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fushitoru · 29 days ago

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finish her! a toji fushiguro oneshot

pairing ⸺ wrestler!toji x reader

summary ⸺ you will have to face one of the most formidable wrestlers in history in your next match: toji fushiguro. but don't be confused, this isn't normal wrestling⸺no, it's nude wrestling. and winner gets the spoils of the other's body! (extended ver of my toji drabble here) creds to @/reynisxxsimart on twitter for art!

warnings ⸺ nasty, NASTY smut, VERY public sex, WWE but pornhub edition, you’re a wrestler fighting toji, so some violence but nothing graphic, fem!reader, HUMILIATION, degradation, you're literally fucked in an arena of people, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (f! recieving), boobplay, very inaccurate depiction of wrestling/WWE, not edited we die like toji

a/n im going to sit in the corner and think about what i just wrote

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

the muffled sounds of the crowd’s deafening roar seem to swirl in the space around you, each cheer vibrating through your chest like distant thunder. you take a long, cool sip of water, a welcome contrast to the warm air backstage. lounging back, you let the chair support your weight, your muscles still humming with the residual tension of anticipation. utahime’s fingers work into your shoulders, and her voice filters through the buzzing atmosphere, calm and steady as she gives you a rundown of the night ahead, though her words seem to blur slightly at the edges—just background noise to the constant hum of adrenaline.

“in front of a crowd—do you understand? and the rules are no fucking, unless all clothes are off first.”

“right,” you affirm, albeit hesitantly. you’re feeling a bit jitterish in anticipation of what’s to happen, despite having trained months to hone your ability as a wrestler. look, wwe itself can get really suggestive at times, with people giving wedgies, removing certain articles of clothing, or even letting the crowd cop a feel of the defeated to serve as humiliation. not only does it improve publicity, but it also increases viewership of all the horny bastards on the internet to circle the televised clip around in their subreddits or discord servers.

but what you were going to do today—that was a bit…extreme. it was like bridging the gap between soft core and hard core, with the humiliation turned up to a hundred. because today, you were going to wrestle the man that all female–and male–wrestlers could even dream of having their hands on, even if for a slight moment.

toji fushiguro.

a man of impressive build—entering a ring with him only meant defeat. he’s had numerous career wins, far exceeding any other. hell, you shouldn’t even be matched to wrestle with him today; he outweighs and outranks you by far. the only thing you really have running for you is the sheer amount of fans you have, ready to tune in to your fights and edit your moves and time spent in the fighting ring to songs like “chun li” and “maneater.” so, sure, you don’t exactly anticipate a win today in that stadium that’s waiting for you, but you’re no less of a wrestler in your own right. you won’t go down without a fight.

however, today was no normal fight. the wwe had suddenly decided that their viewership was too low, that extreme measures needed to be taken to boost. so, ironically enough they had decided to change the rules just before your momentous match:

all wrestlers must consent to having all and any articles of clothing removed from their person, particularly for sexual intercourse as a reward for the winner.

so, WWE (Pornhub’s Version) (In The Vault).

and your luck dictated that this paradigm shift for the organization occur just before your most anticipated match with toji. again, you knew that no amount of training could prevent you from getting utterly humiliated, but it was almost like the gods were laughing down on you, eager to rub in your impending defeat once more. because you were going to get your shit fucked up—-literally.

“it’s going to be fine,” utahime assures you, and you snap back to the present from your thoughts at the sound of her voice. “just think about the publicity this’ll get you! not that you don’t have any fans of yourself, but there are going to be a lot of people tuned in because of fushiguro.”

you take an inhale in and nod. “yea, that’s true. i just want to get it over with.”

as if answering your prayers, gojo satoru, the mc, burst into your dressing room. “it’s your time to shine, buttercup!” he grins, ushering you out the door. albeit a bit nervously, you stand up and make your way into the hallway that leads directly into the middle of the arena. “you’re going to do great!”

as soon as you walk closer and closer to the arena, the screams get louder and louder, the music booming and causing the floor under you to vibrate. the sounds of people surround all your senses, wrapping you up and causing your heartbeat to go faster and faster.

reaching the end of the hallway, the arena is filled with light, and you have to blink to get a hold of your sight. surrounding the center boxing ring are stands upon stands of people, hustling and bustling. at the sight of you, cameramen stationed around in various spots through the arena furiously angle their cameras towards you. not only are journalists and the media snapping pictures, blinding you with the flash, but you see yourself displayed on the big screens visible to everyone in the arena. you smile and wave, causing your fans to scream as they register that you have walked in.

then, a realization washes over you. these are the same screens that are going to be projected whatever's going to happen during the fight and when you lose.

oh god.

you walk forward, trying to keep up your smile and wave to all of your fans that outstretched their hands, trying to cop a feel and/or get a high five. most of your fans are male (to no one's surprise), and you can feel their eyes roving over you appreciatively, taking in your outfit. it was simple and tight; shorts that just barely covered your ass and was snug around your hips, and a low cut top that couldn't even be called a top. your cleavage was on full display, and the top stopped just below your waist. typically, this is your wrestling attire you wear to a normal match, but you couldn't help but wryly notice that today, your neckline was cut lower than usual. the wwe was really trying to milk this, huh?

you stood just below the boxing ring, eyes anxiously scanning the arena, unconsciously searching for the man you were set to fight. but no matter how hard you looked, you couldn't spot his tall, muscular figure either in the ring or in the seat he was supposed to occupy with his manager.

a light tap on your shoulder startled you, and you turned to find utahime behind you, a concerned look on her face. "everything alright?"

"yeah," you said, waving her off with a forced smile. "but where is he?"

utahime pointed toward the boxing ring, and then you saw it—a glimpse of black hair.

"alright," you said, swallowing nervously. "i'm heading into the ring. wish me luck."

"wait!" utahime called out, but you were already too far to hear her. gripping the ropes at the edge of the ring, you hauled yourself up and strode toward the center, determined to get a better view. and there, just on the far side of the ring, hidden from your previous angle, was toji fushiguro.

he was lounging back, relaxed, his posture almost lazy as he faced his manager, shiu kong. you couldn’t see toji's face from this angle, but his body language indicated that he was the epitome of ease. shiu was saying something to him, and from your best attempt at lip reading, you could just make out the words, "don't break the rules today."

toji, on the other hand, didn't seem to be looking at him (giving 0 fucks, something so classically toji), focusing now towards the big screens everyone else saw in the arena. you turned your gaze towards them as well, only to be taken aback when it was you, a compilation of your best moments in the ring, narrated by gojo.

“and today, fellas, we’re going to see the bombshell y/n—the maneater, as coined by her fans—-competing! while her opponent is fushiguro, don’t be fooled—she can pack a mean punch. look at this fight with mei mei; she sweeped the floor with her face!”

satisfied, you looked around, the arena bustling with people getting drinks, being enraptured with your fight on the screen, or pointing at you or toji. toji, on the other hand, was chuckling and shaking his head at your fight, observing as you gave the bitch mei mei a wedgie. which kind of made you flustered, because you had developed a crush on the guy observing him from afar or in passing, so you just focused on shaking out your legs and arms in nervousness.

gojo similarly announced toji’s fights and compilation, gassing him up for the crowd and it was then that toji finally turned around, uninterested in whatever was going on, and caught your eye. you stared back, breath held involuntarily.

his eyes had a predatory glint to them, and he smiled, charmingly in a way that showed off his scar, and they scanned up and down your figure, taking in what you were wearing—or rather, letting his imagination run. nervously, your heart sped up as you clenched your thighs up in anticipation or anxiety, you couldn’t choose which, as your mind began running at the speed of light thinking about what was going to happen today.

today, you weren’t only going to wrestle toji fushiguro. you were going to fuck him.

but you’re jolted out of your thoughts as gojo’s obnoxious voice blares through the speakers. “give it up for thee wwe goat, toji fushiguro!”

screams reach an all time high as his smirk is broadcasted to the audience, biceps bulging and flexing as he heaves his way up on the ring, joining you. he waves lazily, roars at an all time high as he stalks his way to you, and you squeeze your nails into your palm out of nervousness.

when gojo announces your name, the male screams rise up in volume, causing you to giggle and fushiguro to roll his eyes from what you can see in the corner of your eye. you give a dainty wave, choosing to wink and blow a kiss to the camera in front of you, causing your fans to scream even louder.

“you sure got a lotta fanboys, darling.” you jump as toji has now bent down to whisper in your ear, literally sending shivers down your spine.

you force out a laugh. “and you're at no shortage of fangirls yourself, fushiguro.”

he gives you a nonchalant hum, assuming his original position. as gojo continued to yap about the stakes of the round today, the recent rule change, a referee walked over to you both, coming in closer so that you would be able to hear him over the chaos of the arena.

“so, you’re both aware of the rules, right?” he both looked at you, to which you nodded and toji’s smirk widens. “you gotta get the other’s clothes completely off, and the first one to do that wins.”

you gulp, eyeing what toji was wearing today. it was his signature garb, the one he wore to almost every match without fail: grey pants with various sponsorships sewed on, and a black compression shirt. it was definitely very minimal compared to what a lot of the other wrestlers wore, but it was iconic, giving him a lazy, laid back aura that no other wrestler could truly emanate.

it wasn’t anything hard to take off in particular.

both of you affirmed your consent to the referee, who then took a step back after wishing you both good luck. you turned, facing toji face on, who had his hand on his hip. “try to last long, okay?” he smirks, patting your shoulder with his other hand. “i’ll try to drag this out as much as i can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”

you glare, but there isn’t much intensity to it because you know he’s much stronger than you. there isn’t much to get angry about. “yea, yea,” you huff. “for all i know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”

he barks out a laugh and looks at the referee, who has one hand raised, the other one poised on his whistle, ready to blow and start the round. it’s starting soon. then, he looks back to you and smiles. “let the games begin.”

the referee blows the whistle.

at once, you launch yourself towards toji, trying to jump on him to get him off his feet with your weight. instead, he dodges easily and leaves you hurtling towards the floor, making you poise yourself on your hands and feet upon impact. you roll over just as toji tries to tackle you and pin you against your original position on the floor and quickly get up.

however, as you’re steadying yourself on your feet, toji grabs your ankle, causing you to lose your balance and giving him the advantage to pin himself on top of you, his mouth breathing heavily next to your ear, whispering so it was just the two of you that could hear his words. “what do you think i should take off first?” he laughs deeply, the vibration causing you to shiver and try to squirm to get out of his hold, to no avail. “should it be these?” he snakes his hands down to grope your tits, giving them a firm squeeze, much to the arena’s pleasure. “or should i take these off of you?” he slaps your ass, making you blush furiously.

“fuck you,” you hiss as his hands catch on the edge of your shorts.

he gives you a sweet, small kiss on your temple. “don’t worry, baby,” he smiles. “you’ll be doing that anyways.” and with that, he pulls at your shorts until the waistband’s elastic rips, leaving your shorts in tatters until he throws the remains of it away, baring your panty-covered ass to the crowd, which immediately grows wild.

you crane your neck to look at the screen, which is currently focused on toji’s hands feeling up your ass, dipping inside your underwear to knead the flesh. your heart is pounding, the thought i need to get the upper hand flashing continuously across your mind. it’s almost as if you’re drowning, the noises of the crowd blurring together until it was only you and toji’s weight on you. you barely heard the announcer exclaim, “toji is currently in the lead!” as you focused on calculating your next move.

it was time to pull out all the stops.

turning your head until you were making eye contact with him, you bit your lip, momentarily distracted him with the 180 turn of your actions, now nonchalant rather than the flailing you were doing earlier. then, you raised your hips, meeting your backside with his crotch in an effort to catch him off guard and to make him lose balance. then, you maneuvered yourself so your thighs surround toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. this momentarily distracted and weakened toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. you quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. the whole stadium, in fact, can see his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.

smirking while peering down at him, you slowly grind your hips as if you were riding a mechanical bull, making a show of spinning around his shirt with your hand to mock him. toji’s eyes darken, but a mirthless smile flashes across his face anyways. “damn, take me out to dinner first.”

you flash him one of your own humorless smirks, happy that you got at least one thing against him. “i don’t fuck anyone before the first day, honey. this is just another cheap fuck.” with that, you yank his head back with his hair roughly, making a show of motorboating his pecs, as if to mock him.

instead of getting angry, he chuckles darkly. “you’re going to regret that. i was going to drag this out, princess, but i gotta fuck the brat out of you.” with that, he spins you around just as quickly—if not quicker—pinning you against the ground with your hands held above your head in one hand in a vice grip, the other groping its way down your body. he buries his face in your neck, salaciously licking the length of it. with his free hand—now stationed around your tits—he grabs at the hem of your top, pulling it up so everyone could see your lace bra. mockingly, he plants his face in the middle of your tits, moving his head side by side to motorboat you just as you had done to him, the soft plush of your tits encompassing his face.

the crowd cheers, even more so than they had when you had ripped his shirt off, as toji completely rips the top off as you squirm, making the removal even easier for him. you can feel all eyes on you as toji reaches for the clip of your bra, unhooking it and making your tits pop out. helplessly, you look at the screen, your writhing making them move in a jiggling motion, sweat shining and giving you the “oiled-up” look. he takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “what a sensitive girl,” he coos. “too bad she was too weak. now she’s going to have to take my cock.”

with that, he teasingly closes the distance between the waistband of your panties and his teeth, mouth snagging on the elastic. slowly, he drags them down, unveiling your glistening pussy for all eyes to see, and the crowd goes wild, chanting random requests at toji to do the most heinous things to you. as soon as you’re completely naked, he grabs you by the waist, propping you up against one of the corner posts. you’re now standing up, tearfully facing the arena as the wrestler kneels behind you, burying his face and nosing his way until your pussy, lapping up your wetness.

at the unexpected feeling of his tongue, you yelp, and toji slaps your ass. “stay still.” acquiescing, he licks up long stripes and shakes his head to grind his nose into your cunt, pleasuring you while humiliating you in front of everyone, forcing you to succumb to the pleasure he’s making you feel. while licking you, he groans. “fuck, this pussy is so sweet. i’ve run out of patience, fuck the performance part.”

with that, toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees on the floor and pulls down his pants. you don’t even look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.

he drags his cock teasingly through your folds, and then brings it out to slap it against your ass, humming appreciatively at the recoil. then, as if he’s lost patience, he’s slowly entering you, pushing against your pussy’s resistance as he penetrates you in front of the whole arena. “fuck!” he groans, getting a better grip on you as he pushes your head down on the mat and fully goes to pound town.

the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “the fuck this pussy’s so tight for? thought you were a slut?”

you’re tearing up, the feeling of his dick hitting your g-spot straight on making you clench hard, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pummeling you and his hands on your body, feeling you up. clearly, he knew how to pleasure a woman, and it made you all the more annoyed. you were fucked out, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “you’re not turning me on, small dick.”

he did not like that very much.

toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? why is she dripping, you whore?” as if to demonstrate his point, he brings his fingers to rub at your clit furiously, collecting the wetness that had dripped down from your hole then shoving his fingers into your mouth. “suck.” when you did just that, suckling at his fingers while hollowing your hot, wet heat around the appendages.

at that, he groaned. “what a little cockwhore. shoulda made you suck my dick instead.”

in retaliation, you bite his fingers, hard, and then spit them out. “i would’ve bit your micro off.”

toji hisses, grabbing the hair at your scalp and pulling on it until your face was up, his mouth at your ear. “just for that, i’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.” he speeds up, moving his hips faster and fast. the hand that wasn’t at your hair is now sneaking his way down your back, until you gasp.

because he’s inserted his thumb inside your ass.

“oh, ho ho,” he laughs mockingly. “you liked that, didn’t you?” you offer him no response, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of the sheer amount of pressure you were feeling down there, being doubly stuffed. by now, your orgasm has been steadily building because of the sheer power of toji’s stroke game, but as soon as he hits your spot one last time, your eyes roll back, causing you to arch your back and writhe due to the intensity of your orgasm.

you’re breathing heavily, toji fucking you roughly through it. once you’ve gotten a hold of your sense, you come back to reality as you realize that the crowd has adopted a rhythm to their chants, your fans and his screaming the same thing.

cum! cum! cum!

and toji only chortles as he continues your thirst, looking at you once again, and you can tell that he’s staving his orgasm back just after experiencing your clenches with the way he’s biting his lips, sweat running down from his temple to his abs. “what do you say, baby? wanna give the crowd what they’re asking for?”

all it takes is a whimpered please, and toji just does what the crowd asks of him. ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear toji declared as winner.

as you exhaustedly lift your head up, you see that cameras are out all around you, focused on the screen. you’re flustered when you realize the billboard is displaying toji’s cum seeping out of you.

A hand on your shoulder. “you good?” toji’s looking at you, eyes twinkling.

you let out a breath. “yea,” you laugh, out of breath. “good round.”

and he’s huffing, giving you a hand to get on your back. you can only lie on the ground as he barks for clothes to be put on you and for some water. then he turns to look at you once more, eyes twinkling. “wanna go for more in my hotel?”

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n i was going to have him carry u up near to the stands where your fans could grab at ur titties but this is alr depraved as it is. now im going to take a breather from tumblr for the rest of this week becasue WHEW ch5 gojo yesterday and finished this today i am ON A ROLL. see you guys for next week's kinktober fic (comment if you want to be tagged)! much love<3

reblog and comments are much appreciated!!!!!

taglist:

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk

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dizazter-dragoon · 1 year ago

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My oc Cyrus simps So Hard for the local retired-warrior-turned-barmaid (and her adopted daughter) it's not even funny.

Half of the shit my friend and I write for them is simply

"Local Privateer deeply smitten with tavern bard".

Just,,,Beelining to their inn the moment his boots hit the first solid ground he's seen in weeks. Swiftly reaching behind the counter, past the busy Keeper, to snag his room key.

The moment he's in the baths, he's scrubbing his tan and scarred body free of the odor of blood, stale grog, and old fish. Working the oil, soot and assorted grime out out of his long blue hair with a citrus alchemical soap he "acquired" on his trip. Weaving the thick, still drying, tresses into the braid he knows they love.

Stretching out on the balcony in his new britches and bare chest. Just letting the sea air and sun dry him off as he watches his barmaid's kid run around in the sand far below. A tin of treats for the mischievous sprout sitting on his room's table waiting to be torn through tomorrow.

As soon as he's presentable, he's zooming over to the Inn's bar area. Steps out of his inn room looking like a lesser lord in his vibrant doublet and newly shined leather. Fitting, considering who the prior owners of Cyrus' intricate new tunic are were.

His crew doesn't even acknowledge their superior as he strolls by their table- no point when Captain Cyrus' attention is singularly focused on one thing the first night of every shore leave.

Orange gaze fixed on the stage area, he plops into the seat of a table up front of the stage of the nearly full tavern. Propping up his feet on the table, he tries to feign an air of nonchalance, looking every bit a prince of piracy as he searches for any hint of his lovely bardic performer behind the curtain.

Just...the lengths this man goes to for them, and the amount of effort he puts into trying to act nonchalant about it is hilarious.

#Cyrus got dommed the other night in my discord and I'm so happy for him lmfao #Crystal bard had a fistful of Cyrus' coiled blue braid while riding him to overstimulation amongst other things #Punishment for being at sea for 6 weeks instead of 4¯\_(ツ)_/¯#I also love that my friend's crystal bard is oblivious and thinks its just a fwb deal #Meanwhile my man is head over boot heel for her as they bicker and banter #oc: cyrus mendoza #dnd oc #Zaz drabbles #minors dni #cute divider by @CafeKitsune

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textmel8r · 5 months ago

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[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant.

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place.

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.”

Now he knows you’re messing with him.

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about.

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression.

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face.

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?”

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling.

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable.

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink.

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop.

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention.

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company.

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful.

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours.

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing.

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap.

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself.

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him.

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid.

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this.

“I’m sorry,” you chirp.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did.

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion.

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder.

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared.

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep.

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine.

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings.

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open.

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass.

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along.

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend.

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash.

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni @lololooolleonnaaa @nanamiswife22 @r0ckst4rjk @mizzfizz @saiki-enthusiast @taelattecookie @enchantingkitty @kindadolly @reinam00n @hqtoge @syamamas @numblytemporary @xxravenxstarxx-blog @bloomedintome @guacam011y @jameinfrau @luvvmae @kazisupreme @nowhoremones @https-tank @venjrnjrbhrr19 @ya9amicide @darkstarlight82 @archivefortoji @alczam02 @kaiparkerwifes @kenz1eluvs @iaminyourfloors @queeen-goldfish @beautifulloverwitch @nxuriah @invisible-mori @hexrts-anatomy @katharinasdiaryy @moonlightazriel @mermaidian02 @squishies0102 @saintkaylaa @vi-ola666 @alettertonana @seeyapizzazz @jtoddlover

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gojosatorubrainrot · 5 months ago

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Scars don't define you💫

Summary: Gojo starts to feel insecure about your love for him because of his scars

Feat: Gojo Satoru x reader

Content: fluff, mentions of Gojo vs Sukuna fight, reassuring, body insecurities, husband!Gojo x Wife!Reader. Ch 261 doesn't exist lol

Wc: 1121

Author's note: Hi!! I've never thought I will ever be doing this but here we are! Encouraged by my gojo friends in discord to continue this drabble🥰 Sorry in advanced for my poor grammar, English is not my first language ��

The Shinjuku incident meant a reborn for the the strongest sorcerer, and you, his wife as well. You almost lost the love of your life by the hands of the King of Curses. At first, you thought everything was over when you saw him laying down on the floor, his lifeless body starting to be covered by the heavy snow storm that had began to fall minutes earlier.

You felt useless, after all, you were a non sorcerer, so,as a civilian, you didn't to have another choice than staying where Shoko and the others were watching the battle being broadcasted.

But its been a long time since that jumpscare and you thanked every existent God and also Shoko for bringing your reason of living back to your arms.

Satoru and you both were laying in bed together, you are running your fingers along his scarred face; each fingertips of yours feeling every single injury of his skin.

As you continue with your doing,he closes his eyes at the softness of your sweet touch, at first, he enjoys it a lot, he always loved the way you did it, always being careful as if he was a glass meant to break, but fear set up on his mind;he thought you hated his scars, that you despise them and those marks ruined his pretty face, that you wouldn't love him anymore and, eventually, you would leave him alone as everyone did during his life, but this time, he wouldn't have a reason of living because you are his everything.

He doesn't even want to think how a life without in it would be, how alone he would feel again just like he did after Suguru's departure.

When that event occurred, when he was ordered to kill his best friend, he has never felt so useless as a sorcerer, but most of all, as a human being, so that was the reason he chose to stay alone for the rest of his days, to prevent someone from getting hurt by the mere fact of being involved with him. That was his idea until he met you at his favorite kikufuku store. He didn't believe in love at the first sight until he met you nor how does it feel to be in love until you.

you, his everything

He was afraid of losing you again, but now it was because of his appearance, he hated those scars because that meant you won't call him pretty angel or pretty face ever again. On the other hand, they were his reminder of a second opportunity, an opportunity he would take advantage of. His second chance to make things right and spend as much time as he could with you: not spending nights working or on mission trips, only with you, his home.

Now he is debating if telling you or not about his insecurity with his scarred skin, because he thinks you would laugh at this and ignore him, but call him silly for thinking that.

As he thinks about that, he sits up, preparing to get his shirt on. You can see how the mood changed, how an intimate moment filled with love and adoration became one filled with insecurities and non spoken words. He is looking for his shirt to put it on and leave the bedroom towards the balcony, so he can spare his mind off a little bit.

You wonder why he was feeling troubled and why he decided to ignore you and not talking with you as he has always done before. You are hesitant about ask him or not, you always wanted to give Satoru his space, you always respected that because after some time, he will come to you and tell you everything between thousands and thousands sorry for not telling you before.

All you can see now is his scarred back, and your intuition is screaming at you to do something so he could open himself up to you. After few seconds, an idea popped up in your mind; while satoru has his head between his hands, you approached to him slowly trying to not get noticed.

Satoru, who was lost in thoughts, suddenly felt your plump and soft lips along his scared back, giving it small pecs and smooches, replacing your lips with your small fingers tracing every single scar. He didn't understand what you were doing so he let you do so. Suddenly,he feels something he has only felt with you and you only: loved, adored, cherished, he was seen as a human, not a pretty face as he has been called few times, the strongest weapon for the jujutsu society, he was Satoru Gojo for you, your Toru.

He turned his head to where you were tracing your fingers and stared at you: you were focused and determined to make him feel alive again.

His small chuckle made you look up and meet those blue eyes you fell in love with many years ago;

"Hi sweets" he whispered without looking away" What are you doing?"

"Hi Toru" you giggled at that nickname he gave you only when you both were in an intimate moment "Nothing, just admiring your beauty" you responded never looking away from his mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Nothing about me is beautiful, princess" he said defeated. "Look at me" he pointed at his scarred skin, despising it, hating it.

"I'm looking at you, Toru. I'm always looking at you and all I see it's the prettiest, the most caring, loving man that I've ever met" you said putting his face in between your hands "I love you,Toru. If you ever think those scars will stop me from loving you, I must tell you don't me well. These scars are telling me that you are here" you give him a kiss in the tip of his pinky nose "alive, with me in our home"

After yours words, Satoru’s eyes immediately fill with tears, but before you notice, he closes his eyes to stop them and leans his head to your warm and reassuring touch, a warm feeling inside his chest arises.

He feels so grateful with you, you are his everything.You stopped caressing him at the moment he opens his eyes, blue like the ocean itself "I love you, angel" he says at the same time you started caressing the scar across his cheek.

"I love you too, Satoru and remember that you can tell me any trouble or inconvenience you are living through, okay? I'll always love you until my last breath" you said finishing the sentence with a quick kiss, which is immediately reciprocated

With this Satoru knew that he would never feel alone again.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk manga #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff

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lemonlover1110 · 11 months ago

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𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Family game night never ends well in your family, unless Toji wins (Spoiler alert: He rarely wins.)

Warnings: Fluff, Toji gets upset causing his kids to get upset.

*Little drabble from A Pearl and You, My Angel and My Saint, you don't have to read either to enjoy this cute little (yet chaotic) family!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Family game night is a complete nightmare in your household. It’s not because of your kids but because of your husband. You’re not surprised that Toji is competitive, if anything, you’d be shocked if he wasn’t. You’ve been with Toji for so long that you know what behaviors to expect from him, which is why you’re hesitant to have a family game night.

“Look what I found!” Eight-year-old Misumi brings an old board game to the living room where the family is at. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, looking at the old box of candy land. Immediately he shakes his head, speaking up,

“Throw that shit out!” Megumi says.

“Language!” Kenji and Kamiko call out their older brother, causing you to laugh. You wonder why Megumi has such a strong reaction to the game, but then he glances at his father and you have a single scenario in your head: Toji yelling at Megumi because he lost in candy land. You glance at Toji who looks away in shame, knowing that what you’re thinking is exactly right.

“I wanna play!” Misumi exclaims, and the three-year-old twins are the first ones to agree. They don’t really get games, leaving them teamed up with you and Toji. You look at Toji and a sigh leaves his lips.

“I guess… You in, Gumi?” Toji looks at his eldest son, and Megumi is about to say no, but he looks at Misumi, and she gives him puppy eyes. He guesses he can be a good big brother at least once a while, right? How bad can it be?

“Yeah. Whatever.” Megumi responds, making Misumi open the box and put the game down on the coffee table. Kenji runs to his father, hoping that they’ll play together, while Kamiko runs to play with you. You all pick your respective pieces and begin to play.

The game starts off great, everything goes smoothly until your husband has to go back one spot. You notice Toji’s eyebrows furrowing, and he takes a deep breath. But the team recovers, and the game continues smoothly. Megumi surpasses Toji, which again, causes Toji to clench his jaw; in the end, he bites his tongue so nothing happens. Toji surpasses Megumi again. The game continues just fine again.

Toji and Kenji are so close to winning– Until Misumi surpasses them and wins. You immediately understand Megumi’s reaction when Toji flips over the game and raises his voice, “Damn you, Mimi! Next time I won’t be paired up with some snot-nosed brat!”

“Toji!” You yell at him, and you watch as both Kenji and Misumi’s eyes well up with tears. Misumi begins to sniffle while Kenji fully screams crying. Toji realizes how badly he’s fucked up, and he begins to comfort his son, kissing the top of his head over and over again before he begins to apologize. Misumi runs up the stairs crying, and Megumi stands up to comfort his little sister.

“Mimi, wait! I’m sorry!” Toji stands up, holding his son as he runs up the stairs to comfort his daughter.

You look down at your three-year-old daughter who sits on your lap. She shrugs, asking, “What was that?”

You kiss the top of her head before telling her, “Your daddy is a sore loser, baby.”

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fluff #dad toji #toji imagine

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sereia1313 · 2 years ago

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Family Gatherings

I actually had time (and the inspiration) for DDN this month!

Read the whole thing on Ao3, Dokuga, and FFnet.

Summary: No matter how he buried himself in his work or distracted himself with the antics of his brother’s pack, this time of year always reminded him of her the most.

Sneak Peek

Shopping

It had been a routine shopping trip, one his mother had insisted upon even though they had only begun to partake in human festivities in the last half-century. She somehow found it fascinating to mingle with the droves of people as they spent money they did not have on people they barely spoke to the rest of the year.

Sesshoumaru found it tedious at best.

Thankful that the glamour they both wore dulled their senses so he could ignore the off-tune carollers stationed in the centre of the mall, he followed her through each shop, pretending to have any interest in the items she picked out.

"How is it you have so many people to make purchases for?" he groused, hands in the pockets of his peacoat.

Kimiko waved him off. "Your brother's pack has made it clear on more than one occasion that they prefer my company to yours."

Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes. "I do not see the point in buying anyone's affections."

"There is a difference between buying and spoiling, my son. And the pups enjoy it."

#sesskag #discord drabble night #sesskag ddn #sesskag drabbles #sereia1313 #creator: sereia1313 #sesskag fanfic #sesskag fanfiction #reunion #pining sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru's mother #inukimi #mother knows best

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aixeko · 1 month ago

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Hi good evening, morning or afternoon Aixeko. I was wondering if you could write an intersex Arlecchino x fem reader who spend their wedding night on the beach.

𓆩♡𓆪 “ DID I DREAM THAT WE DANCED FOREVER,

in a wish that we made together, on a night that I prayed would never end ” 𓆩♡𓆪

| Starring | Newly-wed Intersex-Service-Top!Arlecchino x Pillow princess?Reader

| Setting | Wedding night on the beach

| Scenario | [ REQUESTED WORK | DRABBLE ] SMUT! With tooth rotting fluff. Pronouns are not used, only female anatomy is used. The children call the reader by the title “Mother.” Soft Arle. Skinny dip. Semi-Public love making. Aftercare. So fluffy it’s making me barf rainbow. Arle is mainly referred to as Peruere. Not really proofread.

► RADIO CHANNEL [Author note]

× My first request, had to prioritize this first over my current w.i.p arle fic lmao × This also reminded me of my first fic of Arle, which is the "Peruere" one, it's exactly how I imagine their wedding was like 🥹 Perhaps those who read it can take it as a little prequel to the fic × Anyway, I assumed you wanted smut from the intersex Arle part so here it is, no angst which is surprising. Hope you enjoy <3

[ Word count: 2240 ] | Art credit: Nuiilar on Twitter

The harmonious voices of the children's choir sound through the velvety night sky, their melodic tones blending in perfect unison with the tender moment unfolding before their very eyes. At the sight of their father dipping their mother for an intimate kiss, the children can't help but be sent into fits of gleeful excitement, ending their synchronized orchestration.

You all but chuckled at the audible jubilation; you could practically hear their eyes sparkling with enchantment as they cheered and clapped upon witnessing such a rare affectionate display between their parents. Even after the mandatory altar kiss, the kids were still bubbling over with joy, perhaps influenced by such an intense, delightful air of love.

The kiss lingered, time seemingly freezing in tune as if the world melted and revolved around you, suspending this tender moment to an everlasting core memory in a sea of recollection. Yet, with much reluctance, you were the first to break the magical spell laid upon her lips, pulling away despite your heart's yearning to savor the embrace just a little longer. After all, you were still in the presence of your children; you wouldn't want the situation to escalate to something much too inappropriate in a public setting.

You sense a slight disappointment from Arlecchino as your eyes open to absorb one another's souls once more. The edge of your lip twitches upward into a knowing smile, and Arlecchino, who notices it, can only shake her head in infinitesimal embarrassment at her sudden need to be as impossibly close as she can be to you.

You lean in close, hot breath trickling against her pierced earlobe as you whisper, "Quite eager are we now, my dearest, Peruere?"

Your voice is laced with playful teasing, yet your vocals do not reciprocate the soul; your body, betraying your hypocritical saying with the factuality of reality being that every fiber of your being is aching with desire for her; you can practically hear your heart racing like a dog off its leash, a clear evidence of your struggle to contain the passion that threatens to consume you whole.

The laughter in your throat burst out of its confinement as you saw a tint of red painting her cheeks. The infamous Knave, Arlecchino, the fourth of the Fatui Harbinger, a woman of near godly power and the Father of the House of the Hearth, whose shyness is one of a thousand lifetimes' worth of rarity, has fallen prey to your shenanigans. Despite the silliness of it all, a warmth envelops your heart in gratitude for having a chance to live in a lifetime where she, whose heart is covered in frost, can blaze in your presence.

The discordant atmosphere slowly faded to one of a gentle breeze, the moon rising to its fullest, symbolizing the dead of the night, where beauty arises in the silence of humanity. Under its moonlit gaze, you drag Arlecchino with you, grinning and laughing like the carefree days when the world was a simpler, less complicated place, one in which your shared young minds felt like their rulers.

Footprints imprint the sand, lasting mere seconds before being washed away by the shore like those traces have simply never existed. Reaching what seems to be the midway point of the enormous coastline, you release your hold on your lover to dance a few inches away, allowing your body to embrace nature's hug.

You let out a sigh of contentment, letting your arm remain outstretched while your eyes linger on the moon. A smile creeps upon your face at the familiarity of such a scene, more specifically the one who illustrates it similarly.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" You questioned, turning to look at her with closed-eyed grins.

Arlecchino—Peruere, who had not once settled her gaze on where your perspective retained the attention of nods in agreement. Because once the world was obstructed by its blind spot, she had surveyed its scenery and details like an ancient book lost in the depths of falsehood. She had watched her world countless times, wondering how she had been so fortunate to stumble upon such treasure. How can someone like you allow someone like her to take your hand in a marriage vowed to withstand beyond life and death?

"My dear Pierre, are you alright? You seem to be in a daze of sorts."

Half worried and half-amused, you made your way to her, pressing a palm against her forehead to check if the woman had contracted a fever, knowing full well it was rare for such a thing to occur.

"My enchantress, had you not satiated yourself enough with this relentless amorousness?"

Arlecchino's words have you in light giggles; you had not intended for her to feel seduced by you, but it seems your obliviousness has added fuel to the caged flame since the next thing you can render is her lips against yours.

You're left stunted for a while before finally, your body relaxes within her embrace, returning her eager kiss with equal ferocity. You can feel the air in your lungs being drained lifelessly out of its source as if a vampire has wrapped its sharp fangs around your frail neck. You struggle to keep up with the intoxicating atmosphere, trying desperately to chase after her momentum while still maintaining a semblance of control to leave oxygen for breathing.

"Per—peruere—" You choked between the small gap of the kiss, barely allowing even a whisper; no longer are you able to stand in the same balance as hers.

Her ears luckily picked up on your pleas, and immediately she pulled away, allowing you to inhale and exhale in rapid motion in the sudden presence of oxygen once more. She's apologetically whispering countless expressions of regret to the point where her mother tongue and dialect slip into the mixture.

"No—no, it's okay. I-I'm fine now, just... I didn't expect you to be so pent up."

At your own words, your eyes linger on the bottom half of her body, your point being proven further by the observation of the large bulge that is threatening to be released from confinement. Arlecchino didn't say anything, either out of shame or at a loss for words in the situation that she let advance despite her usual meticulous calculation of actions.

You mentally estimated the distance and the time that would be wasted in making your way to the resort and decided that the sea was much closer.

"Shall we dive into the sea? You look like you require some cooling, do you not, Peruere?"

You speak of teasing remarks whose tone is masked by an innocent facade, making sure to emphasize your point by allowing your body to press up close against her tall, defined stature, an arm around her neck, and another palming the growing arousal. Arlecchino finally registers the escalation of the situation and opts to play along with this little game of yours.

"We shall, my bride."

Without a moment of hesitation or an added explanation, your lover brought your lips against hers, all the while undressing you with practiced ease. You didn't protest her actions, mirroring them by both the kiss and the clothes, which were tossed to who knows where, but amidst the mayhem, you deliberately saved the most anticipated removal, her pants, for last to savor the tense sexual air a little longer.

The moment you have your hands on her zipper, Arlecchino lifts you by the knees, causing a gasp of shock to escape from your swollen lips. This moment of withdrawal allows you to see that she has not worn boxers the whole time and how truly ravenous her cock is with the way it stands tall, twitching.

She carries you into the cold water, and once inside, she leads you to a boulder, remaining silent throughout. This leaves you speechless, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, partly from a lack of words and partly from the freezing temperature.

"All talks with a lackluster action to speak for, and yet you still refuse to commence your needs when necessary; you have not changed once since we were kids."

Fiery energy erupted from Arlecchino's hands, casting a flame not strong enough to scorch you but one that emits gentle warmth throughout the cool surroundings. The burning fire danced harmlessly, its soft glow illuminating the dark space, creating an inviting scenery in contrast to the abyssal one. It paints your features with luminosity; such radiation makes both of your details more prominent for one another's enjoyment.

"Mn, sorry, love, it seems old habits die hard," you whisper, now in a much raspier and softer tone due to the recent past event that conspired.

This time, you take the initiative and lean in for a kiss. What sets this moment apart from the others in spite of the short range of time is that this is driven by a pure, heartfelt love that comes from the very core of your being—and you can tell it is the same situation for Peruere.

Through lidded eyes, you pull away slightly to consent to her entrance. "Go ahead, Pierre. I'm sure it's starting to hurt, and worry not; I promise you that I will mention any sort of discomfort," you murmur, your voice low with reassurance.

Peruere is hesitant as she presses you lightly against the smooth boulder—not that she doesn't have faith in your words—quite the opposite, really. She wouldn't admit it to you, but whenever it comes to lovemaking, the woman is absolutely restless; having you so close and so vulnerable is a core memory everlasting in her heart, yet she's afraid that one day she might accidentally hurt you in some way, somehow, pathetic, isn't it? She is so deeply in love with you that any brute force against you could practically kill her as well.

It wasn't until you pressed a soothing kiss against her temple that she obliged and inserted her throbbing member inside you, starting slow with just the tip. Regardless, a pleasured whimper betrayed your will, excitement coursing through your veins at her entry. This singular expression of enjoyment is all it takes for Peruere to continue, and sure enough, the full length of her consumes your wall like a perfect piece dug through a pile of unmatched pieces in a puzzle.

You arch your back, a hand covering your eyes as she begins to fasten the pace of thrust, a clear sign of a soon-to-be thrilling momentum and a now comfortable adjustment to a once ocean of anxiety.

"Ah...! Mmm... Just like that, Peruere—" Your voice hitched at the sudden intrusion of her mouth against your neck and the tip of her member pressing on your g-spot.

She elevates you higher against the stone, allowing her to be in position for a deeper reach within your core; meanwhile, her free hand uses its thumb to rub against your clitoris, and the added love marks all over your neck and collarbone have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It was only a matter of time before your body felt the sensitivity of the stimulation at its maximum, followed by a quickened heart rate, capricious breathing flow, and tension in the muscles around the pelvic area. Clear symptoms of your upcoming climax.

"Peruere—Please, Oh Archons! ... Don't stop!" You cry, practically clawing her back.

Peruere follows with your desperate plea, allowing her to do what she is best at by hitting your g-spot at the precise time, and she is quick to swallow your moans with a feverish kiss as you come to your long-awaited, blissful orgasm.

She keeps her cock inside, thrusting at a gentle and slow speed to prolong your enjoyment in exchange for her own needs. When you come back to your senses, your energy is practically nonexistent, at which point you feel guilt forming when you realize you won't be able to return her pleasure. Sensing your worries, she plants a kiss on your ear, whispering sweet nothings to ease your blameworthiness.

"Stress is not good for the heart, little dove. My pleasure does not account for the one I am rewarded with by seeing you in euphoria; now do not taint this moment with sorrow. Rest now; I will deal with everything."

A small smile curves at the edges of your mouth, a mental note in the back of your mind forming to thank her for this moment later. Safe and content with her, you fall prey to your exhaustion, resting in utter peace without worries, knowing your Peruere is here to protect you from the accursed world.

꧁ᬊᬁ𓆰𓆪ᬊ᭄꧂

When Arlecchino is sure you're comfortable and clean, she finally decides to take care of herself and opts to go for simple nightwear.

She sits on the edge of the bed, a tender expression consuming her face at your moonlit features in such tranquility. Even when you are not conscious, she still feels as if she is protected just by being near your presence, as if away from the judgment of the world where no name of the Knave or Arlecchino is mentioned, a world in which she is only known as Peruere by her one true soulmate.

Peruere, who grew up with nothing, finally has everything she ever wanted.

Arlecchino slips in under the cover, her arms engulfing your body in a protective cocoon.

With you,

Peruere has a reason to live.

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ] × Am I slick? No, not all.

#erise collab #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #arlecchino fluff #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino x you #arlecchino genshin impact #arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin wlw #genshin impact #peruere #peruere x reader #the knave

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ghoulphile · 7 months ago

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i want this man to do gross, disrespectful, unspeakable, borderline illegal things to me

⭐ inbox | discord | ao3 ⭐ requests: temporarily closed | tag lists: open last updated | 6/6/24 notes | i'll update this post as i continue to write. fics will be 18+ unless stated otherwise ❤️ requests closed so i can catch up on the ones already submitted - will be opening up again soon!

🍒 sticky fingers the ghoul x reader one-shot | 18+

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.”

🍒 janey's dad cooper howard x reader two-shot, part one | 18+

“We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

🍒 run rabbit run the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

the drabble thing HNNNGH think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time

🍒 in the middle of the night the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake

🍒 wish you'd make me cry the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

"You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c

🍒 dog days pre-war cooper howard x reader fluff, request

I was wondering if you'd write something about maybe prewar/postwar (either one) cooper where his love is a bit sick (not life threateningly so ect) and he just takes good care of them

🍒 it's always the quiet ones pre-war cooper howard x reader drabble | 18+

We can see that Cooper tends to go for good girls but what if he ran into a seemingly innocent - or at the very least kind - person… but they dirty talk like a sinner in the sack?

🍒 no use cryin' over spilled milk the ghoul x reader one-shot | 18+

based off this ask; trying to survive topside after growing up in a vault is hard enough, but doing it five months pregnant? it's a good thing you find the ghoul when you do.

🍒 i can taste your skin in my teeth the ghoul x reader drabble request, wip | 18+

drabble request thingy: "you're so wet and I haven't even touched you" and/or "aww... you're pathetic" I feel like these go so well together in a very mean(super hot) way >:)

🍒 use me pre-war cooper howard x reader drabble request, wip | 18+

for the drabble request "I want to use you so fucking bad" with pre bomb coop?

🍒 don't threaten me with a good time the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

how do you think our ghoul would handle having a breeding kink?

🍒 in the collision of your kiss pre-war cooper howard x reader wip | 18+

"As I live and breathe, that's Cooper Howard! Why, he must've cost a fortune -- how ever did you get him to agree to attend a children's party?"

🍒 criminal tongues the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

Could I get and aggressive smut with coop like he hasn't had any in 200 something years ! Hes needy and wants it NOW

🍒 finders, keepers the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

Cooper wants people to know the reader is *his*, and she best damn well know it to. If she doesn't, he'll have to show her

🍒 god is a woman pre-war cooper howard x reader request, wip | 18+

If you don't mind of making cooper howard/the ghoul being submissive or treating reader like a goddess of a smut?

🍒 bury all your secrets in my skin the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

I was thinking how it would be to be the first to get him to take all his clothes off since the bombs fell. Being the first to get him to be vulnerable in this way. If you would write this I would be very grateful.

#masterlist #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader

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cranberrymoons · 10 months ago

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stay

prompt: "Don't go... please." (discord drabble) word count: 370 rated: m

you give me angsty dialogue prompts, i will make them fluff 😤 enjoy!

“Don’t go,” Eddie says, hand sliding over Steve’s hip. “Please?”

Steve feels his heart give a lazy thrum as he pauses on his way out of bed. He blinks.

“You want me to stay?”

He’s not really a one night stand kind of guy for this exact reason. He always wants to linger, or for it to last, and then he ends up making himself sad when they finish what they came there to do and the other person starts giving him subtle cues to zip himself up and go home.

But Eddie had drawn him in when their eyes caught across the bar earlier, and Steve had thought – even if it does end up hurting in the end, it’s worth it for that smile. And he has a type, okay, that’s part of it, but there’s also this shine that seems to come off of Eddie that made him just –

Eddie lets out a quiet laugh, turning his face to halfway hide it in the pillow.

“You’re so far out of my league, I’m tempted to just tie you to the bed and never let you go.”

“I’m really not,” Steve says as he lets himself be drawn back into bed. Eddie eases him onto his back and slides over top of him, drawing his wrists over his head and bending to kiss a line down his neck. “I’m really not that great, just –”

“Just very hot,” Eddie says, rolling his hips. “And very sweet.” Steve gasps, feeling his cock twitch where it’s trapped between them. “And by some accident, very naked in my bed.”

Steve tangles a hand in the hair at the back of Eddie’s head, pulling him back up into a kiss to drag teeth over his bottom lip and draw it into his mouth. Their tongues slide together and Steve feels his head start to spin, and he breaks away to take a shaky breath in. Eddie’s mouth moves to his jaw, biting a line back to his ear.

“Kind of want to keep it that way for a little longer,” he says in a low voice as he runs a hand down Steve’s side, shivery and light. “Unless you have somewhere else to be.”

[also on ao3]

#stwgdailyprompt #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #my fic #discord drabble

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cinellieroll · 8 months ago

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☆ random obey me headcanons part 2!

asmodeus, levi and barbatos ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part three (beelzebub, belphegor, solomon)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: some small nsfw on asmo's part :p

small note: thank you so much for the likes and reblogs! i never expected such a large majority of people to enjoy my content so it's very dear to me. once again, thank you!

☆ asmodeus:

- kinda bad at cooking. his way of slicing and dicing vegetables is very mediocre if not clumsy looking. there are days where his cooking is acceptable and days where it's to seasoned or too bland (always convinces himself its good tho and posts it on his devilgram)

- though he's kinda bad at cooking, his baking skills are okay! his favorite pastry to make are cookies because he can design them the most.

- "ofcourse mc! you'll always be the first one to try my desserts! unless you want to taste something else?~ ♡"

- he has a collection of sanrios, hironos and sonny angels in his room. ESPECIALLY sonny angels. crazy thing is he always gets them for free from his fans and its always the limited edition ones

- he really enjoys watching old movies from the human world especially the romcoms. mean girls, notting hill, pitch perfect. he will pester you to rewatch it with him even though you guys have seen it multiple times already.

- he keeps a small jewelry box in his room but instead of jewelry its full of pics of you and him and the gifts you give him. theres some pics in there where the other brothers were cut or crossed out so it'll be just you and him lmfao

- he is a yandere and i stand by this. it's not as obvious but if he's really into you he'll constantly mark you with his scent and the stuff he wears. he'll leave a hickey or a bite mark if you're lucky ;)

- the type of guy to only bring a purse to school. if you ask for a pencil the bitch is gonna open his bag and say "oopsie! i only brought my makeup pouch and mirror today. sorry babe!"

- has his own private concert in showers every goddamn day

- he'll either fangirl with you about celebrities or he'll get extremely jealous because you're simping for someone else.

☆ levi:

- sometimes his ass crack will be on display when he's sitting down on the floor

- wears booty shorts religiously. sometimes he'll casually just walk out his room wearing a hoodie and booty shorts with prints on it

- has a tumblr account where he posts a bunch of hc, drabbles and other shit and until now no one knows its him

- had an amino and discord phase where he always roleplayed with other people. till this day it haunts him at night

- he livestreams twice a week on twitch and has been scolded by lucifer on stream once. there was also a time where mammon barged in his room half naked and suddenly all the views went up 10x

- trolls on roblox like it's a 9 to 5 job

- every once in a while he'll stay in lucifers room while lucifer is doing paperwork. he'll just lay down on his bed, watch and play games and even fall asleep

- makes his own persona in every fandom he gets into and writes very detailed backstories (dw levi, same)

- only reads "x reader" fics for obvious reasons

- went insane because human world games and animes are better than the ones in devildom. dont get me started about aot. (his favorite is levi ackerman obvi)

☆ barbatos:

- wishes he could get piercings but since he's the demon prince's butler he obviously can't

- started tweakin when you said some humans keep rats and bugs as pets. like he stopped polishing some plates and looked at you like you just dog shitted diavolo's name

- really enjoys your spotify playlist filled with metalhead and grunge songs. he really likes slipknot

- likes to order those cute, fancy tea sets when he has the time. when you gifted him tea leaves and a limited edition teapot set his love for you sky rocketed.

- gets annoyed when solomon manspreads

- has a really good voice when he sings. he used to sing diavolo lullabies when his father would get angry at him

- scrolls through levi and mammon's post for educational purposes cuz he wants to learn slangs just incase diavolo asks him what a specific word means

- "barbatos, what does 'runnin from da opps' mean?"

- "my lord, 'runnin from da opps' is a slang made by the new generation. it means fleeing from your haters."

- loves to tailor and iron his bed sheets so he can have a peaceful rest after a long day of non stop errands.

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oddinary4bts · 4 months ago

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Chasing Cars | ch 8.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: peach, curses, luxury, alcohol, jungkook's family, they are so gone for each other my dude, explicit content: hickeys, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), exhibitionism (sort of but not really), protected sex, marking, ass slapping, praising, clit play

☆word count: 6.7k

☆a/n: tried writing smut in jk's pov, i hope you guys liked it <3 also this is supposed to be a drabble but it's literally a full chapter HAHA hope it doesn't disappoint :')

☆join the discord server here!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook has been happy. Ever since you got to New York yesterday, he’s been happy. It’s a feeling he’s not accustomed to when it comes to the city he grew up in, yet one he’s finding to love far more than he ever imagined he would.

Maybe it’s you, and the dress you got yesterday. To say that you stole the breath from his lungs when you stepped out of the changing room would be an understatement. The second he saw you, he felt like all the stars had aligned in his night sky, with you as the centerpiece. It felt like you were the center to his universe, and frankly, it’s a feeling he wants to get used to.

If he wasn’t sure about you before yesterday, he sure as hell is now. No matter what Taehyung says, what anyone says, he knows he wants to be with you.

He can’t wait for you to charm his brother, too. He’s not stupid enough to believe you’ll charm his parents as well - they are extremely classist, and they hate everything that Jungkook likes. You could be the goddess of a religion and they would still hate you. But Junghyun… Jungkook hopes Junghyun will love you.

Something aches in Jungkook’s chest, because he should have warned you about his parents. Should have told you, and anxiety stabs him in the gut. He glances at you, and you look just as anxious as him, which he reckons is comforting somehow.

He’s not alone for this engagement party. Not when you’re here, even though maybe he was a dick not to tell you anything.

“Smile, peach,” he forces out as he nudges you with an elbow.

You glance at him, your light makeup accentuating your features in a way that makes him gulp as your gazes connect.

“You smile,” you throw back at him, and he finds he can’t resist.

He smiles, laughing lowly. “Do you want something to drink?”

He reckons it could help. Both you and him, chasing away the lingering anxiety.

You look down at yourself, wincing. “I’m afraid I’ll ruin the dress.”

You’re adorable. Downright adorable, and he holds in a laugh as he looks at you, heart fluttering in his chest. “So you’re just going to stand still the whole evening because you’re afraid to ruin your clothes?”

A muscle feathers on your jaw as you roll your eyes. “Precisely.”

“Loosen up, peach,” Jungkook teases.

He hopes you know that he wants you to be comfortable more than anything. That he wants you to prove everyone wrong, to prove that you belong to his strange, ridiculous world. And maybe that’s why he invited you here: to prove himself, too, that you can handle being in his life, with no secrets between you. Because he knows you deserve it, he’s just afraid his world will chew you out.

You don’t deserve that.

“You know what?” you let out. “Sure, I’ll take a drink.”

Jungkook sighs in relief, and he grabs glasses for you and him from a passing waitress, and you drink while talking about the skyline, which he has to admit is not half as beautiful as you.

Not that he would ever tell you.

You’re almost finished with your drinks when Jungkook glances at the door, noticing his parents walking in. Everything stops, and he feels like someone is clutching his heart, a second away from crushing it in their hold. His mother notices him, and he stiffens even more, preparing for the inevitable fight.

“Are you okay?” you ask, resting a hand on his arm.

Jungkook startles, and he pulls at his piercings, nodding curtly. “All good.”

“Is that…” you trail off.

“Yep.”

“What should I do?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

Jungkook finally looks at you, and he wonders if you can hear the loud beats of his heart. Hell, he thinks he even has trouble breathing, and he gulps before saying, “Just be yourself.”

Because you’re perfect just the way you are, and he wouldn’t want you to change, ever.

You offer him a small smile, and his gaze drops to it. It warms something in his chest, soothes him like a lullaby, and he finds he’s finally able to breathe. He’d thank you for it, for your presence here, but his mother is upon you, and he readies himself to face her.

“Jungkook,” she says, voice just as grating as it always is.

“Mother.”

“Glad to see you came around and decided to come.”

He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you just a little closer. Your presence is steadying, and he knows that, for the first time in his life, he won’t fail in this fight against his mother.

“I wanted to introduce Y/n to the family,” he says.

His mother looks at you, and he hates the way she cocks an eyebrow in judgment.

“I don’t think we know each other,” she says, contempt dripping from her tone.

Jungkook wants to intervene, but you’re ready. You reply, “I don’t think so.” You bow your head, much more polite than Jungkook has even seen you, before adding, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jungkook’s father, who’s been standing next to his wife the whole time, pats his wife’s hand before leaving, like he doesn’t even think you’re worthy of his attention.

It’s nothing new - Jungkook knows he is not even worthy of his father’s attention.

“Likewise,” his mother replies to you. She scans you up and down, noting the dress Jungkook got for you, and then her gaze stops on your heels. “Nice shoes.”

Now, Jungkook is done. You don’t deserve his mother’s contempt, not when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Mother,” he intervenes.

“You thought dressing her up in a nice dress would make us forget that she’s not from our class?”

Jungkook hates her. He’s always hated her, felt like an outcast in his own family, but the insult makes it starker, truer, like the hate he holds for his mother is a law of the universe.

“Excuse me?” you let out, surprising Jungkook.

Surprising his mother, too, as she glances at you, eyes slightly widened. “At least she’s got a tongue on her.”

Because obviously that’s something his mother respects, in her own twisted way.

“And I’ll ask you to make a fucking effort for once,” Jungkook spits in his mother’s face.

She frowns. “Do not curse, boy. It doesn’t suit you.”

Jungkook sees red, and he laughs dryly. His mother clenches her jaw, and he wonders if he should tell her just how shitty of a person she is. Instead, he holds her gaze, refusing to back down from the fight like he would have if you weren’t here.

It lasts for longer than he expected, his mother not once blinking. But then she looks away, and Jungkook almost screams victoriously as she looks at you again.

“Where do you come from?” she asks.

Jungkook listens to your answer, still reeling from the victory against his mother.

“What do your parents do for a living?”

He’s surprised that his mother is trying. That she’s actually talking to you, and he thinks maybe you actually impressed her more than he imagined you would. Which, he’d thank his stars for it, because he really wants you in his life.

“My mother is a nurse,” you reply. “And I do not know my father.”

Jungkook’s mother blinks once before looking at him again. “Junghyun will be happy you came.”

She turns on her heels and walks away, and Jungkook looks at her back. He waits until she’s out of earshot and out of sight before glancing at you, his heart skipping a beat in his chest by your calm beauty.

“I apologize for this,” he says, and his arm drops from your shoulders.

“I think I’m starting to get why you wanted me to come with you,” you say, meeting his gaze.

He sighs in defeat. “I honestly didn’t think she would be flat-out rude like that.” He downs what’s left of his champagne, hating that there aren't more than a few sips in his glass. He puts it away on the tray of a server as she walks past, before saying, “I promise we can go home as soon as Junghyun shows up and sees that I came.”

Because he wants Junghyun to see you. Wants his brother to like you, to approve of you, because his parents never would.

But at least Junghyun can.

“We can stay longer too,” you reassure him. “I can handle the aristocracy.”

Jungkook can’t help his laugh, especially not when you look at him with that mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “The aristocracy?”

You nod wisely. “Yeah. Because obviously we’re not from the same class.”

He’s falling in love with you. Inevitably, irreversibly falling in love with you, and he’ll forever be thankful for meeting you.

“Fuck, peach.”

And just like that, you fall back in your usual playful banter, and Jungkook forgets all about his unease. It helps that you drink more, the alcohol numbing his senses slightly, and Jungkook introduces you to some of his cousins, those that he knows aren’t as judgy as his parents. Though there’s a language barrier, Jungkook translates for you, and he’s decently buzzed by the time Jungyun shows up, his fiancée on his arm.

Jungyun grins at the sight of Jungkook, immediately making his way towards where Jungkook is standing with you. Jungkook prepares to make the introductions, his heartbeat picking up in his chest as he can’t help the anxiety from flooding back in.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Jungyun says as he stops in front of you, pulling Jungkook into a tight embrace.

Jungkook grins. “I thought it’d be a good surprise.”

“It sure is,” Junghyun agrees, pulling away. He glances at you, offering you a welcoming smile. “And you are?”

“My girlfriend,” Jungkook says before you can say your name. He’s proud to say it too, like you’re the best thing he’s done in his entire life. And though right now it’s false, and you’re not really his girlfriend, he really does believe you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “From college.”

“Nice to meet you,” Junghyun says.

Jungkook is happy after that. Laughing lightly, smiling wide, and he loves how more comfortable you seem now. Because Junghyun and Nara, his fiancée, are welcoming, much nicer than his parents were earlier, and you enjoy their company until they excuse themselves to go greet the other guests in the room.

Jungkook smiles at you. “Do you want me to go grab a refill for you?”

You nod, gaze shining. “Yes, please.”

Jungkook obliges, walking away to do so. He has to go to the refreshment table, so it takes him almost a minute before he’s walking back towards you. He notices his mother with you, and his grip tightens on the champagne flutes he’s holding, so much so he thinks they might shatter in his hands. The second you catch sight of him you walk away from his mother, and the tears pooling in your gaze are enough to make him want to go up to his mother and punch some sense into her.

“What did she tell you?” he asks in the gentlest voice he can summon.

“Nothing,” you say, and he knows it for the lie it is as you blink some tears away.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes. “She’s…”

“It’s whatever,” you interrupt before he could finish his sentence. “I just want to spend time with you.”

After that, Jungkook finds he can’t leave your side. And so he stays with you, enjoys his time with you, too, because there’s nothing else he’d rather do right now. Later, after his brother does a speech, he suggests to go eat something, mostly because he’s starving and the entrées they are serving here would never be enough, but also because he wants intimacy with you, a moment just for you two to erase everything his mother said to you.

He knows she likely told you something shitty, because you seem uncomfortable, like it’s troubling your thoughts. He doesn’t want to mention it right now, though, not when you’re still at the engagement party.

You accept Jungkook’s suggestion to head to a restaurant nearby, and Jungkook looks at you. Truly looks at you - you’re an angel overlooking the city, in that blue dress he got you.

He feels small in your presence, and it’s a humbling experience.

“Then wait for me here,” he says and, unable to help himself, he leans closer to press a kiss on your forehead.

The look on your face is entirely worth it, making his heart beat just a little louder in his chest, and he walks over to his father and brother with his heart feeling full and warm, a feeling he’s not too accustomed with, but a feeling he definitely wishes to get used to.

Junghyun notices him first, and his eyes slide to you over Jungkook’s shoulder as Jungkook stops in front of his brother.

“We’re leaving,” Jungkook says, not wanting to beat around the bush when you’re waiting for him.

His brother cocks an eyebrow, chuckling. “Not her crowd?”

Jungkook widens his gaze. “What?”

Junghyun sighs, looking almost apologetic, and he leans closer to speak directly in Jungkook’s ear, low enough for only him to hear.

“Listen, Jungkook, you know she shouldn’t be here,” Junghyun says. “She’s not from our social circle, the parents still want you to marry Gabrielle, and they will literally drag Y/n to hell if that means you break up with her.” He pauses, and Jungkook feels his heart sinking in his chest, all the warmth gone and replaced with winter cold. “She’s clearly just in it for the money anyway.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, not knowing what to answer. Not expecting Junghyun to say something like that at all, but then again, Junghyun is his mother’s son. Jungkook should have expected it. And he wants to say you didn’t even know anything about the money before yesterday, so he clearly knows you’re not in for the money, but he’s silenced.

Especially when he knows you’re not in at all anyway. You’re just a fake girlfriend he invited so that this party wouldn’t be so excruciating. Yet his heart sinks all the same as he realizes it, like the Titanic headed for the bottom of the ocean.

“Anyways,” Junghyun adds. “Have fun while it lasts.”

He pulls away, enough to look Jungkook in the eye, though Jungkook can’t find the strength to hold his brother’s gaze. Junghyun scoffs condescendingly, and then he’s walking away, their father in tow.

Jungkook hasn’t spoken to his father in years now. Ever since he decided to study at that college almost four years ago, instead of attending Harvard like Junghyun. It still hurts to be ignored by him, part of Jungkook still begging for his father’s attention despite never really having it, and Jungkook feels his nails digging into his palms as he clenches his fists.

He watches Junghyun leaving, their father leaving, while his heart bleeds. Does Junghyun know how much Jungkook wanted his approval?

He was stupid enough to believe he’d get it. Hell, he’d thought you’d charm Junghyun easily, yet it seems he was wrong.

Of course he was. He’s always fucking wrong anyway, isn’t he?

It’s hard to think about something else after that. To escape the prison that’s been built around his mind, and when he finds himself alone in the elevator with you, he does the only thing he thinks could help.

He kisses you stupid, kisses you dumb, craving to remind himself that you’re real. That you’re here with him, that what his family believes doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t. Not when you’re with him. Not when he apologizes for his family again, and you tell him that you’re happy to be here with him. It undoes him, and he decides to let it go.

To let his family go, to focus on you. You’re the center of his universe, after all.

And so, for the rest of the evening, Jungkook decides to show you how much he appreciates that you came with him to this stupid engagement party. He forces himself to smile and laugh, and after the first fifteen minutes, it comes naturally to him, like it always does when he’s with you.

He thinks, the evening can only get better from there on. And it does - the club you find yourself in later is electrifying, buzzing with an energy Jungkook loves, and he drinks with you, dances with you, kisses you like you really are his girlfriend.

Like Taehyung doesn’t exist, like it’s just you and him. And for a very selfish moment, Jungkook wishes it could be that simple.

“Fuck, JK,” you whisper when you pull away from said kiss, breathing raggedly.

“What?” Jungkook lets out.

“Kissing you like this, where anyone can see…” you trail off, glancing at the crowd. Jungkook waits for you to finish, his blood slowly heating up in his veins. “It’s turning me on.”

He’ll go insane. As a matter of fact, he thinks he’s gone insane a long time ago. But right now he wants you so bad he almost wants to fuck in the bathroom of the club, which he reckons would be disgusting.

You deserve much better than that.

“Peach,” he says, voice low and husky. He feels his dick twitching in his pants, his arousal suddenly so intense he needs to make you his. “Then I’ll bring you here more often. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine, mmh?”

He doesn’t know how he makes it to his childhood home, later. Doesn’t know how he manages to keep his hands off you the whole way from the club to the condominium, except for holding your hand. He’s relieved he can steal a languid kiss on your lips when you ride the elevator, and he’s about to explode by the time you walk into the condo.

He wants you. So damn bad, yet when you say you have to take a shower, Jungkook agrees. If only so that he can calm down, because he knows he’ll bust the second you start fucking if he doesn’t calm down first.

You head to his room, and Jungkook watches you as you watch the city skyline. You’re beautiful, so beautiful he wonders how he’ll be able to survive if he can’t make you his.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” you ask as he’s helping you out of your coat.

His mind empties out, and it turns him on even more. “Want me to wash your hair?” he teases, flicking your nose.

You scrunch up your nose as you instinctively move your face back, and he can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Yes,” you say, smirking mischievously. “Maybe if you’re nice I’ll wash your back.”

He narrows his gaze. “I’m always nice.” And then he walks to the walk-in wardrobe, putting your coat away and then taking his off.

“Are you?” you ask as he walks back into his bedroom.

He can’t help himself. He bends down, picking you up bridal style, and he chuckles as you yelp. “Always,” he says, pecking your cheek as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you grumble as Jungkook carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on the counter.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he teases, and he steals a quick kiss on your lips.

He walks away, heading towards the shower so that he can turn it on. He feels your eyes on the back of his head as he does so, and he glances back, smiling softly. His heart flutters as you smile back, and it takes everything in him to focus on the task at hand.

“How hot do you want the shower to be?” he asks.

You smirk, and it nearly undoes him entirely. “What kind of hot are you talking about?”

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Water temperature, dummy.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Just put it how you like it.”

He nods, and he adjusts the settings until all the shower heads are on, steam soon wafting out of the shower. He then walks back to you, toying with his piercings. He watches as you spread your legs for him, and it’s so sinful he thinks he won’t be able to make it through the shower.

Jungkook manages to wrap his arms around your middle, and he pauses as you rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you ask in a murmur.

He wonders if you can hear the beats of his heart in his chest as he picks you up, and then puts you on the floor.

“Gotta get you out of your dress, mmh?” He lightly brushes his fingers on your arms as you hold his gaze, your pupils blown wide. “Turn around, peach.”

You obey, and Jungkook starts to unzip your dress, admiring every inch of skin revealed. Once he’s done, he pushes the dress off your shoulders, holding on to it just long enough to press a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder, and then he lets go. The dress falls, pooling around your ankles, and Jungkook feels so much for you he wonders how he’ll make it out alive.

“You know,” he breathes. He eyes your perked nipples in the mirror in front of you, and he wraps his arms around you, pinching the sensitive buds. “Every time I see you, you get more beautiful.”

“JK…” you breathe out.

“It’s true,” he insists. He turns you around, his eyes getting lost in yours. “There’s something about you…”

That makes me insane, is what he was going to say. But you pull him down into a soft kiss, one that means so much more than words ever could. At least to Jungkook, and he holds your waist as you kiss, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Peach…” he sighs.

He watches you as your eyes flutter open, stark emotion swirling in their depths.

“I think you’re supposed to undress too,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and he forces himself to take a step back. “Wanna help?”

You gulp, yet don’t answer as you raise your hands between the both of you so that you can unbutton his shirt. Jungkook watches you as you do so, his eyes never once shying away from your pretty features. When you’re done, you push his shirt off and rest your hands flat on his chest, right above his racing pulse.

Jungkook takes over then, taking off his pants, and they fall to the floor to meet your dress and his shirt.

“I’m so going to take my time with you tonight,” he breathes.

He cups your cheek, thumb swiping at your skin, and you lean your head into his palm.

“Yeah?” you let out.

He tilts your head back with a finger to kiss you softly. It grows hungrier, needier, yet he pulls away. “Definitely.” His hands slowly go down your body, stopping at the hem of your panties. “Can I take this off?”

You nod. Without an ounce of hesitation Jungkook drops to his knees. He hits the floor hard, and he’d wince if he wasn’t entranced by you. Instead, he slowly takes off your underwear, trying his best to ignore how your pussy is already glistening for him.

The second he straightens, Jungkook takes off his underwear too, and he sighs in relief as his dick is freed. You eye the precum leaking from his slit, and Jungkook wonders if you can see how he’s shaking from the restraint of not taking you right now.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you breathe.

“I know,” he lets out. “I’m fucking hard for you.” He chuckles and grabs your face to force you to meet his gaze again. “From the mess I saw in your panties, I know you’re already soaked for me too.” He pecks your lips, and then your forehead. “But shower first, right?”

He wants you to say fuck it, to touch him right now. When you kiss him, he thinks you’ll succumb to the desire too, and he sucks on your bottom lip, teasing it with his teeth.

“Shower first,” you agree the second you pull away.

Jungkook hides his disappointment behind a smirk and a wink, and then he walks over to the shower, stepping in as you follow him. He closes the glass door behind you, waiting for a second as you turn to look at him.

“What?” you ask.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what is going on, just that he’s drunk on you and it’s the best feeling he’s ever experienced before.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Pass me the soap?”

You nod, and then the shower passes in a blur of him washing you and you washing him. Jungkook can’t really produce any coherent thoughts, especially not as you say, “Now that you’re clean…” You smirk, and Jungkook knows he’s about to crash into his lust for you when you add, “Maybe I can actually take care of you?”

You really make him insane. Indeed, the second you drop to your knees, Jungkook goes insane, feral, so much so he thinks he’d be your slave if you asked.

“Yeah?” he lets out. “You want to suck me?”

He carefully redirects the shower heads away from your face, and then you jerk him off, once, and he reckons he might be in love with you. You swirl your tongue around his tip, the sight sinfully hot, and then you suck on it lightly.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, and then he leans a hand on the wall for support he knows he’ll clearly need. “Don’t be shy.”

You smirk before dragging your tongue on the side of his dick, from base to top, never once breaking eye contact. Especially not as you wrap your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you take most of him in. Your mouth is hot and wet, and Jungkook moans softly as he hits the back of your throat, cursing underneath his breath.

Your mouth is heaven. Your mouth is ecstasy in its purest form, and Jungkook is swimming in bliss when you suck harder, your eyes fluttering shut as you start bobbing your head on him, jerking him off at the same time. He instinctively holds your head, yet he lets you take the lead as you start moaning around him, the vibrations sending lightning strikes to his balls.

He clenches his jaw around his next curse, his head throwing back as you tease his frenulum with your tongue. His breathing is ragged, and he realizes he’s about to come the second you take him all the way in again, and he feels your throat closing around him.

“Peach,” he moans, quickly pulling out of your mouth so that he doesn’t come.

You lick his slit, and his balls tighten. “That feels good?”

He nods. “Way too much.” He chuckles breathlessly, then adds, “I’m going to fall in love with your mouth if you keep sucking me like that.”

He wants to pull you away, but you’re back on his dick and he feels his climax lingering nearby, though it doesn’t hit yet. His dick is rock hard, and it only gets worse when you tentatively tease his balls with one hand. He moans, not caring that the sound might be weird. All he wants is your pussy on him, now.

“Peach,” he lets out, a whiny sound he’d be embarrassed for with anyone other than you. “Stop. I want to fuck you now.”

You pull away, offering him an innocent look that is far too sinful for him, especially as you keep jerking him off quickly. “You don’t think you’d be able to go for round two?”

You’re a brat, and he fucking loves that about you. He chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “Not when I drank. And I really just want to make you feel good too.”

He pulls you up to your feet and, unable to resist, he pushes you against the wall as he ravishes a languid kiss on your lips. You moan as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, and a second later, he feels your fingers wrapping around his shaft as you jerk him off again.

He hisses, pulling away from the kiss, and then glances outside of the shower at his discarded pants. “I have condoms in there,” he says before meeting your gaze again. “But you deserve better than to be fucked in a shower, mmh?”

He means it. He wants to take you in his childhood bed, to feel your pussy wrap around his dick where the whole city lies at your feet. And even though some twisted part of him wants people to see, when you’re in his room a few moments later, he asks, “Do you want me to close the curtains?”

“You think people can see us?” you let out, glancing at the windows.

“Maybe if they’re looking up here,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s never bothered me, but I’ve never been with anyone in this bed, so…”

Your gaze widens in surprise, and it’s a comically cute expression on your features. “You’ve never fucked here?”

He realizes the confession too late, and he scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks burning. “I’ve never brought a girl here at all.”

You let out a laugh. “I’m sorry what?”

All he can do is wink at you, eyes going down your frame. They stop on your perked nipples, sitting so prettily on your chest he wants to touch them, to have them in his mouth again.

“You’re the first girl who’s ever come here,” he says. “The first I’ll fuck in this bed.” Lust clouds his thoughts again, heating up his blood and making his dick twitch. “And maybe I do want the city to see me fucking you. I want them to see how beautiful you are when you come.”

A few steps towards you is enough for him to kiss you again, savagely, his desire for you getting the best of him. He pushes you back towards the bed, up until you fall, looking up at him.

“I’ll be right back.”

He goes to retrieve the condom from his wallet, and he makes sure it’s safe to use on the way back. A moment later he’s putting it on his dick, eyes trailing to you when he’s done. He steps closer to you, kneeling between your thighs as you spread your legs wide open for him. Your pussy shines from your arousal, and he has half a thought that he wants to taste you again, though he needs you on him before.

“Already?” he teases you as he strokes himself slowly, mindlessly, at the sight of your spread thighs. “I thought you’d need a little bit of foreplay before.”

“Trust me,” you let out. “I’m already wet enough for you to rearrange my guts.”

He knows. He can see it, and it’s so hot he might burst into flame right then and there.

He moves closer to you, rubbing his dick on your folds to collect your juices. “You are.” He aims for your clit, smirking as your mouth falls open, your eyelids fluttering shut. “So you want me to fuck you? To rearrange your guts?”

“Jungkook…”

The sound of his name in that breathy tone of yours almost makes him come on the spot.

He pushes his tip in, stopping himself there. “Tell me what you want, peach.”

“I want you,” you say in a whiny whisper.

“Where?” he asks, and he pulls out to rub on your clit again.

You reach for his dick, and Jungkook grabs your hand, pinning your wrist over your head. “Be nice, mmh?”he says in your ear, and then he straightens again.

“I want you inside of me, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” He pushes in, stopping with just the tip in again. Even then you still feel heavenly, and he knows the sex tonight will be amazing. “Like this?”

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you grumble.

Jungkook laughs, but he too is done with the teasing, needing you more than he needs oxygen. He slams home, pushing all the way in until he feels his balls hitting your ass. You moan, and he wants to give you time to adjust, wants to be gentle with you, yet he’s possessed by lust. Indeed, he grabs your waist, and he starts pounding into you almost right away, establishing a wild rhythm of skin slapping against skin.

Your walls clench around him, the friction so good on his dick he imagines just how good it would be without the condom on.

He bends down slightly, aiming for a better angle, and you moan loudly, indicating that he’s reached his goal. You say his name, and this time he bends down all the way, leaning on an elbow. He holds your shoulders in place so that his thrusts don’t push you back on the bed, and then he’s jackhammering into you again, his bed starting to bang into the wall.

You’re a whiny moaning mess underneath him, and when your nails dig into the skin of his back, Jungkook grunts. His pace doesn’t falter, not when he thinks he’s in nirvana, and though sweat is clinging to his forehead, he never stops.

“Shit, peach,” he curses, and then he pulls out. He wants to see your ass, to feel the way that his pelvis hits it whenever he pushes in, and so he spins you around, and you let out a surprised sound as he repositions himself over you.

His dick rests between your ass cheeks for a fraction of a second before he pulls away enough to align it with your entrance, and then he’s pushing in again. He doesn’t move right away, instead massaging your ass, loving the way it feels in his hands.

You have the best ass he’s ever seen. He slaps it, admiring the way the skin tinges with red, and you push your hips back into him, seeking friction.

“You want some control, mmh?” he asks, and he pulls back to give you some, watching as you start fucking yourself on him, his dick going in and out of you in a relentless race, coming out covered with your juices each time. He hits your cervix, and you roll your hips. It’s almost enough to make him come again, but he holds it in, not wanting this to end already.

“You’re so big,” you let out. “So deep.”

He curses. “And you take me so well, peach.” He slaps your ass again, massaging the sting away. “Like your pussy was made for me.”

“It was.”

Damn right it was. You’re his - no matter what happens, you have to be his in the end.

He thrusts once, so hard the bed slides on the floor, and you rock forward, though he holds you in place.

“Good girl,” he says in a low, husky voice, and then he goes back to pounding into you as you clutch the sheets.

This time, he’s determined to make you come, and he leans on one hand, wrapping his free hand under you, blindly searching for your clit. He knows he found it the second you moan unabashedly loudly, and he rubs on it in quick circles as he keeps fucking you, your pussy growing impossibly tight. A few snaps of his hips later and you’re coming around him, your walls pulsing on his dick so devilishly good he lets out a moan.

You, on the other hand, have been moaning since you started coming, and it just keeps on coming as your back arches into him, your legs twitching. He milks it out of you, slowing down to help you ride the wave, and when you finally calm down, he stops, pressing a feathersoft kiss on the side of your face.

“You came hard.”

“Holy fuck,” you curse.

He chuckles. “One day, I want to feel you come on my dick without a condom on.”

The mental image that it gives him unleashes him completely, and he rams into you, chasing his own high. It almost hits when he feels you coming again, yet for some reason, he can’t climax, his orgasm evading him. He pulls out then, flipping you on your back, and then he’s kissing you, pushing back into you.

He establishes a slower, deeper rhythm, his lips never leaving yours. Your hands get lost in his hair, and you pull on the strands just enough to hurt a little. He loves it more than he’d admit it, the pain setting his nerves alight with desire, and his balls tighten, a sign that he’s finally nearing his high.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and he hits deeper then, the drag of you on his dick so completely perfect he knows he’ll finally be able to come.

More than that, he knows he’ll never be able to fuck anyone else again.

“I’ll fall in love with your pussy,” he whispers against your lips.

He means more. He means you, in your entirety, but he’s not stupid enough to say it, not when it would probably scare you away.

He rests his forehead against yours, and your grip on him tightens.

“JK…”

“Peach,” he echoes. He kisses you again, all the while fucking you slow. Once he pulls away from the kiss, he straightens, going back to kneeling between your legs. “Now be nice and let me come, mmh?”

You smirk, your blown wide pupils finding his. “Come for me.”

Fuck.

“On it.”

He’s close. He’s so fucking close all he can do is pound his hips into yours, watching you as you moan, your nails digging in his thighs. He nears his high like the crescendo of a song, and then he explodes, his motions growing sloppy as his dick twitches and twitches. He releases his load in the condom the second he pushes deep inside of you and he stills there, cursing and grunting as he comes.

He doesn’t move for a while, just enjoying the feeling of your pussy around him, and then he pulls out, lying next to you. You’re visibly fucked out, and he’s proud of himself for it - he hopes no one’s ever fucked you like he fucks you.

His hand rests on your stomach, and you slowly regain your breath. Jungkook feels the need to clean himself - the feeling of his dick swimming in his cum growing uncomfortable - and so he kisses the side of your face, going to the bathroom. He quickly cleans up, needing to be back with you as soon as he can. He walks back to the bedroom with a wet washcloth, and he lets you clean yourself as he looks outside, admiring the way the rain on the windows distort the lights of the city.

You go to the bathroom, and Jungkook settles in bed as he waits for you to come back.

“Come here,” he says as he opens his arms for you to come cuddle.

You do so, pushing one leg between his as you wrap an arm around his waist. He feels content, perfectly so, his heart so full and warm in his chest he feels like maybe he’s born again. Maybe he didn’t live before you, and you blew life into his lungs, into his heart and soul.

He’s falling hard. So hard, and though he should be scared, he finds he isn’t, not when he’s falling for you.

There’s nothing scary about falling in love with you.

Read chapter eight here!

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soooo how did you guys like it?? jk is so in love with her, help :')

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