area. He loved to see you full of his cum, every time the white substance would leak from you he felt a bit of pride so washing it away like this was mourningful.

“I have quit.” He says lowly, “Fighting, I mean. I quit this morning.”

“But you only said you would quit earlier?” You question, recalling the previous conversation.

“I wanted to see if you would believe me.”

You’re dubious, not understanding what he’s saying, “You can’t just quit like that, Seungie. You told me it wasn’t that easy.”

And it wasn’t. It’s not like you can hand in a two week notice and call it a day, there are too many stakeholders involved, too much money being thrown around to just up and off.

“Yeah, you can see it wasn’t so painless.” He finishes cleaning you off and goes to place the rag in the washing basket.

“What do you mean?” As he walks into the room you see his bruises again and it all hits you at once, “The guys being dicks…”

Heeseung nods and jumps back into his boxers but not anything else with the hopes you want him to stay, “Told them I wasn’t doing it anymore and next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He laughs embarrassed at the memory.

This was technically your fault, you asked him to stop the high stake fights and this is what happened.

Seeing your face, Heeseung sits on the bed next to you and cups your cheek, “Hey, no, I know what you’re thinking but you didn’t make me quit. I chose too. This is my doing”

“But I asked you to.” You look down and trace over his bruises lightly.

“Yeah, but I said no at first.” His hand runs into your damp hair, “I decided to quit this morning because losing you isn’t worth it. I meant it when I said i’m fucking miserable.”

Sighing you fear this happiness in your chest is going to disappear at any moment, “It’s what you love though, Seungie.”

“I love you.” He hates that you have this preconceived notion that somehow he loves fighting more than you, “And I know I should have said it more when we were together but, baby, give me another chance so I can keep saying it.”

You want to cry again, “Have you actually quit? No more fights?”

He places his hand on his heart, “I quit, promise. The only fights now will be with guys who stare at you too long.”

Laughing, you remember a time he clocked two guys out for even offering you a drink. Heeseung has always been protective of you, that’s why you missed him so much today. Coming home after a grueling shift made you want nothing more than for him to hold you.

He’s offering you that chance again and you can’t turn it down, “I love you, Heeseung.”

“Fuck, baby, I love you too.” His lips are on yours again as he pours his love into you, his devotion.

Heeseung wasn’t letting you go again. Not for any fight in the world.

#enha smut #enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #aj writes #posted it early bc i'm feeling generous #enhypen angst

2K notes · View notes

kaizokuniichan · 8 months

Text

What You Want

Roronoa Zoro x AFAB reader

Summary: You have a tendency to slip into Zoro’s bed every time you drink. For some reason he lets you keep on doing it

This is the absolute longest fic I’ve ever written in my life. I don’t know how it happened, I just let my hand take the lead. Apologies for any weird formatting, I was forced to write this on my phone.

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected vaginal sex, oral, light choking, slight degradation, use of “good girl”, nipple play

Word Count: 5.6k (😰)

MDNI; 20+ readers please

(Divider by @cafekitsune )

Sometimes you had this nasty habit of slipping into Zoro’s bed when you drank. You didn’t know why, it was just something you did.

The first time it happened you’d been so inebriated that your stumbling around had resulted in you tripping over a pair of boots, scrabbling onto the bed to break your fall, and flopping unceremoniously onto his legs. He startled awake and attempted to shove you off but your drunken delirium insisted that you were in your room and you had every right to be there. Exasperated, he rolled you off his knees and you eventually passed out by his ankles.

A mumbled apology came the next day during breakfast which he wordlessly waved off. After quickly gulping down his food, he grabbed his katanas and headed out the door. No other exchange about the matter was made.

The first time you slipped under the duvet, the dip of the mattress was what pulled him from his slumber. It was just enough for him to see you at the furthest edge of the bed, your head flopping onto the pillow and your soft snores soon following. You’d only slept for maybe 2 hours before you jerked awake, realizing where you’d mistakenly wound up again. You quickly gathered your shoes and pants that had been haphazardly discarded, and snuck out of the room.

The first time your bodies made contact, your back had been pressed against his. He hadn’t actually been sleeping much that night; you were unaware of his watchful eye as he looked over his shoulder at you. Subconsciously you knew something was different (still convinced you were in your own bed), a comforting wall of warmth bleeding in through the thin cotton of your tank top. He rolled his head back to face his side, eye growing heavier as he finally succumbed to sleep. When he woke a few hours later your spot was empty and cool, rumpled sheets slightly flipped back being the only indication that you’d been there.

A new thing started happening where you faced your front to him, inching closer to his bulky form. You’d ungracefully throw an arm over his waist, hot and clammy palm spreading over his abs. Sometimes, you’d swear a larger hand covered yours with a quick squeeze. But the thought never registered for longer than a second, sweet unconsciousness beckoning you soon after. Those nights his curiosity got the better of him, and he wondered what you looked like up close while you slept. As he turned under the weight of your arm still flung over him, he was met with your face half stuffed into the pillow, mouth open with a thin layer of drool dampening the pillowcase. As he adjusted himself to lay on his stomach, your body stirred and one of your eyes cracked open to stare back at him. He’d thought your focus would be foggy but you looked deep into him, down to his very bones. You held his gaze for what felt like hours under the calm nothingness that only existed during a night faring the seas, before you promptly sat up and hastened to exit the room as you always did; this time forgetting to grab the shorts and bra you’d carelessly tossed.

You knew he was aware of what you were doing but for some reason you couldn’t stop it from happening, and he wouldn’t stop you from doing it. You rationalized that the only reason he allowed it to continue was because he was just as intoxicated, sake vapors always permeating his clothes. It remained an unspoken thing between the two of you, the only acknowledgment being an amused look from him every time you took that first gulp of whiskey.

You wondered how no one else seemed to know, you weren’t exactly quiet anytime you stumbled into the men’s quarters. But then again they all slept like logs and you always managed to slip away before the sun could peak over the horizon.

Tonight was your birthday, and contrary to popular belief, you tended not to drink as much on this day, wanting to fully experience the joy and laughter with your beloved crew. A few glasses of bubbly and maybe a shot or two here and there, but not enough to put you on your ass.

Zoro had a good sense of your drinking habits, so he could tell you weren’t going as hard as usual. He wondered whether or not you’d be joining him in his bed tonight, seeing as how your mostly sober mind could possibly hold you back. His eye caught yours as it always did. Your skin was warm and glowing, cheeks puffed up from the ever-present grin plastered upon your face. It took Usopp, knocking into you and spilling his drink onto your shirt, to finally pull your attention away from Zoro as you screeched with laughter, chasing the sniper around the deck with a handful of cake meant to be smashed into his face.

Things finally wound down to lull as everyone crashed outside under the milky glow of the moon. Zoro looked around but couldn’t find you or either of the other girls anywhere, and deduced that you’d all probably left together. Oh well. Looks like he’d have the room to himself. Throwing Luffy’s arm off his cheek, he dusted off his pants and made his way back inside. His heavy footfalls echoed throughout the empty halls, wood creaking as the Sunny rocked him along. Finally arriving at his door, a fleeting image of you waiting in his bed, curled up under his sheets, crossed his mind. He quickly shook it off, knocking it back towards the huge pile of other non crew-like thoughts he had of you, and opened the door. Instead he was greeted by an empty bed, and as he closed the door, he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, and collapsed onto the mattress.

As you stood outside the door to the men’s quarters, you cursed yourself for your lack of self control. Your mind had now associated any amount of drinking with sleeping in Zoro’s bed, and that revelation had caused you to lie awake with a mysterious insomnia. After an hour of tossing and turning, your body had gotten up and your feet lead you, seemingly of their own accord, to wherever they wanted. And now here you were at his door, fully cognizant of what you were doing. Your knuckles turned white from your hand’s grip on the doorknob, and you tried to gaslight yourself into believing that you were actually drunker than you thought. This was a perfectly normal thing that you always did.

Pushing the door open you found Zoro in his bed, asleep as always, positioned in a way that was normally reserved for napping. Laying on his back, he looked luminous under the shafts of moonlight filtering through the window. Arm under the pillow behind his head, his bare chest rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm, his soft snores tumbling from his parted lips. Your chest tensed and you stilled. You hadn’t expected him to look like that . Normally he was more of a misshapen lump under the blankets, but tonight his body looked almost as if it was offering an invitation to you. You tiptoed closer, using a few moments to take him in. With sheets rumpled at his waist, you had a clear view of his torso, which rippled with bunches of muscles beneath the skin. His jawline was as sharp as ever, head tipped back to reveal a clear line between it and his neck. He was so achingly handsome it made you gasp, chest tightening even more as you wondered how the hell you’d survived sleeping next to him during the past few months without melting completely through the floor. Liquor really did seem to have a dulling effect on your nerves. After a quick mental battle of building up your nerve, you finally lifted the covers and slipped beneath them, inching closer and closer until you were almost touching. After a few moments of admiring the wrinkle between his thin brows, you settled more comfortably into the pillow and finally dozed off.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour long nap before your dreams melted away. Something was different. You’d fallen asleep on your stomach but instead of a firm mattress beneath you, you were angled on your side and there was a portion of a body pressed against your chest. You wiggled your fingers and felt the taut skin of someone’s pec, and your leg was thrown over the large, corded muscle of someone’s thigh. This couldn’t be right. You didn’t have any current situationships on your roster that justified this level of intimacy. Embarrassingly, your body wanted to welcome the comfort with little resistance. But your mind and your body were always at war, and your flight instincts kicked in as you planned to rip yourself away and slink on back to your room. But just before you could remove yourself completely, a heavy arm you hadn’t realized was around your waist pulled you back against him. You looked up to see a mirthful smirk and a steely eye peering at you.

“Done using me like a hunk of meat?”

“What?” You croaked, heart anchoring into your gut.

“You’re cutting our time short, usually you stay longer than this,” he continued with a poke at your side, grinning like he’d finally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. And perhaps he had.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came here tonight. I’m not even that drunk.”

“Yeah that’s the problem, you only seem to come around when you’re drunk.”

Your mind whirled in confusion. Was that what this was about? Did you give the impression that you didn’t enjoy his company in any capacity other than when alcohol was involved?

“Zoro, I’m sorry if that’s how this is coming across, I don’t mean that at all, of course I like being around you-“

Your frantic excuses were cut short by his amused chuckle.

“You’re making this too easy. I knew it was gonna be worth it, messing with you tonight.”

His toothy grin irked your spirit and you thumped his chest in retaliation. Of course that’s where this was going, this was Zoro. Annoyingly perceptive and slightly mischievous, despite what most people thought of him.

“Why haven’t you told me to leave then? After all these months?”

“To be fair I did the first time, but you kept arguing that I’d actually snuck into your bed.”

The faint memory was promptly squished back into the deepest parts of your mind.

“Well…you still allowed it to continue. Why?”

He hummed as he scratched his chin, pretending to ponder.

“Dunno. Figured you had a reason.”

“What possible reason could that have been?”

Zoro’s arm, still around your waist, pulled you closer as he turned onto his side to face you. The dip in his tone made your skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Figured you wanted something from me.”

Breath caught in your lungs as to what he was implying.

“Like what?”

His brow arched with a knowing look, slipping a leg between your own and lifting yours higher around his waist.

“Something I’ve been wanting to give to you. If you want it.”

His eyes bore into yours, waiting for your next move. You hesitated a few beats before finally wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, pulling his face closer.

“I want this,” you sighed, brushing your lips with his.

He smiled against yours, pulling you tighter.

“Finally.”

The kiss that followed was like an ocean storm, knocking you off balance in its undertow. The groan that settled in his chest sparked electricity in your veins, causing you to whimper. Your tongue met the seam of his lips and he curled his own around it, guiding and tangling them together. The sound of your lips smacking was unseemly, but you accepted it as proof that this was actually happening. Your mouths soon parted to catch your breaths, chests heaving in unison.

“Zoro…”

He grunted in response as he rolled you onto your back, groin settled against yours. You could feel the bulge of his arousal rub against your center, and your leg that had been draped over his waist remained hooked around him. His hand next to your head gripped the sheets as his mouth descended upon your lips once again, the hand on your waist pressed more firmly and made up and down motions against your skin. He caught your bruised bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, sucking it into his mouth until there was nothing left to give. You let out a whine and he moved to the side of your face, pressing his lips to your ear.

“I wanna keep hearing that tonight, you saying my name like that.”

Not waiting for your reply, his teeth came out to bite harshly into your earlobe. You yelped, helplessly rocking your hips against his. His thigh slid further between your legs until it met your wetness at your center, nudging to provide a place for you to grind against. His mouth continued to do sinful things to your neck and collarbones, taking note of which spots got you to squirm wriggle against him.

Eventually the hand massaging your ribs slipped under the hem of you shirt, lifting it up to expose your breasts. Wanting to see them before he felt them, he stopped himself from giving your pulse point another nibble to look at you properly. The unwavering inspection had you feeling shy as you made a move to pull your shirt back down.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered, grabbing your wrist to stop you, slamming it back down into the mattress.

Your chest continued to heave as you tried to quell your insecurities, hoping that he liked what he saw. Seemingly reading your mind, he tsked loudly.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Huh?” You balked at him, utterly dumbfounded. That was definitely not the response you could’ve ever predicted to receive for providing him with a full display of your tits.

“You know how hard it’s been for me, letting you leave all of those nights?”

You had no reply prepared but it didn’t matter, any possible words would’ve failed you as his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue licking playfully at your nipple.

“Even watching you drool all over my pillows and snoring in my ear couldn’t stop me from wanting you.”

Annoyance tickled your temple, even as he sucked on the underside of your breast.

“I may have drooled once or twice but I definitely don’t snore.”

He looked up with a smile showing all 32 of his teeth before replacing his mouth with his hand to rub his thumb softly against the pebbled nub. A surprised gasp broke free from your lips. Sometimes you wondered if you were the type of person who could cum just from your nipples being stimulated. Maybe one day you’d test that theory.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side, unable to argue with all of his pinching and prodding. His hand reached over to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look back at him.

“Stop being difficult or I won’t give you your present.”

Your teeth clicked with the force of your mouth snapping shut, making him snicker.

“Is that all it takes to get you to listen to me?”

“Yeah if that’s what’s always being offered. I can be good for that.”

“Hm. Greedy.”

“I’m allowed to be, it’s my birthday.”

His fingers smushed your cheeks together, but he made no move of keeping you waiting as his mouth continued it’s journey down your body, sucking on your skin and biting the softness of your tummy. Slowly he peeled down your sleep shorts, discarding them into the darkness. Immediately your knees knocked together but he pulled them apart to stare intensely at the large wet patch in your panties. This time you felt pride as you watched his mouth go slack, his eye flitting back up to meet yours, dark with desire. He hadn’t thought it would be this easy to get you worked up like this, you were normally so stubborn about everything . If only you knew what this was doing for his ego.

As he bent down to bite into the plushness of your thighs, you sat up to enjoy the visual of his face nuzzled between your legs. You’d never seen him look sexier than when he glanced back up at you, intense eye contact stealing your breath once more. He nudged his nose against the covered lips of your pussy and gave it a sniff, an unexpected moan rumbling in his throat.

“Fuck. Never imagined you’d smell this good.”

You were left speechless as he removed your panties, finally exposing you to the cool air. You gasped as his tongue poked out to taste the juices leaking between your lips, and your head fell back down as you whimpered. One of his hands kept your hips firmly in place while the other crawled up to resume dragging his fingers across your nipples.

His tongue curled along the seam of your entrance, serving him another moan of his name and a firm grip on his hair. Not being able to hold his composure, he dragged your body closer to drape your legs over his shoulders.

“You know, if you were thinking this was gonna be a one time thing, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Stop being mean,” you sighed, pulling his head closer to your untended wetness, “get on with my present now.”

His mouth kicked up into a smirk before he brought it back against you, tongue chasing the leaking juices before stuffing them back inside. Your nails clawed his scalp as he hummed against your clit, his tongue making practiced and precise traces along the bud. You were briefly brought back to a conversation you’d had with Robin where you wondered if the power that it took to fight with a sword in his mouth resulted in his tongue developing an unusual strength. As his tongue bullied it’s way inside and along your walls, you concluded that it had to be true, and you gave thanks to his three-sword style as if it had provided a favor specifically for you.

Zoro’s senses were saturated with the essence of you. Your plump thighs squeezed his head deliciously as he fucked you slowly with his mouth. Your hand gripping his hair made him growl, rubbing his face further between your legs, groaning at your continuous whines dancing in his ears. You were so wet, clenching around his tongue, he had to reach a hand into his boxers just to bring himself some relief. He was unbearably hard and the more your hips bucked in time with his movements, the more he had to squeeze himself at the base just to keep himself at bay. Thankfully, you seemed interested in watching him work, your half-lidded eyes and pouty, kiss-swollen lips being any indication. He liked performing for you, and silently praised your bold approval.

His hand still played with your nipples, and every swipe of the pad of his thumb had your hips jumping so fiercely, he knew he’d have to file that away for later. But now you were moving too much, and he had a job to finish. Taking both of your thighs still hanging over his shoulders in his hands, he folded your body in half so that all you could do was lie there and take everything he gave to you. His tongue, still darting in and out of you at a steady pace, began making languid swipes along your clit. Your panting became louder as he continued his teasing, sucking one of your lips into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

“Zoro…Zoro…please don’t stop. Please.”

You were begging now, and that was good. He’d oblige you, of course. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he provided a combination of licks and suction, working in tandem as your whimpers climbed louder and more breathless until finally, everything crashed. You came into his mouth with a throaty wail, body convulsing in his hold. He continued to lap at your juices as you shuddered with aftershocks, steadily coming down with a weak whine. You eventually settled down with a sigh and he released your thighs, causing your lower half to flop back onto the mattress. You sat in silence still panting and spent, spread-eagle with him kneeling between your legs. You cracked your eyes open to look at him, shaking your head.

“You are an absolute demon.”

He grinned smugly in reply, fingers swiping along your lower lips.

“I didn’t hear any complaints.”

Zoro’s dick cried for attention, and he was normally too disciplined to be led by it. But as he pulled it free from his briefs and used your slick to lube himself up, he was thankful that tonight he was going to indulge. He stroked himself lazily, looking up when he heard your soft gasp.

“Fuck…me.”

You’d let the words slip before you could scoop them back into your mouth. The sight you were met with went absolutely mad, beyond your wildest imagination. Here was Zoro, big, wide, and powerful, looming over you with the muscles of his bicep flexing as he jerked himself to the sight of you. His face was still insufferably smug as he kept his pace.

“You good?”

“Hm.”

Your lack of reaction had him quirking his eyebrow, curious as to whether or not you had met your limit and were ready to conclude the evening.

“We can stop now if you want to-“

“I thought it was still my birthday?”

Both of Zoro’s eyebrows rose as your energy seemed to return and you watched him intently, hand still wrapped around himself. You sat up on your elbows and licked your lips before giving him those shiny, doe eyes.

“I want the rest of my present now,” you pouted.

It was Zoro’s turn to be speechless as you grabbed his waist and forced him to lie back down over you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” you murmured, sliding his briefs down to give his ass a squeeze. The movement had him bucking forward, his hand finally ripped away from his dick to catch himself from dropping all of his weight onto you. You continued tugging his underwear down until he leaned on his side and slid them off, flinging them aside. His free hand grabbed your shirt still bunched above your chest, and roughly slipped it over your head, tossing it to join the rest of your clothes. He brought a hand to you hip and slid it down slowly to your thigh, hooking it once more around his waist as he settled back over you.

“Still got time to back out sweetheart.”

Your chest stuttered as you felt him poke at your entrance. You carded a hand back into his hair while the other touched his cheek, thumb tracing his lips. You were so caught in the moment, your feeble mind unable to focus on anything other than him. The feel of his strong body against yours, his veiny cock gliding smoothly between your pussy lips, his head turning slightly into your hand, giving it a whisper of a kiss. You were too far gone.

“Zoro…”

“Tell me what you need.”

You brought your mouth to his for a long, soft kiss before you looked back up at him. God, you were so pretty. Maybe he was kinder than he thought because in that moment he would’ve given you absolutely anything.

“I want you to give me everything,” you said, and he was convinced you’d read his mind.

He released a breath and guided himself into you, squeezing his eye shut as he felt the immediate squeeze. You were still so wet from his spit and your own arousal, but your walls were tight as he hadn’t used his fingers to stretch you. You didn’t seem to mind as you pulled him close, and he shallowly pumped himself in and out, going slightly deeper with every roll of his hips. You relaxed more against him and it became easier for him to slip inside; you opened up so nicely for him. Your hips rose to meet his careful thrusts, and before he knew it he was completely and snugly sheathed inside you.

He’d underestimated how warm and tight you’d be, even after your initial orgasm from earlier. He had to stop and catch his breath, panting in your ear as he willed his body to calm down. It wouldn’t due for him to cut this prematurely. You were looking to get thoroughly fucked and he was the only one who was going to give it to you how you wanted. After he was done with you you’d never be able to crawl into anyone else’s bed ever again. He was going to mold your pussy so only he could fit.

You hadn’t stopped moaning since his hips connected with yours, and you began clawing at his back, begging him to move. Your body was hot and wound tight as if you hadn’t just cum earlier. He finally lifted his head from the crook of your neck and slipped a hand beneath your body to press it up to his.

“You gonna be good for me?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, limbs turning to goo.

Giving you another quick kiss, he shoved inside you and lost any last dredges of sanity. You felt unbelievable, gripping his cock in a way that wouldn’t let go. His hand sandwiched beneath you grabbed your ass, giving him leverage to slam back into you. His breath came out in heavy pants as he built a bruising pace, grunting and groaning into your ear.

Your hand still pulled at his hair while the other held onto his bicep. The force of his thrusts made your whole body bounce up towards the headboard, and the rhythmic squeaks of the bed were embarrassingly loud. You hoped nobody had woken up in search of the room you both were defiling. Your pussy ached and fluttered against him as he fucked you, his stomach flexing with every grind of his hips. He was so brutal and so mean you were sure he was going to put a hole through the mattress. Suddenly he dropped your leg and pinned both of your wrists above your head.

“Wrap your legs around me sweetheart.”

God, what could you do besides follow that voice? So sinful that it gnawed at your spine. You wrapped both your legs around his waist, and his thrusts became more slow and rough.

“You gonna keep taking it?”

“Ye-ah.”

He pressed you further down into the mattress, your endless stream of moans becoming stilted from the force of his pounding.

“You gonna let me keep stretching this pussy out?”

“Please,” you pleaded, eyes watering as he plowed away at you.

You were so pliant for him, allowing him to use you as he pleased. He was going to batter your pussy red until it was swollen. Taking both of your wrists in one hand, he rested his other around your throat.

“Yeah?” He prompted, asking for permission.

“Fuck Zoro , please, ” you begged, all stubbornness and shame flying out the window. He was going to be insufferable when he was finished with you, your right mind was already dreading it.

“I knew you were a nasty girl,” he smirked, squeezing lightly at the sides of your throat. Despite his obvious strength, his discipline helped him hold back when he needed to. Obviously he’d never seriously hurt you.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” you whined as he continued to slam into you. His grip tightened as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours.

“Turn around and get on your knees for me.”

The growl in his voice made you wetter, and you squeezed tighter around him. He released your wrists and throat, sitting back up on his knees. His dick slipped out of you and slapped against his stomach, glistening with your slick. Getting a proper look at it, he was just as thick as you’d thought, with a nice curve that was sure to scramble your brains from the new position.

“You gonna keep drooling over it or are you gonna let me fuck you properly?”

“You are such a dreadful man, I didn’t drool!”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” he sighed with impatience, grabbing your arms and manhandling you onto your stomach. You whined and cursed into the pillow while grabbing another to stuff under your hips. Keeping your weight on your elbows, you pushed your hips back, making a nice pretty arch for him. His palm met your ass with a loud smack, and you felt his teeth take a bite at your cheek.

“You’re the one that’s nasty.”

He tapped his dick against your ass a few times, watching the strings of his precum and your juices coat your skin.

“Yeah.”

Without any warning he shoved himself back inside you, covering your back with his body and pressing his palm into your lower back to deepen your arch. You continued to wail into your pillow as you shoved your ass back against him. He nuzzled his head along your shoulder and neck, cooing condescendingly in your ear.

“Aw, I know. The big bad man keeps treating you mean.”

“So mean,” you hiccuped, dragging out the end of the word as he picked back up his brutal pace. The slapping of his skin against yours was abhorrent, and absolutely erotic. You felt your thighs jiggle as he slammed his hips, the curve of his dick dragged along your walls, carving a space for himself inside you. The head suddenly bumped against that soft, fleshy patch inside, and you keened. This was gonna be it for you.

“Zoro…I can’t. I can’t hold on for much longer.”

He took sympathy on you as he licked and sucked at the back of your neck, hands fisting the sheets as his body continued to climb with yours.

“It’s alright, you can let go. You’ve been so good for me. My good girl.”

His words had you squeezing him so tight he thought he would choke, a stream of moans and curses escaping your lips as the pressure built tighter and tighter. One of your hands came down to circle your clit, fingers slipping over the absolute mess covering your pussy. You gave a few more weak grinds against his hips before everything snapped and you caved, orgasm pulling at every last one of your nerve endings, down to your toes.

Your cries were in time with the pattering of his hips, and he sat back on his knees to watch the ripples of your ass as it connected with his pelvis. You were such a messy, crumpled heap against the pillow, and you’d never looked more beautiful. His body begged him to let go and release, and he was going to listen to it.

“Where do you want me to cum?” His voice was strained, panting and breathless as if he’d been in a harsh battle. God you were really wearing him out.

“Inside,” you said weakly, voice muffled by the pillow you’d stuffed your face into. He chuckled to himself. You were always so greedy.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” he teased, still managing to be a shit while his threads unraveled.

With great difficulty he pulled himself from inside you, your walls still trying to drag him back inside with a weak grip. Taking his cock in one hand, he looked at your ass still raised in the air, and pumped furiously until his will broke and he spilled, long ropes of cum painting your ass and your back.

His body collapsed on top of yours, knocking the wind out of you. You allowed him a few seconds to catch his breath as he groaned into your skin before you whined at him to get off. With a tired sigh he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. You followed his lead, wiping the sweat from your face.

“I can’t believe. You just fucked me like that.”

He gave a half chuckle and glanced over at you.

“Hey I was just giving you what you wanted.”

You bit your lip as you stared back at him.

“Yeah, you did.”

He went to grab the sheets that had been kicked aside, and pulled you against him for a spoon.

“Zoro,” you protested, attempting to free yourself from his grip, “I can’t stay here. I’m sweaty, I’m gross, I’m covered in cum. Someone will find us.”

“I’ll wake up before anyone gets back,” he mumbled, pulling you closer until your back was flush against him.

“But my clothes, I’ll never find them under that sea of junk.”

“Just wear mine.”

“But…”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Any strength left in your limbs depleted as he kept a boa-tight hold around your middle. His soft breaths fluttered against your ear, and you knew he had already slipped into sleep.

Tired and weak, you snuggled back into the curve of his body, pulling the blankets up to your chin as you allowed your final moments of consciousness slip away.

You prayed that no one had turned up to the other side of that door.

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #myfic #roronoa zoro smut #this was insane I literally had to force myself to take breaks writing this #idk why it wouldn’t leave my mind #anyway I hope it doesn’t drag on that’s always been my fear about writing long fics

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hoseoksluna · 2 months

Text

BANANA MILK | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut, a tiny bit of angst

word count: 5.6k

summary: when a porn video accidentally plays on his tv, jungkook makes sure you watch.

playlist: banana milk / pinterest board: wine

warnings: forced and consensual porn watching, crotch grinding, dom/sub dynamics, plenty of desperation, praise and degradation, reader has daddy issues (like the writer,) oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, biting, pet names and a particular title used, handjob, plushie used during intercourse, spanking, raw sex, squirting, size kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

note: this can be read as a standalone, however it's a part two of my fic 'wine'. you guys asked for it and i delivered. <3 i wrote this entire fucking thing in a trace and on my phone, and i still don't understand how i managed to do that. even though i struggled in the beginning, i enjoyed writing this as soon as i got into it. there will be a part three as well—from jungkook's pov. so as you read, look forward to it next sunday. let me know what you think in the comments, don't be shy! mwah ᡣ𐭩

Following the shapes of the sunlight on the parquet floors, your small feet are warm. The clicking of fingers on a sleek keyboard takes you, momentarily, into a hazy frame of mind. You feel as though you’re in a novel yourself, and the sound is a mere announcement that your steps, calculated in depth—thought through, plotted, and cared for—are counted by the man a few feet away from you, the writer, the long lost poet. Counted patiently throughout the rising action until they reach, at last, the climax. The notion unfolds within you, unfurls little by little in a way that you like, for it makes you feel exceptionally alive and poetic. It casts a languorous smile upon your shimmery face. Perhaps it’s due to the double meaning because you’re here for a reason. Or perhaps you owe that smile to the easy joy blooming in your chest, one that was sown hardly an hour ago.

You were in a bookstore, skimming through a paperback that enveloped you in blue dreaminess. The language you had the honor to graze with the pad of your finger was flowery in a way that stirred something within you—something that is noticeably sprouting to life. The furniture of the room was dark and antique under the yellow dimmed light, very much like the one you have at home. It was so you, a true personification of your whole being that made it quite difficult to leave, even though you had something to look forward to.

You were convinced it was your home.

A home that you came around to for the first time in your life—how strange.

You bought the book. It had to be yours, and you had to have a keepsake, a direct link to your hideaway. You set it by the wall next to your shoes and your purse with a pink photocard holder, pulling out a certain bottle of happiness that you brought along for your friend.

The sunlight strips take you straight to him, your feet—kissed by the sun—padding softly on the floor; the third step of the rising action. Jungkook sits slumped on his coffee brown couch with his laptop propped on his lap. His shoulders, clad in a denim sweatshirt, hunch in ever persistent concentration, a Word document opened and being swiftly filled with Hangul. Persistent enough that he doesn’t twist his head to greet you. He knows you’re there. Heard the sweet sing-song beep of his passcode being accepted, letting you in into his solitary life. Knows you didn’t forget it this time because he didn’t have to stand to his feet to open the door for you as he so often did in the past.

You wrap your arms around his neck from the back, tits squished against the nape from the low neckline you chose to wear for the day. It shreds his concentration to smithereens; you feel him inhale raggedly through his nose, fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard. You press your lips against his scarred cheek, not as plump as they usually are because they are still pulled taut into a smile, and whisper, “hi, Ggukie.”

He turns his head to face you from the side.

“Hi,” he breathes. There are peachy specks of glitter scattered all over your eyelids and you watch him study them, round eyes flicking between each one of them as if he can’t get enough of them—as if there are more for him to greet the more he looks.

And he’s right. There are.

His tender mien causes your heart to clench, overflow with a continual stream of endearment for him. You notice the mark of your guileless kiss on the apple of his cheek, the lip gloss pink and glimmering. Decide to leave it there. Decide it suits him well.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do.

He drifts the pad of his thumb along that delicate skin. Not to disturb the artwork, no. But to acquaint himself further with it. It’s been a long time since you wore glitter. It’s been equally as long since you were this happy—he senses it, the little iridescent stars tell him somehow. There’s so much of it that when he lifts the digit, the eye makeup stays intact, as if he hadn’t touched it at all. Jungkook flicks his eyes to the craftwork of his stained fingertip, the glitter, the stars nuzzling homely within the lines. Smiles as he mumbles, “pretty.”

You kiss him airily as a thank you. No hands, not anything. Just your lips puckering from the little distance between the pair of you. You retrieve the bottle of happiness from your back pocket and hold it against his hard chest.

Confusingly, with lips rounded, Jungkook looks down and gasps.

Banana milk.

“Come here.”

He hauls you down onto his lap like you weigh nothing, his laptop pushed away to the cold side of the couch. You squeal, pulling your hair as you lay against them and try to find a better position, discomfort painting your features in a way that makes Jungkook scrunch his nose adorably. He lifts your neck and gathers your hair, smoothing it down on the leather. You look up at him. The stars have migrated to your glossy eyes.

“Where’s yours?” he asks, hand placed on the crown of your head, the other clutching the chunky bottle protectively like a child.

“I already drank mine.”

Jungkook pierces the paper lid with the slim straw and takes a sip. Lowers it until it pokes you in the line of your lips. Nods at you, encouraging you to drink.

Your heart clenches again, and the thoughtful gesture makes it swell. It suddenly feels like your chest is very tight, like there’s no space for your organs. You massage the feeling away, wrapping your lips around the plastic, taking a few sips. No hands, not anything.

“You’re a sweet boy,” you whisper, a dollop of the creamy liquid adorning the oily pinkness of your lips.

A bright blush creeps along his cheeks, settling along the bridge of his nose as it ever so often does. Gazes down at you, then at your lips. Scrunches his nose again as he shakes his head, bending to peck you delicately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, cleaning you up. His habit at this point.

“I’m a man.”

Your face grows hot. The imprint of your lip gloss stained his mouth and it worsens your state, deepens your dreaminess. You’re leaving small parts of your being as marks on him. You find that beautiful, in all its simplicity.

“Sweet and pretty,” you add in a hushed whisper, more to yourself than him.

Twinkles, akin to your glitter, flood his eyes and they deepen in thought. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when he drifts the palm of his hand down your throat, curling around your collarbones, you realize he’s having flashbacks.

Wine. Neck. Tongue.

The cause and effect on your panties in mere seconds.

Your helplessness. The way you apologized for coming because you weren’t allowed.

Jungkook smirks and so do you. Lets his palm roam down to your tits, discovers only with the lift of his finger that you’re wearing a lacy blue bralette under your top.

“So easy to pull to the side,” he comments, more to himself than you. Doesn’t look at you when he begins to fondle them, transfixed by their fullness.

“That was my—”

“How was your day?” he cuts in, a breathy concoction of a hiss and a moan escaping his mouth once he feels your nipples stiffen under his hand. Index and thumb come and squeeze at that nub, coaxing a hum out of you.

Your brain degrades slowly but surely, metamorphosing into mush. You struggle with your memory, abruptly unable to remember where you were and what you did before you were half spread across his lap.

“Good,” you try. “Fantastic, actually.”

Jungkook smiles. Pinches your nipple again, fingers pressing flat and moving up and down. You moan out for him, writhing in a newly, softly burning desire.

“Really?”

“Yeah, went to the bookstore.”

Did you?

“Bought anything?”

His hand drifts back to your neck, never losing skin-to-skin contact, wraps around the column, then goes back down to your tit. This time, to your neglected one. Gives it the same attention.

You don’t remember if you bought anything.

Zoning out, you focus on the pleasure, fluttering your eyes closed. Figure this is just a meaningless talk that doesn’t require truthful answers or any for that matter. You widen your legs, calling out for his touch there. This is what you came here for. He doesn’t need to know about the itty-bitty parts of your soul.

Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you up, guiding you to straddle him. You poke the banana milk, propped against the backrest, with your knee. Despite your now lustful haze, you’re careful not to knock it over.

A billow of the whole night lines his eyelashes, arousal blanketing his irises. You run your hand through his hair—can’t help yourself, you’re just obeying your body’s intimate wishes—and tip his head back, his soft strands sifting through your fingers. You draw near to his slightly parted mouth as if to kiss him, but you’re here just to tease him, to make him want more just like he did to you, hovering your lips above his. His slowly quickening inhales add much to your wooziness and you go to hide in the crook of his neck, but he stops you dead in your tracks when he says, “you came here to get fucked, didn’t you?”

Your laughter is but a breath. “How did you know?”

You kiss him there, incorporating your tongue, sucking the sensitive skin for a mere beat of time. And just like him, you discover why he likes kissing your neck as much as he does.

A film of goosebumps shrouds the small portion of the exposed skin of his chest that you’re allowed to see. Jungkook moans lowly, gripping your ass and pulling you closer to his semi-hard crotch, sinking lower into the cushion. Eager hands hook under the hem of your top and fling it out of you, latching onto the back of your neck and drawing you to his face.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He begins to talk.

“I waited for you all fucking day,” he murmurs against your lips, sucking in a breath of air as if there wasn’t enough in his lungs, as if voicing out his desire exerted his energy.

“All I could think about were those fucking tits,” he confesses. “Those hips of yours, so small in my hands. That pussy, fuck. I wanna eat it,” he groans, furrowing his eyebrows. “God, I wanna eat it.”

You nod to each and every word of his, grinding your pelvis against his, mewling into his mouth.

“You understand what I’m saying to you, don’t you?”

You nod again, your body begging you to be allowed to arch your back, but the grip Jungkook has on your neck prevents it from happening. The fire of desire burns bright, made bigger and blue by his spluttering sparks.

“‘Course you do, you’re my good little girl, aren’t you? Smart and educated,” he praises and your walls clench. “Let me eat your little pussy.”

“Please,” is all you manage to utter before he holds you steady by the waist and lays you down on the couch.

Your shoulder blade hits the remote control and a sudden echo of a girl’s moan booms through the room. Both of your heads swing to the TV to see a girl humping her teddy bear, barren down to her full femininity except for her panties. She plays with her nipples, pulling on them while flicking her hair back, hips rapidly moving back and forth on the nose of her big fluffy friend. Mesmerized and completely sobered up from your drunkenness, your clit gains a heartbeat, your teeth sinking into the bottom of your lip.

Jungkook hastily rummages around you to find the remote. You stop him.

“Leave it on.”

He blinks at you, mouth agape. You smile at him, thumb brushing along his knuckles as you take the remote from him and place it on the coffee table. The gesture smooths down the wrinkle between his brows. His blush deepens, the color of roses stunning you.

Undoing your jeans, he pulls down your zipper. “You want me to eat you out while you watch porn?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

Jungkook sighs, sagging your pants down to the middle of your thighs. “Don’t call me sir or I’ll fuck you in the ass right here, right now.”

“Hurry, she’s almost done.”

He spanks you harshly and you squirm, quickly reminded of his need to be in control, but he listens to your need. Rewinds the video back. Slaps the remote back down onto the wood of the coffee table, which makes you burst into giggles and Jungkook smirks, folding you in half, dragging your panties to your jeans pooling above your knees. The center sticks to your core, causing him to growl, hand coming to wipe at the corners. The girl hops on the teddy bear. Moans fill your ears.

He kisses your clit. Pinches the back of his sweatshirt and hurls it at your head, obscuring your view. You huff in frustration, throwing it back at him, but he catches it. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“You should focus.”

“You going all in for me?” you ask, speaking of his nakedness.

Clothes come off on the verge of his climax, never before it; it’s so unlikely of him to discard himself so quickly. He usually keeps at least one item of clothing on, too hasty—too hungry to bother, until he can’t take the heat anymore.

“For you always.”

He dives into your pussy, tongue licking against your folds, nose pressed against your mound, inhaling you. Going up and down, he drinks you. Moans at the taste, eyes lidded and drunk as he stares at you through the little opening of your barely parted legs. You wish to spread them wider, the pleasure forces you to, but you can’t—the tight fabric won’t grant you the satisfaction.

“Take it off of me,” you whine.

He comes up for air. “No.”

You whine louder, fingers grasping at the waistband. Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them down to the cushion, thumbs resting in the middle of your palms. He doesn’t let a drop of you go to waste, sheathes his tongue into your warmth as he fucks you, nose rubbing against your engorged clit. You tip your head back, lose a sight of him for a moment, digits naturally wrapping around his thumbs like a baby. A litany of curse words, broken by your moans that sync to the girl’s sounds of pleasure, fall from your mouth. You don’t even look at her, too busy—too distracted by the man below you, by the way his open mouth works against you, his dimples hollowing into straight lines, so akin to the sunlight strips that led you to him, as he flicks his tongue against your clit.

You brush your fingers through his hair again, hold it at the roots through the small hole between your thighs. It provokes him enough that he looks up at you and finds you staring back at him. He growls against your cunt, a warning, the vibrations sending you back. Your eyes roll into your head and your hips follow, grinding into his glistening face.

Jungkook hums. Sticks around to see if you’re watching the porn, slowing down the pace of his flicks.

You’re not.

Coming down from that wave, your eyes set back down on him.

Jungkook peels his mouth off of you. Bends over you and grips your neck, pushing you down. The other hand spreads your slick all over your cunt, gliding back and forth. No pressure, not anything. Hearing your squelching noises, he mimics you. Also rolls his eyes back. Awakens the butterflies in your tummy.

“Focus,” he hisses.

You mewl. Ride his fingers to at least feel something, but you achieve nothing of the like.

He spanks your pussy, another warning.

You don’t listen. Can’t take your eyes off of him. Of the disheveled mess on top of his head, the sweat that pools at his hairline, the disarrange of his thick eyelashes from having his lids closed against your skin, the sheen of his nose, the wet puffiness of his lips, the kiss mark on his cheek. You take a deep breath.

It’s impossible to focus on someone else other than him. Especially when he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue sailing around the arc of his lips—the arc of your character development. Swallows the dewiness he called out like teacher to pupil.

You were a virgin when you met him. It was him who taught your body to get messy for him like this. His tongue that tasted your girlishness first. All your first times were with him and continue to be under his ever strict but safe supervision.

Under his custody in a way. You do call him Daddy after all.

“I missed your cuntie so much,” he husks, tightening his grip a tiny bit to emphasize the importance of his words. “But I can’t eat it if you don’t watch.”

His index finger turns your head to the side and his other hand travels down to your wet heat. The girl clutches her friend’s fur in her fist and fucks him slowly. With each roll of her hips upwards, you can see the shine of her slick adorning her folds. Jungkook sinks two digits inside. Can barely fit them in due to the way you clench around him. You fight his hold against your cheek, needing to look at him.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers. “My horny little baby.”

He keeps them there, at the beginning of your hole, pumping sluggishly. Doesn’t look at the girl. Didn’t do so ever since the video started playing. His eyes only drink in your reactions, the twist of your features, the little sounds and breaths that break out of your mouth, gracing his ears, making his cock hard.

It disturbs something within you. Stirs it to life. Kindles it radiantly, adjoining it to the fire of your desire. You know what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to accept it. It’s a feigned reality, one of a novel. Not the one that could ever be applied to your life, burst at the seam, engulf the radius until it absorbs you.

You’re not that lucky. You’re not lucky to have him in that way.

You’re lucky enough to have him physically connected to you once a week.

But emotionally?

Tears prick your waterline.

“I want your tongue on my clit,” you croak out, reckon it’s better that you listen to him, watch the girl make herself come, follow her footsteps and go home.

Distance is safe. Distance heals everything, particularly emotional attachments.

Jungkook ceases his slow movement. Lowers your legs down so they repose across his thighs. Strokes the tremble of your muscles, removing your jeans and your underwear. Keeps that dangly fabric hanging off of the edge of the coffee table. Caresses your face as he says, “Daddy wants that, too. So bad. But you gotta be my good little girl and watch it. Then Daddy will play with your little clit.”

“Okay.”

He settles back into his position between your legs, enfolds your thighs around his shoulders. Placing a tiny kiss on your pussy lips, the soft fleshiness of your thigh steals his attention. He begins to plant big, wet kisses there. Alternates between nibbles and those kisses, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make out.

The girl’s furry friend is drenched in her wetness. You buckle your hips with need.

“I want to hear your apology,” he orders, lips pressed against your skin.

You look at him and mewl.

“Eyes on the TV.”

He bites you.

You hiss in pain. “I’m sorry.”

He kisses the pain he caused. “What for?”

“For watching you,” you whisper, a lump forms in your throat and is softened by the look of endearment he gives you. Doesn’t reprimand you for keeping your eyes on him.

He latches onto the voluptuous part between your hip and thigh, marks you there. “And why did you watch me?”

You bite your lip to cage the words you really want to say behind your teeth, but some of them slip out. “Because you’re beautiful. Too distracting.” Because you look at me, and not at her.

Jungkook hums. Kitten licks your clit to reward you, lips wrapping around the bundle to suck it. Makes a sound of satisfaction, eyes closing to drown in the feeling. Lets go with a pop. Does it again. Suck. Pop. Suck. Pop.

You moan. Near to the last step of your rising action. One more and you’ll reach your climax. You keep your eyes peeled on the girl, her screams guiding you to that sweet release.

“My good little girl. Making me weak. Making me drunk,” he mutters against your pussy, blowing cool air against your dewiness; you shiver and he laughs softly. “Come for me, baby. Please.”

He sucks your clit again, but manages the pressure. Makes sure it’s light, so you enjoy it as much as he does.

“Keep watching it. You’re doing such a good job. Keep those pretty eyes on the TV.”

A new texture rubbing against your pussy surprises you and a moany gasp escapes you. You look down to find his dear Hello Kitty plushie in his hand and the different, rough sensation tears the rope in your belly.

“That’s it. Ride her. Fuck yeah. Make a mess on her for me. Good, good girl.”

You gush out, your orgasm taking over your body. Trembling, squirming, you thrash your hands in search of something stable that would help you ground yourself. Jungkook doesn’t slow down his movement but he finds your hand, finds the other one too, and pins them above your head. Bends over you and watches you closely, watches those waves surging through your body until they still.

He kisses you, then.

“Such a good girl for me. Well done.”

You struggle to catch your breath.

And there’s no oxygen left in your lungs when Jungkook begins to rock his hips against his plushie, the button of her nose pressing deliciously against your sensitive bundle. Your moans come out in staccatos, dry and breathless. Little squeaks of pleasure that make him crazy. Eyebrows furrowed, stare dark and fixed.

“Fuck, Jungkook. Oh, fuck.”

He laughs and you expect to be degraded, having realized that both of you forgot, for the first time in months, to do so, but he rams into her and nudges his nose against yours. Dimples prominent, mouth stretched into a grin. A sight to die for.

“I could come like this, baby. But I want to feel you. Need your little pussy around me. Might go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” he says hastily, chucking the plushie away. “They might lock me up.”

You might have wanted to go home, but who are you to deny him when he’s this desperate for you.

Butterflies swarm in your belly. And you laugh.

“Fuck me, baby. Come on,” you say, the pet name on your tongue scorching your whole body.

Jungkook hums, palms his hardness as the outline of his cock makes you salivate. While you reach for Hello Kitty to hug her because you need something solid to hold onto, he pulls out his heavy length out of his sweatpants. Wanting him naked, your fingers push down the material and you uncover that he’s not wearing any underwear.

You curse under your breath, your pussy drooling for you.

His member slaps against his stomach and you hiss, your saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. He grips himself, throws his head back. You focus on his red tip, on the evidence of his arousal agleam in the sudden shadows of the room. The video stopped playing; silence replaced it instead. You care very little for it, entranced by his manhood, by his defined abdomen, the hardness and roundness of his pecs and the small, singular mole right underneath. You find yourself longing to kiss it, swipe your tongue against it and you fulfill your body’s wishes.

You get on your knees. Hello Kitty falls in the middle of them. Jungkook curiously watches what you’re doing and when you do what you longed to do, he moans softly.

“Princess,” he sighs, moans again when you brush your fingertips against his nipple. “You make me feel so good.”

“Yeah?” you question, looking up at him, fingers tweaking his nipple and he vocally shows you how much he likes that.

His sounds of pleasure, the variety of pet names and praise makes you feel woozy all over again. Your pussy dampens the plush fabric, adding to the mess.

“Feel how hard you made me,” he whispers, guides your hand to his length, wrapping your fingers around his girth; you show him, too, how much you like that. “Spit on it.”

You don’t have to be told twice.

Spreading your liquid love all over him, you grip him tight beneath the mushroom to coax that delicious hiss you love hearing. You begin to move your hand from there, sliding his foreskin up and down. His groans are a panoply of pure beauty that you wish to own forever. You wish you could freeze time right now. Deem this is as close to paradise as you could ever get.

This is where you want to be, for all eternity.

You lick over his nipple and Jungkook sobs. Sounds just like you when he plays with you and it makes you sob just the same. You hold it in, though, think this is a time reserved for him only. Concentrate on flicking the nub to make him feel good, squeezing his tip. He deserves it.

“I’m gonna turn myself in,” Jungkook whines. “It’s your fault.” He kisses the top of your head. “You made me crazy.”

You laugh, quickening the pace of your hand that soon slows down when he sultrily orders, “hump her for me.”

“Fuck,” you let out, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “You want me to ride her?”

A rumble of agreement passes through his lips. “Make Daddy proud.”

You withdraw but Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“Keep your hand where it belongs.”

Your jaw falls open.

He guides you back where he wants you, meanwhile you rearrange the plushie and sit down on her nose, cringing at the cold wetness you left there.

You rock your hips once. The dull pleasure numbs your senses, electrifies your body. Before you’re even aware of it, you hump her like your life depends on it. Your hair lifts and falls around you gracefully in spite of your pace, little strays sticking to your flushed face.

“Slow down, fuck,” Jungkook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and wrist to stop you. “Slow, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You listen, even though it’s evident you don’t like it.

He chuckles. “Good job,” he praises. “Fix your face.”

You smile up at him, cracking into a gentle laughter. Out of breath, out of your mind.

“That’s it.”

He kisses your forehead. Reaches behind him and grabs the banana milk. Points the straw at your lips. You gulp it down loudly. Jungkook fixes your hair in the meantime.

Sitting down, he hauls you onto his lap. Your back presses against his chest, the tip of his shaft aiming at the middle of your belly. It scares you, how deep he can go and you turn your head to look at him with wide eyes.

He squeezes your tits, pulls the fabric to the side. Pinches both of your nipples at the same time before he kneads the flesh. Your roll your hips against his manhood, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“You’re just too small, aren’t you?” he whispers against your cheek.

You meow a soft sound that confirms his words.

“Won’t even fit in you. Need to stretch out you for me,” he says, hands traveling down your stomach. “Can you even take two fingers?”

There it is, the degradation. But it’s so tender that you can’t even believe your own ears. You mewl again, finding it so hot that he talks to you like this, knowing you took three of his fingers the last time he touched you.

“I can,” you say and there’s allure to your words, your pussy grinding against him.

He hums. Maneuvers you a little so his cock sits against your ass. Plays with your slick just to hear the filthy sound before he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. He curls them and is brutal as he pistons into you in fast jerks, the muscles in his biceps bulging. With his free hand, he makes sure you gaze at him and he nudges his nose with yours. His short breaths fan against your cupid’s bow and in return, you feed him your moans. He swallows each and every one, his pace never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your stream of pleasure shoots out onto the coffee table and Jungkook would miss it if his reflexes didn’t act out for him. He groans, strumming his fingers against your clit to prolong your orgasm, lifting you to ram his hard length into you.

You welcome him embarrassingly fast, smothering him until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Because he entered you mid climax, it triggers another one and you scream, thrash your body that he encages with his arms around you, one hand flying to your neck to keep you down. He presses his lips against your temple, lulls you with gentle sounds. Mutters apologetic words, words of encouragement, praise and reassurement. All while ramming his cock into you.

You’re forgetting the day and time. Hell, you’re forgetting your own age and name. All you know is dick.

His dick splitting you open as your head knocks back and forth.

He squishes your cheeks, pressing a kiss there, and it brings you back. You open your eyes, blink a few times. Yelp as he fucks you deeply and holds.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jungkook husks. “You always squirt for me, don’t you?”

You nod, dumbly. He plunges his fingers into your mouth to gather your saliva and takes them down to your clit. He rubs it, and he rubs it in fast circles. His other hand finds the soiled plushie and he crams her into your arms. You cuddle her, needing the comfort.

“If I had a vibrator, I’d keep it right here on your little clit the whole time and break you fucking apart.”

You clench around him, signaling him how much you like the idea.

“I know you’d like that. The thought of it won’t let me sleep. Might have to get it for you after all.”

Your surroundings are foggy. Another surge of orgasm reaches for you to get you. Your whole body shakes. You hug the plushie tighter.

You prop your feet on his muscular thighs and weakly, you snap your hips down on him, setting a steady pace that makes you see stars.

Jungkook ceases your movement. Grabs your waist tightly.

“Stop or I’ll come.”

You fight against him, pushing down on him. He lets you.

“You want Daddy to come for you?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close,” you squeak.

“Hold onto her then.”

He meets your thrust, groans at the impact, at the teamwork. Has a deathly grip on you and Hello Kitty that bruises you, stills you as he ruts into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive, abused femininity. You’re losing everything; you’re losing yourself in him, in his manhood, in his desire and pleasure. Submitting all that you are to him, willingly giving over all that you have left of your being. Knowing it will be safe, knowing you will be taken care of.

And with that you come, and you come hard. You coax his orgasm, beckon it out with the one final clench of your pussy around him. You milk him dry, stars clouding your vision and the warmth of his hot spurts of cum filling you to the brim. Jungkook whines.

He loses it completely.

Babbling sets of incoherent words against your cheek, he kisses you there, drags his kisses down to your jaw and your neck, squeezing you and Hello Kitty in his arms as his cock stays sheathed inside of you.

Two things you do make out when you come down.

A string of pet names directed to you. A bunch of ‘baby’, ‘princess’, ‘little girl’, all held close by the prefix of ‘my’. Held as close as he holds you.

And something else entirely.

“I love being inside of you. Whether it’s with my fingers or my dick. I don’t care. I just love being inside of you. You feel like home.”

He strokes your hair, over and over, from the side like that. From the crown of your head, past the curve, down the side of your neck. All while kissing your skin. Tiny little kisses that soothe you, lull you into tranquility, prove you utterly wrong.

But you’re still delirious from your high. You don’t realize what he said.

You don’t realize that your home isn’t within the walls of that bookstore but within the arms of the man that holds you.

And you don’t realize that he feels the same way.

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