#REAL TEARS OMFG | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dekuneho · 23 days ago

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sober ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive — liquid courage failed you before, too many times to count. this time, you're staying sharp.

mature content, alcohol/drinking, getting together, katsuki is such a boyfriend for someone who isnt your boyfriend, whipped katsuki my favorite, pov switching, 4k words

Katsuki grunts, scowling at nothing in particular. “Stupid.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Katsuki, pissed enough as he is, shoves a hand to squint at the message.

where r u???? hurry the fuck up. pleasee omfg

It’s from Flat Face. Figures.

eat shit and die im almost there

Without Katsuki to play the adult supervision, Sero remains the sober friend in outings, mostly because he can handle his liquor well. Sero badgers on with his texts, begging for Katsuki to hurry before they’re permanently banned at their favorite karaoke bar.

Sero follows up on a recent message with an image attached. Katsuki slows his steps to glare down at his phone. Sero’s real shitty at taking pictures, or it could be someone’s jostling him from the side. None of it matters — Katsuki’s eyes zero in on you lying on Mina’s lap, where the camera had captured you mid-laugh.

“Stupid,” Katsuki repeats, unable to tear his eyes away from your glee for a moment too long. He only snaps back to reality when his phone dims. He must’ve painted a manic picture, staring at his phone like a damn creep. Fuck.

He’ll see the real deal in a minute, but still, he saves the image in his phone gallery. That’s between him and his phone.

Katsuki ignores the crisp breeze brushing his bare face. His nose twitches, growing numb; he feels his hands ache in traces of pain that come to bloom when it’s met with a sharp chill. This feeds his irritation further, yet it’s telling that he continues to walk down the road, as if turning back home was never an option in his head.

The attendant appears relieved to see him; whether it’s from recognition of the #5 hero or the acknowledgment of this establishment’s savior from rowdy pro heroes, Katsuki will never know. Katsuki doesn’t even need to ask — she just hurries him to the far corner room where his shitty friends are situated. He mutters his thanks. She just tells him good luck. Damn.

Katsuki pulls the sliding door open and is instantly greeted by the stench of alcohol. Sero’s picture hadn’t done enough justice; seeing it in real life is worse. It’s like the aftermath of a nasty villain attack if it came in the form of piles and piles of beer and alcohol puddles and bar snacks all over the table. Kirishima’s knocked out on Sero’s shoulder, drooling. Jirou is also fast asleep, taking an entire couch, leaving Sero to huddle uncomfortably on the edge of a corner. Mina’s holding the microphone, but nothing’s playing; she’s just singing shit. You’re laughing at Mina, clutching your stomach.

He nearly stumbles over a leg belonging to Kaminari, who’s sprawled on the floor for some fucking reason.

“The fuck happened?” he hisses, narrowly missing Kaminari's arm swinging to latch onto his ankle.

Cheers erupt from all around the table when they register Katsuki’s arrival. Sero looks like a single parent of five — which may just be the case.

Sero sighs. “It’s like I blinked and was left with this.”

Katsuki snorts. At least he knows how it feels. He's felt that way since year fucking one.

He steps over Kaminari's body, ignoring his cry, heading straight towards you. Raccoon eyes is talking to Katsuki — something about him being a jackass for bailing on tonight, not that Katsuki gives a single fuck.

“Killjoy. Boring. You’re getting boring, old man!” Mina yells at his face.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says reflexively. “We’re celebrating again next week anyway. Don’t start with me.”

You beam at him, hands reaching out like a fucking child or something. He begins to pry you off Mina’s lap, but his hold under your arms gives notice to how you’re shivering.

Katsuki shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. Looks like he’ll have to take you home himself.

“Sero,” Katsuki voices in a bite, glaring over his shoulder.

Sero rushes to service as Katsuki shifts to his back, leaving Kirishima to sag beside Jirou, their snores harmonizing. Sero drags you to settle on Katsuki’s back, where Katsuki quickly hunches over and shifts his palms under your thighs. You mumble happily, burrowing your nose into the nape of his neck.

Katsuki slings a heated warning in Sero’s direction before the bastard can laugh about it.

“Call a cab,” he grunts out. “Wake Shitty Hair up; he can help you with those shits.”

Sero flicks a hand in a mock salute.

It was a tedious process, but everyone managed, eventually. They all crash at Kirishima’s house. They’ll be fine. And if someone’s house burns down — well… they’re heroes, they’ll still be fine.

Katsuki adjusts his hold, exiting the bar as the cab drives off. He walks, the cold billowing a soft cloud in each breath.

“You awake back there?” he asks, staring ahead.

“Mm, you take such good care of me, Katsukiii,” you coo in his ear, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear.

He shivers, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck. You laugh irritatingly, grating his nerves and fluttering his stomach. He bristles at the sensation, snarling nonsense that you don’t even listen to, too busy giggling over damn who-knows-what.

“Walking me back to your home, huh? What are you, my bodyguard? You big, strong … hunk of a man…”

Katsuki huffs in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Katsuki,” you drawl, your hand sliding over his bicep. “You’re so good to me. You take care of me, y’know?”

“I know,” Katsuki says, devoid of its usual snark. “‘s ‘cause you can’t do it yourself.”

“Ha-ha!” You lean your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Wish you could … take care of me like this … forever.”

“Idiot,” Katsuki says, mostly to himself. You don’t respond either way.

Katsuki can fucking smell the alcohol reeking from your mouth. He’s about to tell you off, complain about your goddamn stink, but you’ve gone limp in his hold.

“Do you mean that?” Katsuki starts, and it’s met with silence. Then, snoring.

Katsuki doesn’t smile, but the by-passers would argue otherwise.

This is bad. Starting to get bad.

You got somewhat shit-faced drunk in hopes of making a move on Katsuki with liquid courage, but he’d taken care of you so well that you didn’t even have a hangover as an excuse the moment you jolted to consciousness. Your head is starting to clear up, losing its fog and illusion of confidence, and your brain is running off at full speed.

This isn’t the first time you’ve sobered up while in the warmth of Katsuki’s bed, an hour or so after he whisked you away from your shared friend group.

What the fuck am I doing? You want to punch something and scream, ideally where Katsuki can’t see you throwing a tantrum.

You turn to your side where Katsuki’s still in deep sleep, shoulders rising and falling at once like a decrescendo, slow and steady. It’s a heart-aching sight — achingly bare.

He has his back turned. You hold your breath and peek over, hands catching an inch away from Katsuki’s face, catching a view of his mouth open just a tiny bit for quiet snores to come out. It’s unbearably cute. He must’ve been tired, having to take care of your careless drunk ass all night, and it’s not even the first time.

This isn't anything new either — sleeping on the same bed. You remember it from the first night. He shrugged it off, saying he didn't want to carry your ass anymore. You're already makin' me take care of your dumb ass every time this shit happens — you expected me to go 'n sacrifice the bed I bought with my own money?

"Scandalous," you said, at the time, reeling from how defensive Katsuki had been.

"Not like I'm gonna do anythin' to you." Katsuki stared you down. "Why? You wanted me to?"

How embarrassing to resort to liquid courage and still fail.

This has to end. You are definitely not aiming to become a drunkard just to have a chance with your crush.

“Morning,” a gravelly voice mutters, breath hot on your face.

You come to the startling realization that you've been hovering over Katsuki for longer than you intended. His intense gaze arrests yours, tension hanging in the hair. Like doused in a bucket of cold water, you jerk away and flounder, half-baked syllables spilling as some attempt of an excuse. There is no other explanation for that — you were ogling Katsuki in his sleep.

Katsuki doesn’t smirk, but the mirth lighting in his eyes comes very close to it. He pulls you to his side, gripping one of your wrists and positioning it on the other side of his head. He adjusts your hold until you’re pinning him down.

You choke on your breath. “What—”

This time, Katsuki grins. “You're gonna strain your shoulders, idiot.”

Dangerous man, the primal instincts of your brain scream, flinching away, hissing. The hormonal side begs you to pounce on him and wipe that smug expression off his handsome face.

You quickly pull back, recoiling away, only to find yourself back up to the firm surface of Katsuki’s thigh, where he had lifted it in his wake. The shock sends a sharp jolt of aching pain at your violent reaction. You whimper and clutch at your head, dizziness inciting a pathetic: Owww.

“Don’t move so much, fucking dipshit,” Katsuki hisses, easing your hips down on his other thigh that’s laid flat on the bed. “Don’t you fuckin' dare throw up so goddamn early. Shit, it’s like, what, four AM?”

You sag against him, feeling at ease without the strain of your muscles holding your weight up. Katsuki’s like a mountain mass furnace — how nice. You don’t even register that you’re all but straddled on his thigh; if anyone were to walk in, they’d be well within their rights to assume the worst.

Katsuki cranes his neck as he reaches for a glass. You jostle at the movement, grumbling, and Katsuki mutters a quiet ‘sorry,' holding the water to your lips. You take gulps of water slowly, careful not to spill and ruin Katsuki’s strangely soft mood.

“Thanks,” you say. Katsuki’s actions and the weight of his tone — everything is off-kilter with the mood that’s just set. He’s really… “Sorry for the trouble,” you say in a hushed whisper, guilt settling in.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t,” Katsuki snaps, frown deepening. His eyes don’t convey the same ire.

“Yeah.” You nod, fond. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to, huh?”

Katsuki’s expression shifts. Just slightly, before it melts back into practiced blankness. “So?”

Everything’s straightforward with Katsuki. But even then — even then, he might not mean it in the same way as you’re hoping.

“I wasn’t that drunk, you know.” You want to look away, but you’re finding it difficult to even try. “I never was. I — I know this is the third time this happened.”

Katsuki lifts a brow. “You remember the first time you threw up in my car then?”

Your face erupts in flames. “I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki pushes you by the small of your back, closer to him. You swallow back an embarrassing noise, somehow quick enough to balance yourself on his chest before you plant your nose to his face. Katsuki’s ruby gaze pins you down, even when you’re the one on top of him. Dangerous, dangerous, leave, your brain yowls. Your body, your heart — stays incredibly still, obedient in the face of the man who's got you weak.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” Katsuki asks, several octaves deep. Roused freshly from slumber.

You squirm. His skin feels hot to the touch, even through his fucking black tank top. “I said a lot of dumb shit, Katsuki.”

“Do you mean them, then?”

You file through your memories, trying to pinpoint precisely what he’s talking about. Katsuki’s patient, seemingly content with keeping you on his lap, staring. You’re the humiliated one here.

“What did I say?” you demand, nerves constricting in your chest.

Katsuki pushes his torso up with a hand, inching his face impossibly close. The heat of his gaze spreads through your entire body. You’re sure he can feel it, too — hard to miss when you’re a lapful of a flighty cat perched on him.

His nose brushes against yours, eyes flickering down. Your breath hitches, caught in the hush of the moment.

“Katsuki?” you ask in a fearful whisper. Katsuki’s eyes snap back to meet your gaze.

“‘m hungry,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back.

Your face burns, his warmth lingering on the space before you. Your hands touch over your face, winded. Still aware of Katsuki’s intense gaze, you pull off from his lap, ignoring the scream of your headache as you dash to the kitchen.

You really thought he was going to kiss you.

No, maybe it's more accurate to say you were hoping for it. You almost pleaded for him to. Had he lingered, you would’ve thrown yourself all over him, begging, Please, please, Katsuki kiss me — I need you. How embarrassing is that? To need someone so badly that he's your waking thought, and yet you hate seeing him around?

Instead, the morning ended with Katsuki lending his shirt and driving you back to your apartment — a set routine — the third time. You talked to ease the tension, but it was a fruitless attempt at the question hanging in the air, dangling in front of both your faces. Katsuki doesn’t bring it up, so you hang onto the sliver of mercy he’s granted.

The week passes, and still, you aren't quite ready when another chance comes again.

You wonder if he’ll bring it up tonight.

This time, the party is in honor of celebrating Katsuki’s — Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight — ascension to the Top 5 in the Pro Hero ranking. Katsuki’s not surprised, but most of the class is; he hasn’t laid off on the crude language, so it’s a wonder he even got into the Top 10 at all.

Most of your former classmates are busy with their duties and patrol, and Katsuki isn’t keen on inviting more than five people to his house. Unfortunately for him, Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari wouldn’t miss this celebration for the world — Villains be damned, it’s Bakugou Katsuki’s big day. It’s an unspoken agreement that you tag along. Katsuki also texted you that you were late an hour ago, so it’d be no use for anyone to upset Katsuki.

Of course, parties go hand-in-hand with alcohol. You had been avoiding Katsuki since that night, fleeing at every glimpse of blond hair. No one has noticed, except maybe Katsuki, whose eyes linger on you for five seconds longer than usual when you knock on his door.

His gaze sends a lick of heat down your spine, and the night’s just starting.

There needs to be a change of plans. If trapping him drunk doesn’t work after three failed attempts, then you have no choice but to do it sober.

That scrap of interest Katsuki had shown last week was more than enough encouragement. If you don’t end up confessing your feelings tonight, then that just means you’re never meant to do it at all — which would’ve been the easiest way out if Katsuki didn’t make it so hard.

“Hey,” you say. "I'm here."

“Finally,” he mutters. Your lips quirk up in humor.

Katsuki’s gaze slips from your collarbone to your thighs before flicking back up. A flame of interest makes itself known to you, to your chagrin. You’re no better: Katsuki’s dressed in low-hung jeans and a black fitted tank top under a striking red button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. How can he make a simple nothing look so sinful?

Katsuki steps back, presenting the surprisingly neat get-together your friends have set up. There’s a buffet of food spread across Katsuki’s dining table — and because you know Katsuki well enough to be privy to his skills in the kitchen, you can tell he cooked all of them. There are banners spelling his name out beside Congratulations!, which must be Katsuki’s limit, seeing the lack of confetti.

“You’re here!” Mina shrieks, bounding over to encase you in a tight hug.

Air knocks out of your lungs as she squeezes your neck. You tap Mina’s back in distress. The room lights up with laughter, greeting you in turn. Kaminari moves to ruffle your hair, but his eyes catch on something behind you, and he pales and hides behind an amused Kirishima.

Katsuki heads to the kitchen island, alcohol lined up in a neat pile. You decide firmly that you are not getting drunk — you will power through with your plan, and that’s your mission for the day.

You pump your fist once and exhale roughly. Plus Ultra! Mina says you look stupid, dragging you off to the living room.

You’re squished between Kaminari and Mina, who throw their heads back for a shot.

True to your word, you denied any shot glasses offered, instead busying your mouth with the food Katsuki cooked. It's too bad you can't shut your brain the same way.

It’s tempting — really, really tempting. You haven’t been able to approach Katsuki, feeling too much like you should just forget about whatever plan you had for a confession and ride the tide back to normalcy. To get shitfaced drunk and leave it for you to deal with in the morning. But whenever you meet Katsuki’s eyes — it’s like you’re back on his bed, he’s too close for comfort, and you're reminded of all those mornings you wished was so much more last night, and the itch for alcohol is swept away.

Mina rests her head on the curve of your shoulder, her hair tickling your cheek. She asks, too nonchalantly for your liking—

“Have you and Katsuki fucked this week yet?”

You’re fortunate enough to have decided to skip alcohol for tonight, or else you would’ve died from choking on it. You glance over, hoping Katsuki hadn't been paying attention, but to your relief, he was absorbed in a discussion with Kirishima. “I’m — Have we — What?!”

Mina barrels on obliviously. “Had sex. Gotten busy. Under the covers. Hands-on learning—”

“No, I — What the fuck!” You shove her off. Mina sways in place; you'd feel sorry if you weren’t so scandalized. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh.” Mina tilts her head and watches your reaction thoughtfully. “No wonder why. Katsuki’s looking all tense lately.”

What the hell. “So?!”

Your shriek disturbs the peace of the party.

Kaminari chimes in to add to the blow. You lock eyes with Katsuki from across the room — must be the ninth time this evening — while Mina and Kaminari crowd in on you, relentless with probing curiosity. “I also thought he was acting like he was lacking some action—”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you rip your gaze off Katsuki’s questioning stare. Then, in a low whisper, “Katsuki and I have never — we aren’t even—”

Kaminari turns his head, presumably to eye Katsuki. “Why does he look like he’s about to eat you up?”

“Do I look like I can read his mind?” You feel irritation like a blade on your nerves. “If he’s all tense, then he should get his dick wet — and I’m not involved in any of that.”

Mina gapes, disgusted. “What? You’d just let him fool around with someone else?”

“Why would that be my issue?”

Mina and Kaminari share a look. “Oh my god.”

“You’re actually not together? Not even, like — just fooling around as friends?”

“No, Kaminari.” You hate how you sound defeated admitting that. “No, we’re not.”

“Fuck,” says Mina emphatically. “Fuck! You’ve got to fuck!”

“What — Why is this my responsibility? If he’s happy fucking someone else, let him be — You want him to loosen up, don’t you?”

Mina’s face shifts into a devious little thing. “You look like you want him to loosen you up.”

"That's so gross, Ashido."

Kaminari grins knowingly. “You jealous? Why’s that, huh?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to confess to him for two months now, and my liquid courage is nothing but a fucking cock-blocker!” you hiss in a frantic whisper.

“We’ve got to fix this!” Mina says, the hero that she is. “We need you to get laid!”

“Please tone it down,” you plead.

Kaminari tugs you down in a mock of a team huddle. You squirm uncomfortably; you can taste the liquor in their breaths. “What’s your game plan?” he asks. “Seduce him? Lock him up in his room, maybe?”

“I guess? I just want to do it sober.”

Mina suddenly leaps to her feet, yelling like a soldier. “Isolate him, then force your love!”

“Sober and preferably not unhero-like.”

Mina squeals, cupping your cheeks. “Do it tonight. He’s ready, I can feel it. He’s looking at you.”

Everyone in the room is casting glances at the three of you, but thankfully, Sero, Jirou, and Kirishima are respectful enough not to approach and disrupt the troubling conversation for your dignity’s sake.

“Of course he’s looking at me,” you wallow in mortification. “You’re making it too obvious. I’m going to get bullied.”

Mina smirks, her gaze trained ahead. “Yeah, you’re going to get bullied alright.”

You splutter, “What do you mean—”

Katsuki hovers over you three. “Let’s talk,” he demands, glaring hotly.

You’re back in Katsuki’s room, this damned space — the source of all your longing dreams and fantasies. The music from downstairs dials up, though it seems like it’s more out of consideration for you both. You’d been whisked away by Bakugou Katsuki once again, both of you blatantly disregarding the obscene gestures Mina and Kaminari were making as he pulled you upstairs. This time, however, you’re as sober as ever. It feels so different, like you're pulled out after submerging in the water for too long. Everything is so loud and clear.

Katsuki cages you against his door, never one to mess around.

“If I made you uncomfortable, punch me,” Katsuki says out of nowhere.

You’re speechless. “What?”

“Just — yell at me or some shit. Don’t start avoidin’ me, and don’t just move on to some other extra,” Katsuki mutters, deliberately averting your wide eyes. Move on to another— "I'll leave you alone."

"Why would I…" Move on to someone else? That's almost disrespectful to all the pining that's fucked with your head since this crap started. Move on? From Bakugou Katsuki?

"You were talking about it with those assholes."

Oh. He overheard all the wrong parts.

"I'm not gonna hook up with anyone else!"

The tension that has coiled tightly around his shoulders eases. Yet, despite this, he still hadn't made any bold moves to lead you to his bed, holding onto a fragile thread of hesitation that lingered in the air between you. Like you didn't just admit you're exclusively waiting for him.

His face twists up. “And, about that night, I wasn’t gonna — fuck, I’m not gonna do shit you don’t want, but I can’t read your mind. I don't wanna fuck this up.”

“What are we talking about?”

“The kiss, dammit — shit. Get it straight before I get the wrong idea.” Katsuki groans, resting an arm above your head. Is it wrong to be so endeared by someone clearly struggling to get his point across? “Do you mean it?”

You furrow your brows, arms crossed. This again. “What did I say, Katsuki?”

“When you said you wanted me to take care of you forever.”

What the hell? Did you really say that? Screw the exclusiveness of sex, that was basically a proposal!

Katsuki hooks a finger on your chin and forces your gaze back to him. Pay attention to me. Your eyes drift away for a second, catching on his ears, tinted ears — in contrast to his fierce scowl.

Your shoulders relax somewhat. Then you can't help but laugh.

Right, this is still just Katsuki. Your best friend, crush since forever; the guy who took care of you without even asking for anything in return. The guy who apparently has been considering your boundaries even though you've been seducing him drunk too many times.

“Why are you laughing,” Katsuki hisses; his frustration sounds more agitated than furious.

“So you did want to kiss me that morning?”

“No shit,” Katsuki huffs in a humorless laugh. “But, fuck, I’m not shitty enough to force you—”

“Katsuki,” you interrupt, “you should’ve.”

He falls silent, red eyes piercing yours searchingly.

Dangerous, your mind whispers, but you’ve never wanted to experience a thrill like this in your life. “I really wanted you to.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re lucky you took good care of me before I pounced on you drunk,” you say, and you mean it too. Your hands snake over his shoulder, tugging him down.

Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, looking caught off guard. Wide-eyed and unsure. Cute. “Are you drunk right now?” he asks carefully.

“Never been more sober in my life,” you breathe.

He dives in for a rough kiss, one hand on the back of your head to push you deeper into him. You tilt your head to the side and — yeah, that’s better. Katsuki pries your mouth open, coaxing noises out of you that he each answers with a groan.

He smells like alcohol in his breath. It mixes with the scent of smoke — a dizzying, cloying scent that screams Katsuki. You want this more than Katsuki realizes. You want to sleep with it, to wake up to it.

“How much did you drink?” you ask.

“Just two light ones,” Katsuki says, and then one side of his lip quirks up. “Thought I had to take your ass home again.”

You smile coyly, tracing a finger over his bicep. “We can skip the foreplay — I'm already in your home, aren't I?”

Katsuki goes very, very still. Staring blankly. You hope you can convey it — you hope he doesn’t back out and pull away. You know he’ll get it. Katsuki is smart enough to pick up on your pleading gaze. His eyes burn; clearer, now, bright with understanding.

I want this, too. You’re not sure if you or Katsuki said it.

You take his daze as a chance to push him to his bed, with you straddling legs as his eyes devour every inch of you.

“Get the fuck out of here if you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” Katsuki says seriously.

You settle over his thigh, mimicking that morning, hands splayed on his chest. Katsuki wheezes out a breath that sounds like he’s been slammed onto a wall, his grip latching onto either side of your hips right away.

“Take care of me again?” you ask.

“Holy fuck,” Katsuki says.

if you read my previous drabble ik i recycled it… but in my defense this one came first. thanks for reading mwa

#ᥫ᭡ dekuneho #&katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki smut

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thotfrnk · 1 year ago

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rengoku getting a dead wife flashback in the new demon slayer ep cdijfvhdnkjcfjvndkmfcvmjnkjvgb

#RENGOKUUUUUUUUU #im tearing up omfg i miss him for real #emily.txt

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girlboypersonthingy · 8 months ago

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Big reward. I meant for that to be a smut request, my bad.

OMFG I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! Yessss finally some Valentino smut. I love it~ I’m honestly soooo inspired by @sweets4dolls and her Val x bunny!reader smut 🤤 literally so good. He’s so toxic. 10/10 would smash. Go check her stuff out! And I hope you enjoy my stuff too ❤️‍🔥

Notes: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, THIS ENDED UP LONGER THAN EXPECTED OOPS I’m gonna have to excuse myself now, geez 😳

TW: oral s*x (m receiving), DDLG, unsanitary, unprotected s*x, spit, creamp*e, rough, dirty talk, 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Valentino x reader- Superstar 🌟💖

“And cut! That’s a fucking wrap!” Valentino shoots up from his seat so fast his chair tips over behind him as he claps obnoxiously. Boy had stars in his eyes, even his assistant was shocked by his display of pride and admiration. “Damn, baby. That was a helluva show, fuck! That’s why she’s my favorite~” Val smirks as he eyes your figure still up on set, still down on your knees and trembling. He snaps his fingers, yelling out to his back stage crew. “Alright! Come get the vibrator off her, hurry up.”

Yeah…although the scene had ended and the cameras cut at least 2 whole ass minutes ago, you’re still in position waiting for the boss to give you the okay. Down on your knees, hands bound behind your back with thick pink ropes, your pretty lacy lingerie disheveled and drenched in all kinds of different bodily fluids and, of course, Val had one of his most sturdy and powerful vibrators tucked up against your heat, making you grind down against the carpet below you just to get off. The worst part- he made you leave your panties on the whole time. Finally, after a few orgasms had already wracked your body, the vibrating in your crotch disappears, leaving you only half satisfied.

The entire shoot, all he had you do was suck as many dicks as you could, swallowing every single load for the camera. Gagging on cock is hot to some, maybe not to others- but there’s something about how darling you look choking on another demon’s dick that just sets him and his viewers off. Your pretty lashes dusted with tears, your nose and cheeks pink, your forehead shiny with sweat, your bare chest covered in spit and cum, your cheeks and throat stretching to fit every inch. Not that you mind! You’d do anything for Val but damn, you were aching for a real fuck. All the vibrator did was get you prepped and wet and now you need some real friction.

“Everyone, out! Now! I need to talk to (Y/N).” As all his employees scramble to leave the studio, Val walks over to you, still bucking your hips against nothing now. He kneels in front of you, taking your face in his hands. You’ve been staring at his hard on since half way through taping and now that he was right in front of you, dick about to rip through his pants, you feel your walls clenching longingly. “Wow. Holy. Shit.” He lets out a deep chuckle as he stares at your face, your make up smeared under your eyes. “I did okay?” The question has Val scoffing as he looks you up and down, watching as your thighs quiver. “Baby, you did fan-fuckin-tastic. You’re gonna make me so much fucking cash, I’m not gonna know what to do with it!”

With his hands still holding your face, he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, letting his tongue wander into you immediately. You happily tongue him back, leaning into him as you struggle to keep your balance with your hands still tied behind you. Breaking the kiss, his large hands travel down your neck to your chest, his fingers giving your sensitive nipples little squeezes. Val looks down to see you’ve scooted closer to him and you’re still rolling your hips in the hopes of finding something to fill you. He eases your pain by gently thrusting forward, his hard bulge up against your needy crotch for a moment.

“Aww~ I know, amorcito. Such a long shoot with such an empty hole. You must feel so hollow right now, baby. Does my little girl need more?” Nodding frantically, you kiss him again before moaning your pleas into his mouth. “Please, fuck me, Valentino.” His smirk becomes sinister as he leans away, refusing your kisses now. His shift causes you to fall forward into him more, your tits squished against his stomach now. “Ah ah ah. Try again.” His scolding makes you whine, makes tears begin to form in your eyes. “Hmm~ please f-fuck me, daddy~” and within seconds, he’s tearing your once disheveled lingerie completely off of you, your strained voice making his dick twitch.

“Hmm~ yeah, that’s my little superstar.” Within seconds, he had you turned around on your knees once again with your face pressed to the plush red carpet. Val made little effort to remove your panties, leaving them bunched up around your knees. Finally, with your face on the floor, your ass in the air and your throbbing cunt free of the fabric, Val gets a good look at your eager pussy. He yanks off his belt and quickly frees his dick without even pulling his pants down much. He can’t wait much longer and neither can you.

He swiftly leans over, one hand on each of your ass cheeks as he spits on your hole, earning a whine of anticipation from you. With no hesitation, he sits up and thrusts into you all at once, filling every bit of you instantly. “Oh my fucking-“ Val growls loudly as his hands grip your hips, his cock immediately moving at an unforgiving pace. Giving you no time to adjust, he continues to pound into you as he leans forward, putting one hand on the side of your head then forcing it down onto the ground. “Ah~ such a clean little cunt you’ve got, just patiently waiting to be filled by daddy, huh?”

All you can muster up is a collection of moans, whines and gasps. Right as you catch your breath, Val spanks your ass hard and his pace slows. “Use your words~” Despite the stinging hand print on your ass, his voice is soft and sweet, so sultry and exciting. “Yes! Ah- oh! I’ve been waiting for you all day...” Your begging goes straight to his head, pulling a hearty chuckle from him. “You’re such a good girl, amorcito. Always doing exactly what I say, right when I say it. And you do it all sooo welllll~”

His thrusting had stopped completely now and suddenly, his hands are on your shoulders, pulling you up to be parallel with his body. Your back against his chest and you now sitting on his dick, he wraps one of his strong hands around your throat loosely and pulls you back against him before whispering in your ear. “Good girls get to cum sooner. You wanna cum now, baby?” And you couldn’t take it anymore, you began to squirm against him. “Yes, yes! Please keep goinggggg~”

And Val obeys, wrapping his arms around your torso tightly then helping bounce you on his dick. He is so strong, he is literally lifting you completely off of his lap before slamming you back down again, making your stomach bulge as he swelled inside you. A moaning mess covered in sweat, you had lost control of your legs and were now relying on him to keep you going. Now you’ve found yourself thanking the stars that you had done good today and impressed him. He was always willing to service his favorites and this was so worth the wait.

He moved one hand up to your neck again, squeezing it as he pants and growls in your ear. With every up and down of your body, you can feel yourself getting close, your tummy feels so full and your walls won’t stop tightening around his dick. “Yeah~ lemme hear you, mi cariño.”

Moaning at a higher volume now, Val couldn’t hold back anymore and he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, drawing blood. As a squeal leaves you, he keeps his mouth latched to you, still thrusting up into your sopping cunt as he licks the blood away. Finally, once you feel yourself fall off the edge of pleasure, your legs tense up against him and your hands bound behind you were searching for something to grasp. “Oh fuck~! Th-thank you, daddy. Thankyoudaddythankyoudaddythankyoudaddyyyyyyy~!” Your cries are harsh, babbles of appreciation pouring from your dry mouth as Val continues to buck up into you.

Without letting you catch your breath, he pushes you back down into the carpet, your weak body going limp as you lay flat against the ground. Panting and whining still, you squeeze your legs together once you realize he’s not inside you anymore. Not a moment later, Val was gripping your bruised hips and pulling your ass back up in the air. Legs shaking violently, you couldn’t control your loud whining as he thrusts back into you again, resuming the same rapid pace as before. Val grunts and hisses at the feeling of your slick dripping down his thighs now. “Hmmph…gonna cum in you. Gonna fill my pretty girl up.” With a firm slap to your already tender ass, Val lets out a rumbling laugh as you pant into the carpet, tears of overstimulation cascading down your burning cheeks.

Already so fucked, you couldn’t even close your mouth for long enough to form a single word. Your only option was to relax into his grip and enjoy it for as long as he lasts. “F-fuck.” Val stutters out as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. With one final thrust, burying his dick inside you completely, he let out a throaty grunt followed by soft sighs. It nearly brought you to another climax feeling his hot cum spill into you. After a few seconds of being still, Val slowly pumps in and out of you, lewd squishing noises sounding from where your bodies connected.

Another hard smack to the ass is followed by Val slowly pulling out of you with his eyes locked on your swollen pussy the whole time. Glancing back at him, all you could see through the blurry tears in your eyes was his huge, satisfied grin as he watched his thick load dribble out of you. “Mm mm mm. You are so delectable. Such a good girl.”

Without another word, Val stands and pulls his pants up, adjusting himself before fastening his belt. You had since collapsed completely, your body heavy and flat against the floor beneath you. Val stepped over your quivering form and skillfully untied your hands with amazing speed. Your arms came flopping down to your sides as you inhaled fully then exhaled deeply. “Get yourself cleaned up and go rest for the night. I’m gonna need you to do all of that lovely hard work again tomorrow. You can do that for me, right baby?”

“Yes, daddy~”

#hazbin valentino #valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #Valentino hazbin #hazbin hotel valentino #val hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino x you #valentino smut #hazbin smut #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #hazbin hotel smut #val x reader

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splataii · 1 year ago

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kuroo x reader x bokuto

cw: top dom characters, sub bottom male reader, minor voyeurism, praise kink, degradation, double penetration, stomach bulge, use of words "boy pussy" and "boycunt"

sharing is caring hehe.. or maybe teamwork makes the dreamwork? idk lol

imagine frat boy bokuto and kuroo double stuffing their pretty roommate.

they had been arguing like schoolboys earlier over which one of em got to fuck you first.

it's ridiculous really, but in the end, it’s bokuto that gets first dibs on stuffing ur cute ass w his cock.

he promises kuroo a turn later (and he really did mean it), but omfg he just gets too caught up in how fucking good you feel. the way your hole looks as it sucks his dick back in with every thrust, the way you hold your soft thighs open for him, begging for more, the way your nails rake down his strong back when he fucks another load of cum in you.

he absolutely loses any rational, his own whines and moans drowning even yours as he continues rutting into you like a animal in a rut, his only coherent thought to fuck another load in ya till ur stuffed full

and poor lil kuroo’s left to listen to the sound of the headboard banging against the wall with each powerful thrust, jerking his neglected cock for the nth time to the sound of you guys moans, wishing it was him in there splitting you on his cock instead. it's not fair, and he gets real sick of it real quick.

when he finally barges in, you look completely fucked out, and bokuto is still mindlessly fucking his fat dick in you, bruises littering your hips with how hard his strong hands hold you down against the mattress.

damn you iust looked so perfect all fucked out like that, skin glistening with sweat as you laid spread out underneath bokuto. kuroo has a still dazed bokuto lift you off the bed, your hands clinging to his back as the two of em guide your body through it all.

kuroo presses a hand on the small of your back, making you arch for him while bokuto holds your shaky thighs apart.

your eyes widen when you finally realize what's goin on, feeling kuroo’s tip catching on ur already abused hole

“woah.. is it really gonna fit?” you hear bokuto mumbling against your neck as he spreads your ass.

“i’ll make it fit”

you desperately shake your head, squirming in bokuto's arms, but it's like you weigh nothing to him as he keeps you up against his chest, and reassures you not to worry, “shh, you're doing so good for us pretty boy, we’ll take care a you, promise,”

kuroo’s too busy w how good your ass feels around his cock, your boypussy too stretched to even properly clench down around him. he’s basically rambling as he presses kisses to your neck, licking the stray tears off your cheek, “almost there. attaboy, that's it. take that cock, go on n take it f’me,”

they're just soo fucking big, and they love it. how helpless you look in their arms.

you feel like you’ll break in two when you finally feel him fully sheath his cock inside your messy boycunt, bulge protruding from ur cute tummy. they both tease you bout it, pressing their hands against it and jerking their hips up so they can listen to how fucking desperate you get, begging them to finally start moving as they watch their dicks thrust in and outta you.

all you can really do is mindlessly babble as your eyes roll back, drool pooling at your lips as you cum all over your tummy from the feeling of just being filled by them both.

but that doesn't even compare to when they finally start movin and overstimulate your stretched hole, holding you up as they rock you back and forth on their dicks

don't worry, they'll talk you through it<3

bokuto in one ear moaning breathlessly about what a good fucking boy you are, taking their cocks like a champ

and kuroo in the other grunting about how greedy your little fuckhole is. he shoulda known one cock isn’t enough for your slutty ass.

#splataii writes #bottom male reader #bokuto x bottom male reader #kuroo x bottom male reader #sub male reader #x male reader #haikyuu x bottom male reader #hq x bottom male reader

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borathae · 28 days ago

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↳ Index [Day 28 - Sounding]

Pairing: Good Boy!Yoongi x Mommy Hard Dom!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Idol!Yoongi

Kinks: very intense and deep subspace, he is a subby and devoted masochist, hints of enjoying rather rough free use, primal play cause she roughs him up a little and calls him “her prey” hihi, she presses him against the front door and touches him, choking, he also later chokes himself, hair pulling, thigh riding, some very mild CBT with her knee, needy and sloppy making out, she leads him to the bedroom by his tie, oh yeah he is wearing a suit, needy stripping, use of a sensitivity cream, use of a prostate vibrator, male anal play, sounding of his leaky cock, he experiences very intense pleasure, use of a vibrator against the sound, full body squirting orgasms <3, subby boy tears, dirty talk, praise, I just gotta say it again he is in very deep subspace, this is my service Dom dream oh lord, loving aftercare, they’re kinky & in love <3

Wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: click this !nsfw! link if you wanna get a visual. like, i don’t think you guys understand. i’m fucking obsessed with this kink jdfja confession time, i never did it in real life but it looks so fun and i need to do this to a willing subby boy omfg oh lord what the fuckckkckc i need to touch some grass lmaooa

Yoongi in a suit is to die for. Yoongi in a suit tight enough to show off his strong chest and big butt is your official end.

So when he comes home that night, exhausted from an award show and happy to be back with you, you can barely keep your hands to yourself.

Yoongi manages to place the keys down on the dresser and he already has you around him, nuzzling your nose into his neck.

“Hey there superstar, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You give him a little nibble, grabbing his butt unapologetically.

“Oh”, he gasps, tensing up. “What are you doing?”

“Just making sure it’s still there.”

He laughs, looking into your eyes deeply. He is amused by you and enjoys what you are doing, it’s obvious in his look.

“Last time I checked, it was still there. Yeah.”

“Mhm, it is. Mhhhhm it really is”, you coo, rubbing his buttocks unapologetically while you press your chest against his’. You slide your grabby hands between his legs and squeeze.

Yoongi squeaks in surprise, getting on his tiptoes and widening his eyes. He even grabs your shoulders, looking completely disoriented for a second.

“That seems to be still there as well. Mhhm how heavy and warm, my darling”, you rasp, massaging his balls rather disrespectfully. He is wearing very tight briefs in order not to have a weird bulging accident in public. They are very tight and very thin and keep his plumb balls right where they’re supposed to be and oh lord, how easy it is to grab them like this.

Yoongi’s knees buckle slightly, his eyelids flutter for just a second.

“Okay, can we- Ahm, ah, ___ this isn’t my butt”, he gets out.

“I’m aware”, you say matter-of-factly and grab his waist, using his moment of total surprise to twirl him and press him against the door.

Yoongi both squeaks and moans, head hitting the wood against his will as you practically keep him hostage.

“Tell me to leave you alone”, you rasp and Yoongi knows that this is you asking for his consent.

“Please don’t leave me alone”, he begs, giving you everything you needed to know.

You hook your hands in the collar of his suit jacket, ripping it off his body like this. His weakened arms flail for a few moments before you have them pinned against the door.

“Holy fuck Yoongi, you ripped your vest”, you gasp, staring at the ruined fabric of his suit vest.

“My back was too big, I-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you practically steal his breath away by pulling him into a kiss by his hair. His head is tilted back like this, his back is arched.

A tremor of shock and pleasure runs through his entire body, his hands desperately reach behind him to grab your wrists. You tug rather harshly on his hair and his poor little heart can only take that much before it implodes. It also isn’t helpful that you have your knee lifted between his legs, applying rather painful pressure on his cock and balls.

He whines into the kisses, throat working oh so hard to swallow all the drool he suddenly produces.

He had a very stressful and long day. The award show was filled with exhausting social interactions, tiring speeches and way too many noises. There was also his constant need to look presentable in fear of being filmed in an unflattering moment and the constant pressure not to do something that could later be regarded as a “scandal”. Yes, that even includes normal human functions like letting out a little yawn or accidentally zoning out on someone’s face. Truly, his day was long and exhausting and he was so excited to come home to you and be himself again.

He didn’t expect such a greeting and quite frankly, it is way too powerful for him. His toes give up on him, forcing him to sit down on your knee and therefore increase the pressure on his balls. The kiss breaks because he lets out a pained moan.

You eat it up with a hungry growl, digging your hand deeper into his luscious locks. Your other hand slides to his waist, bruising it slightly as you begin guiding his body over your thigh.

“Wait please”, he gets out, collapsing into the door, “wait.” His eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed, “Mommy, wait.”

“How do you expect me to wait when you call me like this? I had to watch you be pretty on stage and I couldn’t do anything about it. Don’t deny me my right to claim you.”

Playing rough is what works for you and him. In the earlier stages of your relationship, when you and he got to know each other’s kinks, you had a long and thorough talk about your dos and don’ts. Playing rough and using the other “whenever” is something you discovered to both like. Honestly, you feel like Yoongi secretly likes it even more than you. He might be whining right now, but his body speaks a different language. He bends and arches it into the most unnatural positions just to get closer to you. His cock is so swollen in his slacks and his balls so plumb against your knee. He gets off on this.

He gets off on the thought that you were practically waiting for him to come home, that he is so desirable to you that you can’t control yourself anymore, that everything you need is him. Yoongi would never admit it, but he loves being desired to the point where you are almost animalistic with him. Sometimes he does something solely to catch your attention and when you react in uncontrollable desire to touch him, Yoongi feels high. A true rush of pleasure however are the moments where he wasn’t trying and you still end up needing him. When those disrespectful, horny touches start, when you are rough with him, when you almost seem to hunt him like prey, Yoongi could honestly climax just from that.

It turns him on so much.

“Mhm Yoongi? Tell me why I should wait”, you stress, digging your fingertips into the back of his neck.

“I don’t know”, Yoongi whines, tilting his head back.

“You don’t know. That’s too bad then”, you hiss, giving him a rough shove.

Yoongi stumbles, arching his back. He mewls, reaching behind himself to pull you into a kiss. You gladly let it happen, shoving your tongue into his mouth and grabbing his chin to keep him pinned. He has to crane his neck like this, feeling his blood pound in his dizzy head. Your grip is so territorial, your kiss so hungry. Yoongi feels like a well-desired price being taken no matter what.

He turns in your possessive hold, hooking his arms behind your head and letting you kiss him as if his taste was your life elixir. He willingly sits down on your knee again, fucking himself needy with sloppy wiggles of his hips. He also willingly lets you claim his throat in an obsessive grip, melting like chocolate in the sun when you apply gentle pressure on his veins. He trusts you with his life, knowing that you are an expert in stealing his breath. Not once did he get the feeling that having your hand around his throat would end badly for him. You know exactly where to hold him, how to choke him, what not to do. This is religious to him. It leaves him vast of air, dizzy and completely at your mercy and he wants to swim in the fuzzy feelings you create in his chest because of it. Granted, he could still breathe because you never apply pressure on his throat, but he still can’t. He holds his breath to kiss you for longer, only fighting for it once his lungs work against his will. And each time he does, you catch your breath as well, tasting every one of his sounds before claiming him again, needier than before.

And soon, oh so very soon, you cannot take it anymore. You abandon his neck for the sole reason of dragging him with you by his tie. You and he kiss sloppily, moaning and groaning into the other’s mouth as you maneuver through your home.

Yoongi gladly lets you drag him around. Quite frankly, you could do whatever you want with him to get him from point A to B. If you decide to drag him around by his hair, he would welcome it gladly. One time, you decided that it was only appropriate to lead him around by his balls and Yoongi had to do everything in his power to not orgasm too soon. He is quite frankly, your devoted, happy puppy who wants to follow you everywhere.

Tonight he really needed it. He needs to follow you into a place of worship, desire and pleasure. It is the only way to leave behind the stressful award show with its stupid rules and social contacts.

His ripped vest leaves him in the hallway. His belt, which was solely decorative, leaves him in front of the bedroom door. His tie gets loosened inside the room and his buttons get messily opened as you push him to the bed. Yoongi feels like a present being unwrapped prematurely, having to work very hard not to climax prematurely himself.

The back of his legs hit the edge. You weakened him so intensely that he collapses with the first contact, falling onto the bed with a squeaky moan. His back hits the mattress, arching off at impact.

You ravish him with needy touches, clawing off his button up shirt and ripping open the fly of his slacks.

A tight compression shirt reveals itself under the button up. His chest and waist look so snatched in it, his nipples protrude through the fabric.

“You wore this underneath all of it?” you gasp.

“I don’t like to go shirtless under button ups”, he whines, writhing in ecstasy when you drag your nails down his chest and stomach.

“I feel like a fucking predator who got its prey. I literally wanna rip you up and eat you.”

“Please”, Yoongi keens, arching his back.

Ever since the beginning, it was clear that he will be the little bunny and you the big bad wolf in your relationship. And he loves it. He dreamed of it for years, thinking to himself that he will never find someone who can actually make him want to submit like this. And then he met you. You are the most wonderful and kind person ever, you are so sweet and loving and so understanding. Yoongi hasn’t laughed like this with anyone ever, he hasn’t felt so safe and so loved. Being your little prey is everything he lives for these days. You make him feel so fucking fulfilled and in return, you feel completely fulfilled yourself.

He is everything you ever dreamed of. He is kind and sweet and unbelievably loving. He makes you laugh and never makes you feel alone. When you aren’t with him, you think of him and when he is with you, you are happy. It has been years and your obsession with him hasn’t shrunk, on the contrary, you love him more and more each day.

“Fuck, I could honestly eat you”, you get out and begin tugging his shirt out of his pants quickly. Yoongi helps you by sitting up and pulling it over his head, dropping into the sheets again afterwards. He stretches his arms over his head, writhing sensually for your viewing pleasure.

He moans loudly when you instantly claim his unmarked skin with your hungry mouth. You kiss and lick him, leaving spots of your devotion wherever he is sensitive. He takes each mark with pride, leaking into his slacks. He becomes more and more yours. Finally he gets to see it as well. He gets to look into the mirror and count each mark of love you left. He gets to trace them and reminisce about how it was to be yours. He is in paradise.

You suck an especially dark hickey right under his belly button.

“Thank you”, he croaks out, unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer.

You let go of him, soothing the pinch with long, deliberate licks.

“Thank you?”

Your hands are on his waist, holding him hostage. You are kneeling on the floor between his legs. Despite your difference in height, it is you who towers over him. At least emotionally. You might be the one looking up at him right now, but there is no ounce of power in Yoongi. He is completely and utterly under you, choking out another “thank you” while his hips roll up against nothing.

“For marking you?”

He nods his head, squirming sensually.

“Fuck. You drive me insane”, you rasp and claim his waist by biting him deeply. Obviously not enough to actually hurt him, but still hard enough to leave a red mark.

Yoongi wails up, twisting the sheets above his head and leaking into his pants so aggressively that he can feel it stick to his skin.

“Mine.” You come up, kissing the tender spot. “All mine. You’re mine.”

“Yours”, he moans, meaning ever single fucking letter of this word. If he could be yours even deeper, he would. Without hesitation. He was independent and a lover for solitude before he met you. Granted, he is still these things, but he is also very clingy and cuddly and obsessed with attention. Yoongi never thought it possible that he could be a lover of such “cheesy” things, but he is. He loves, loves, loves it when you touch him and hold him and make him yours.

You take off his slacks next, dancing your hands up his legs.

“One last chance to stop this”, you tell him, ogling his bulge. His cock practically wants to burst through his briefs.

“I don’t want to stop this, please touch me more”, he begs, lifting his hips.

You take his consent, pulling off his briefs carefully. You throw them to the side, instantly claiming him by marking his thighs as well.

Yoongi mewls, throwing his legs over your shoulders and giving you complete control over them. They are trembling like crazy each time you mark another spot with your love.

Soon you reach his middle and you waste no fucking time. You nuzzle your face into him, inhaling deeply which embarrasses him.

“Don’t do that”, he begs, wanting to go up in flames. You always tell him that you love his scent, but it’s so embarrassing when you smell him like this. His face feels so hot, his stomach is so tight.

You growl and come up for air, meeting his shy gaze. Yoongi has to gulp when he sees the hunger in your eyes.

“If I could, I would bottle your scent so I always have it with me.”

“Stop please”, he begs, closing his legs in embarrassment.

You obviously force them apart again, holding them in a tight grip as you stand up. They slide off your body like this, but still stay in the air as you hold them. You bend them by his knees, slowly forcing them into the sheets beside his body. Yoongi’s ability to breathe gets more and more forgotten the closer to his face you come.

He holds his breath when you are above him. His legs are over your shoulders, his body is bent in half. He is naked, marked and completely vulnerable while you are still completely dressed.

“Don’t be shy, babyboy. You smell like heaven.”

Yoongi pouts and squirms, forcing you to pin him down.

“I want to give you pleasure so good that you will squirt.”

Yoongi gulps. When you don’t continue to speak, he knows that you are waiting for his reaction.

“What do you mean?” he croaks out.

“I want to stimulate your prostate from every possible angle.”

Yoongi whimpers. He truly and honestly whimpers. When he makes noises as such, it is impossible to know that his voice is naturally so deep and raspy.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

He nods his head, wiggling his feet on your back in excitement.

“You also know that I’m gonna be so careful with you, don’t you?”

He nods his head with more vigour.

“So what it’s gonna be? Yes or yes please?”

Yoongi knows that there is a secret third answer called “no” which he can always, fucking always, voice, but it’s still so hot to him that you make it seem as if he had no choice. That you are going to pleasure him no matter what because he is your little price and you take what you want.

“Yes plase”, he gets out breathily, widening his eyes in a beg.

You seem pleased by his answer, giving him an adoring smile.

“I knew that you would be polite. You’re Mommy’s good boy after all.”

“I am”, he whispers, nodding his head.

“Mhm, you are.”

You straighten up, helping him set down his legs. He knows that distance is necessary, but he still aches when you break away from him. He counts the seconds until you are back, reminiscing about all the times you pleasured him like this.

Sounding. This is what you are going to do to him. Yoongi is no stranger to the kink and he definitely didn’t have it before you. You and he discovered it together one night where you managed to slip your pinky finger into his cock as you jerked him off and Yoongi climaxed so hard from it that he saw stars. You did research together, bought toys and practiced until the kink became a regular thing in your bedroom.

It is so much fun and feels so good to both of you. Quite frankly, you have done it so many times already that he can comfortably take the entire sound which allows you to stimulate his prostate from another angle. Yoongi didn’t even know that he could feel it from his cock and he definitely didn’t think that he could orgasm so fucking hard. But of course you proved him wrong. You are an actual goddess after all.

“Hello, I’m back”, you announce your presence, caressing his knees.

Yoongi looks at you, sighing your name.

“I missed you.”

“Of course you did. You’re a little obsessed”, you tease him, making him giggle shyly.

You giggle with him, studying him from head to toe.

“Now”, you begin and pick up a anal vibrator, “let’s get started.”

“Wait. I didn’t clean out.”

“I think it should be alright. I’ll only stick it in and then keep it there. Is this okay for you?”

“Yeah, just promise to keep it in. I’m embarrassed about the…potential dirt.”

You chuckle, “you’re not dirty. It is really okay not to want it.”

“I do”, he whispers, “please, I want it a lot.”

“Well. Okay then, I don’t know why you’re whining.”

He laughs, scrunching his eyes. You know exactly how to rid him of his nervousness. You snicker and kiss his knee then straighten up to prepare him.

You cover the vibrator in a translucent slick, spreading the rest of it on his hole. You apply a little pressure with your fingers, massaging him.

“Oh wow”, he lets out, melting into a puddle.

“Can you feel it working already?” you ask him.

Yoongi closes his eyes, concentrating on the sensations. Your touch is warm, growing in temperature the longer you rub him. Fuck, why is he getting so sensitive? Wait. He knows what that means. He rips his eyes open, moaning helplessly.

“Now, you figured it out. Just a little something to increase the pleasure. You deserve it”, you say, exchanging your fingers with the vibrator. You work it into his overly sensitive hole carefully. The sensitivity cream you use on him is slippery enough to double as lube so you aren’t worried about tears. You do this on purpose to help the cream work even deeper.

“This is so intense”, he croaks, eyes squeezed shut. He can’t handle it any other way. He has to focus on nothing but the increasing pleasure between his legs. You stretch his hole so gently. It doesn’t hurt at all, despite the head of the vibrator being rather girthy. With his eyes closed, everything he exists for is this sensation. The slow, deliberate prodding of his hole and the increasing depth of the toy; it is everything he breathes for right now. It is both so relaxing and incredibly exciting. Yoongi doesn’t know whether to completely melt or tense every single muscle in his body.

“Can you feel that, darling?”

“Feel what?” he sighs.

“That you’ve been taking the entire toy for the last few moments?”

“What?” he breathes and lifts his head.

Your hand is pressed flat to his ass, a telltale sign that his greedy hole swallowed the entire toy.

“I wasn’t aware”, he croaks, rolling his eyes back and dropping his head. He fucks the air, moaning your name.

You chuckle.

“Now you are”, you say and grip the toy by its round base to wiggle it inside him.

Yoongi reacts in tremors of his body and submissive moans. Now that he is aware of the depth of the toy, he swears it is impossible to handle. The sensitivity cream does its job and makes his insides terribly sensitive to stimulation. He swears that he can feel the toy shift inside him. He needed this so bad and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Oh god, this feels so good. I needed this”, he chokes out, hole trembling around the toy as you fuck him slowly.

“Of course you did. I saw how you wiggled your butt when you were dancing. You were just asking to have it fucked, weren’t you?”

Yoongi nods his head because what you say is the truth. He did ask for it to be fucked. It is decided.

“Of course you were. I’m so fucking obsessed with you”, you rasp, rewarding him with side to side wiggles.

“God wow”, he arches his back, “the cream is intense. Oh god.”

“Yeah? Do you feel how I fill you out, mhm?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

“You’re so pretty taking me”, you praise, sending trembles through his legs.

“Stop please, I’m close.”

You cease your movements, soaking up the tensing of his stomach and the little mewl he lets out. Your hands roam his marked thighs, eyes totally entranced by his pretty face.

“Shit, that was close. Ah fuck”, he gets out, writhing from side to side.

“I think you’re gonna have a very hard time lasting long”, you snicker.

“I think you’re correct”, he says, making you laugh.

He laughs with you, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Holy fuck, you have me so ruined”, he mewls, dropping into the sheets in total defeat. “Please, just…more…”

“I can grant you this wish.”

Silence overcomes you as you prepare the sound for him. You use normal lube for it, slathering an insane amount on the metal pole. The sounding toy is a thin metal pole with around six inches of length a good finger’s width of girth. It is slightly textured and has a round tip. It isn’t the first sound you used, but the third one. Yoongi can comfortably take it these days, driving you crazy in the process.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, forcing him to twitch.

You laugh, “this already starts well.”

“I didn’t expect it”, he defends himself.

“Mhm, sure. I think you’re sensitive”, you tease.

You connect the toy with his tip, getting him used to it by rubbing circles around his slit. He became leakier ever since you started engaging in this kink together. Especially when he knows that he is going to get his cock quite literally fucked, his pretty dick can’t stop producing the neediest slick.

“Your pretty hole is so wet, babyboy”, you taunt him, giving him a gentle spank with the toy. “it’s practically asking to get fucked.”

“Please”, he begs, feeling dizzy. There is nothing more powerful than your dirty talk.

“Take a deep breath, I’m starting.”

Yoongi obeys, but struggles when you begin pushing the sound into his small hole. His chest rumbles in desperate noises, lifting up and down quickly.

“Are you comfortable?”

He nods his head.

You push deeper, watching in delight how his pretty cockhead swallows the bulbous head of the toy. The worst part is over. You apply pressure around his shaft, keeping your thumb against his thick vein at the underside of his cock. You can feel the toy entering him when you press against it and you use it to your advantage by massaging him wherever the sound currently sits.

“Slower, please slower.”

“Hurts or close?”

“Close. Fuck, really close.”

“Just keep breathing, baby.”

“I’m trying. Oh god, it feels so good.”

You smile. He is so precious. With a fluttering heart, you fill him deeper, guiding your thumb down his cock as the metal toy fills him up more and more. His vein is bulging wherever the toy already sits, his hole is so puffy around the shaft. He is flushed like crazy, constantly leaking new slick. It seems to become more and more the deeper you enter him, almost as if he is trying to make space for you by getting wet.

“One fourth left, babyboy. How are you doing?”

“Aha, yeah, mhm ah”, he lets out, nodding his head. He doesn’t need to say more. It is so obvious to you that he is in paradise.

You would be correct with your assumption. Yoongi is so far gone, existing only for the pleasure. Now, he has to be honest, getting his cock penetrated is intense. It stretches a hole which wasn’t meant to be stretched and fills insides which were never meant to be filled. It doesn’t hurt, but it is also isn’t entirely comfortable. It is intense and addicting and you do it so well that he feels far away.

There is sudden pressure deep in his body. Yoongi can describe it as a mixture of having the intense urge to pee and someone pressing a finger against his prostate at the same time. He knows that it is because you reached the end of his cock, now pressing the sound right against his prostate. One wrong move and it would hurt, but you know what you are doing.

Because the toy is so deep inside him, it can stay at the right spot without having to be held. You run your hand up his cock, picking it up to jerk it off.

“Mommy, holy fuck”, he presses out, following it up with a guttural moan and his hips lifting off the sheets. The handjob moves his cock over the toy, sending constant pleasure through his shaft. It is indescribable. When his cock is stuffed, he can feel orgasmic pleasure in his entire cock and balls. When you give him a normal handjob, it only feels orgasmic on his tip, but with the sound deep inside him, every inch is sensitive.

Yoongi is restless on the sheets, moaning from the bottom of his heart.

“Yeah, holy fuck. You look so pretty, it’s insane”, you agree, voice raspy in desire. You put your other hand on his balls, pressing your thumb against where you can feel the sound inside him. You draw circles on the spot, focusing your handjob on his tip for now.

“Stop! I’m gonna cum, stop it please.”

You wrap your fingers around his base, rubbing your other hand on his thigh.

“Breathe baby, breathe.”

Yoongi obeys shakily, burying his own hands in his hair.

“What the fuck is wrong with me tonight? Holy fuck, I feel like a fucking virgin.”

“That’s hot. Holy hell, you say the sexiest stuff.”

You pick up a slow rhythm, having to stop it again when he flinches and begs you for a break. You let him breathe through it, holding his cock.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive.”

“That’s alright. Just say the word and I’ll make all of this stop. You can get what you want most.” You rub his balls, tracing the sound deep inside him. “It’s gonna be intense though, I can’t promise you that you won’t see stars.”

“Please”, Yoongi writhes as he willingly sacrifices himself to your enchanting touch.

“Please release me or please stop? Use your words, babyboy.”

“Please Mommy, make it stop.”

“Make it stop. I understand. Hold your cock for a moment.”

Yoongi obeys, following you with droopy eyes as you seem to get a third toy. You are hidden behind a blurry veil of unspilled tears and drugged senses.

Suddenly there are vibrations. Deep, deep in his ass and right against his prostate. Yoongi curls up as if he was punched in the gut, moaning the same way too. The tears escape his eyes and you disappear behind even more blurriness as he loses the ability to focus his eyes.

He is glad that you replace his hand around his cock. His muscles are too weak, working only to bring his shaky hand to his own throat. He chokes himself, lost to the pleasure and so far away. The only thing clear is the electricity inside his stomach and your voice as you talk to him.

“That’s my boy. Choke yourself for me.”

Another buzzing joins the one of the prostate vibrator. Seconds later, he feels unbearable pleasure in his entire cock as you press a wand vibrator against the metal sound. The vibrations go down the entire rod, forcing the round tip to shake against his prostate. You intensify it by running your unoccupied hand up and down his balls and cock, forcing the toy to shift and move inside him.

You promised him relief, but this is insanity. You never did that before. You sounded him, used a prostate toy but not like this. Not with vibrations and at the same time.

Yoongi isn’t a very loud person. Even in bed he is on the more quiet site. You get purrs and whines and moans, but they never go past a certain volume. Yoongi is a quiet and reserved person or so he thought.

Because right now, you are making him genuinely scream. He never did that before, hell, he didn’t even think that he had it in him, but he has to. The orgasm you make him experience takes over his entire fucking body. It never felt like this before. It shouldn’t even be possible to feel like this, but it does and he has to scream because of it.

He cums all over the rod, throbbing and convulsing with such intensity that he manages to squeeze it out of himself all by his own. It glides against the wand, shaking because of the vibrations which only makes it more intense. The last inch hurts as the round head slips past his swollen slit. The relief is instant. Clear liquid squirts everywhere, ruining not only the sheets but his body as well.

“Yes baby, squirt for me. That’s it”, you talk him through it, helping him ride out his most intense orgasm ever by jerking off his empty cock and pressing the wand against his overly sensitive tip.

It is not a surprise that Yoongi begs you to stop once his orgasm dies down. You didn’t expect him to go again, not after what you just witnessed. You turn off the vibrators and instantly scoop him up on your arms, holding him safely as he twitches helplessly.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here”, you whisper to him, playing with his hair and rubbing his shaking back.

“What did you do to me? Oh god I can’t stop shaking”, he gets out, sobbing quietly as the intense afterglow overwhelms him.

“Shhh it’s okay, darling. I’m right here. Let it happen, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Yoongi seeks your embrace, cuddling so close to you it feels as if he is trying to merge with you. He can’t talk a lot at first, recovering with little noises and shaky breaths. You let it happen, holding him until he feels ready to face you.

And oh, how he faces you, how he looks up at you as if you were his fucking everything. His wet eyes let you know that he cried, his cheeks and nose are still flushed, his once neat makeup is smeared and messy.

You give him a smile, caressing his cheek tenderly.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me, but please don’t ever stop”, he whispers, voice shaky in emotion.

“Did you like it that much?”

He nods his head, “you just made me fucking scream. I, I never screamed before. I felt it with my entire body. I don't know what happened to me. What, what’s still happening to me.”

You smile, dropping your forehead against his. Yoongi closes his eyes, chasing your affection by rubbing his nose against yours.

“You make me happy when you talk like this, my love”, you whisper.

“I’m happy too, so fucking much.”

You smile and kiss his nose. Yoongi chases the tenderness, twisting the front of your shirt with weak fingers.

“Please promise me that we are forever”, he whispers. “I think you would fucking break me if you ever left.”

“God, I really got you good tonight. My sappy romantic, you”, you smile as you talk, pulling him closer, “the only way I’m gonna leave you, Min Yoongi, is if someone claws me off of you against my will.”

He chuckles and holds you close, “good. That’s fucking good. Ah fuck, I’m done. This was so intense.”

“It really was. You made a total mess of the bed.”

“I know. I think my soul left my body.”

You snicker, he snickers as well, kicking his feet happily.

“Gosh you, I could seriously eat you.”

Yoongi purrs, smiling goofily and stubbing your lips with his nose. You take his silent plea for more nose kisses instantly, nibbling on it gently which makes him giggle and squirm happily.

Quite frankly, he will endure all the annoying award shows in the world if it meant that he can come home to you and find his rebirth in the palms of your healing hands.

183 notes · View notes

zosin-ya · 10 days ago

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11 - ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

Summary: It had been weeks since you had talked to Law, feeling drained from the past events. You needed time to figure the relationship out, which caused you to run away from talking completely and be confronted with a storm, none of you were ready to face.

tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, angst, a lot of tears baby, confessions,

a/n.: I wanted to write about Law expressing more intense emotions, hope all of you enjoy this cuz I rewrote this so many time ;; (i fkn cried writing this omfg send help;;)

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

The last two weeks had passed in a haze. You couldn’t quite put words to it. Somewhere between numbness and exhaustion. Since that incident at the ceremony, you kept your distance towards Law, hoping time might help you make sense of things.

Slowly however, you started to question whether this thing with him was worth pursuing. You knew being with Law wouldn’t be easy. You were ready to face any storm he was battling. But the way Law kept you at arm’s length—never letting you in, yet exposing you to his world without a warning—cut deeper than you’d expected. The idea of ending things twisted painfully in your chest; you didn’t want to let him go. But maybe it was for the best… or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t.

“Miss Y/N!”

The sharp voice jolted you back to reality and ripped you out of your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see the clinical professor staring you down through her thin glasses, an impatient expression on her face. You felt the eyes of your classmates on you as well, and even the patient in the hospital bed, a faint trace of amusement in his gaze. Your stomach twisted with embarrassment as heat crept up your neck.

“I asked you a question,” the professor said, her tone laced with disapproval. “If you’re serious about becoming a doctor, you don’t have the luxury of drifting off in your head.”

The comment stung, and you forced yourself to hold her stern gaze, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

“Apologies, Professor,” you replied, quickly gathering your focus. “For a Pseudomonas infection, kanamycin.”

The professor’s expression softened slightly as she nodded, and a flicker of approval crossed her face. You’d gotten it right—barely.

Clinic hours were proving to be tougher than you’d expected. Instead of simply memorizing facts, you were constantly moving from one department to another, shadowing doctors, working alongside nurses, and having to think on your feet with real patients in front of you. Every case was a test of your knowledge and intuition, and every question was a reminder that this wasn’t just theory—it was real.

And there was clearly no space to be distracted by personal matters.

With a quiet sigh, you finished up your tasks and left the patient’s room together. The professor gave you a few last-minute reminders, her voice fading into the background as you fought off the wave of fatigue. All you could think about was going home, collapsing onto the couch, grabbing something to eat, and letting your mind go blissfully blank.

As you made your way back to the lockers to hang up your white coat and grab your belongings, a flash of movement caught your eye.

You paused, squinting down the hall, and felt your stomach twist. Just for a second, you thought you saw him. Law.

He passed by with a group of students, their chatter filling the hallway as he trailed a few steps behind. You couldn’t see his face, but his posture told the story—you could tell he was drained. You’d come to know him well enough to notice the subtle signs.

You felt a pang of concern. A part of you wanted to walk over, to stop him, maybe even say something. But then the memories from the ceremony flooded back, bringing with them a surge of tension, of unresolved words and feelings. You hesitated, torn between the impulse to reach out and the instinct to keep your distance.

In the end, you turned away, your heart heavy as you continued down the hallway. The hospital doors closed behind you, a finality that sank in as you stepped into the cool evening.

The walk home was uneventful, the same routine of passing streetlights and faded storefronts. By the time you reached your apartment, you felt like you’d run on autopilot the whole way. You kicked off your shoes, let your bag slide off onto the floor, and grabbed your phone to order takeout. Cooking was out of the question tonight.

The moment you hit the order button, a thought flashed through your mind: there was a chance Law could be the one delivering it. You were pretty sure he still worked that job. For a brief, dizzying second, your heart skipped, a mix of nerves and anticipation stirring in your chest. But you quickly suffocated the feeling, refusing to let your thoughts linger on him. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just an order—nothing more.

“Ah, fuck it,” you muttered, flopping onto the couch with a heavy sigh. You weren’t about to change your plans just because of the awkward, unresolved tension hanging between you two. You knew a conversation was inevitable, but for now, avoiding it seemed easier.

A few quiet minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last, until the doorbell rang, making you jump. You cursed under your breath—maybe you weren’t as good at pretending as you’d thought. The thought that Law might stand in front of your door made you freeze at the spot. The seconds dragged as you sat there, heart pounding, almost daring yourself to ignore it. But the bell rang again, sharper this time, each chime pulling you closer to the reality you were trying to ignore.

You took a deep breath, got up, and crossed the room, your pulse hammering louder with every step. What would you say if he was there? Would he say something, or ignore you completely? Each footfall seemed to echo the questions swirling in your mind, but you shoved them down, focusing on the task at hand. With one last inhale, you gripped the handle and pulled the door open.

...it wasn’t him.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment washed over you as you started at the stranger, hitting harder than you’d expected. You let out the breath you’d been holding, managing a polite smile.

The delivery person gave you a confused look, irritated by how you had just swung open the door and seemed relieved.

Weird chick, he thought, yet stretched out the warm paper bag of food towards you and waited for you to pay.

You took the bag and handed over the money with your usual tip before closing the door. For a moment, you simply stood there, as your heart was slowly settling back to it's calm rhythm. Did you actually want him to show up? You’d been so anxious about it, and yet… here you were, feeling let down that some random guy brought you your food.

Why hadn’t you reached out to him, did you want things to end like this? Law had tried more than once, always patient, until you’d finally told him you needed some time. And, true to his word, he’d respected that boundary, hadn’t pushed or chased after you, as if he understood you better than you understood yourself.

Setting the food on the coffee table, you absentmindedly grabbed your phone and opened your chat with him. The last message was from Law, two weeks ago. Just a single word: "Ok."

Nothing more.

You bit your lip, staring at the empty message box, fingers hovering over the keys. Before you could think about it, your fingers moved on their own.

You typed a simple “Hey,” then deleted it. Typed a different message, something longer, only to erase that too. You could practically feel the weight of the unsent messages pressing down on you, the silence between you two growing louder.

Avoiding him had only made reaching out harder. Now here you were, caught in a web of your own hesitations, unable to even send a god damn text. The thought of finally talking it all through tightened its grip on you, a knot of anxiety you couldn’t shake. You stared at the empty message box, frustrated with yourself, wondering when—if—you’d ever find the words.

“Fucking hell…” you muttered, letting your head drop, shoulders sagging under the weight of this shitshow. You were on the verge of losing him, and that thought scared you more than you’d allowed yourself to admit. You didn’t want things to end, not like this. But you needed answers—an explanation that only Law could give you. And you’d never get it if you kept silent.

A flicker of courage rose within you, shaky but determined.

You typed out a simple, “Can we talk?” and hit send before anxiety could tighten its grip on you again. The message was out there, hanging in the ether between you, irreversible.

Staring at the screen, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat growing louder, more urgent, as you waited. You couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing, a nervous twitch you couldn’t shake. Your eyes stayed glued to the phone, biting your nails, praying he wouldn’t leave you hanging.

A minute passed. Then another. Five minutes.

This was torture.

Frustrated, you tossed your phone aside, hoping the noise of the TV would drown out the growing anxiety. But it didn’t. Your appetite had vanished, and the food sat untouched on the coffee table as you mindlessly flicked through streaming services. Every few minutes, you glanced at your phone, your stomach sinking each time the screen remained dark.

An hour passed, then another. It was getting late, and the hope that he’d respond had dimmed. You were just about to turn off the TV and drag yourself to bed when your phone finally lit up.

"When?"

The message startled you so much that you almost crashed against your coffee table as you reached for your phone. Heart pounding, you unlocked it, fingers hovering as you processed his reply. Before you could reply, the typing bubbles appeared, and you held your breath, leg bouncing in anticipation.

"I have time if it’s not too late."

“Now?”

A pause. Then, simply: "Yea."

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as you stared at his response. This was it. The nerves churned in your stomach, but you felt a small spark of relief—he was willing to talk. You didn’t know where this would go or if it would make things any clearer, but at least you wouldn’t be sitting in silence anymore.

“I'm home. Come over.”

Law arrived quickly. You opened the door, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt heavy, thick with all the words that lingered but hadn’t yet found their way out. His eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you before he looked down.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“...hi."

He slipped off his shoes with a familiar ease but without his usual energy, and you gestured toward the couch. He nodded, moving past you, the faint sound of his footsteps almost disappearing into the silence. You followed, sitting down beside him, both of you careful, leaving a strange, deliberate space between you on the cushions.

Now that he was here, you saw him more clearly. Law looked… rough. Dark circles sat under his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and a stubble cast a shadow over his jaw. His eyes were dull, as if they couldn’t bear the weight of whatever he was holding inside. His shoulders slumped, the tension in his frame draining him.

A tense silence stretched between you, filling the room with a charged stillness. Law’s gaze was fixed on his lap, his fingers tracing slow, restless circles on the back of his hand. At first glance, he looked calm, almost still, but a closer look revealed the tension woven into his every movement.

Finally, he drew in a shaky breath, the silence cracking as he let out a heavy sigh. He forced himself to look up, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was low, almost hoarse. “For what happened. For all of it.”

You stayed silent, arms wrapped around yourself as you pulled your legs close. The memory of that day crept back, clear and sharp—the way he’d exposed you to his family’s turmoil without any warning, leaving you to navigate a situation you hadn’t been prepared for. As much as it pained you to see him like this, you still needed answers.

“I’m sorry about…” Law continued, his voice faltering. “...about leaving you alone in that situation.”

You tilted your head slightly, absorbing his words. It wasn’t quite what you’d hoped for. Law, who seemed to understand others so well, still struggled so much with his own emotions. You’d expected him to say more—to address the actual issue.

“...That’s it?” you asked, voice soft but pointed.

Laws eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked almost hurt, like he hadn’t realized how his apology might come up short. He blinked, seemingly searching for what else he could tell you, but for once, he was at a loss. He had two full weeks to think what to say, and the only thing he came up with was a cheap sorry.

“I know what I did was wrong. Just… give me some time to work on it. Please.” His voice softened, almost pleading, his gaze searching yours for a sign of forgiveness.

More time? You bit your lip, hesitating, and the silence seemed to weigh on him, making him sink even deeper into himself. Everything depended on what he had to say, and the start of this conversation wasn't convincing you yet.

“I’ve been patient with you, Law. But … I’m not sure. I don’t even know what we are.” You gave him a sad, brittle smile that faded almost as soon as it formed.

He leaned forward, desperation flickering in his eyes. “You know I care about you,” he said, his voice thick, as if willing you to understand. But his words felt hollow in the face of everything that had happened. This wasn't what you wanted to hear. It was the same answer you had gotten at the ceremony.

“Do I?” Your voice starting to quiver as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The frustration of him being so emotionally dense was finally catching up to you. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. You left me to fend for myself, in a situation you knew I wasn’t ready for.” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away, holding his gaze steady with a simmering mix of pain and defiance.

Fuck.

He was making it worse. Law closed his eyes and let his hand run over his face as if the weight of his own mistakes pressed down on him. Why couldn't he get this right? He wanted to fix this, truly, but he couldn't find the right words to convince you. “I know,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I messed up, alright? But it’s not easy for me.”

"Easy for you?" Your voice trembled as you took a shaky breath, forcing the words out even as anger and hurt fought to spill over. You couldn't believe what you just heard. Was he serious?

"You didn't tell me how fucking crazy your ex was, so crazy that she'd put me into danger just to make sure I was out of the picture. Or that your parents didn’t even know I existed, that they’d look down on me and my friends. And then there’s...,” you said, voice wavering. “There's the way your family looks at Yuki, like she’s everything I’m not. You threw me into all of this without a warning, without even a way to defend myself!"

Law’s expression crumpled, torn between guilt and helplessness as he slightly flinched at every point you made. Valid ones, he had to admit. He looked away, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles went white. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly wrestling with himself before muttering, “I never wanted it to happen this way.”

“If you actually cared about me, you could have just told me!” You threw your hands up, unable to hide the frustration building inside you, the desperate feeling that no matter what you said, he was refusing to hear you. “If you would have told me I could have prepared myself! I wouldn’t have followed Yuki blindly, I wouldn’t be so fucking hurt at what your parents said! Non of their behavior is your fault, but you made it worse by hiding this from me!”

“Okay, what if I fucking tell you, huh?” Law’s voice rose, the edge sharp, almost dangerous. His eyes flashed, but you didn’t look away, holding your ground. “Tell you how fucked up this whole situation is?” He let out a bitter laugh, almost scoffing at the thought. “You think I’m going to drag you into this shit? This is my burden. I carry it. Not. You.”

His words hung in the air, a raw, jagged tension between you two. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, as if he was trying to push you away—to protect you, or maybe to protect himself.

As much as his words made sense to him, you could see right through them. You knew the damage he was causing by holding onto this alone, and you aimed your response straight at the heart of it.

A scoff escaped you as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “You didn’t drag me in, you threw me into the fire for fucks sake! Multiple times! You are hurting others by trying to handle it alone, can’t you see?“

Your words seemed to knock the wind out of him. His whole posture shifted—his shoulders sagged, his jaw unclenched, and the fire in his gaze softened as he looked at you, stunned, as if he’d never considered this before.

He was hurting you. He’d done this to you.

You could see it—how torn he was. He didn’t want to hurt you, but something deep inside kept him from letting you in. His eyes flickered around the room, as if he could find the answer somewhere in the empty spaces. But there was no escape. He was trapped, caught between the fear of losing you and the fear of letting you get too close.

Swallowing hard, you pushed on. “Why?” you asked, desperate, the question trembling as it escaped. “Why is it so impossible for you to let me in?”

Law stayed silent, but you could see him tense up, his composure unraveling with each word you spoke. His leg bounced restlessly, and his brows knitted together in frustration. It was as if every sentence you spoke struck a nerve, pressing him closer to a breaking point he clearly wasn’t ready for. But you didn’t give in.

“Seriously?” You let out a bitter laugh, a shaky, painful sound as tears streamed over your face. “You’ve had two weeks to think about this, and you still can't tell me?“

He exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at you, as if his mind was already miles away, trying to escape the conversation. His fingers dug into his knee, and his jaw clenched, but you didn’t waver.

„Why even try to fix something if you can't give me an answer! Why are you even here, Law?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay!”

It ripped out of him like it hurt to say, as if every syllable was dredged up from some dark place he’d kept locked away. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and the walls he’d held up for so long were suddenly, violently crumbling.

You froze, his confession hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. For a moment, you were lost. Completely speechless.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, pulling at it, as he struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions. His voice, now quieter but still shaking with intensity, softened, almost pleading.

"I love you...," he repeated, barely a whisper now, but the words were filled with so much pain it felt like they could break you. "And I can’t… I can’t let you drown in this with me. I can’t watch you suffer with me."

Law took in a shaky breath, you could see tears forming in his eyes, before he hid his face in his palms.

"I don't want you to see me like this-” He broke off, his voice thick with self-loathing, muffled as he whispered, “I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I can barley handle it, how are you supposed to?”

He was unraveling, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Every word seemed to crack something deeper within him, and he looked up, desperation spilling over.

The look he gave you was everything—so broken and vulnerable, that you knew, it would be burned into your memory forever. You saw it then, in his glassy eyes, the battle he was fighting, the fear he couldn’t outrun, the love he didn’t know how to handle nor believed he deserved.

“I want to protect you not hurt you, I-” He shook his head, not able to speak as choked sobs left his throat.

You moved closer, hesitantly reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. Law stiffened, the tension practically vibrating from him, his shoulders hunched, fists still clenched. But he didn’t pull away.

“Law,” you said softly, feeling your own tears slipping down your cheeks. “This isn’t handling it. This is letting it destroy you.”

He looked at you, eyes wide and filled with an almost childlike vulnerability. There was no resistance left, no armor, only the shattered young man he was.

“Let me help you carry it. I can’t stand by and watch you tear yourself apart, just because you think you have to go through it alone.”

He closed his eyes, tears still slipping down his cheek as he let out a broken, shuddering sob. Your words hit deep, right where it hurt the most. He hid his face in his palms again as shame washed over him. He never wanted you to see him like this. But Law couldn't control it any longer. It was too much.

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as if anchoring him to solid ground.

“Hey… I’m here,” you whispered softly, one hand stroking gently through his hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

Seeing him like this, so raw and vulnerable, hurt to witness—but it also felt like a bittersweet gift, a piece of him he’d never shown anyone else.

You held him close for what felt like forever, letting him pour out everything he’d kept buried, everything he’d held back for so long. His broken sobs, the way his breathing came in ragged gasps, and the warmth of his tears soaking into your shoulder—all of it shattered your heart. Every sound and shudder cut deeper, each one a reminder of the weight he’d been carrying alone.

But you knew you had to hold steady, to be his anchor. Right now, he needed your strength. So you tightened your grip, pressing a gentle hand against his back, letting him know without words that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere.

As Law’s breathing finally steadied after a whil. You loosened your hold on him and slowly pulled away, giving him some space. He rubbed his eyes as he glanced down, a flicker of shame shadowing his gaze. His vulnerability lay bare, and you could tell how uncomfortable it made him, exposing himself like this.

But to you, it was anything but uncomfortable. You reached up and gently cupped his face, your thumbs brushing softly over the rough skin of his cheeks, grounding him. You gave him a small, reassuring smile, letting him see the love in your eyes—the acceptance, the gratitude that he’d let you into this part of him.

“Hey…” you whispered, your voice gentle as you held his gaze, unflinching. “I love you too.”

He looked back at you, and slowly, a weak but genuine smile broke through his exhaustion. He gave a small nod, leaning into the warmth of your touch, his shoulders finally relaxed. And as he let himself fall into the moment, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a kiss so soft and tender, it made your heart ache. It was a promise, an unspoken vow to stand by him through whatever storm lay ahead.

“I won't do this again...I promise.” Law’s voice was tentative, a hint of vulnerability still lacing his words. He knew he owed you more—a real explanation of the tangled mess of his past relationships and complicated family. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but he was determined to get everything out this time, to rip off the bandages before another wound formed. He couldn’t risk putting you in another situation where his silence hurt you.

You nodded slowly. The weight of the conversation hung between you, leaving both of you visibly drained—but Law looked even worse. His eyes were bloodshot from the tears he’d shed, and he was still letting out soft, stifled breaths. He seemed calmer now, the tension in his shoulders released, but he was unmistakably exhausted.

For a while, you both just sat there in silence, staring at the blank TV screen.

“Wanna go to bed?” you asked quietly, your voice soft and reassuring. Law’s gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, something like relief washed over his face.

He couldn’t believe he’d almost lost you because he’d been too closed off, too guarded. His head was still a mess of thoughts, spiraling in countless directions, but he was too worn out to follow any of them. He just nodded and got up with you.

He followed you down the hall, each step heavy and slow, and the confidence he usually carried seemed to be missing. You knew that tonight’s talk hadn’t solved everything—far from it—but it was enough for now.

When you reached the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed as you rummaged through your closet. You found a pair of his spare clothes and tossed them over to him.

Law caught them, looking almost… surprised.

“What?” you asked, a little confused by his expression.

He shrugged, looking down at the clothes in his hands. “Just… kinda thought it was over between us. Figured you’d thrown my stuff out by now.”

You let out a sigh, sitting down beside him. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it,” you admitted. You weren’t holding a grudge against him; you were just hurt. Seeing his things around the apartment while there was so much tension between you had been painful, but even then, you hadn’t wanted to let go completely.

Law twisted the fabric between his fingers, seemingly a bit lost in thoughts as you watched him. His shoulders rose and sank as he let out a sigh.

“Guess I’m just… used to different shit,” he muttered with a short, bitter laugh.

You scooted closer to him, your hand lightly touching his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t rare for me to have to grab my stuff off the street after a fight… with her.” He kept his eyes fixed on the clothes in his hands, as though they brought back memories. He wasn't sure if mentioning his Ex was the right thing to do, yet after the conversation he was so drained it just slipped out of his system.

You blinked in surprise. You’d heard bits and pieces about his ex—never anything good—but you’d never understood why he’d stayed with her or endured the emotional punishment she put him through. Law was sharp; he could read people better than anyone. So why had he missed it with her?

“Why?” you asked softly, not accusingly, just… curious. “Why did you stay with her?”

Law’s gaze drifted, his shoulders slumping slightly. Though he wasn’t one to open up nor understand his own feelings too well, he seemed to have thought about this one a lot, maybe even rehearsed the answer to himself. “I met her when someone in my family got sick,” he murmured, a distant look in his eyes. “Guess it was… desperate times.”

You swallowed and didn’t press further. Instead, you watched as he stood up and pulled his hoodie over his head, folding it with that meticulous care he always had. Then, to your surprise, he went on, as if talking helped ease the ache a little.

“It was my sister,” he said, his voice softer now. “There was no cure. And I’d just started uni, miles away from home. I met her around that time. She was…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “She was a distraction. Gave me comfort when I was too far from my own family. But things… fell apart after my sister passed.”

You felt the weight of his words settle in, understanding now just how much he’d been carrying. The realization hit you hard, and you understood what he meant with not wanting you to drag you down with him.

This was heavy, and you felt it.

“Law…” you whispered, voice choked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

He nodded and sat back down beside you, running a tired hand through his hair. You deserved to know, especially after what happened moments ago. Even though, exposing himself like this, twisted his gut.

Silence between you settled. Law couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to leave you speechless. He wanted to tell you about his sister one day, but not like this. Seeing you at a loss for words was exactly what he feared.

Fuck, why did I tell her this out of nowhere?

His teeth grazed the inside of his cheek as doubt crept in. He was starting to feel uneasy about opening up. He could see the empathy in your eyes, the way you seemed to feel even a small piece of his pain—he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to pull you down with him or make you feel sorry for him.

But then, you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, pulling him back from that spiral of doubt. “You should tell me more about your sister sometime." Your touch, light and reassuring, calmed him, and your smile—warm and unwavering—let him know that you could handle this. You weren’t going to pity him or wallow in his grief; you were here to help him bear it, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

It was like you were telling him that his memories could stay, just as they were—the good ones to cherish and the bad ones to heal from, but not to hide.

A soft, almost shy smile crept onto his face, the edges of his mouth lifting in a way that was both loving and grateful.

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