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kithtaehyung · 3 months

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broken, pt. 2 (3tan) (m) | myg

title: broken (pt. 2) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down. note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride. warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍‍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst. drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est word count: 17.7k my god

smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))

There’s no way.

How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time?

“No fuckin’ way.”

Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware.

“Were they always on this team?”

“No.”

“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”

They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd.

It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience.

The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.

Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand.

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night.

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing.

“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.

“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”

“Play.”

Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still…

One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.”

Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise.

“And you’re paying me double.”

Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him.

But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?”

After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.”

Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.”

Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention.

But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.

Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.”

Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,

“Don’t worry, love.”

You stare.

“This will be over soon.”

The game is… just a game. For now.

No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.

Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.

And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet.

“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!”

That was close. Way too close.

Get it together.

But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs.

And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy.

However.

When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense.

On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action.

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats.

Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.

Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you.

You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks,

“I need you all to calm down.”

“No can do, coach.”

“Not if they aren’t.”

Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived?

Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder.

And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too.

Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.”

“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.”

“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?”

Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s.

And you don’t like it one bit.

But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up.

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring.

Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed.

Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out.

“What?”

“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.”

“After what he did to you?”

The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…”

Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,

“I can’t let that shit go.”

“Yoongi.”

“Sorry, doll.”

“Please just—”

Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back.

Only for him to be just out of reach.

After halftime, it’s a whole different game.

From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill.

And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead.

Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on.

Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.

If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck!

Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.

Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.

The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning.

Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.

A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench.

What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger.

But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands.

Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win.

All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.

It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate.

Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change.

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive.

Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight.

Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees.

And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.

Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy.

But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder.

Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you.

Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.

It’s making you wonder if…

Nah.

That’s still too big a reach.

When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night.

Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”

Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”

“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”

“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”

Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—

“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!”

Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”

“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”

“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight.

God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on.

Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?”

Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“You sure? That looked…”

Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.”

Motherfucker.

Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?”

Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.”

“Mm.”

Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”

“What are y’all talking about over there!”

Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.

Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night.

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain.

Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky.

In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?”

And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod.

Weird.

But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?”

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.”

We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.”

Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.”

“You’re whipped.”

“No, you.”

“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.

And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat.

The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some.

Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do—

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake.

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud.

Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!”

To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.”

“No! What the fuck—”

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart.

“Babe, we have to go now.”

“No, let me go!”

They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?

You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness.

Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts.

Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive.

Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.

And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.

Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—

As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”

“Do what!”

“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”

“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”

No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—

Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”

“Stop and just think for a second—”

“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”

“Dumb as fuck!”

Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.

Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.”

From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure.

“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much.

“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.

Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…”

“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.”

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod.

Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort.

Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too.

Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard.

Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”

When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”

Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut.

You want to believe him. You do. You do.

But hope may be a bitch.

So you don’t.

Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort.

You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating.

The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”

“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—”

You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?”

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.”

Oh.

“Your brother’s here, too.”

“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.”

“Umm.. Yeah.”

As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.”

It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—”

“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes.

You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.”

“He was gonna—”

“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up.

And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?”

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.”

Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.”

“Fuck that.”

“Huh?”

What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.”

“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.”

“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.”

And you mean that.

“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.”

So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else.

You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.

Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.

And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen.

Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.

Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.

They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid.

As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,

“Is there something you wanna say to me?”

“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.”

“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.”

But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room,

“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?”

Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”

Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out,

“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?”

You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”

Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not.

And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out.

Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted.

But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.”

“I will.”

“I’m serious.”

“I will.”

Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…

No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends.

So you leave to go pack without another word.

It’s raining.

Hard.

And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up.

With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do.

Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either.

So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you.

Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened.

Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you?

A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—

Your eyes burn.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring.

Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick.

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know.

Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else.

Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—

“Hello?”

“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”

“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”

“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there.

Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with.

But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else.

After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park.

Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside.

And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here.

But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.

Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.

Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer.

After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear.

Finally. “Hello.”

“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside.

“You’re here?”

“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell.

But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame.

“Not tonight.”

Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—”

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go.

And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.”

“No!”

He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching,

“Please.”

Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage.

You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine.

Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight.

You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you.

Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice,

“…No.”

You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.

And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that.

But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—

“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—

A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.

As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground.

And your breath cuts like it’s your last.

Shards.

Pieces.

Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room.

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.

No, no, no. Get rid of it.

Throw it out, all of it, all of it.

A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.

What did he do, what did he do?

Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.

Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.

Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is.

Shit, this is everywhere.

When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.

“Stop.”

Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts.

This really, really hurts.

Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.

But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going.

Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain.

“I got it.”

“Let me do it.”

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”

It hurts.

He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.

But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room.

When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way.

In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment.

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed.

This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.

You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away.

One more. Two more. Another one here.

As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.

Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.

The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore.

Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse.

Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.”

“I still need to—”

“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.”

“Do what? I’m helping you.”

That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting.

But ice.

“Who said I needed it?”

And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?”

“You think I’m joking?”

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?”

“I say a lot of things.”

…Oh.

That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder.

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.”

As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?”

Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.”

“Not tonight what.”

“We aren’t doing this tonight.”

“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.”

Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.”

He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?”

“I am.”

“Wow.”

That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?”

“Do you even know?”

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!”

“That’s cus—”

Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.”

For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…”

All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?

Fine then.

“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

“I swear to—I just said not tonight.”

Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.”

Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.”

And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock,

“Who asked you?”

Dark liquid drips onto your soul.

You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.”

“That’s what I said.”

Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare.

You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time.

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.”

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center.

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—

Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—

And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming.

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—”

“Whoa, hold u—”

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—”

“Just listen—”

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—”

Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming.

“I swear to—”

You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders.

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?”

“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again.

And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now.

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.”

“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass.

“He’s still home.”

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.”

Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you.

Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.”

Your eyes are ice.

“Are you.”

You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside.

And Yoongi cracks like lightning.

“Goddamn it.”

Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk.

Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain.

Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life.

“Stubborn.”

“Coward.”

Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth,

“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.”

“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.”

His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.”

“Make me.”

Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions.

And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?

This is liberation.

You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself.

“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length.

Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that.

With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what.

“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?”

You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat.

“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?”

And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.”

And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it.

Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground.

“Holy fuck.”

Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss.

Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.”

“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall.

You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact.

“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.”

“Can’t make me do shit—”

Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.”

Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—

Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.”

Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside.

And it’s maddening. “Please!”

“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall.

And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes.

It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely.

“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust.

“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.”

You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.”

And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?”

“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach.

Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway.

Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth.

“What was that?”

“I said fuck you!”

“Thought so.”

Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.

“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.”

“Fuck—!”

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver.

Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.”

“Asshole—”

A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.”

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—”

Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?”

You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.”

“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.”

“Make me. Bet you can’t.”

Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.”

Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear.

“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.”

Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that.

“Fuckin’ thought so.”

When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure.

Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down.

The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension.

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.”

“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!”

“What, doll.”

“Please!”

“Nah.”

Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt.

Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close.

Every. Single. Time.

Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?”

“Please!”

“Mm. Not loud enough.”

“Yoongi, please.”

“Oh, we’re saying names now?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.”

“Do it yourself then.”

Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.

And Yoongi gets a front row seat.

His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—

Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…”

“Nah.”

This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.”

“You’ll come when I say you can.”

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?”

“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong.

Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.”

You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.”

Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command,

“Then fucking come.”

And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin.

Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened.

Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice.

“I said again.”

Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone.

“Yoongi—”

A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place.

“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.”

You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—

“Baby.”

But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs.

“Babe.”

“I—I—”

Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.”

You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes…

They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.”

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale.

“There you go. Keep going.”

You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is.

“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.”

You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?”

“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—”

You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Babe.”

“You told me so many times—”

“Breathe, angel.”

You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice.

“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Just… Like this.”

“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—”

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out.

And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—”

“I’m here.”

“So please don’t push me away.”

“I won’t.”

“I know you don’t make promises but—”

“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear.

Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.”

You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore.

“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.”

“Hmm?”

“Shower.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on.

As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside.

Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?”

Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.”

That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.

And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap.

He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off?

Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.”

Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—”

“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those?

Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.”

“Are you sure?”

“Promise.”

And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release.

There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too.

But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever.

“You got hurt cus I said to play.”

“Nope.”

“I wore the outfit that day.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“And lost my friends at the club.”

“No.”

Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have,

“How about we share it.”

Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.”

“Okay.”

After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.”

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.”

His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain.

Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.”

“Duh.”

He’s himself again.

And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too.

That’s all you both need to feel peace.

You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head.

But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed.

Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head.

“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”

Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.

In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—”

Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.”

Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…”

Scroll, scroll.

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?”

Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again.

Scroll, scroll.

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”

“I love you.”

Time bursts.

Your chest glows.

Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion.

And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?”

You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door.

His eyes.

Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms.

No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance.

“I love you, doll.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do.

Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe?

No.

Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters.

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.”

What?

“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—”

You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you.

And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue.

Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay.

He loves you.

Fuck, he loves you?

You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.

He loves you.

Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?

Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man.

There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything.

“Yoongi, I—”

He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.”

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.”

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.”

There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself.

“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.”

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall.

None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.

When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides.

And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts.

“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”

You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.”

Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.”

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—”

“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes.

Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?”

“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.”

Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?”

Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.

Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.”

Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.”

“I want what you want, doll.”

“Then it’s okay.”

Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him.

But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give.

When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined.

And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking.

“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again.

His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two.

As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside.

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Yoongi—”

“Fuck.”

Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come.

No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too.

Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?”

And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.”

You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.”

“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.”

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.”

Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.”

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it.

“You’re a little too perfect right now.”

Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?”

“What—”

Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?”

Again.

You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.”

“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.”

The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire.

And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything.

“Taking me so well like this.”

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.”

Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want.

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!”

“Uh uh.”

“Please—please—”

You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful.

Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion.

And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists.

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—”

“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut.

Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles.

You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.”

He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down.

Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel.

“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.”

Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?”

But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised.

As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.”

Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper.

And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.”

“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.”

Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.”

When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.”

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas.

You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.

You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.

Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you.

All of you.

Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?

You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.

Every single stop.

It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world.

Swelling, you already feel close.

But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble.

This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi.

And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.

Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again.

How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.

Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep.

“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again.

Does he want what you want? Is he ready again?

As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times.

When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”

Yoongi only grins.

And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.

Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence.

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found.

After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning.

Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.”

When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.”

Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest.

After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out,

“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.”

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer.

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet.

Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”

If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”

You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough.

Never close enough.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.”

When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”

“Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.”

Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?”

“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”

Oh. That’s news to you.

“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.”

“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

“What if he does?”

You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”

Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?”

“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?”

Oh. Wait. “What?”

Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”

Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that.

Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops.

“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”

Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there.

And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.”

Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion,

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift.

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same.

Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”

It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.”

“You did threaten to kick me out before.”

“Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.”

The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!”

He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.”

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.”

“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.”

“Guess what.”

Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again.

But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours.

Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many.

Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home?

As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?”

At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.”

Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet.

When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.”

“I can!”

Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.”

His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin.

This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony.

And it hurts. It really, really hurts.

Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”

After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”

You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same.

Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”

Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret.

You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.”

…What?

No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—

“I wanna do this the right way.”

Oh.

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking.

Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?”

When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.”

Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…

Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself.

When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.”

tbc. :)

so... how did it go! | join the server!

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#AHHH it's finally here!#bts fic #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts fanfic #ryenwrites #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader #3tan12 #*latest

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nymphomatique · 7 months

Note

Thinking of overstimulating nerd!miguel to the point of tears and squirting (people w penises squirt too if the tip is stimulated enough!)

read this ask and immediately took it too far i’m depraved,,, miguel gets pegged and squirts 😔

cw: gn!reader, you can either have on a strap or have a real pp 🕺🏽, pegging, d/s dynamics, spit, anal fingering, unprotected anal sex (use protection!!!), prone bone, bad ending i didn’t know how to finish this off LMFAO, erm idk at this point 😔 not proofread you guys know the deal. enjoy!

you were sitting on the couch in your dorm (what your mothers money could buy, you were some days grateful for), back against the arm, scrolling aimlessly on your laptop. next to you say miguel, your feet in his lap as he massaged them gently. he was engrossed in whatever science fiction movie was playing on your flatscreen tv. ex-machina you want to say? the two of you sat like this for a while, but knowing miguel, you’re not surprised when you feel something stiff brush against your feet in his lap.

your eyes flit over your laptop to miguel’s face. even with only partial view of his face, you can see the light tint of red upon his cheeks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. “hey,” you call out, lowering your laptop screen and placing it on the floor to fully look at his side profile. he responds with an inquisitive hum, still focused on the movie.

“i can feel your dick stabbing my feet, you freak,” you laugh out, crossing your arms under your chest. miguel turns to look at you and starts sputtering an apology, but you’re swinging your feet off of his lap to stand, placing yourself within his lap. your hand comes up to his face, your four fingers and thumb on either side squishing his cheeks mid sentence.

“who said i didn’t like it?” you say, looking at him in his deep eyes. you can’t help but be honest when caught in the crossfire of his gaze. you let go of his cheeks, your arms wrapping around his neck and your face burried within the book between his face and your arm. your lips are right next his ear, and with a smile you lick up the shell of it, earning a soft “f-fuck” and a buck of miguel’s hips up into yours. you let out a giggle and move your head to face him again, arms still around his strong neck. his hands move from their grip on their couch to your hips. much better, you think.

for a moment, you look at him, and he looks at you. miguel, miguel, miguel. he’s all encompassing. no matter how much control you feel you yield over him, you find yourself weak to him. submissive in your own right to him, and it tears you apart inside. you blink back your thoughts, and succumb to the pull you feel towards him in the moment. i really want to kiss you, you think. and you do, you kiss him soft, lips touching ever so lightly you feel as if you’ll pass out if you take anymore from him, if he gives anymore to you. and the kiss is soft for a while, your hands coming to cusp his face in your embrace. his hands rub soft circles within your hips. you pull apart, and you feel overwhelmed at the sight of him. abashed and turned on, the two of you are. looking at him in this moment is like looking in a mirror, you feel to intense want wafting off him.

“wanna try somethin’ with you,” you state, still sat atop him, letting yourself fall into the brown pools of color in his eyes. “yeah?” he nods, and his fingers rub up and down your sides slowly, an act you’re sure is one he’s doing absent mindedly but you can’t help but feel the heat trickle into your abdomen at the sensation.

“wanna fuck your ass,” you say, watching his face. a look of surprise takes over, and you see him silently contemplating what to answer you with. you look at him, silently trying to say it’s okay to say no, without wanting to crawl out of your skin if embarrassed for feeling so scared to ask the question in the first place. after a moments silence, he answers. “okay.” steady, sure.

you feel like the pressure crushing your chest has lifted, the tension dissolving into an impatient arousal. you kiss him once more, chaste, and get off of his lap to strip, and you command him the same. once both naked, you grab his hand and walk to your bed, ditching the uncomfortable couch you were laying on. “lay down f’me,” you say, pushing miguel down to the bed by his chest. and ever so obediently, he does as you say. and you can’t help but feel proud, smug even. he does what only you say, nobody else.

you look upon his naked body, taking a moment to admire him brazen muscle and braun, his trail of black hair starting at his lower abdomen, trailing to the base of his thick cock. you feel a tightness squeeze within you looking at his dick, mouthwateringly beautiful and thick. you crawl onto the bed stomach down, and position your head between his thighs. “knees up,” you tell him, kissing his inner thigh. he does as you tell him, a small sigh leaving him. “so pretty down here, aren’t you?” you say, grabbing his dick with your left hand. wordlessly, you take it slow, licking small stripes along the shaft of him, thumb rubbing circles around his tip tenderly. you lick, and lick, and rub until you feel yourself getting impatient to taste him, the precinct swirling and spreading under your thumb making you salivate, you remove your hands from him opting to cup his balls as you take him in your mouth slowly at first. you sink down until your throat encases all of miguel within you. miguel hisses at the feeling and his hips jerk up, and you moan around him. you pull your head back, and forward until you’re in a steady rhythm of milking him with your throat.

“f-feels good. g’nna cum- fuck!” miguel hisses. you remove him from you throat and veer towards his balls, heavy and waiting right below his thick cock. you don’t hesitate to put the sack into your mouth, suckling softly as your hand jerks him up and down in quick pace. under your ministrations, miguel slowly unravels at the seams, your stimulation making him burn up inside. your unoccupied left hand trails up miguel’s leg, from his knees and up his thigh. from there, you move your hand down to miguel’s ass, using a finger to scoop up the trail of spit leaking down between your mouth and his taint, coating your finger in it. after lubricating your finger, you slowly move to circle the ring of muscle, throbbing under your touch. you rub around the tight hole, hearing miguel’s moans at your teasing.

you take your mouth off of his balls, licking a stripe up from his sack to the tip of his leaking dick. “tell me you want my finger in that tight little ass of yours,” you say, lust oozing from your voice.

“please! need your fingers inside me,” he breathes out, clearly frustrated at your sudden halt in pleasuring him.

“i know you do, baby, can’t wait to destroy your ass,” you whisper, kissing your way down miguel’s shaft to his balls once more. your lips engulf the skin, warming and massage it within your mouth. your jerking continues as well, and you finally push your finger slowly into miguel’s ass.

“f-fuck, thank you, feels so good. ah!”

you pump your finger slowly in an out slowly, eventually working into an even rhythm. “just one finger and you’re fallin’ apart f’me?” you tease, stoping your stimuli on his balls. “gonna put another finger up there, bet you want that huh?” you ask, jerking him up and down quickly as your fingers caress his anal walls.

“yes! please oh my god i’ll do anythi-“

you insert another finger, curling them upwards while you pull and push in and out. miguel is uncontrollable underneath you, squirming and twitching haphazardly on the bed. you spit on his ass, adding a third finger within him. his hips buck up, and you can’t help but giggle at his inability to control himself. “i know you feel good, cum for me baby.” and he does, spurting his cum all over your slowing hand, your jerking coming to a halt along with your prodding fingers. you remove your hands from miguel, crawling up the bed to reach his face. he looks sated and blissed, eyes closed and chest heaving.

you bring your hand up to carcass the side of his face, and his eyes flutter open. “taste yourself,” you say, moving your cum coated fingers into miguel’s mouth, a mouth that sucks you clean with no hesitation. his tongue swirls around your fingers, warming and wetting them simultaneously.

“fuck miguel, should see how you look suckin’ on me like that,” you sigh out. you pull your fingers from his mouth slowly, watching his lips let your ligaments go. “not done with you yet baby, turn around f’me,” you say to him, tapping his cheeks softly. lackadaisically, he turns onto his stomach, ass up.

you prep yourself behind him and move to grab the lube in the nightstand next to you. you open the bottle and slick yourself up, pouring some between miguel’s cheeks as well. the coldness causes him to jump and you laugh, “ready?” you ask.

“yes, p-please.”

you place your legs on the outside of either of miguel’s and lean your pelvis forward, pushing your dick through his tight sphincter. immediately you’re met with resistance, miguel silent but still tensing at the intrusion. “gotta loosen up for me, yeah? wanna get fucked like a good little boy dontcha? need to fit myself inside you,” you say, massaging miguel’s ass with both hands.

you hear miguel whimpering and let out a soft okay, and you continue to push, slowly. “fuckin’ squeezing my dick down there, miguel. you want it that bad?” you tease him. he lets out a moan in protest, but you shush him. “s’okay. you know it’s my job to fuck you like you need, hmm? todays no different.”

you push until you’ve reached the hilt, pelvis against miguel’s ass, chest against his back. “tell me when you’re ready, okay?” you whisper in his ear. and after a minute, he breaks the silence with a ready, and you slowly pull yourself out, and pushing back in, falling into a soft rhythm. here and there, you hear a quiet moan from miguel, until he gets restless and tells you to go faster.

and faster you go, lifting your hips up and slamming them back down, the contact of your pelvis against miguel’s ass reverberating loudly through your dorm.

“f-feels so good. fuck my ass harder, p-please!” miguel groans. who are you to deny him? with you arms as leverage and your knees on the bed, you use all the momentum you have to fuck him senselessly as he asked you too. and you fucking him hard, your thrusts causing a cry of pleasure or a string of curses everytime you come down onto him. you’re so good, miguel starts crying.

“p-please let me cum- feels so good ohmygod, fuck! s-so big, i feel so good. thank you thank you thank you,” miguel babbles, and you kiss the back of his neck, fucking him deep and hard. “cum for me, show me how good i make you feel,” you grown out, feeling your finish peaking over the horizon.

you lift yourself up and grab miguel’s hips to bring them up, fucking him in doggy so you can jerk him off. his dick is incredibly hard when you reach around to touch it, his tip red and weeping. you thumb his tip and he starts shaking as he fucks himself back onto you.

“g-gonna pee, s-stop,” miguel breathes out. “nuh-uh, let it all out right here baby,” you say, hips still fucking into him brutally. log my god he groans, head falling into the sheets.

you jerk him as you fuck him, relentless in your stimulating. and finally, with a weak moan, miguel groans and shudders while he squirts clear liquid all over your sheets. you grown at the mess he made, fucking up into him for a few more thrusts until you finish. when you finally pull out of miguel, he lets out a whine and you laugh, laying down against him.

“i can’t believe you actually squirted,” you laugh. and he covers his face with your silk cased pillow, embarrassed. you can’t help but laugh and kiss his forehead.

“alright, get up water hose, gotta clean you and my bed.”

#<nerd!miguel3 #you’ve got mail💌#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel atsv smut #miguel o’hara x you #sub miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut

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just-jordie-things · 8 months

Note

headcanon request: how would the jjk guys react if someone's trying to flirt with them but they're already in a relationship with their s/o?

YES i love some light jealousy teehee ___

GOJO SATORU

has no chill if someone's flirting with him. or worse, he thinks someone's flirting with him, but they're just taking his order, or letting him know his shoe is untied.

he's literally "I'M MARRIED"

(for the untied shoe one, he definitely trips when he runs off)

he's so annoying abt it fr. always throwing "i have a wife" (even long before you're married) around even when unnecessary

and ppl do flirt with him, he's gojo, but sometimes... he's just a lot.

even if someone looks at him too long, he's wrapping his arm around you and loudly announcing "in front of my wife? you're lucky i'm holding her back!"

and you're just standing there bewildered with the box of cereal you were about to toss into the cart and wondering who the hell he's talking to- and when the hell did he propose??

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

for the most part he doesn't really notice when someone's flirting with him. i think it would take some very obvious hints.

so say someone is really trying to get him to catch on, pulling all the stops- fluttering eyelashes, unnecessary touching, one too many comments about his eyes, and finally, slipping a piece of paper into his hand with their phone number.

megumi can accidentally be a little cold.

he scowls at the phone number before crumpling the paper and dropping it.

"i don't want that," he's completely expressionless when he speaks, and honestly, the flirt-er is lucky he said anything at all rather than straight up walking away. "i have a girlfriend"

and then he walks away.

and when he meets up with you again he's a little more affectionate than usual, holding you a little longer, pulling you closer when you settle on the couch or bed or wherever, kissing you a few extra times for good measure.

don't get him wrong, it's not out of guilt or anything. he just wants you to know that he thinks of you when you're apart, and that he appreciates and loves you to death. nothing could ever change that.

ITADORI YUUJI

i don't often add him to my brainrot posts but i SHOULD and i had the most brilliant thought for him specifically

if he's getting hit on, he'll shut it down casually enough, and just blatantly tell them they're not his type.

and then he'll just start listing everything about you. and lover boy is BABBLING ok, no one could shut him up

he's describing your hair your eyes your nose your hands your style- and once he gets thru the physical stuff, it gets random

he's talking about your hobbies, your weird interests or collections, how sometimes you're a bad driver but you try your best lmfao he gets on such a tangent i don't think he'd even realize his tactic for defusing the flirting is just confusing the other person to the point of no longer wanting to give him their number

and once he's done with his dreamy little speech, he just goes "like my partner!!" all excited and bubbly

he's always rushing off to meet up with you then, having got himself so eager to be around you some more

OKKOTSU YUUTA

he's polite, but firm. he can also be a little quick to say he's taken, but it's only because he wants to let people down easy!

he's very kind when urning down phone numbers or flirty advances, always giving a gentle smile and saying no thank you, or actually i have a girlfriend. and he never apologizes when he says the second one, but that doesn't mean he's cruel! he's just thoughtful and respectful of you!

yuuta's a total gentleman.

but. god forbid. if he gets one of those nasty ppl that pull the "your girlfriend doesn't have to know" bullshit. oh boy. he does not handle that well.

toxic!yuuta jumps out a little!!

for as polite as he can be, he can get nasty when provoked just right, and someone disrespecting you? his beloved?

first it's a lecture- how dare you suggest such a thing? do you often try to break up people's perfect love lives?

then it's standing up for your honor- do you know how wonderful and lovely my partner is? you couldn't even understand the lengths that their radiance extends to. this part usually gets a little messy. he can get carried away when talking about you.

and lastly, he gets personal. deeply. personal. if they're having a not-so-great hair day, or if their attempts at slipping him their number were particularly weak, he's pouncing on that. he sniffs out weakness like a goddamn Chivalrous Boyfriend Bloodhound and sinking his claws in. i think yuuta could be really mean if he wanted to.

but that's kinda hot tho

INUMAKI TOGE

definitely the funniest of all of them. bcuz if he's getting hit on, he kinda just... stands there.

._.

CAUSE HE LITERALLY CANT SAY ANYTHING ???

sure, he could play it off like he doesn't understand what they're saying, or even type a little note in his phone saying he has a partner... but...

toge definitely prefers to stand there, completely blank faced, and stretch out the discomfort as long as possible.

sometimes people just scowl and walk away, finding it rude

one time tho someone actually started tearing up and completely ran away

(you came back just as it happened, an ice cream cone in each hand and a confused look on your face. but there's no way your sweet, mute boyfriend made a person cry, right?)

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savicals · 1 month

Text

New neighbour König x afab reader part 2

*König is your new neighbour that you thought mildly disliked you.

This ones for you @konigsandghostsslvt LMFAO ENJOY !!

PART ONE🫶

You managed a choked out “Thank you,” before he offered to take the both of you home.

You were pleasantly surprised to find out that he drives a Mercedes S-class, but you did expect an executive car. He dropped off your friend first for convenience, since he and you were neighbours.

He got out of the car and opened the door to let her out and even told her goodnight. What a gentleman.

Just as he was about to close the door, you called his name.

“König.”

He crouched down to see you inside the car and looked at you with curiosity.

“Why have you been so kind to us tonight?” You asked, returning his eye contact. “You don’t… You don’t talk to us. You don’t know us. You have no idea the kinds of people we are.”

But oh, how wrong you were. He knew exactly the kinds of people you were. Especially you. He knew what you were capable of, and it was you drawing a knot so tight in his stomach he has to fuck something. Whether it be a hand, a pillow, a sock, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

He stayed silent for a few moments. Then, he climbed into the seat next to you and shut the car door, never breaking eye contact.

Your heart started beating what you could only imagine as inhumanly fast when he leaned in closer to your face. You were inches apart and you were convinced he could smell the alcohol on your breath, so you tried to direct it away from him.

“I know your type.” He said, his accent prevalent. “You… are the innocent type who acts like she isn’t. You pretend you know what you are doing when you do not.”

He was so right, but why did he know that?

You didn’t actually have anything to say to that. So you looked at him and let him continue.

“You are a tease. What makes you such a tease is that you do it by accident. You don’t intend the nature of yourself that you put out. It’s like… an expensive treat that you want to get your hands on, but is behind an armoured window.”

Did he just imply he wants to get his hands on you?

“You…What? Sorry, are you telling me you want to put your hands… all over me?” You asked, swallowing the brewing heat that grew in your stomach, along with the nervousness you felt too.

“Would you let me?” He asked, holding eye contact still.

You sat for a second and thought. Obviously, the answer is yes. What idiot would say no to him? You let your head fall down in thought and kept it there, so it didn’t feel like König was analysing your thought pattern. It must have been a few minutes, because he lifted your chin up with his rough hands and forced you to look at him.

“Would you?” He asked, again.

This time you felt no inclination to think about your answer. You were already drunk anyway. Being drunk over König didn’t seem worse.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at him with your pretty eyes.

It made his dick throb.

He started by unbuckling your seatbelt and sitting you in a position facing him. He put his hands on your waist and revelled in how tiny you look in his hands.

You looked at him in such a way that drove him crazy. God, how he wanted to ruin you.

He moved your body closer to his and your breath hitched.

You decided to wrap your arms around König’s neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. You kissed him hard, and you kissed him desperately.

He wasn’t expecting it at all, not from you. The huge calloused hands wrapped around your waist clenched into a bruising grip, resulting in you moaning further into the kiss. He picked you up in what little room he had and sat you on his lap in the backseat of the car.

Just about the two of you could fit, and as if you knew what he wanted, you instinctively started grinding your hips down onto König’s lap, earning yourself a low grunt from the man. Finally, you broke the kiss with a gasp and leant back onto the back of the front-seat, still rolling your hips into your chauffeur.

“Mmmh…” you whined, making it known you wanted König even more than you were displaying. It was definitely reciprocated. König bucked his hips up into you as you were grinding into him, both of you still fully clothed, thickening the sexual tension between you two.

“Your place?…Or mine, meine liebe?” He asked, keeping his hands attached to your waist.

“Mm… mine? I don’t care…” you responded, your eyes screwed shut.

You whined in dissatisfaction when König moved you back to your original seat, making sure it was heard and exaggerated.

“I know, schatz.” He cooed, patting you on the leg. “10 minutes…and you’re all mine…”

He stepped out of the backseat and into the front. He turned the ignition on, and sped off back in the direction of home.

[part 3 is already in the making!! Sorry this one is short ily guys]

#savicals #I need him #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig x reader #konig smut #konig x you #könig x you #könig smut

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ma1dita · 7 months

Text

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders era #james potter x you

1K notes · View notes

2knightt · 11 days

Note

HII!! could you write the gang with a reader that has an rbf and seems really intimidating/unapproachable but is a sweetheart? they arent very talkative and seem very cold but their love language is acts of service/gift giving & sorta quality time?? <33

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape. ⋄ 𓍯

…REQUESTED: you never judge a book by it’s cover. especially when it comes to y/n!

tags/warnings: people being judgy asf/spreading rumours, gang defending reader with their soul, reader is a softie i fear, reader is kinda shy, probably stupid:3c, steve threatening a manLMFAO

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ READER IS SO ME CODED HELLO also if two-bits part sounds stupid it ‘s because i’m high rn and even if can admit it’s a little iffy

—

dallas winston

thought of you as someone to be threatened by at first ngl

he heard of this scary, mean mugged, tuff looking girl and went ‘mh. an enemy🐺😒’

he went up to you one day, acting all tuff and shit just for you to look him up and down and nervously wave

look, he may not be the smartest cookie but he can see someone shy a mile away. and when he seen you wave, he felt like such an ass LMFAO

did he show it? no. obviously.

this is dallas. he’s an asshole.

“little miss tough girl, huh?”

“…pardon?”

that teasing from him DID continue until you walked away because dallas is the type to never back down, even when he’s wrong

expect for the next time you met him!!!!

he was actually asking you your name, where you’re from, etc, etc!!!

turning a new leaf dare i say…

and everything after that was history! cutest scary looking couple ever!

HE THINKS IT’S SOOO FUNNY THAT PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF YOU LMFAOOO

he plays into it sm if someone brings it up bro

“y/n? like..scary y/n?”

“yeah, like scary y/n. and i’ll get ‘er on ya if you keep talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“oh!😰”

he thinks it’s so silly to see you look really pissed off when he isn’t around just to greet you and see your whole demeanour change!!

dallas thinks it’s so cute😭 it’s like one of his favourite things about you!

“😠😒”

“hey, baby.”

“oh! hi, dal!<3”

LMFAO IMAGINE SOMEONE SEEING YOU, A MEAN LOOKING GIRL, SHOPPING FOR MENS LEATHER JACKETS

yuppp spoil that dickhead!😫 he lovelovelovesss getting gifts, ESPECIALLY from u!!!

if you’re clingy, i feel like he wouldn’t mind it. he teases THE FUCK out of u tho!😊

“big tough girl wants to hold hands, eh?”

“…yea😞.”

“awh, look at ya. come ‘ere.”

johnny cade

you might think he’d be scared and intimidated, right? but NO! he’s literally bff’s with ponyboy, he knows damn well what rbf is!

you two are sooo cute together

little kicked, scared puppy with his feral doberman!!!

tells people to stfu whenever they try and spread rumours that you’re scary, mean, and rude.

“you’re dating y/n? don’t you know she-“

“i don’t care, shut up. ‘s not like you know her😒.”

sometimes refuses your gifts.

johnny’s not used to them :( but all u gotta do is say please and flutter your lashes and u got em!!!!

“i can’t take it.”

“please?😞”

“…okay😣.”

and he DOES NOT regret it! he might fight you at first, but he cherishes those gifts with his life<3!

loveloveloveLOVESSS having u around constantly!! since your love language is quality time, you two are always hanging out together.

and, with your scary looks, you often keep the socs away from him!

hip-hip, hooray‼️‼️

the gang was like…worried for johnny at first.

THEY DIDN’T KNOW U WERE COOL THO😭😭💔💔💔

they were all like, “??seriously, johnny?? you pick the meanest girl?? ever???” and johnny was QUICK to defend. “y’all ain’t even meet her, and you’re already sayin’ she’s bad for me?”

when they did though, they were like ‘ohhhh….she really isn’t rude…..oh….’

HE’S SO PROUD TO DATE U THO LMFAOOO

and to know the real you?? treats it like an HONOUR

ponyboy curtis

was intimidated by you.

forgot he was also like you and accidentally glares at people who walk past him LMFAOOOO

You two are like two peas in a pod istg!!

“you look mean from far away,”

“???so do you, pony??”

“…no??”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘NO’?”

mean looking couple who are truly just a bunch of nerds deep down to their soul<3

the gang was a little protective of ponyboy until they realized ur just like him LMFAO

They get having an rbf<3

pony loves spending time with you!

gift him a book and he’ll love you forever!!! (maybe even read it to you when you two are finally alone to help you fall asleep🤍)

he’s such a cutie…..

stays close to you in public because he thinks you’re scarier looking than anyone he’s ever met😊😊.

“cm’ere,”

“why?🤨”

“BECAUSE🙄!”

SCARY DOG Y/N IS REAL.

glares at anyone who goes around telling people that you’re mean and rude.

if looks could kill, they’d be dead already!!!

ponyboy does not fuck around with u i fear.

Sodapop Curtis

LMFAOOO GREEK GOD OF A MAN WITH HIS PISSED OFF GF WHO IS NERVOUSLY HOLDING HIS HAND !!!

he was NOT afraid of you!! in fact, he thought the rumours of you being an asshole were all fake

“you talkin’ about y/n?”

“yes, bro! they’re so rude-“

“how do you know?”

“well, i don’t-“

“so, shut up?😒”

cuz like??? did they not bother to understand you???

soda literally made it his mission to prove that you weren’t a dick!!😭😭

and GODDAMN HE WAS SO RIGHT

you’re such a sweetheart to soda! he lovesss telling people about how cute you are around him since it’s his own way to squash the rumours.

“my y/n is so sweet, you wouldn’t get it.”

“isn’t she the same girl who beat the soc to a pulp?”

“she can barely kill a fly.”

you don’t need to do much to scare off the girls that flirt with him at the DX, just a nice little glare every now and then and they’re already gone!

(soda doesn’t have to know that you play into the rumours sometimes. it’s our little secret.)

steve randle

HATES EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT YOU

he’s petty AS FUCK LMFAOOO

they can’t handle the randle😜💯

“ew, y/n-“

“MAN, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT WHAT DO YOUUU KNOW ABOUT Y/N🗣️‼️”

that was an over exaggeration but you get the point.

gets very defensive when people try and ‘warn’ him about you lmfao

gift him a tool box and he’ll use it until it’s literally falling apart at the bolts<3

no seriously. it could be holding on by one screw and he’ll still use it. he doesn’t gaf. steve will use anything u give him.

he accepts ur rbf cause he thinks it’s SO FUNNY?? like he’ll see you far away with your friends looking all angry before one of them says a really funny joke and just watches your expression change so quickly

one of his fav things ever<3!

two-bit mathews

he makes so much jokes about it LMFAOOO

“jesus, y/n! you sure yer glare ain’t the thing that killed the dinosaurs?”

—

“swear i see the devil in yours eyes sometimes. it looks soooo good on you, though🤭🤭”

HE THINKS ITS SO ATTRACTIVE

and he lovesss your sweetheart side sm it’s like he gets best of both worlds

RAHH GIFT TWO-BIT MICKEY PLUSHIE OR ELSE

He’d totally have it on his bed 24/7. his sister has tried to steal it before to scare him btw.

skmetimes just to spend time together with him—you just go walking around town with him while he has an arm around your shoulder the whole time<3

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #two-bit mathews x reader #two-bit x reader

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kyemna · 3 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel headcanons

TW: Mentions of sex and alcohol. some suggestive themes that's it, it's mostly just fluff.

(English isn't my first language)

Charlie

-Will do anything for you.

-you want flowers? Done. You saw a cute stuffed animal in the store front and you want it? You got it. Somebody harassed you on the streets and you want them punished? Let her take care of it. Normally she's against violence, but when it comes to protecting you? She'll do anything.

-will sing to you, all the time

-made a special song that she sings to you when you've had a bad day

-the best listener ever.

-will sit and listen to you talk for hours

-if she needs to get to work early, she'll make you breakfast and leave you a note that says something like:

-hi, good morning lovely! I hope you sleep well.

I had to leave early.. something happened at the hotel while Alastor was away, and they needed me.

See you 2night, i love you:)<3

-i think her love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation

Angel Dust

-whisper's provocative things to you during meetings

-definitely a physical touch kind of guy.

-Will cling to you at the most random times

-keeps Valentino as far away from you as possible.

-tries his best to keep his relationships hidden from him as well

-if you'd come home after a long day, he'd give you a massage

-is super funny, tell me otherwise.

-has a high sex drive, and is pretty kinky due to his job.

-so expect him to ring you up at the most unexpected times.

-PS. Don't put him on speaker when you're in public..

Vaggie

-was pretty cautious around you in the beginning, but slowly warms up to you

-once she's comfortable, she tells the wildest stories and acts them out for you

-if you don't know how to fight, she'll teach you

-if you do know how to fight, you guys spar all the time

-jealousy issues, and you can't tell me other wise.

-she hears someone talk to you in a tone she doesn't like? Glare. Someone low-key flirting with you? Glare. If looks could kill.. she will actually kill them though, so..

-not super experienced in bed, but she's open to suggestions

-once she finds something she likes/is comfortable with, she askes you for it all the time

-a "words of affirmation" and "acts of service" girl for sure

Alastor

(i am perfectly aware he's ace, but these are scenario's for if he wasn't, don't come for me)

-now, Alastor is a great dancer.

-he has great music taste too!

-listens to 1940's and below.

-i think he's mostly into Jazz and Classical music to be honest

-i do think Amy Winehouse and Dave Brubeck are his exceptions when it comes to listening to 1950's and above

-somehow always knows where you are..? You often see his shadows follow you, so that's probably why

-kills for you. Also because he has a thirst for blood, that needs to be satisfied. So that's 2 birds with one stone

-holds doors open for you

-just a general gentleman

-loves it when you wear dark red, dark blue and dark green

-it can be anything. Lipstick (just red though), a hat, a dress, heels, etc.

-expects you to respect his personal space but doesn't respect yours LMFAO

-gift giving and physical touch

Husk

-knows all your favorite drinks

-loves to dance with you

-also a Jazz person, but I don't think he'd mind country music to be honest

-once he secretly took a picture of you.

-he thought you looked so good, he keeps it in his nightstand.

-doesn't really talk about his problems/feelings, but prefers it if you do.

-respects your boundaries more than anyone.

-you don't wanna talk? He'll kiss your forehead, and leave you alone.

-you don't really like being touched? He'll always ask first.

-other than making amazing alcoholic drinks, he makes great coffee too!

-quality time and physical touch.

It's been quite a while since i've written something, so I apologize if there's any grammar mistakes or sentences that just don't make any sense LOL

Thank you for reading!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #x reader #fluff #alastor x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #x reader fluff

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lulumilkshake · 1 year

Text

pretty little wife

pairings: g. satoru

description: he couldn’t help but show love to his pretty housewife.

warnings: gojo has a housewife kink, food play, mentions of wet dreams, non consensual photo taking, idk just sex lmfao

a/n: currently coping from chapter 225 even though ik he won’t die that easily LMAOO

gojo really couldn’t help but show love to his beautiful little housewife.

you were an angel compared to him. always fulfilling his every need all the time.

if he was hungry? you’d make him the best meal.

if he was sleepy? you’d let him take a nap on your chest, his favorite pillow.

if he wanted to fuck you? you’d of course, let him!

therefore, he had a wet dream about you last night.

you were in nothing but your sweet little apron, letting him lick buttercream off the valley of your breasts, as he pounded his fat cock into you rapidly.

as he woke up in the morning, he groaned at the feeling of his boner straining against his sweatpants.

never in his life would he think a woman would have an effect on him like this. but he couldn’t help it. who wouldn’t when you were so sweet and obedient to him?

he was about to roll over and press his hard-on against your ass but he noticed you weren’t next to him. he groaned once more that he had to get up with the feeling of blue balls.

when he got up, he rethought about his dream and the way you were moaning as he slammed his cock into you, overstimulated as his dick hit every spot inside of you.

“fuck,” he whispered out as his dick was pulsing harder at the thought of you moaning under him.

“gonna make that dream real, sweet girl” he mumbled out as he headed downstairs, palming his boner to soothe the pain a bit.

“honey..!! i have something to give you!!” he spoke cockily while he was walking down the stairs, looking for you.

while walking down stairs and through the living room, the smell of pancakes filled his nostrils.

“his pretty little housewife,” he thought. you were so cute for him. waking up so early to give him a nice breakfast.

fuck.

as he walked into the kitchen, he stared at the blessed sight that his eyes behold.

you were in nothing but panties, an apron, and his shirt, humming a sweet tune to yourself as you sway your hips.

his mouth was watering at the sight of you, he couldn’t help but palm his cock again before letting out a wolf whistle as he leaned on the doorway, trying to play it cool.

“look at you, pretty girl” he spoke teasingly as he walked torwards you.

you jumped a bit as you heard his voice, but giggled soon afterwards.

“good mornin’ sweetheart! did you wake up okay, sleepy?” you ask while giggling more, your voice filled with love for your snow white haired husband. your teasing was barely even teasing. in his eyes, you were the most innocent girl ever.

you were gonna drive him insane. your voice itself was enough to make the strongest become the weakest.

he grabs your hips, putting his head into the nape of your neck. his clothed cock is throbbing against your panties, as he whispers in your ear.

“would’ve woken up better if you were in bed next to me. then we wouldn’t have to do this now, yeah?”

before you could respond to him, he pushed you up against the counter before pulling down your panties.

“s-satoru!” you whine out as you’re surprised by his sudden advances. you let him do whatever he wants though, because after all you just want him to be happy, and he loved the feeling of knowing you thought that way about him and only him.

“i know baby, just gotta take care of this. then I’ll eat breakfast with you, okay?” he doesn’t wait for your answer though as he rips off your (his) shirt, leaving on the apron just like in his dream.

you moan out at the feeling of him ripping off your shirt. “j-just what are you trying to do, s-satoru?” you question since you noticed he didn’t take off your apron.

he ignores you as he is only focused on taking off his pants. his long cock springing out and hitting his abdomen. you drool a bit at the sight, and so does your pussy.

satoru notices this and he lets out a loud laugh. “so wet for me already, huh sweet girl? but i barely even touched you yet.” he teases you and you pout a bit at this, staring up at his tall figure with doe eyes.

fuck, seeing you liked this turned him on so much. his cock twitched at your pout. “awh don’t be like that baby,” he says squeezing your face and giving you a quick kiss before lining his cock up with the entrance of your dripping pussy.

“i always make my sweet housewife feel good, don’t i?” he says with a smile before he thrusts into your pussy hard and suddenly without warning. as he thrusted into you with precision, you were seeing stars. you were drooling everywhere, babbling out nonsense as his hips bucked into your tight cunt.

“s-satoru” was all you could scream out as he continued to pound into your pussy. he chuckled at the sight. you were so cock drunk, but not even close to how pussy drunk he was. he had to close his eyes at the sight so he wouldn’t cum so soon.

when he looked to the right, trying to take his eyes off your body so he wouldn’t cum before you, he noticed a bottle of whipped cream on the counter. he remembered his dream at this moment, and took the whipped cream bottle and stared directly at your tits. he had a shit eating grin on his face, that you could only gulp at what was gonna happen next.

you looked up at him with the whipped cream bottle in his hand, not even being able to question it because his cock kept hitting every single spot inside of you.

he cackled mischievously as he had an idea. he took the whipped cream bottle and starting spelling out, “torus cockslut” on your neck and breasts before laughing hard at the sight. he pulled out his phone without you knowing to take a picture of the slutty sight.

you didn’t know what he was laughing so hard at, but you couldn’t help but laugh (and moan) with him too. you thought he was just being wholesome and enjoying the sweet moment.. oh love, were you wrong. when was the strongest sorcerer ever wholesome when fucking you like this?

as soon as he finished up laughing, he started to lick at the whipped cream, cleaning up your body. as he did this, he continued to thrust his length into you, even rougher this time due to the sight of you almost fucked out.

he licked at your breasts like it was his last meal, paying special attention to your hard nipples. he sucked at your breasts, licking up any other spots he missed. you whimper and moan out louder at the feeling of his tongue all over your breasts and neck.

“t—too much, toru!” you clenched around his cock harder at the feeling of him pounding into you and the feeling of his tongue on you.

“fuck— squeezing around me so tight baby.” he groans out as he continues to thrust his hips into you, getting deeper at every plunge. the blunt head of his cock hitting every part inside of you.

“s-satoru! g-gonna’ cum!” you gasp out loud, the feeling of your orgasm pooling inside of you.

“shit— me too, baby. c-cum with me, take all my load!” he grunts loudly as his thrusts stammer as he releases a hot load of cum inside of you, painting your walls with ropes of cum. you moan out at the feeling of his cum filling you as you milk his cock, pussy spasming as you reach the end of your high.

you both pant loudly as you both hit your orgasm together. he pulls out of you quickly, as cum spills out of your pretty pussy. he smiles at the sight. even though you were his sweet little housewife, he loved to ruin you.

he picked you up and sat you down on the couch before giving you a blanket, some water, and a plate of pancakes.

“thank you, satoru!” you smiled sweetly at his affection and aftercare towards you. he kept his promise and sat down to eat breakfast with you. he was such a great husband!

as he sat down next to you, he chuckled loud as he opened his phone.

“what’s so funny, baby?” you ask, crawling over to him wanting to laugh with him as well.

“aren’t you just the most adorable girl in the world?” he answered cooing at you. he started laughing loud and cocky again at his wallpaper, staring at it with another famous shit eating grin as he admired his artwork.

it was..

a photo of you..

with the words.. ‘torus cockslut on your breasts..

written with love by the one and only, Gojo Satoru.

your cheeks warmed up at the sight.

“w-wha—!” you gasp before covering your face in embarrassment. it wasn’t a wholesome moment at all!

he giggles once more before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close to his bare chest.

“a bit disappointed i forgot to put my signature, but there is always a next time, yeah?”

a/n: in gojo we trust! hope u enjoyed <3

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #Gojo imagines #gojo smut #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fan fiction #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #gojo x female reader

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fire-lizard-ro · 11 months

Text

Dragon Dan Heng

warning: mention of COCK ovi, knotting, other non-human anatomy things????, biting and marking, rut/heat cycles, dacryphilia, egregious amounts of cum (I think that's how you use that word), dumbification, oral, tongue in throat (a lil choking), belly bulge, breeding, top character, rambling author

Reader's gender is not specified and I dodged around mention of genitalia I think.

SFW: So so so- As I said before, this man activates my fucking neurons. The two braincells I have bouncing around in my head suddenly rub together to create a single thought. That single thought is about how hot he is??? Literally he doesn't have to do anything and he already has rizz 100. Would. Very much would.

But like real talk this danger noodle doesn't really change much when finally unlocks his new skin (lmfao don't pitchfork me I was kiDDING-)

Still seemingly calm (almost) all the time. Still mostly silent (at least when compared with people like March 7th). But if you're with him, then I think that there are subtle changes. When you're together, he doesn't just hover within your space. He'll be sitting next to you and that pretty tail of his will curl around you- maybe around your waist or just laid behind you and curled to lay across your lap. Doesn't admit it but he likes it when you pet his tail. :D

Scent marking!!! Any time you come back from somewhere after being gone for a bit or he does, he needs to scent mark you. Rubbing his neck along yours and purring (in my head dragons can purr fight me) while he smells the way your scent mingles with his (and the way that he covers up others' scents with his but he won't admit it). When you two are napping together and he cuddles with you, his tail will also wrap around you. Makes trying to get up to pee or even to start your day a bit hard. If you try to, he'll grumble and growl at you groggily without any real annoyance. Nips at your ear for waking him up before pulling you closer. His face gets a little hot when you laugh at his behavior.

NSFW:

So,,,, There are so many ways this can go. I oscillate between different head canons about his cock just on its own- Like does he have two? Is it/are they ribbed??? Is there knotting involved? E G G S ? All of the above???????? Honestly I'd take any and all of it or whatever combo it might be. I also believe in internal cock pouch thing supremacy. No I don't know what it's called but it is my reliGION PLEASE- Like y'all can't tell me it's not enticing. I am 100% a degenerate, but imagine him getting aroused and like you can see the way the slit of his pouch is a bit slick. The way he'd moan and grip the bedding with a white knuckled grip when you make your way down his body to mouth at it, tongue darting out to lick at it. Imagine licking into it to feel the tip of his cock (cocks??????) before gently sliding a finger in to feel around it/them. At some point you add more fingers to help your tongue coax your prize out of the sheath (thank god I remembered that word) and you get to feel the way his slick cock slowly fills your mouth even as your fingers work around it in the slit of said sheath. You'd have him choking on his own breath and twitching with his tail laying across your shoulders to wrap around your waist. Please bring his legs up on your shoulders and wrap your arms around them and hold down his hips. Something about it gets to him. :)))

I could always talk about bottom dragon Dan Heng if y'all want, but I will be sharing my brainrot about top Dan Heng today. (No it's totally not because of my preferences what are you talking about-)

Just like with Gepard, I stand by my idea that slipping a pretty plug in these men is a need not a want. Just that extra stimulation that will make him cum even more when he gets there.

I can see him being soft with you unless he's in rut. Yes I'm basic I like rut cycles fhisejo- When he's in rut, his nails are more like claws and his teeth are sharper. Maybe longer, too. Bet he has a big dick already but it's only bigger in rut. Really got that breeder cock, lol. Still has enough coherency to prep you by sliding his long tongue inside you. He can't use those fingers of his when they're tipped with claws, after all. Doesn't wanna hurt his baby. :((

He'll kiss around your hole before licking around the entrance to tease you, rubbing at your erogenous spots while he does so. Then he'll lick into you, thrusting his tongue in like it's a cock. Little by little he'll pry you open with his tongue until you're all sloppy and you swear his tongue is in your belly. All the while, he's been humping himself into the bed beneath him, desperately wishing it was you he was rocking into instead.

Once it's finally time to take you, I like to think that he'd flip you onto your stomach with your hips in the air and a hand pressing between your shoulderblades to keep your chest pinned to the bed. Slides his slick cock over your twitching hole before notching it on the rim of your entrance and slowly rutting into you. The fullness has you rolling your eyes back and whining while he coos at you how you're doing so well for him and you only have a little bit more you can take it-

Once he's fully seated, hips flush with your ass and cock twitching inside you, he'll bring a hand around to your belly to feel the bulge he made there. Presses on it a little to hear you squeak and watch you squirm beneath him. Starts a slow pace to make sure you're used to his stretching you open. But be warned- The moment he's sure that you are adjusted, he's pounding into you with panting breaths and barely contained drool. His teeth ache with the need to mark you up- Bite into your flesh to leave marks that would claim you as his. His hands are anchored to your hips in a tight grip that you're sure will be leaving bruises along with the claw marks. His girth and ribbed texture to his cock have you moaning and clawing at the bed. Loves watching the way his dick just disappears inside you; the stretch of your hole around him.

Once he finally spills his cum inside of you after several orgasms from you, it's hot and thick and there's just so much of it. He's moaning and growling behind you while he thrusts a few more times as it starts spurting out of him, all of them rough and hard thrusts. But then his hips are pressed so hard to yours that you wonder if you'll ever be able to remove them. He just needs to empty himself as deep into you as possible. We're going with the knotting idea today so the swelling knot you've slowly felt beginning to stretch you out and then knocking against your entrance has now been shoved inside of you, locking you two together and pressing relentlessly against sensitive spots inside of you. The pulsing you feel through the knot and his whole cock is not helping and it's making you squeeze around him so hard so your body can milk all of his cum from him. You swear all the cum is making the bump in your belly bigger after he's done pouring it all inside of you.

When he's in rut he just doesn't stop going. So maybe hours later, you have cum all over your thighs and there's so much dripping out of your well used hole that you're questioning where the hell it all came from. You smell so much like him and his cum and there's so much inside you that it sates some possessive part of his rut brain. Regardless of whether he can or can't breed you due to your or his biology (I'm not actually sure what goes on with Vidyadhara procreation or if they can even do that anymore iofsj-), the rut brain is telling him that he can and seeing your belly distended a bit with how much cum he fucked into you is soothing his dragon hind brain, lmfao. You're likely unable to form any thoughts at all when you two are done. You feel like you can't possibly cum anymore and even small amounts of stimulation have you whimpering and writhing. You have bite marks all over your neck and hips- Maybe even a few on your ass, lol. Inner thighs for sure, too. He might lick away your tears before kissing you. :'''''''''))

Both out and in rut, he's always sure to give aftercare. Cuddles is a big part of this. Purring and other rumbling sounds as he envelopes you in an embrace that once again includes his tail curling around you protectively. Likes to sleep with his knot still in you, cock still pulsing as his cum continues to fill you. Maybe he likes to rub at your belly where that bulge is. Tells you about how good you did- Such a good mate for him. His precious mate.

P.S. I like the idea so I think he'd maybe also shove his tongue down your throat while fucking you. And I mean that more literally than you think. I mean it is long- The way you choke on it while kissing him with tears welling in your eyes does something to him. The filthy slide of it as if fucking your throat with it and all the drool swapping from his mouth to yours and vice versa.

If there are any typos then my apologies big dawg LMFAO.

There's so much space in my brain taken up by this man alone.

Considering starting to do requests and asks. I guess lemme know if people want that?????

#hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut #top character #gn reader #I THINK???#HELP???#I am very unconfident yall pls-#Roro writes #dragon dan heng

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secretwritingspot · 5 months

Text

High Maintenance

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

COME GET Y'ALLS DINNER I'M BACKKK!!!

Rating/Content Warnings: like...pg-16ish? Idk there's nudity and a lot of suggestive shit and kinda a little bit of groping (consensual, obvs) heavy-petting I guess might be the right term? But there's no outright fucking so do with that what you will.

Summary: Okay but Sanji with a high-femme reader. Like...we know how much this man likes women so I feel like he'd be all over a super femme person. Basically he has a fascination with all their fancy bath products that borders on is pervy because what do all those even do??? Eventually reader just decides to let him watch and find out.

Disclaimer(s): Since it's directly related to the plot, reader is stated as a woman in this, so if that's uncomfy for you to read keep that in mind and keep yourself safe! This idea came to me because I just finished finals and got to properly do self care for the first time in ever and wash all the finals grime off lmfao. Also there's nothing REALLY sub!Sanji about this but also...there's vibes. Damn Taz Skylar for portraying a character so babygirl that even me, quite possibly the world's biggest sub, sees him and is like...yeah I could tell him what to do once or twice.

As much as he tried, Sanji just didn't understand.

Sure, he was far better then the others - leagues away from Luffy and Zoro in terms of hygiene - but he was still a man. And a pirate, at that.

His eyes bend to you when you walk into the galley to move through to the bathroom - towel, change of clothes, and multiple bottles in your arms.

It baffled him the sheer number of products you had- a brush, towel, some sort of sugar concoction, all for the same purpose. A more traditional shampoo, similar to the kind he used, for initially cleaning off all the (your words) "pirate grime". Another, "gentler" shampoo for your hair. Which only doubled his confusion, as he had been under the impression that all shampoo was for hair. 2 different razors, scented body wash, colorful soaps.

It isn't uncommon for you and Sanji to meet this way. He's nearly always in the kitchen, and the hall to the bathroom cuts through the galley. Still, his heart warms every time you stop and set down all the numerous - he'll never understand what all those different products could possibly do - things in your arms on your side of the counter and take a stool, smiling at him.

Without fail, you stop for a few moments every time on your way to the bath just to talk with him, and every time it makes his heart race and his breath catch happily.

"Hey, Sanji."

"Evening, love." He answers, voice deceptively easy. He hopes you'd never know just how much effort goes in to that 'easy' temperament he has around you, but sometimes he thinks it's obvious. "What brings you down here at...2:30 in the morning?"

You laugh softly when he mentions the late hour, ever the type to worry over you getting enough sleep, shrugging sheepishly.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Your (valid) argument seems to phase right through him and he ignores the question, simply raising a brow at you. You shake your head fondly, but answer anyway.

"I was on my way to take a bath. It's nicer at night, since there's less people up. More time, and quiet."

He hums in acknowledgment and keeps cooking, turning to you with a shy look on his face.

"Um...love?"

"Hm?"

You fold your arms in front of you on the counter and lean on your hands, looking at him curiously as you wait for him to continue.

He pauses, face red.

"Well...I was wondering if I...if I could ask you a question?"

You squint in amused confusion at his nervousness, eyes soft and fond as you nod. He thinks he might die.

"Yeah, shoot."

He clears his throat and looks at all the various bath products you brought with you before looking away, gesturing at the bottles.

"What do they...do?"

You snort when you realize that was really what he was so nervous over, shaking your head with a fond giggle.

"Wow, you are such a man sometimes."

Your eyes flit to the products before looking back up at him.

"Wanna be a little more specific?"

"Oh, right." He chuckles, looking embarrassed. "There's so...many?" He looks back at you, the confusion obvious on his face. "I mean...why do you need so many? Do they really all do different things? And-" He gestures to all the various products, brow raised. "Why so many different kinds of shampoo?"

Your giggles turn to full-blown laughter at his confusion, though it's not at his expense.

Okay, mostly not at his expense. Maybe a little bit.

"Oh, honey. You're cute sometimes, y'know that?"

You shake your head, rolling your eyes softly and looking at him. It's sweet, really, how embarrassed and curious he is. A very, very bad (very amusing) idea comes to your mind, and before you can think any better of it, you hear your own voice speaking.

"...want me to show you?"

He blinks almost sleepily, eyes wide.

"I- pardon?"

There's a thick silence as you watch the gears turn in his head, trying to work out if you really just said that and what the hell it means.

"What- what are you suggesting?"

You shrug, teasing smirk unfurling across your face as you sit up, cocking your head at him. It's not exactly like you can un-say what you just said, so you figure you might as well go for it. In for a penny, right?

"Exactly what I just said. You wanna know what they do, I'll show you."

You look down with coy, faux-innocence and sigh, giving him a chance to back out that you know he won't take.

"But, y'know...only if you want to."

The heavy-handed mock disappointment seems to jump start His mind again and his eyes flash with realization, a red flush starting up his neck.

"O- Oh....oh! Yeah, alright. I'd like that. Yeah. Yeah, that would be very- very, uh...helpful. Thanks."

He clears his throat, trying to sound less flustered.

It doesn't work.

You stifle a laugh at his reaction, shrugging and picking up your things. You start to walk down the hallway to the bathroom and for a few moments, he feels like he's frozen solid right where he is. You pause at the door, turning over your shoulder to look back at him teasingly.

"Well, c'mon then. Don't make me wait up."

He blinks and then he's moving towards you, feet carrying him forward before he even truly thinks about what he's doing. He follows you into the bathroom, and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

"Uh...okay, so, how do I- do I sit somewhere? Or...or watch? I- I don't know what's, uh..."

You shake your head with a fond giggle when he struggles to put a sentence together in his nervousness, but you decide to take pity and give him a bit more guidance.

"Alright, sit down."

You move him over to a bench and push him lightly down by the shoulder to sit back. He goes without resistance, letting you push him by two fingers and minimal pressure on his shoulder, closing the door and locking it behind you.

He sits down on the bench, blushing intensely. He doesn't know much about healthcare, but he thinks he might be having heart palpitations.

You hum to yourself quietly as you turn on the hot water, letting the bath fill while you busy yourself setting up the number of bottles and containers and miscellaneous items of yours on the edge of the tub. He shifts in his seat as you open one of the bottles and empty a bit into the bath, which immediately starts foaming as you turn to him with a teasing smile.

"I'm assuming you already know what bubble bath is?"

He nods, looking at the bath as it starts to foam, feeling like a teenager in a high school health class.

"Yeah, I know about that part." He nods slightly in relief- at least he knows something. "Just uh...never actually experienced it before."

"Never?"

Your brows furrow in surprise and confusion before you make a conscious effort to raise them, trying not to make your concern too obvious as something softens in your eyes for a moment. Sympathy, maybe.

"...well, we'll just have to do this for you sometime, then. Once you know what all of it is."

Your voice is gentler then, soft. You don't linger on the moment, looking away to stop the water once the bath is full and holding up a spherical object for him to see.

"This is a bath bomb. It's got stuff in it that makes the water turn pretty colors and smell nice and helps with your skin."

He nods, shifting again in his seat as you place the sphere into the bath. Though he's nervous, his eyes drag to every little detail, desperate to take it all in.

"Right." He mumbles, watching you throw the bath bomb into the water before his curiosity gets the better of him.

"Do you always make it this nice? With all the different...products and stuff?"

You shrug and clip your hair up messily, and he tries not to get distracted by how domestic this whole thing feels.

"When I have the time, yeah. It's...nice. A good way to relax."

You find the zipper of the dress you'd been wearing, a simple sun dress to keep you from melting in the sun or freezing from the sea breeze, fingers halting at the top as you look back at him.

"Last chance to back out, Sanji."

He swallows, eyes trailing down your body as you give him one last out. If he were more in his right mind, he'd think you were sweet for continually checking up on him.

Right now, he just thinks it's tedious.

"No, uh...no, I'm good. I am very much interested in this lesson." He clears his throat. "I would appreciate the, uh...the help."

You huff a fond laugh at his enthusiasm as his blushing gaze meets yours, shaking your head at him softly.

"Alright then."

You reach for the pull of the zipper again and slowly drag it down, slipping the dress off the taper of your shoulders, your waist, your hips. Your panties follow quickly after and your clothes all pool at your feet. You step out of them gingerly before stepping into the bath with a satisfied sigh, sinking slowly into the water with a satisfied hiss.

His eyes follow you the entire time, his heart beating at a rapid clip in his chest. He's seen other people nude before, he's had sex, but watching someone in the bath seems so...it's just...jesus. He's never done something this intimate. And yet, his eyes are glued to you.

He swallows nervously, hands starting to tremble a little bit.

For a moment he gets to see you completely bare, then the cloudy, colored water and the bubbles slowly cover you inch by inch. He can still see from your shoulders up where the water doesn't cover you. Your eyes flick back to him with a knowing smirk.

"You're staring."

It's a simple observation, though there's an undeniably teasing tone to your voice when you point it out. It isn't cold, though, or unwelcoming- the exact opposite, in fact. It's an amused little poke at his more perverted tendencies, but one that makes no judgement on him for it.

It sounds suspiciously like approval.

His mouth is almost agape, mind replaying the scene of every inch of you disappearing behind the clouds of bubbles and soap over and over again. It's like a scene from a romance novel.

(Despite the others' teasing, he's never actually read a romance novel. He assumes this is what they're like.)

He flushes and his eyes flick away from you, resolutely staring at the wall to your right.

"I- I didn't mean to, uh...I- I'm-"

"It's alright."

You quiet his stammering immediately, sending him a quick wink. Again, your tone sounds suspiciously of approval.

"I don't mind."

You sigh in contentedness at the warmth of the bath, taking a moment to just relax into the warmth before grabbing a cloth.

"So, you still want that lesson?"

He looks back at you, his blush red and steadily getting darker He nods slowly, blinking dizzily at the sight of you.

"Yes please."

He whispers, voice hoarse and cracking with equal parts nervousness and excitement. "Please and thank you." He adds softly, biting his lips and nodding again, eyes wide.

You giggle at his obvious excitement, leaning over the edge of the tub to grab a cloth and looking at him coyly with the knowledge that it would give him a teasing glimpse of your chest.

"Right, well- this is an exfoliating towel."

You lift it up to show him on the word "this" as if to emphasize your words before dunking the rough cloth gently underwater to wet it, attempting to explain in terms he can understand- his cooking utensils.

"It's like...polishing a knife. You start with a rougher grit and work your way down."

His eyes widen at the teasing glimpse of your chest as you dunk the towel in. He's embarrassed to find himself a bit breathless, his mind definitely not in the proper place right now.

"Ah..." He nods in understanding, trying to calm his flustered nerves and look away from your body. "So, you'd use this...after you were in the bubble bath, I guess?"

"During."

You correct lightly, beginning to scrub your skin with the wet cloth. To Sanji, it's nothing but a massive tease- first scrubbing each of your arms, then across your shoulders, neck, collar-bones. Each second seems to stretch into hours and he seriously starts to doubt his sanity.

To his disappointment, you scrub down your chest, stomach, hips below the water where he can't see much other than the occasional flash of color from the hot pink cloth.

"It makes your skin smooth, makes it easier to shave, clears off gunk and dead skin. Keeps me..."

But then, you lift your leg out of the water and point it. His mind short-circuits completely as you give him far too good of a view, meticulously scrubbing down one leg before putting it back underwater and repeating the process with the other. Legs, legs - he's heard he has nice ones before and he's never quite understood it but this, you, now - he thinks he could die happy between yours.

You notice, of course, the way his eyes magnetize to your skin. Once finished, you continue the words you'd trailed off on, voice soft and teasing as you wink at him.

"...y'know, soft to the touch."

His eyes follow you, watching you scrub and reveal each body part with a slight flutter in his chest. He swallows, unable to move, his eyes glued to you. Said eyes go wide when you reveal your legs, your bare thighs something he never thought he'd get to see. He swallows, trying not to make it obvious he's staring.

"Yes, I, uh...I believe I understand. It helps make things...soft." He chuckles nervously, trying to play down how obviously flustered he is.

You put down the cloth once you're finished scrubbing down your whole body, thoroughly entertained by his nervousness. You pick up a small jar next, holding it up briefly to show it to him before opening it and gently scooping out a bit of thick paste and rubbing it onto your legs, again giving him a downright sinful view.

"Y'know how I mentioned working your way down to a lower grit? Well, this is that. It's a sugar scrub, pretty much the same purpose. Moisturizes and exfoliates to keep my skin soft."

He watches each moment of you scrubbing, and each bit you reveal of your body. He's got no clue where to look, if he's allowed to look. Even seeing your legs...oh god.

He must be allowed to look, right? Surely he must.

He bites his lip and nods, fingers nervously tapping on his knee as he tries to focus back on anything else, looking away in an attempt to look more respectful than he's feeling at the moment.

"That's, uh...that's a lot of work to put into your skin just for softness."

"Well, you should see how soft it is."

You shoot back with a wink, using another dollop of the paste to exfoliate your upper chest and shoulders.

He notices that you use it on fewer, more specific areas- which he supposes makes sense, since it's a much more finite resource than the cloth. The observation seems much more meaningful to a mind trying to focus on anything other than your body.

Not that it's easy.

Nothing about this is easy.

"Do you just...do this a lot? With your skin, I mean." He asks nervously, eyes wide in wonder that someone would put this much effort into something so baseline...or that someone like you would feel the need to do anything to your angelic appearance.

He clears his throat.

"Y'know...not that you should have to. You look beautiful either way."

"Not always. Or- not fully to this extent."

You smile softly with a shrug, steam swirling in the air around you. All of it seems so effortless. He can't seem to catch his breath. After scrubbing the mixture into your skin for a few moments, you rinse it off with the bath water, expression zen and almost bored like you haven't completely altered the rest of his natural life.

"This is usually what I do when I want to feel...extra nice. When I've got a date, or something else I want to look nice for."

You explain, rinsing yourself off thoroughly before picking up your razor, starting to shave your legs while you talk to him, teasing lightly-

"I take it I don't have to explain shaving to you?"

He blushes a little harder, his eyes going to your legs as you shave them. Oh god, this is making him so nervous. His body is buzzing with anticipation and nerves and...other things.

"Uh...well, no, I uh...I know how to shave. But I guess I'm- I've never been this close to a woman while she shaves, I suppose." He gulps, his words getting softer the further he talks, like he might run out of air. He bites his lip. "But I think I get the idea."

You hum in equal parts acknowledgment and amusement, finishing up shaving in comfortable silence- arms, under arms, legs. The process goes relatively quickly before you set the razor back down, picking up another bottle and a plush looking ball of tight-nit net fabric.

"This is a lufa. And the bottle is body wash."

You keep your explanations simple so as not to confuse him too much. You know he'll be having a tough time focusing on your words as is, especially considering that he has precisely 0 experience with this sort of thing, and you don't want to overwhelm the poor thing.

You hold up the ball for him to see for a moment before uncapping the bottle, pouring a bit of the soapy liquid onto the fabric and rubbing it across your skin. You trace along your neck, chest, shoulders, the sponge-like ball of fabric leaving trails of fluffy bubbles in its path. The sight only makes it harder for him to cope, the bubbles not leaving much of anything to the imagination.

Still, it only adds to the romance-novel story-book scene in his mind, leaving his thoughts alarmingly warm and fuzzy.

He blushes and sighs, eyes glued the entire time. His body is humming with anticipation, his mind is getting hazy. He doesn't know how to handle this, how to handle you- the way you look right now, the way you talk, the person you are. His chest is fluttering, and he's blushing up a storm. Oh god, you look so nice.

"What's that do?"

His voice is hoarse and breathless, the words barely escaping his lips.

"It's a bit like soap, but more...I don't know, luxurious feeling."

You close your eyes in contentedness and move the lufa across your body, much more thorough with this than anything else. As far as he can see, there's not a single spot you don't reach, leaving fluffy trails of bubbles that slowly dissolve when they sink back underwater.

"The lufa is also kinda an exfoliant, but a much more gentle one."

He watches every moment of it with complete fascination, not sure where to look with the lufa in front of you. It's basically impossible not to look at your curves and your body at this point. You're stunningly beautiful in this moment, and he's so close to you he can see her every little detail. His eyes can't move away, and he swallows, nodding.

"I...oh. It looks like it feels nice." He chuckles in his nervousness. "And, uh...it probably smells nice too, I'm guessing..?"

"It certainly does both of those things."

You confirm with a soft, gentle laugh, amused and teasing yes, but more fond and...almost intimate than before.

"I mean, there's not much point taking a bath if you don't come out smelling like a cupcake."

You joke lightly, holding the lufa underwater to let the bubbles fizzle out and then wringing it out and setting it aside to let it dry.

His eyes follow the motions of you wringing out the lufa and he watches your body intently. He's staring at you a little too much, he knows. He can almost see...everything. His breath is coming a little heavy, and he finds his mind is getting more and more hazy as you go.

"A cupcake...?" He swallows, his voice almost cracking. "That's an oddly specific smell. Like... like, vanilla?"

"It's just a figure of speech. Smelling like anything sweet, really. Vanilla, chocolate, fruit, flowers."

You wave a dismissive hand with a giggle, talking to him absentmindedly as you let your hair down from where you had it clipped up and out of the way, shaking it out once you let it down. Slowly, you slide down in the bath until your hair is wet, wiping the wet strands from your face.

"This one is vanilla, though."

You tease with a wink, holding up a bottle of shampoo before opening the lid and pouring a bit into your hand. It only takes you a moment of lathering it before it suds and you can start working the bubbles into your hair.

Sanji, meanwhile, is having a bit of a crisis.

He swallows, feeling his body go a little limp at the sight of you in the bathtub, wet strands of hair hanging over your face. His eyes are glued to you again, and he's getting...so distracted.

He manages to speak, though his words are slow and not quite as coherent as before.

"I- you look...so pretty. Your hair looks great like that." He mumbles quietly, voice hoarse and breathy.

You huff a soft laugh at his mumbled praise, shaking your head fondly. He's always been sweet, but there's something particularly cute about him when he's flustered like this.

"It's a cleansing shampoo. Probably close to the kind you and the boys use."

You explain in a soft hum, leaning your head back again to rinse your hair off gently, running your fingers through it. And trying to shake the thoughts of the boys' 5-in-1 shampoo from your head.

You look like an angel, or a mermaid. He can't decide which.

"That just means it's harsher. Better for getting everything off, since being a pirate isn't exactly the cleanest job. It isn't great for your hair, though."

He smiles, his eyes glancing over your body every once in a while, though mostly he finds himself focused on your face and your hair in particular. Your expression is so...so...ugh. You look like a goddess, hair dripping with water and skin wet from the bath.

"So, you...you want your hair to look nice then. Not just clean."

You nod your head and hum in confirmation, uncapping a different bottle with a smile and pouring some of the liquid inside into your hand.

"That's what this shampoo is for. Still cleans, but it's not as harsh or stripping as the other one."

You lather the new liquid in your hair, massaging it into your scalp with a soft, contented sigh at the relaxing feeling as it quickly turns to white suds.

"So it's not as good as getting all of the pirate grime out of your hair, but it keeps your hair soft, shiny, healthy. All that good stuff."

He swallows, his eyes locked onto you and your hair, watching it shimmer and gleam with the water and product soaking through it. God, you're so...your hair shines like glass, and he can't stop staring at it.

"Uh, do you...d'you want help with that?" He asks quickly, his breath catching in his throat. "I mean-" He mumbles, cutting himself off sheepishly. "Do you need any help?"

Your eyes widen slightly at his enthusiasm, an amused smile quickly growing on your face. You look off to the middle distance for a moment with a dramatic sigh in mock consideration before looking back at him, quirking a finger forward in permission.

"Well, go on then."

His lungs stop working.

Really, his breath just hitches in his throat again, only a second as he blinks once. But he's convinced his body is giving out. Oh god, you want him to touch you. Oh, god, you're letting him touch you.

He swallows and then nods eagerly, leaning forward slowly. He leans close, his cheeks blushing a little bit as the scent of your hair tickles his nose. He reaches out gingerly, like he's not sure if he's allowed, before rubbing the shampoo into your hair.

"Just..." He trails off quietly, his voice breaking a little breathily as he tilts your head back softly to give himself better access.

You practically purr at the touch when he massages the shampoo into your scalp, your neck, your hair, leaning into his touch as your eyes flutter shut with a sigh.

"You're good with your hands, aren't you?"

You observe softly, letting him continue to wash and rinse your hair. His passion for the task is palpable, though you could've guessed as much with the fixation he always had on your bath products, equal parts curious and perverted.

His blush deepens quickly, and his hands shake as his fingers brushing against you carefully.

"Uhm..." He chokes slightly, clearing his throat. "I- I guess I am. I like doing things with my hands." He swallows, words coming out a little hoarse. His fingers move back to your hair.

"I can tell."

You remark teasingly, voice soft as you shoot him a wink before closing your eyes again. Once the shampoo is all rinsed from your hair, you direct him softly, voice quiet in clear relaxation-

"Conditioner. Purple bottle by your hand."

He scrambles to uncap the bottle as soon as you speak, eager to have been given permission to continue, pouring a small amount into his hands before brushing his fingers through your hair.

"'s for making your hair smoother. Keeps it from breaking if you comb it too much."

You explain absentmindedly. This one is new- it doesn't fizz up in his hands or create bubbling foam in your hair, just absorbs into the strands, smooth and slick and shiny.

He rubs his hands together, spreading out the conditioner throughout your hair, working it to its core. His breathing is a little shaky as his fingers glide through your hair, but he does his best not to show it. His eyes are still focused on you, and his heart is beating too fast.

He swallows, the scent of your conditioner filling his nose and his mind.

"How do you...find the time for all this? That's a lot of bottles, and a lot of work to just...make your hair nice."

"It's worth it. It's...relaxing. Like meditation. Or cooking something familiar."

You add on second thought, relating back to him to help him understand. When the conditioner is worked into your hair, you toss him a towel to dry his hands on once he's rinsed them off.

"Now go sit back down. Lesson's almost over."

You instruct softly, voice gentle and fond. He doesn't think before moving back to the bench and sitting back down, though his brows furrow endearingly in confusion. You just laugh lightly.

"Not every bath product is something you use in the actual bath."

He nods, expression confused, but he doesn't ask for elaboration. His eyes are still glued to your body, the sight of you in the bath still stunning. It's almost hypnotic to just sit back and watch. He clears his throat, looking around the bath curiously with a hint of confusion on his face.

"So...what's left?"

"...you'll see."

Is the eventual, cryptic answer he gets after a pause, you still smirking slightly. Then you- oh. Oh. You stand up, pulling the plug in the bath and letting the water drain as you step out to stand on the bath mat, completely bare and wet and dripping and oh, god- you grab a medium sized towel and lightly dry your hair until it's no longer dripping, still damp but not actively in your way, clipping it up again as you pat the rest of your body dry softly, humming to yourself as you work.

"Wait, are you...are you not going to wear anything else? I mean...I'm not complaining, I like looking at you, but...aren't you cold?" He asks, still staring at you excitedly. Your hair is up again, and every inch of your body is on display. He's practically drooling.

Oh, god, this is a blessing.

You scoff lightly at the question, shaking your head in fond amusement without looking up, still focused on drying yourself off.

'I'm gonna put on clothes eventually, Sanji. Like I told you, I'm not done yet."

Once you deem your level of dryness acceptable enough, you pick up another jar and open the lid, scooping out a bit of a much thicker cream.

"Moisturizer."

You answer before he even has the will to ask, eyes meeting his for a moment with a fond smirk as you rub the cream onto your body.

"Smells nice, and keeps your skin soft."

He stares at you as you rub the moisturizer on your body, his eyes going everywhere as you move. Every inch of your body is incredible, and he keeps finding new places to look.

He swallows, his expression a mix of admiration, shock, and excitement.

"Do... do you want any help with that?" He asks nervously.

It would be a lie to say he's asking for innocent reasons. Seeing your hands - small, soft, yours - massage the moisturizer into every inch of your body, your legs, thighs, hips, arms, stomach, neck- Jesus, your tits- his mind is on fire.

"Aww, are you offering? Sure, Sanji. You can help."

You answer, voice teasing like you know exactly what he's thinking, and- wait. That's- he actually- you gave him permission? You actually said yes? It takes him a moment to process the words, mind tripping over itself in surprise and oh fuck yes, Jesus Christ.

That's exactly what he's offering, and he doesn't have the mind to hide it. He nods eagerly, his expression telling you everything you need to know.

He scoots over closer, his hand reaching for the moisturizer and his eyes glued on your breasts now. They look so good. He applies the cream directly there, the touch of his hands on your soft skin causing him a burst of electricity as he touches you gently. Oh god, you're letting him... he's touching you! It's like his mind is exploding, and he's doing his best to contain himself.

You almost laugh when he immediately decides to start at your breasts, rolling your eyes fondly at the predictable move.

You aren't really surprised but then again, you still let him.

He's definitely not going to let you do this alone, anyway. It's too much of a blessing, and his hands are trembling, even as he works them into your skin. He's trying to focus on keeping himself from getting too excited, but seeing you like this is too much to handle. He licks his lips nervously as his hands flit all over your body. His mind screams at him to do something, do more, but the years of chivalry drilled into him stay his hands.

Soon enough the moisturizer has sunken into your skin and you press him back lightly by the chest, using those same fingers to tilt his chin up softly. You angle his head up at you, voice soft with a gentle smirk on your face.

"Thanks for the help, Sanji."

He swallows, looking up at you. His lips are parted and his breath is heavy. He blinks slowly. He's...he can't believe just how lucky he is.

"Of-of course. It was nice to...it was nice to help someone...someone so beautiful." He says, his voice breathless and his cheeks flushed a bright, bright red.

You huff a fond little laugh, mussing up his hair with your hand.

You're gone in a flurry as quickly as you came, a sleep shirt and a pair of panties thrown on before he can even process that you're moving, a teasing pat on the cheek and a repetition of "well, thanks anyway!" And then...you're gone.

Like a mirage or a daydream, the kind he never lets himself have in public (not that any of his effort has stopped him, really).

It takes a moment for him to grow aware of his surroundings again. Aware of anything. The tile is cool beneath his knees and - when did he get there? - the air is thick with steam but slowly thinning. The scent of you still lingers, or the scent of your myriad of products, he's not sure. And...those.

That's an entirely separate problem for him to tackle. He groans.

His budget can't handle frivolous expenses, but now he can't get the thought out of his head of wrapping his fist around himself with some of that fancy moisturizer that smells like you as lube and...shit, he's gonna have to buy a bottle, before he goes insane.

Ah, fuck, who is he kidding? He's never going to be able to do so much as take a bath without jerking off again.

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla Sanji x you #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece x you #opla x y/n #opla sanji x y/n #sanji x y/n #opla sanji x you

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ryukatters · 5 months

Text

Seven (minus two) — s. gojo ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

⟡ summary: five different ways satoru fucks you just right. inspired by jk’s “seven.” happy birthday you sexy sexy man

⟡ pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

⟡ content: smutty smut smut, semi public sex, he picks you up but cmon he’s the strongest for a reason, reader isn’t a sorcerer, oral (m&f receiving), body worship, degradation, gojo pulls reader’s hair, some dom/sub dynamics, refractory period is nonexistent, satoru is a slight exhibitionist and makes it everyone’s problem, omfg i just realized i made him a munch, gojo in handcuffs 😋 MINORS DNI

also i used one of @/jinsdumplingson’s prompts for scenario #3!

⟡ wc: 5k (LMFAO)

live laugh love gojo ✨

i. You love when I jump right in / All of me I’m offering / Show you what devotion is — (body worship + exhibitionism)

You consider yourself to be a nice girlfriend, you really do. You pamper your boyfriend, prepare him lunch, and even make the trip to hand deliver it to him at Jujutsu High. And yet—

“Satoru, don’t even think about it. Or I swear to god—”

“Swear what, baby?” Even with the blindfold on, there was no mistaking the predatory glint adorning the eyes behind it.

Satoru had wasted no time dragging you into a random classroom the minute he greeted you at the campus entrance. For all the things that Satoru Gojo possessed, restraint (especially when it came to you) wasn’t one of them. He didn’t even have enough self-control to at least try and make it to his office.

What he did have though, was the nerve to shove the both of you in a room where anyone could pass by. Where anyone could hear the downright degenerate activities Satoru was going to coerce you into.

And who was Satoru if not a fan of pushing the limits of how far he can get away with things?

Your boyfriend stalks towards you. His boots clack against the wooden floors, echoing against the walls of the empty classroom. You find yourself taking a step back for each one he steps forward. The divide between the two of you seems to get impossibly smaller.

A gasp tumbles past your lips as the back of your legs hit the edge of a desk. Satoru smiles, the same one he gives when he knows he has you where he wants you, that he’s won the little game of cat and mouse you two play when he gets like this; consumed by a searing hunger that gnaws at his very core, one that can only be satiated by getting his fill of you.

“Uh oh,” he gasps mockingly, giving you a faux look of surprise. “Looks like you’re done running.” Large hands wrap under your thighs before you’re being lifted up onto the wooden desk with ease. “And I’ve got you right where I want you.”

“‘toru,” you gasp, trying (and failing) to protest as a last ditch effort to save the both of you some propriety.

“Baby,” he murmurs, nipping at your jugular. “You look so beautiful, I just need to have you.”

“B-but, you have a meeting with Yaga right after—”

“Baby.” He deadpans, eyes boring straight into yours. “Frankly, I don’t give a fuck. And don’t say anyone else’s name when I’m about to go down on you.” He shuts down any and all protests by leaning down and capturing your lips with his. Calloused hands roam your body appreciatively, squeezing both of your tits and running his thumbs over the outline of your hardened nipples poking through the fabric of your top.

It’s not enough. He needs to feel you. Your clothes are in the way. Your head snaps down to look at your now exposed chest, mouth agape as you stare at your boyfriend whose eyes are filled with mirth.

“God, look at you.”

“Satoru, you just ripped my fucking shirt–”

“Shh,” he hums, easily covering your mouth with one hand to muffle any expletives thrown his way. “You’re worrying about the wrong things, princess,” his hand moves down to wrap around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until you let out a choked moan. Satoru lets out a satisfied hum. “For example,” his free hand slides down to reach under your waistband, index finger rubbing along your slit. “This soaked pussy. Don’t you think she deserves a little more attention, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. “I think she does,” laughing you jolt from the harsh slap he gives your clit. “So are you going to let me give her what she deserves or are you going to keep being a brat?”

Your response dies on the tip of your tongue. You stare up at Satoru, eyes blown wide with lust. You shake your head.

“Use your words,” he demands. “Don’t keep disappointing me, princess. Taught you better than that.”

“I…” you start, feeling the way your cheeks burn in humiliation. Satoru stares at you expectantly. “Give me what I deserve, ‘toru. Please,” you whisper.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Good girl.”

Satoru litters a trail of kisses from your jaw down to your tits, mouth latching on to one as his hand squeezes the other lovingly. “I think you deserve everything and more, princess. So I’m going to give it to you.”

Satoru thanks his lucky stars that you decided to wear a skirt today. He runs his hands up and down your thighs appreciatively before flipping up the garment, revealing your panties that were surely stained with arousal. He presses a sweet kiss to your mound, sucking the fabric slightly. He thinks it’s such a waste for such sweetness to be lost to a flimsy piece of cloth. Nectar as sweet of yours deserves to be worshiped, and Satoru considers himself your most loyal devotee. He won’t allow any more to go to waste.

“Can’t believe you were keeping this soaked pussy from me,” he sighs. “’s not very nice of you, baby.”

You don’t get in so much of a peep before Satoru practically starts making out with your pussy. Satoru is gluttonous. He’ll take and take, especially if the dish on the table in question is you. He worships you with a fervor that could rival even the most pious of devotees. You manage to blow his mind every time.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping to the edge of the desk for support. “That feels so good, baby.”

“Yeah? You were fightin’ me so hard earlier but look at you now,” he coos, “so ready to be a good girl for me.”

Satoru flicks his tongue across your clit expertly before sucking on the sensitive nub. He feels his cock strain against the confines of his uniform pants as you trill beneath him. He knows you’re close based on the way your back is arching further and further off the desk. “You gonna cum, pretty?”

“Mhmm,” you slur. Your high comes crashing down on you in waves. You slap a hand against your mouth to muffle any and all sounds of pleasure as Satoru helps you ride out your orgasm. He pulls away when you start to pull away from overstimulation. The two of you don’t really have the luxury of teasing at the moment.

He’s nice enough to not let you beg for his cock. Satoru tends to have a sadistic streak and derives extreme pleasure in seeing you squirmy and embarrassed, begging for his mercy.

But he thinks he likes you like this too— soft whines and whimpers, a voiceless plea for more. Afraid of being heard by passerby’s. The more possessive part of him is rearing, manifesting itself through soft caresses and searing lovebites. His mind turns to putty knowing that he’s the only one to see you like this, hear you like this, feel you like this.

He slides in without much resistance. He muffles himself in between the juncture of your shoulder and neck, licking at the bite gingerly as a means of apologizing.

Satoru doesn’t have any restraint when it comes to you. But he tries his damn hardest not to plow into you the minute he’s inside you. He gives a few shallow thrusts before picking up the pace. He fucks into you with rough, calculated precision. Your back starts to feel raw against the fine oak but you can’t find it in you to care. Not when Satoru is giving it to you so good.

Satoru is overwhelmed by the desire to be impossibly closer to you, to meld the two of you into one. So he does. He picks you up with ease. You let out a slight yelp as you feel yourself in midair, wrapping your legs around his waist on instinct. He fucks you like that, strong arms under your thighs as he lifts you up and down his length like a cocksleeve.

“God, baby,” he moans, fingertips digging into the fat of your thighs. “Pussy’s pulling me in so tight. ‘s like you were made for me.”

“Satoru,” you whimper, “‘m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” His pace doesn’t relent. He only drills into you harder, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

You’re lucky to have enough wits in you to let out a soft cry instead of screaming out your boyfriend’s name. Satoru follows you soon after, riding out his own orgasm as he paints your walls white. He lays you back down on the desk before slumping over you, struggling to catch his breath. He gives you a quick peck before he slurs out, “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

Maybe you should bring him lunch more often.

ii. Leave you with that afterglow (light bondage)

Satoru forgets just how downright cruel you can be. How his sweet girlfriend also has a little sadistic side to her that enjoys seeing him squirm. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one capable of doing so.

He’s desperate to touch you, to hold you, to squeeze your body as you move on top of him. His hands twitch with need, but he’s stopped by two metal cuffs chaining him to the bed. Soft ivory wrists are marred by a slight red, evidence of his struggle.

“B-baby,” he whimpers. His voice sounds unfamiliar even to him. The words spilling past his lips foreign to his own ears, “Fuck— please. More, I need more.”

You’ve managed to reduce the strongest sorcerer into a blushing, blubbering mess.

Satoru doesn’t care that you’re making him go absolutely fucking stupid. He welcomes it, even. All he cares about is the way you’re swirling your hips, your sharp nails digging into either side of his neck, and whether or not you’ll spare him enough mercy to actually let him cum after being edged all evening.

His moans ascend higher and higher in pitch as the coil in his stomach winds tighter and tighter.

“God, just like that. Just like that,” he cries out.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” You ask sweetly.

Satoru thought he reached enlightenment some time ago. But that moment pales in comparison to how he feels right now. Each passing second with you feels like you’re guiding him closer and closer to Nirvana with no respite.

It’s not fair, Satoru thinks. It’s not fair that you know where he’s weak and for you to use that against him.

“Y-yeah,” he gasps as you reach down one hand, fingertips grazing against his perineum. “For you, ‘s always for you, baby. Please, please let me cum.”

You stare down at your boyfriend, entranced by the beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his hickey-stained neck and the way his flushed chest heaves. Satoru just looks downright pretty. Especially when he’s ruined.

“Cum for me, ‘toru,”

The tears that have been threatening to spill from his lash line all evening finally fall. He bucks his hips up to meet the way you bounce down on his cock. Satoru cries out your name as he fucks his load into you, ribbons and ribbons of cum painting your insides. Something inside Satoru breaks with the mind numbing orgasm you pull out of him. It’s replaced by something more carnal, more feral.

Any and all restraint he has all but flies out the window, easily breaking apart the metal links of the handcuffs binding him to your headboard. His hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into the plush fat with a grip that’ll surely leave bruises come the morning.

He’s honestly impressed he was able to hold out that long.

“A-ah, ‘toru wait–” you cry out.

“Nuh-uh. You’ve had your fun,” he tuts, manhandling you until you’re on all fours. “Now let me have mine.”

iii. Take your phone and put it in the camera roll

Satoru Gojo is a lot of things. Overzealous, irresponsible with practiced precision, extremely doting, loud, boisterous, and all the other epithets that barely begin to scratch the surface on the illustrious strongest sorcerer.

His very birth shook the entire country of Japan. His very existence is celebrated as the pinnacle of Jujutsu society. One would assume that the man would be the type to spend his special day in a fashion as grand as himself. He honors each and every one of his students and friends with such grandiose celebrations on their birthdays, so it’s safe to assume he’d hold the same standards for himself. Wrong. He’d much rather spend his day with you, in a much more intimate setting. A safe haven, of sorts, from the chaos and insanity that seems to follow him everywhere. He doesn’t get many days off, so being able to spend time with you is always a blessing no matter what day it is. So you can imagine the fit he threw when you told him to go grab dinner with his friends, and the even bigger fit he threw when he found out you wouldn’t be accompanying him.

With a promise that he’d get more than enough of his fill (of you) later on, you send your boyfriend off with a kiss on the lips that turns into a continuation of what you two have been up to all morning.

He arrives late to his own birthday party in true Gojo fashion.

While Satoru can appreciate the sentiment, he’d much rather be spending the night with you. Alone. In bed. Or on the kitchen counter. Or in the living room.

Although you took him out for brunch at this new restaurant with the fluffiest pancakes he’s ever had (he swears the sauce had crack in it), you told him his birthday wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t at least try and grab a few drinks with his friends. He wanted to argue that being able to spend the whole day with you would have made him feel satisfied, but he could never say no to you.

Which is exactly how he ends up at the local dive bar with some Tokyo and Kyoto peeps. Shoko will use any excuse to drink. So will Nanami, as long as it’s at Satoru’s expense (literally).

Today, 10:29 PM

baby

hey pretty boy u enjoying yourself? come home soon, okay? a little birdy told me your last present is waiting for you at home.

You

not much of a party if you’re not here to enjoy it with me, angel can i get a little hint? 🤪

baby?

baby

1 image delivered.

You

omw.

Satoru merely throws down a couple stacks (which is honestly more than enough to pay for everyone, but Gojo has no concept of how much things should cost) before hastily making his exit for the night.

He doesn’t even bother ordering an uber. Because why should he waste any more time away from his precious baby when he could just teleport home? So he does, straight into your bedroom. You scream out in surprise.

“Jesus fucking Christ Satoru—”

“You don’t get to use that tone with me, pretty girl,” he tuts, eyeing you hungrily, “especially when you’ve been hiding this from me.”

You needed to find a way to get Satoru away from you (which was a damn near impossible task most of the time) so you could figure out how to put on the whole ensemble.

The ‘this’ that Satoru was referring to was a dainty white lace lingerie set that leaves nothing to the imagination. What really takes the cake, however, is the giant baby blue ribbon nestled perfectly on the small of your back. You were wrapped up like his present. And Satoru thinks this is probably the best gift he’ll ever get in his life.

“On all fours, beautiful.”

You do as you’re told like a good girl. You really sell the show by arching your back, practically presenting yourself on a silver platter. Satoru feels his mouth water in anticipation.

“Look here, baby,” Satoru commands. So you do. You realize that he has his phone out, hearing the telltale shutter of his camera. “For keepsakes,” he grins cheekily.

He runs his hand along your backside appreciatively, stopping to squeeze your ass and spread you apart for his viewing pleasure. He thumbs at your puckered hole teasingly, letting out a mean laugh as you squeal.

He gives your pussy a few harsh slaps, fascinated by the strings of your arousal that collect on his fingertips. “That’s it, sweetheart. Look at you, barely even touched you and you’re already falling apart.”

“‘toru, don’t tease,” you whine.

“Is that how I taught you to ask for things?” He gives your ass a rough spank, squeezing at the stinging skin.

You shake your head in the negative, lips wobbling. God, you look so pathetic it drives him insane.

“Thought so. Tell me what you want, properly this time. And I might just give it to you.”

“Please fuck me, ‘toru.”

“You want my cock, baby?”

“Need it,” you whimper.

“Yeah?” he coos, bringing a hand to rub up and down your slit while the other works his lengths out of his slacks. “You gonna let me have my way with you? Do whatever I want with this pussy?”

You whine, nodding desperately. Satoru gives you a feral grin before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Atta girl.”

“I’m going to fuck you so good that you won’t even be able to think about getting up tomorrow. Hope you’re ready, sweetheart. You’ve dug your own grave.”

iv. Come here, baby, let me swallow yo' pride (agoraphilia/exhibitionsism)

“Satoru—”

“Not my name.”

“‘toru, w-wait,” you gasp, trying to push your boyfriend off as he litters your neck with bruises that’ll certainly make themselves known in the morning. He easily takes both of your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, pushing you flush against the back of the door. The same door, mind you, that’s separating the two of you from the rest of his fellow sorcerers at their annual end of the year celebration.

“Th-There are people outside this door—”

“Well, this isn’t about them, is it?”

Shameless. Absolutely shameless.

“C’mon baby,” he murmurs, pressing his hips against yours. “Just this once.” You know it’s never ‘just once’ with Satoru. You fear for the state of your dress and makeup (along with your dignity) if you give into him right now. “You know I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Your friends are in the other room. They’re going to hear us because you don’t know how to keep your stupid mouth shut.” You let out a choked moan as he slots one of his thighs in between your legs, providing some much needed friction for your aching center.

“That sounds like their problem, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously handsome? Persuasive? Oh baby, I know.”

“And an idiot.”

“I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. “You better make this quick.”

Satoru releases your wrists, grinning as you run your hands up and down his chest before dropping down to your knees. You make quick work of his belt and pants, palming at his cock that’s already started leaking precum through his underwear. “That all depends on you, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s time to put that bratty mouth of yours to good use.”

He pushes his weepy tip past your lips with a soft groan. You lick at the slit just the way he likes and Satoru has to hold back a shudder.

“This is your fault, y’know,” he growls, hands finding purchase in the locks of your hair— which you worked very hard on, by the way. “You just look so pretty. It’s almost like you were asking for it.”

A pathetic whine escapes past your throat, muffled by Satoru’s cock. Satoru shudders from the vibrations.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking choke on it.” He lets out a broken moan as he feels your throat constrict around his cock. You just feel so good. “God, I’m gonna cum. You’re going to make me cum.”

His hands weave themselves through your hair even tighter, as if he’s trying to find something corporeal to anchor himself in the midst of this surreal storm of pleasure.

Your head bumps against the wooden door rhythmically in sync with how Satoru fucks your throat. It’d probably hurt if not for Satoru’s hands protecting the back of your head. If your friends weren’t sure what you two were doing before, they definitely knew now.

Satoru doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed that he finishes in record time, not when your tongue is pressed taut against the underside of his cock.

Your nails dig into the flesh of Satoru’s strong thighs, leaving indents against the freshly pleated satin of his dress slacks.

You’re struggling to take it all. He watches in fascination as a mix of his cum and your spit starts to dribble out of the corners of your mouth. He pulls out of you with a hint of hesitation, immediately missing your warmth while you try and catch your breath. Satoru wipes the cum threatening to drip off your chin with his thumb before pressing the digit against your tongue. It’d be such a waste for it to go anywhere else, after all.

“Swallow it.”

You stare up with him with a lustridden expression as you do what you’re told.

God, you were always so good for him. It’s enough to make him hard again. He intends to make good on his promise to make it up to you very soon. But not here.

He fixes the both of you up to make yourselves somewhat presentable before exuberantly announcing your guys’ departure in true Satoru fashion. You’re privy to the looks of disdain painted on Utahime and Nanami’s faces (mostly directed towards your boyfriend), but you can’t find it in yourself to care as Satoru slides an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

“Let’s go home.”

v. Got you skippin' work and meetings (slight exhibitionism)

One perk about your job is the ability to work from home. No need to wake up early to get ready, sit in traffic, or deal with awkward and redundant watercooler chats with your older coworkers trying to relate to today’s generation. You have the luxury of working from your home office, with no one to pester you while you slave away at your computer.

Satoru bursts into the room with a cheerful, “Hi baby!”

Everyone except for Satoru, of course.

“Hi...” you whisper, not bothering to face your boyfriend. “I’m about to start my meeting, ‘Toru. I’ll come out once I’m done, ‘kay?”

If you were paying more attention, you’d hear the grumble and see the petulant pout that forms on Satoru’s face at your dismissal.

“Can I sit next to you, at least?”

You keep a chaise next to your workstation for when you want to plop down after a few hours of mind numbing work. Or for times when your extremely clingy boyfriend feels like bothering you while you’re on the clock.

“I’m not bothering you!” He had said once. “I’m keeping you company. Isn’t that nice of me?”

You side-eye him with a look that obviously says no, and Satoru pouts even harder.

But as always, Satoru finds a way to coerce you into getting what he wants. He’s pretty sure you said ‘no’ to him sitting on the chaise, but that doesn’t mean it’s a ‘no’ to him sitting in general, right?

He plops down on the floor under your workstation. He thanks himself for buying you one of those height adjustable desks.

You spare him a quick glance. He almost looks ridiculous with the way he’s hunched under you, cheek pressed against your knees as he hugs both of your legs, pouting.

There’s a joke you want to make about how your boyfriend is akin to an overgrown lap dog with how clingy he is. But you hold your tongue and decide to at least try and pay attention to your computer screen as you enter your debrief.

You can practically hear the pout that’s painted on Satoru’s face with your lack of attention. That just won’t do for him.

He’ll just give you a reason to pay attention to him. That’s fine. Satoru knows how to work for what he wants. And right now, he wants your thighs to suffocate him.

You try your best to focus on what your manager is saying, you really do, but whatever corporate jargon spewing past his lips is lost on you as Satoru moves underneath you, inching himself closer and closer to you while also subtly maneuvering your rolling chair until his face is just shy of being in between your legs.

You want to curse yourself for deciding to stay in your sleep shorts today. Satoru, on the other hand, feels like rejoicing in the fact— because now you’ve just made it so much easier for him. Accessible, even.

He pries your legs open, ignoring the way you try your best to keep them shut. He bullies his broad shoulders between them, preventing any further movement aside from spreading them even further. He examines the fading bruises and love bites littering your inner thighs from your previous sexcapades throughout the week. They’re looking a little too dull for his liking. Satoru decides you’re in desperate need of a touch up.

He pulls your shorts and panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt. A mix of pride and lust swell within him to know that you’re always ready for him despite your efforts to convince him otherwise. Satoru’s mouth automatically waters in a Pavlovian response. He works his way up your plush thighs, savoring the warm, silky flesh on his tongue as he suckles deep bruises into them.

“Satoru,” you hiss, lacing your fingers through soft white locks before tugging on them harshly. You pull Satoru away from you, his lips leaving your inner thigh with a loud pop.

“Behave.”

You barely move your lips, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to you on your coworkers’ screens.

It’s a warning if Satoru’s ever heard one. Unluckily for you, Satoru’s way too used to getting his way, brushing past warnings with an air of practiced defiance, paying no heed to any signals for him to concede. (“Signs can’t stop me because I can’t read!”)

Your words do nothing but go straight to his cock. That, coupled with the way you tug at his hair has a moan stumbling straight past his lips without warning.

You quickly glance at your screen and release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding upon confirming that you are indeed on mute. You don’t need your colleagues hearing your whore of a boyfriend moaning like a pornstar in the middle of your weekly recap meeting.

You quickly turn off your camera. They wouldn’t miss you for a few seconds, right?

“I thought I told you to behave.” The hand that was previously gripping Satoru’s hair clamps over his mouth. “Either you stay and be quiet or you leave.”

Cerulean orbs lock with yours before you feel something wet— a tongue, swipe along the inside of your palm. You draw your hand back with a curse, wiping off the saliva with your shirt.

“But babyyy,” he whines, wrapping his arms around your legs and resting his head on your thigh. He looks up at you with his best puppy eyes. You know Satoru well enough to recognize the lustful glint underneath the seemingly innocent gaze. “I haven’t seen you all day, s’not fair. I just miss you.”

“It’s been 4 hours, Satoru.”

“Even one second not being by your side feels like an eternity,” he laments. An overstatement, but Satoru holds every ounce of that statement true in his heart and soul. “I’ll make it quick, promise. Just need to have a little bit of you and I’ll leave you alone.”

Satoru isn’t a beggar. But he’ll be anything you need him to be, especially if it means getting a taste of you.

You both know he won’t leave you alone. The both of you also know that Satoru knows how to work his mouth and your body. He’s already bringing his lips to your clit before you can even nod.

“Good girl.”

Satoru makes out with your pussy sloppily, dragging his tongue along your clit and inside your fluttering hole. His eyes roll back into his skull as you weave your hands through his hair, tugging harshly. Satoru’s brain is practically fried as you squeeze your thighs on either side of his head. His cock throbs against the confines of his sweatpants, tip staining the gray fabric. He palms himself to provide some friction, imagining that it were your hands touching him instead.

“T-toru, I’m so close,” you cry. Satoru laughs meanly.

“Yeah?” he coos, long fingers working their way inside your dripping pussy. “You’re so sensitive. We just started and you wanna cum already?”

“Please.”

“Told you we’d be quick. Cum for me, princess.”

He doesn’t let up as you clench around his fingers. He fucks them into you even faster, making sure to hit that spongey little spot in you with each thrust. He sucks your clit until you’re shaking, refusing to let go even as you try to pull away.

Once he’s decided he’s tortured you enough, he pulls back ever so slightly, reveling in your debauched look. It would’ve been even better if you’d accidentally left your camera or microphone on, so everyone could know how good Satoru gives it to you. (He’s seen a few flirtatious messages from your coworkers via Slack.) Oh well, that’s just an opportunity for next time, he supposes.

He doesn’t bother leaving. To your surprise, (and Satoru’s delight) your team wraps up as soon as you turn your camera back on. A few beats pass by before he breaks the silence. “It’s technically your lunch break, right? How about we finish what we started?”

a/n: i need him in a way that is devastating to mankind. also satoru may be the king of quickies but don’t let that fool you into thinking he can’t go all night

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost, translate, or recommend my works on TikTok.

#banner creds to @cafekitsune #night after night he’ll be loving you right 🙏🏼#satoru whos so obsessed that he needs you 7 days a week>>>>>#kat’s writing #kat’s demon time #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you

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