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hysteria-things · 20 hours

Note

req for ethan landry:

how ethan acts when he’s jealous, write some scenarios and how he’d act PLEASE IM SO THIRSTY FOR ETHAN LANDRY CONTENT

PRIZED POSSESSION

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: grumpy!ethan landry x sunshine!fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: scenarios where your boyfriend gets jealous.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SUGGESTIVE, swearing, jealousy, possessiveness, making out, mentions of killing/blood, stabbing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,215

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HE’S FINALLY MAKING A DEBUT😩🙏

this setup is inspired by @042502’s chris sturniolo jealous reactions fic found here!

and most of the gifs are by @championwearingachampion :)

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… sees what you’re wearing while walking back to your dorm from class.

being the boyfriend that tells you what to wear isn’t a part of ethan’s personality. he doesn’t care what your outfit is because, at the end of the day, you’re his and will always be. on this particular school day, it was warmer than usual. you’re wearing one of your basic hot weather outfits — a tank top with a skirt. nothing too fancy, but comfy and casual.

while mindlessly walking down one of the many campus trails, ethan can spot you from a mile away. he does a double take, not believing his eyes when he notices what you’re wearing.

the multiple guys staring at you up and down have his blood boiling. with that, he walks over in long strides, blocking your path so abruptly that you bump into him. you stare in shock, but smile when you recognize the person. “oh, hey! i didn’t know you’d be around here at this time.”

he huffs through his nose. “kiss me.”

“what—”

grabbing your jaw softly, he pulls you in so your lips can touch, moving in sync with hunger and passion. leaving you breathless, you look around with flushed cheeks, noticing the men that were staring at you awkwardly walk away. “was this you trying to make a statement?”

without another word, he grabs your cheeks and kisses you again before pulling back and continuing about his day.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… despises when another man touches you.

the wetness on the thin fabric of your witch costume makes you shiver, the coldness running its coarse through your body. a small gasp leaves your lips, but one of your classmates that you’re acquainted with looks scared, a half-emptied cup in his hand while the rest of the liquid is on your dress. “i am so sorry.” he panics, grabbing paper towels on the nearest surface. “i’ll help you get it out.”

with the small napkin you have for your drink, you wipe your torso as you ensure to the boy that it’s okay. “don’t worry about it! it’s black; you won't be able to see the stain, anyway.”

“what’s going on over here?” a voice asks, the presence of ethan standing close to you. you roll your eyes playfully, resting your hand on his shoulder to let him know you’re fine.

he looks between you and the stranger before continuing. “what’s happening? don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself?”

the kid backs up abruptly, raising his hands in defense. “listen, man, i’m just helping her clean my drink that i spilled.”

ethan pulls out three crinkled-up tissues, holding them into view with a fake smile. “i have the supplies right here. now take a hike.”

the guy sighs. “my bad, bro. i didn’t know she was your girl.” he says, getting as far away as possible from the two of you.

you stomp your foot and whine. “he was just trying to help eth.”

“he was trying to get into your pants.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… hates when chad talks to his girl.

a giggle from your direction has ethan’s head snap towards you, noticing that you’re on your phone. he affirms in his mind that it’s just a funny video or something, but then chad laughs too. his eyes now dart over to his roommate, who’s also looking down at his phone.

what the fuck?

you and chad tap away on the screen, still finding whatever it is so amusing. ethan, however, finds this shit unamusing.

getting up from the chair, he comes over with a strained grin. he takes a peek at your phone, noticing that chad sent you a funny meme of some sort, with the text: saw this and it reminded me of you!

god, he never wanted to kill anybody more.

as everybody knows, the two boys are roommates in college. they get along fine and chad might even call ethan a friend, but deep down he hates how his buddy is with you. chad always has this charm to him that seems like it follows wherever he goes, but whenever he talks or looks in your direction, ethan can’t help but feel possessive.

on that note, you’re currently pushed up against the wall next to sam and tara’s apartment door with your boyfriend’s lips moving in sync with yours. “i don’t like how he looks at you… or talks to you.” ethan says, breaking the kiss for a millisecond before diving back in.

“but he’s your friend,” you whine, your mouth feeling puffy from the continuous heat and stimulation.

“chad is not my friend.” he says against your lips. “he pisses me off.”

“don’t”—kiss—“say that.”—kiss—“he’s nice.”

thank god nobody is in the hallway, or they’ll be getting one hell of a show. your fingertips intertwine with his curls, a small moan tickling your throat when he bites your bottom lip.

after some more bickering between sloppy kisses, he finally pulls away so the both of you can catch your breath. your eyes are glazed over, pouting while giving your boyfriend a look. he rubs your swollen lip with his thumb to clean off some spit. “delete his number, too.” he says, pecking your cheek before opening the door to go back inside, holding it for you as you follow; and deleting chad’s number in the process.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… notices a flirty comment under one of your instagram posts.

the audacity guys have is something ethan will never understand. the amount of people trying to get with you in your comment section is so pathetic it’s laughable.

you spot your man at the designated spot where he told you to meet on campus, walking over with a big smile. “hi!” you beam, stopping in front of him to put your school bag down. when he doesn’t answer, you pout, noticing his grumpy state. “why the sad face?”

see, he isn’t the type to be insecure. sure he portrays as the shy dorky guy that a lot of people can’t tolerate, but he honestly doesn’t care what others think. nonetheless, scrolling through your posts to see guys comment about how beautiful you are when it’s obvious you‘re taken rubs him the wrong way.

he shrugs, looking up at you since you’re standing and he’s sitting. “i wish i’m the only one that can stare at you.”

“it’s not my fault everybody has eyes,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. it doesn’t work. instead, he makes a face before rolling his eyes.

snaking your arms around his neck while you throw your legs across his lap to sit, you kiss his hair. “stop worrying so much, e. i love you, not anyone else. you.” you tell him, poking at his chest and planting a long kiss on his lips. “and if you keep making faces it’s going to get stuck like that forever.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… keeps a close eye on you.

being on the subway is probably one of your least favorite things to do. on top of that, you got separated from ethan who stands on the other side of the subway. there’s no more available seats, so you just stand there quietly. you have your earbuds in, one of your playlists on shuffle as you patiently wait for this ride to be over. trying not to make eye contact with anybody, a small touch on your leg startles you. it wasn’t an inappropriate touch, it was one to grab your attention.

turning to see where it came from, you see a kind-looking middle-aged man smirking warmly at you. you take out an earbud. “yes?”

“would you like to switch spots? i can stand. you look uncomfortable.” he says, adjusting himself like he’s about to get up from his spot.

“no, thank you. i’m almost at my stop, but thanks for offering!” you politely decline.

the man clears his throat. “are you sure, young lady? i may be old, but i’m more stronger than i look. i wouldn’t mind standing.”

your laugh ethan knows all too well gains his attention, although he has been watching this interaction since the moment it started. hell, he’s been watching you since you guys stepped foot onto the train. he can’t hear what you’re talking about, but alarms go off in his head. what can be so goddamn funny?

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

messages come rolling in on your phone as you feel the vibrations in your hand. sighing, you don’t have to check who it is before you open them.

ETHAN❤️

did he just touch you?

i’ll kill him

what are you doing?

girl

stop talking to him

come over here

the fuck😂

i really can’t

it’s way too crowded which makes it hard to move

i hate subways🙁

then stop talking to him

what is he like 60?

you’re cute when you act like a disobedient toddler

but you need to control that green-eyed monster of yours mr. landry

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… will threaten anybody who talks bad about you, even his father.

getting a girlfriend was far from the plan. detective bailey and quinn weren’t fond of the news that their family member got a significant other, and were even more shocked when he said it was a serious relationship. “it’s not serious, son. don’t be ridiculous.” his father would say to him repeatedly whenever ethan said he loved you when his relatives talked shit about you. however, there are times ethan feels guilty. you don’t know the ghostface persona he’s hiding, and he wants to keep it that way.

during the interrogation in the movie theater and when they revealed themselves to tara and sam, somehow bailey found a way to bring you up into the conversation, even if you had nothing to do about it. “i wonder what y/n would think.” he says sarcastically, earning a chuckle from quinn. “she’s your weakness, ethan. you’ve always been too attached, but look at you now. you’re on a roll! she’s too much of a distraction; keeps getting in the way.”

ethan grips his knife harder than before, charging forward before his sister stops him. he holds up his knife in a threatening manner. “weakness?” he repeats, scoffing. “she’s not my weakness. i. love. her. keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you hear me?”

let’s face it, he’s obsessively in love with you. he’d fucking kill for you. well, it’s not like he hasn’t done that already.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… catches whoever says anything negative about you.

tara is hanging helplessly off of the railing in the movie theater where it’s a 2 v. 3 fighting match. the two girls scream in fear while ethan swings his knife up in the air trying to stab at tara’s ankles. she dodges each throw, unfortunately. alas, she is smart, and knows exactly what to do to get under his skin.

“do you think y/n actually loves you?” she spits, making ethan pause his actions. rage plasters over his face. “you’re just some freak in a mask. she’ll leave you as soon as this is over — if you survive, that is.”

jealousy pangs in his chest, swinging at her more violently than before. “oh, will she?” he yells, the noise of the blade slicing through the air echoing throughout the area. “maybe nobody sees it around here, but she’s mine.”

a screech falls past tara’s lips are she slips from her grip, the sharp metal in ethan’s hand stabbing her right in the abdomen. she screams, the both of them tumbling to the ground when their bodies collide with full force. “after tonight, she’ll know just how far i’ll go to make sure no one else even thinks or speaks about her.” ethan continues, raising the knife and getting ready to attack.

“gotcha!”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns

#ethan landry #jack champion #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry smut #scream #scream 6 #scream six #ethan landry fanfic

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ktownshizzle · 22 hours

Text

Wild & Free | Part 2 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Please read part 1 for this to make sense. We start with oral (f. receiving) bec this is Yoongi, sex of course (v. cute and loving, unprotected- u wrap it up tho), self-indulgent shit if ima be honest, more cursing lol, reader is a yapper, couple of idiots but not for long, spit kink, reader is an aspiring brat, overuse of the term ‘baby’, tiny Beauty and the Beast reference if you catch it (tell me if you do!), possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas (read full statement fr part 1)

Word Count: 11k (approx. 45 mins to read)

Posting date: September 27, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

“Mm, there,” you mewl mindlessly, tugging his copper hair when his tongue hits. the. spot. “Shit, that’s IT.”

How you went from almost throwing him out of your room to him throwing you on the bed is a blur at this point. The moment your lips touched it was like he took over all your faculties. Brain emptied, pussy surrendered in less than a minute.

The way you are stripped of every inch of your clothing and he still has everything on gives you some false sense of power. But you know he is the one in-charge and dear God you are willing to submit.

Yoongi groans after a particularly harsh pull, and you realize belatedly how his scalp must be burning.

“Sorry,” you release his poor strands, but a quick hand grips your wrist.

“I don’t give a fuck–,” he says sternly, intense eyes looking up at you for a millisecond before diving back in like a man who has not had a proper meal in a year.

As if you’re not sufficiently down bad for him, you discover his dominating side and you are now an absolute wreck.

Eyes squeezed shut, your hands move to grip the sheets to tether you into this world as his hot tongue licks against your folds before swirling on the nub that has your soul ascending to another plane. Pinpricks of pleasure shoot from your core towards the tips of your limbs, every fiber of your being burning, coming alive.

But, he suddenly stops, and you can’t help the tiny whimper that immediately spills from your lips, panicked eyes going down to where he was.

His lips curl into a devilish smirk, before he pushes two fingers inside your entrance and the most obscene moan escapes your throat. Embarrassed, you pull your lips inward to muffle any sound you're bound to make.

He extracts his fingers from your hole and you are horrified at how empty you suddenly feel.

Shit, he looks mad. Were you too loud?

His smeared hand appears by the side of your face, pressing down the mattress to support his weight. The chains on his neck that hovers over your flushed face renders you speechless. You may have seen this in your mind’s eye, but it cannot compare to the real thing.

You see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead as he lifts a brow and speaks in a voice too calm for a threat, “If you want to cum on my tongue, you better let me hear you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out quickly, desperate, needy.

Looking pleased, he slinks back down, licking the valley of your breasts, kissing your knee, the inner part of your thigh, towards your mound.

He gingerly spreads your folds, purses his lips, then spits—”fuck!”—before slurping the juices from your cunt, creating a lewd melody with your helpless moans.

His lithe fingers start to move in and out of your slick walls in a steady rhythm that has your body tensing up like you’ve never had a proper orgasm.

A warm hand glides up your stomach towards the flesh of your breast, massaging it softly. His calloused thumb swipes over your nipple once, twice, thrice in a dizzying dance before twisting it, synching each roll with a lap of his tongue on your clit.

Goddamn, how did he get so good with that–wait you don’t want to know. You focus on his ministrations, his every move creating tidal waves of pleasure. His tongue moving in figure eights. Two fingers, curling slightly as it slides in and out. Your nipples, pinched and rolled expertly. Sanity, ebbing slowly away…

“Don’t stop,” you beg pathetically. “Shit, Yoongi, please…”

The devil laughs against your pussy, puffs of breath touching your wetness. For a second you thought he might edge you and you are so not a fan of that. But as always, Yoongi knows you, flaws and all. Patience was not your strong suit. And he is never cruel and

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“Give it to me.”

He keeps playing your body like a guitar, strings plucked and pulled taut, rapidly, repeatedly, coaxing out a melody from you that can rival any track he has ever laid down in Genius Lab.

“Oh… oh… Yoongi… Yoon-“

Body vibrating, hips bucking to meet his every hard thrust, you chant his name over and over in broken cries as white hot pleasure finally crashes through you, leaving you shattered in its wake.

Damn. What was that?

Easily the best orgasm you’ve had in a while and you were about to tell him exactly that. But he emerges from the depths of your core like a fuckin’ devil with the biggest shit-eating grin as he wipes his glistening chin with the back of his hand, and you think—nope, he doesn’t need a big head.

If it were any other man you might not have grasped the pillow above your head to hit him square in the face.

“Don’t look so smug,” you chide, but he just laughs. That adorable shoulders-bobbing soundless chuckle he does.

He lays beside you on the bed, hands behind his head, a cheeky grin plastered across his face as he licks his lips contentedly.

If you only knew the relief that is flooding his own senses at that moment. If you only knew that he took it personally, you chose that younger, more muscly dude to take home for the night. What, like he can’t get you there? Fuck that. He felt so vindicated.

Wordlessly, he guides you towards his body, draping the sheets over your bottom halves. You nestle your cheek against his chest, head tilted up slightly to admire the silver on his neck.

You can almost see the Yoongi you know coming back and decide you wanna bring him down a peg. Just for shits.

“So that’s what that tongue technology does, huh?“ you tease. “Took me to Hong Kong like you—”

“Aishhh! Hajimaaaa!” Your cheeks are suddenly smushed and he smothers your lips with tiny pecks, visibly flustered by his lyrics being repeated to him. It escalates into a flurry of lazy tickles and giggles until it naturally dissolves into lazy cuddles and watery smiles.

You feared this would be awkward, but it actually feels so… natural. Even as you both settle in your own sides, letting thoughts consume you after such a huge leap in your friendship, a comfortable silence takes over that you think he might even be asleep.

But then you feel his soft, slightly clammy hand squeezing your arm, pulling you back into the moment. “You good?” He asks, and you know there are layers to his question that you have yet to unravel. That it’s not just about how you are feeling physically, but everything: the shift in your relationship, this open door to some place new.

“Never better,” you say for now, pushing your body up slightly, so you can kiss his neck, dropping your voice to what you hope is a seductive purr. “I was thinking… Maybe I can return the favor?”

His eyes widen a fraction, but he shakes his head. “S’ cool, I want this to be about you.”

“So corny,” you deflate, moving to rest your head on your own pillow in protest.

“For real. I wanted to make you feel good. Least I can do for ruining your night.”

“But you didn’t--”

Your protest trails off as he lowers his head to kiss you again. Unable to help yourself, you lick against his mouth, your taste on his tongue still palpable, and the coals in your core start to ignite anew.

“Is this how you’ll get me to shut up from now on?” you mumble against his soft lips, swinging your legs over his hip.

“I think it’s working.”

“Sure is.”

“We don’t have to rush,” he reminds you after a beat, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, not quite meeting your eyes. Because what you didn’t know was what a liar he was. If you had any idea about all the unhinged thoughts brewing in his brain, like how perfect you would look with your mascara smeared and his cock pulsing inside your mouth, or like how he would love to take you to that wedding chapel and marry the shit outta you right now. Literal bonkers.

“But I want to,” you whine pathetically, wandering hands sliding down to the waistband of his boxers. “I want to taste your...”

Your phone rings from a distance, but you see Sejin’s face lighting up the screen.

“Dick.”

“That’s your boss.”

“And that’s what he is right now. It’s almost 3 a.m.”

You begrudgingly walk towards the desk where your phone was, rubbing your arms from the chill of the AC.

You pick up one of your stray sweaters draped over a chair, slipping it on before you swipe to answer the call. “Sejin-ssi?”

Maybe it was late, or maybe your brain dumbed down significantly after that amazing release, but Sejin’s litany was dragging on and you just hope you pick up the key stuff. “director called… need to reshoot early tomorrow… emailed you the details… Yoongi told you what happened right? … make sure he gets the message?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

You check Sejin’s email and texts and give Yoongi the rundown (basically he only has three hours to sleep before the early call time at the same penthouse suite), plugging your phone back in the charger afterwards. You stop by the bath and tug a fresh pair of panties on before returning to the bedroom.

His eyes are like little crescents as you pad over, very sleepy, very cutesy, before it zeroes in on the letters on your jumper. FG, it reads.

“Thief,” he says, pulling you back into bed, letting your head rest atop his arm to make you his little spoon–or so you thought, before he places your head in a mock headlock. “How many of my shirts have you stolen, huh?”

“This year, or?”

He lets go of his grip on your head, squeezing your waist playfully and you giggle.

“I was looking forward to staying here with you,” he mumbles, burying his face against your hair.

“Something about one of the cameras being kicked by somebody and files got corrupted. Know anything about it?”

“Hmm.”

And you suddenly remember the commotion between him and Jin yesterday while Jake was inviting you to go out. Strangely, it’s starting to make sense, but there was something more important to be addressed.

“Yoongi,” you call over your shoulder, and he doesn’t reply so you try to peel his arm from you only to be met by a groan. “We owe Jake an apology. You know that wasn’t cool, right?”

“I know,” he croaks, letting out a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him, I promise.”

“Thank you, baby,” you mutter sleepily, the yawn leaving your mouth halting mid-way as you clock yourself for the term of endearment that just casually slipped out. Yoongi hums in approval, snuggling even closer, and you decide you might just keep it.

Your first sort-of morning after, you didn’t think you’d wake up alone, but Yoongi had to leave due to the early call time. It was hazy how he left hours ago, but you can recall a peck gingerly placed on your forehead before he extracted the arm that was resting across your stomach and took all the warmth you needed with him. You can vaguely recall his gravelly tone as he places the duvet over your body, none of his words registering in your half-awake state.

You move through your morning on autopilot, going through the motions without much thought. But when you spot Yoongi’s jacket draped over the couch, your mind starts to drift. The details of last night come flooding back—every touch, every word—and before you know it, you’re smiling to yourself as you grab your bag from the same spot.

But then, like clockwork, anxiety creeps in, that old familiar weight settling in your chest. Your steps falter, and as you head for the door, all you can think is: Fuck. What if everything he said, everything he did, was just in the heat of the moment? What if it didn’t mean a damn thing?

The thought tightens around you, and the idea of facing that reality feels like too much to bear. You need to know that you’re on the same page. Stat.

The moment you enter the set, it seems that fate has sent you a sign on what needed to be dealt with first.

You watch as Jake sets up his camera equipment, adjusting lenses and fiddling with the lights. Tapping his shoulder, you clear your throat and offer a shy smile.

“Hi,” he says simply, zipping up one of the camera bags before turning his full attention to you.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” you say, your voice earnest.

His shoulders lift tentatively. “It’s not ideal. But I get it. Jimin told me.”

You raise an eyebrow, a bit taken aback. “Jimin?”

“Yeah,” Jake says, gripping one of the tripods. “He was outside when Yoongi threw me out.”

Oh. Why was he even there? You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulder, the mysteries of the situation still weighing on you. “Honestly, I didn’t know he was gonna do that. Things are a bit complicated I guess.”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head as he finishes with the equipment. “Funny, that’s what he said when he apologized earlier.”

“Ah. Glad he talked to you,” you respond, feeling a little relieved that Yoongi did what he promised.

Jake looks at you, his eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and sincerity. “Noona, can I tell you what I told him, too?”

You nod, curious. “Okay?”

Jake leans against the equipment cart, his tone light but direct. “Just uncomplicate it.”

He gives you a cheeky grin, adding, “Now this I didn’t tell him, because I like my job and like living. But if it doesn’t work out with him, maybe I could get a chance to take you out on a date for real?”

Your mouth parts disbelievingly and he winks before wheeling the cart away, shaking his head in amusement.

Face still warm from Jake’s shameless flirt, you see Yoongi’s bright orange hair before you even see the rest of him and this sobers you right up. Across the room, he was chatting with Namjoon about something seemingly important. The medium gray suit he was wearing is really doing things to you that you cannot explain. He looks like a proper groom, the fuck?! You look away before anybody sees you drooling over your… best friend? boyfriend? one night stand? Ugh! Future husband? Shit?!

Thankfully, one of the senior PAs proffers an iced coffee to you before your brain overheats.

“Yoongi-ssi says to give this to you,” he says curtly and walks away.

The drink was cold, but the warmth across your cheeks was still tangible as you take your first sip. Your eyes drift back to Yoongi and find his gaze on you so you mouth a thanks, lifting the cup as if to toast him. He simply nods.

The wingman of the year suddenly appears by your side. “Y’all good now?”

“I don't know what you mean, Chim Chim.” You slurp from your drink loudly for show.

Jimin sighs, “He’s not telling me anything.”

“Then I'm not either.”

His nose flares. “Nah. Fuck both of you. Truly. After all I–”

Sejin hollers your name, and you flash Jimin a quick peace sign, cutting him off mid-sentence. He’s left behind, pouting like a baby as you walk away with a grin.

After an hour or so, the shoot almost wraps up. Feeling peckish, you are surmising the food in the mini catering setup in the other room, when you sense someone behind you. Strangely enough, you know who it is just by the way he was dragging his shoes and the timbre of his inhale.

“You smell nice,” Yoongi says in a casual drawl, looking over your shoulder to check the food out.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Maybe you did sneak in an extra spray of perfume before leaving the hotel and made sure to hit the pulse points, because, you know, pheromones and attraction and all that…

Before your mind goes off the deep end, you default to defense mode. “You better not be saying that to everyone… kinda creepy.”

Completely disregarding your attempt to downplay the compliment, he replies, “Hmm. Didn't peg you as the jealous type.”

You pout, trying to look offended but failing miserably.

Shifting gears, he asks, “You busy today?” and places the tiny blue macaron on your plate that you were about to reach for, before pushing a peach one inside his mouth.

“I’ve the rest of the day, but you have to go to Anderson Paak’s house.”

“You’re not coming?” he asks mid-chew, the sweet treat pushed aside creating a dent on the inside of his cheek.

“His team requests for the meeting to be ‘intimate and organic,’ their words not mine, so it's just your interpreter, and your bodyguard.”

“But you’re my…” The beginning of his complaint halts. Cat got his tongue.

He blinks. You blink. It’s just ridiculous at this point, the emotional constipation. He could have easily just said manager, because really that’s what you are for all professional intents and purposes. But you both know you are also at the precipice of something new, teetering on the edge of becoming real. Neither of you has said it yet. Not out loud, anyway.

“We really need to talk.” You decide.

“Tonight,” he agrees with a tight-lipped smile.

“Like really talk.”

“Kay.” he brushes powdered sugar off his hands and onto his slacks. “I’ll be in your room by 8.”

“Please don't try to bust the door down this time, Gaston. Just use the doorbell.”

He crinkles his nose at you and with a small huff he goes back to set, a satisfied grin on your face and hope blooming in your chest that everything will be fine.

***

At 10 past 8 in the evening, you finally hear the doorbell. You drag your hotel slippers-clad feet to the door, stopping by the mirror briefly to check your appearance before pulling the door knob. You were just wearing a shirt and tiny sleep shorts, but you did add a flavored balm to your lips in case.

“Hiiii babyyyy,” Voice slurred, Yoongi’s squinty face comes into view, and your eyes bug out as you find Bangtan’s interpreter Nicole and bodyguard Sunjae holding him up by the elbows.

Reeking of alcohol and maybe a hint of something even more suspicious, he stumbles into your room, kicking off his dunks which lands with a dull thud somewhere you can’t see.

“Explain, please?” you eye his bodyguard who scratches the back of his neck, before he sheepishly recounts how Anderson Paak was all about the vibes…

The fuck?!

Before you can ask more questions, “C’mere baby, I missed youuuu…” Yoongi croons from the couch.

Maybe it was too late, but still, you hold your hands in front of you in an attempt to deny whatever impression they now have of your relationship, “Guys, it’s really not what it looks like, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Nicole assures you awkwardly, holding two thumbs up. “He talked a lot about you in the car, you know? Like a lot. I’m… We’re happy for you guys.” The bodyguard also nods. “And we won’t tell the company.”

Flabbergasted, the sharpest intake of air pierces your lungs. What do they know? And do they know more than you at this point? You just hate Min Yoongi sometimes.

“Alright, I guess I’ll take it from here. Thank you, both,” you say with a tense smile and click the door shut, pressing your forehead on the door before facing the drunkie in your living room who was attempting to turn on the TV with the remote control of the AC.

Great.

This is a version of Yoongi you don’t get to see that frequently. He was ditzy-drunk, a needy, chatty, loopy Yoongi that is actually quite endearing if you remove the fact that he will be hungry in an hour or so (pizza with pickles, usually; sometimes some kind of noodles) and the night typically ends with a good ol’ barf. You’ve dealt with ditzy-drunk Yoongi before and the best solution you’ve found is to just ride the wave.

Slouched on the couch with his legs spread, Yoongi has a lazy but naughty smile on his face as you approach. You wanna be mad so bad, but fuck, he actually looks kinda cute right now.

He tilts his head to the side, jutting his lips out, “Are you mad?”

“No…” you sigh, flopping down next to him.

“Then sit here.” He taps his lap.

“I’m fine here.”

“This is better, I promise. It’s ergonomic.” He presents his lap as a chair with a flourish. You swear, this guy and his weird vocabulary of equally useful and useless knowledge.

You move to settle your body on his thighs, swinging your legs over to straddle him. His mouth stretches into a big grin, satisfied to have your weight on him.

“Why are you so tense?” he places his hands on your shoulders, massaging downward to your elbows.

“We were supposed to talk, but now you’re so out of it,” you sigh.

“I have very high alcohol tolerance, excuse you!”

“Yes, but you’re drunk af right now!”

“False. I’m not at all drunk at all.”

“Wow. So believable,” you deadpan.

“Yah! Why don’t you believe me? Why does no one ever believe me?”

Even ARMY knows he word-vomits when he lies. And when he’s drunk. Deadly combo.

“Ok, prove it. You want to talk, right? So talk.”

He blinks owlishly at you, as you challenge him with your raised brows.

“Thinking is soooo hard,” he complains, before he perks up with an idea. “Ah! Ask me questions and I will answer them.”

A rare opportunity to let Yoongi yap voluntarily. Cool, you’ll take it.

“How many drinks did you have?”

“Yes,” he nods confidently.

You massage your temples with your fingers and sigh. This was going to be a long night.

You end up asking the most random things and Yoongi gives either the most unhinged or deeply unsatisfying responses. At some point during the night, some instant ramen was had (thanks to Jungkook who dropped off some from his stash), after which, Yoongi, as expected, ended up doubled over on the toilet.

As you watched him heave the contents of his stomach, the rancid smell making your own tummy turn, the one thing that you thought was what a mess he was, but you want him to be yours. Your messy, loopy, ditzy, drunkie, Yoongi. Yours.

Eyes pitiful, mouth upturned, with orange locks grouped in sweat, poor Yoongi grasps the seat of the toilet, asking, “Can I borrow a shirt?”

You push the hair away from his forehead, nodding, “Of course, baby.”

After a shower, he emerges from the bathroom with your (his) white tshirt, remnants of ditzy-drunk Yoongi long gone, and in comes the version you love, barefaced and beautiful.

What a masterpiece, Min Yoongi is, and you wonder how it is that some higher being crafted someone with such a delicate face with a mind so captivating and a heart so wonderful. And you haven’t even seen his cock at this point. What if that is a beaut, too?

He walks towards you, head flicked to one side as he rubs a towel on his damp hair.

“Mint, Yoongi? Might settle your tummy,” you gesture to the cup of tea on the coffee table.

“Angel.” He says, padding over to the console with the towel draped on his neck. A slurp and a satisfied mmm later, he settles beside you.

“Are we still playing the game?” You ask.

A pause, but his response surprises you, “I guess we are.”

And so you decide to ask something you’ve been curious about since he got there. Because as much fun as you had conversing with him on petty shit, you are really desperate to know how to move forward with him.

“What did you tell Nicole and Sunjae about me?” you hug your pajama-covered knees.

He lets out a faint chuckle, gaze fixed firmly on the floor as if it holds all the answers. “You should have asked this earlier.”

“I’m asking now,” you face him slightly, trying to read his expression.

By the looks of it, it’s not like he doesn’t know or forgot. The pressure was internal. The hesitation was borne out of years of evading uncomfortable unknowns, which served him well, until it didn’t. You can almost hear the gears turning in his head, thoughts being organized, distilled, rationalized. That’s just how Yoongi is.

And because where he is avoidant, you were non-confrontational. So you open your mouth, about to offer him an out. Maybe you didn’t have to talk about it today? Maybe you should just put a pin on it and maybe talk about it when you’re both ready–like after another decade? Cool cool…

But this time, he shifts. His palm rests face up on his knee, an invitation for you to hold. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth radiating through his skin, grounding you both.

The television is still on, bathing his features in blue light as you observe him. He picks up the remote and shuts the screen off, the sudden silence working to thicken the tension in the air.

You’re so nervous for some reason that you can feel your palms sweating against his. You already kissed. He already told you he was yours. You just need to sign the dotted line. Sober.

“I told them,” he begins, his voice low and steady, eyes fixed straight ahead on the blank TV. “That you’re everything to me. You’re my best friend. You’re my dream.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the words reverberating through you like a symphony.

“I think we both know this isn’t just…like we’re not just…you know.” His hand tightens around yours as he bites his lip, struggling to find the right words. “It hasn’t been just friendship for a long time. At least for me.”

“There’s this song I wrote… umm, I was gonna play it for you in the studio when we got home. Fuck it’s so cringe now that I think about it. But, yeah, that was the plan.” He laughs softly, and you can’t help but laugh along, the sound of your shared amusement creating a bridge between you.

Your name falls from his lips, so you glance up and find his warm eyes connecting with yours.

“I love you,” he rasps, voice sincere and raw. “I’ve loved you for so long. Can’t even recall a time that I didn’t.”

Before your mind can catch up with your heart, you crash your lips on his unceremoniously and desperately. You’re back on his lap, hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You kiss him fiercely, pouring all your unspoken feelings into the action. His hand moves into your hair, gently pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

While your first kiss was passionate, it was laced with so many residual emotions that built up over the course of last night. Frustration, anger, hunger quickly took over both of you the moment your lips finally met, quickly escalating into, well, the best oral of your life, apparently. So no regrets there.

But this kiss—this one—was it. The kind you'd remember fondly when you’re old and gray of what it feels like to be really kissed. Enlightening, like finding the final piece of a puzzle you’d been working on since your youth. Filled with all the love and years of words left unsaid, like a pin code, a password, a key, that only he knew how to unlock.

As you pull away, breathless but content, you look into his eyes and respond clearly, simply, “I love you too, Yoongi.”

And in that moment, as your eyes meet like you were the only two remaining in the world, everything feels right.

“But I can’t believe you let your bodyguard hear that confession first.”

“Aish!”

��I thought it would at least be Jimin.”

“Fuck that. Don’t even talk about another man right now.”

Suddenly that tone is back and your body starts to tense in response. He grips your hips and pulls you against him so you can properly feel the ridge of his cock right against your clothed folds. Yep, that’s a semi.

“You better be nice to me,” his hands move to squeeze your ass expertly, encouraging you to roll forward. Who are you to decline? Not when the pressure from his bulge is caressing your center in the best possible way.

Your body threatens to give in, but the brat in you is still in fighting form, “Or else what?”

“I think you know how nice I can be,” he husks, moving to place teasing kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin to leave a mark. God, that feels good.

“I uh m-might need help remembering.”

He smiles against your neck, his breathy voice tickling you a bit, “You got amnesia, baby?”

You nod meekly, hands roaming towards the back of his neck.

“You better remember my name when I fuck you,” he licks the shell of your ear and you gasp, a gush of liquid soaking your panties.

“Take this off,” he commands, hungry eyes dipping down to your chest.

“So demanding,” you risk the cheeky remark and as expected, you get his unimpressed look. Ok, ok. You’ll be good now.

You lift your shirt by the hem and before you can even pull it over your head, his big, warm hands seize your breasts as they bounce free.

“Fuuuck, baby, I love these. I love these a lot.” He shakes his head in disbelief, bringing your tits together, enjoying how soft they felt in his grasp.

Preening at his dazed reaction, you arch your body forward, placing your chest directly in his sightline. “They’re yours, baby.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, licking his bottom lip before moving towards one of your nipples. Your eyes threaten to close as the warmth of his mouth envelopes your nub. But you want this moment forever ingrained in your mind–with the way he is mouthing your tits, murmuring his dirty thoughts, lips pushing and teeth pulling. He moves to your other breast, giving it the same treatment, while a hand takes the one his mouth just left, flicking the swollen tip with his index finger to send more jolts of pleasure through you.

“How did you get so good at that?” you mumble, unable to keep your eyes open anymore, your fingers getting lost in his hair.

“How did these get so juicy,” he growls against your spit-covered tit and you feel his teeth clamping down hard.

You moan loudly as arousal pools at your core. “Fuck we should have done this sooner.”

With a small chuckle, he taps your thigh once, and says, “Meet me in the bedroom,” and you are immediately on your feet, leaving him rummaging through his bag for what you assume is a condom. The triumphant “ha!” you hear confirms it.

Okay, so what do you do now? You start with removing your little shorts and chucking it somewhere on the side, leaving you with your basic as hell black cotton panties, but it’s as good as it gets right now. How do you make this sexy, like do you lie down on your tummy, giving him a great view of your cleavage, or stay sat pushing your boobs together like an anime girl. Why you’re acting brand new is beyond you, but your–

“What are you doing?”

You halt your movements, ending up in an awkward mermaid pose that you don’t even know if it looks good. “Umm…”

Cute, you think you hear him say, before he lifts his shirt up and off his body and you get a view of the smooth, pale planes of his torso and his dusty nipples that have your mouth watering. Your eyes continue to drink his unintentional strip tease, watching hungrily as he removes his boxers to let his cock spring free.

“Fuck…” Unfair. Just unfair how gorgeous he is.

By the looks of it, he knows what you want, feline eyes taunting you as he pokes the inside of his cheek before grasping the base of his cock, tugging at it once. “You know what to do, or uh–do I have to shove it in?”

Quickly, you drop to your knees, feeling a little bit of rug burn that you might whine about later, and you slide your hands up towards the back of his inner thigh to anchor yourself.

You were never into power dynamics and all that with your past lovers, but there was something about Yoongi in the bedroom that made you want to be a bratty sub. Something told you that he would enjoy taming you, too.

“If you knew what to do, you would actually shove it in,” you say with misplaced cockiness, not knowing you were going to regret it in about five seconds.

He shakes his head with a disbelieving grin as if to say you’re going to be in big trouble. You gulp as his long fingers grasp the length of your jaw to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your lips to form an O-shape. “Open up.”

You do as he says and as expected, he does shove it in.

He groans as his cock hits the back of your throat. You sputter a bit and you hate how it makes you look like an amateur, but the truth is, you’ve never really taken anyone of his size.

With him still in your mouth, his thumb caresses the side of your cheek, concerned that he might have hurt you, “You okay, baby?”

You nod even as tears threaten to spill from your eyes, not wanting to disappoint him. With a softened expression, he lets his cock fall away from your mouth, but you immediately catch it in your hand with renewed vigor. You pump him for a few strokes before plugging the tip with your mouth as your hand continues the motions.

He hisses loudly as you lick the pre-cum that has pooled in his slit, his salty taste and heady scent invading your senses, springing you to do more. Cheeks hollowed you move to take all of him in your mouth, coating the smooth ridges with your saliva, before his head hits your throat. You’re ready this time, moaning as you keep his entire cock lodged inside.

“Shit,” he exhales breathlessly, a hand combing through his hair as he tips his head back.

Taking it as a good sign, you glide in and out faster, pressing your tongue against a thick vein that runs along the underside of his dick. Your hands move upwards towards the meat of his ass and you squeeze and push him further into you, eliciting a low groan from him.

He clumps a fistful of your hair into a haphazard ponytail as he rocks forward, gauging your reaction as he starts with some experimental shoves. You look up at him, nodding, a silent surrender. The corners of his lips lifts up in a snarl as you place both hands behind your back, relinquishing all control to him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts as his hips buck into your mouth. Eyes watering, mascara streaks your cheeks as he continues his assault. You keep your head clear, breathing through your nose, wanting, no, needing to make this good for him.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when he lightly tugs your hair, and groans, “Shit, baby— baby, stop.”

He releases your hair and uses his index finger to tip your chin up so he can assess you. Your brows are furrowed, unsure why he stopped.

Slightly out of breath and sporting a lopsided grin, he calls you, “my perfect girl” and your worries subside as he explains, “I had to stop ‘cause it was getting too good. Don’t wanna cum yet.”

You’ve obviously found Yoongi attractive, but he deadass is his hottest right now, dazed and disheveled from being pleasured by you.

He grips his cock and begins to trace your swollen lips with it to smear his slick all over you like a gloss. “So gorgeous…”

You preen at his praise, sticking your tongue out so he can play with your mouth more. He slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, your saliva dribbling down your chin. You taste minute drops of his cum as he works the tip of his dick against your wet muscle in tiny circles.

Your jaw hurts like hell, your face is a mess, but he is looking at you like you are heaven-sent, as if you were carved out by the gods and bestowed to him as a present. With this realization, your heart squeezes with emotions you can’t place. All you know is that you’re willing to do anything and everything for him, his happiness, your own.

You are truly fuckin’ whipped.

“Up baby, let me take care of you,” he scoops you by the elbow, guiding you to the bed. You crawl atop the mattress, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and yelp when you feel a playful little slap against your butt.

“Can’t help it,” Yoongi says, moving on top of you, floppy bangs covering his teasing eyes.

He uses the pad of his thumb to rub off some of the mascara from under your eyes, then moves some of your hair away from your face. The softness in his gaze fills you with wonder, and for a few charged moments you both just look at each other, before you break the silence with a tender confession.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you tell him as he strokes your cheek.

He smiles. Nods and says, “Me too,” then he kisses you, softly, with gentle caresses of his tongue against the seam of your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve imagined you like this.”

“Hope it didn’t disappoint.”

“Nah you’re more than perfect.”

Eyes round, lips pouty, warmth blooms across your cheeks at his praise, unable to say a word. You? Perfect?

“Stop being so damn cute when I’m supposed to be fucking you.” He pecks your nose, then down to your lips where he lingers. You push your tongue against his mouth and he is ready to suck on it softly, swallowing your moans. His kisses start getting rougher and faster, as your fingernails lightly claw his smooth back. He’s got you whimpering when he pulls your plush bottom lip with his teeth and releases it with a dull pop.

His breath fans your cheeks as he moves to pepper kisses along your jaw, towards the sensitive spot behind your ear and down your neck. All the while his hands are traveling all over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

As you continue to explore each other's mouths, you're starting to become too aware that your pussy is leaking, feeling abandoned, aching for friction. You could do it, dip your hands under the waistband of your panties and take the edge off a bit, but where’s the fun in that?

“Touch me, please Yoongi,” you ask breathlessly.

“I am.” he licks a tender spot on your neck that makes you gasp, while his hand gently caresses the base of your throat, squeezing it experimentally. Another gasp escapes you.

“Lower, please…”

“Where?” he asks playfully. “Here?” He tweaks a nipple and you whine. “Or here?” He lets his fingers move to the mound of your pussy before he hooks your panty to the side and slides his fingers to your leaking entrance.

You wail as the touch you have been craving for finally comes. Yoongi looks ever so pleased with your reaction, biting his lip as his fingers work your clit in slow circles underneath the soaked cotton.

Insane. You’re starting to be driven insane just by the feel of his veiny fingers gathering your arousal and coating your nub with every slow stroke.

Mouth, you desperately need his mouth. You cup the side of his face to pull him towards you and your mouths move languidly, matching the pace of his fingers.

“Wanna be inside you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. But I need you to cum first, can you do that for me?”

“Okay, I’m close.”

His index and middle finger picks up its pace stroking against the sides of your clit. The pressure in your body builds, and you can no longer control the way your body jerks at the mounting bliss.

“Let it happen,” he licks your bottom lip. “Cum.”

And finally your body succumbs, thighs clenching hard as you coat his fingers with the outpouring of your pleasure.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he makes a show of licking your creamy cum from his fingers and you almost go cross-eyed with how feral the act is making you.

“Gimme a sec,” he drops a kiss on your forehead before moving to roll away from your body, and you assume he was about to get the condom.

An urge comes to mind and you are powerless to stop your mouth from blurting it out.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him shyly, sitting up while he pulls the packet from his discarded shorts. “I’m on the pill, and am clean.” And you know he is, too, because you regularly monitor his wellness checks.

Yoongi stands by the foot of the bed, mouth parting and closing wordlessly like a fish as he tries to decipher your words.

And you know you needn’t say this, but it’s out before you think better of it, “it’s been umm years since my last.”

Yoongi closes his eyes for a few seconds as if weighing his options. “You sure?”

“I want to feel you.” Fingers closing in on his dick, you pump his length, bringing it back to life. “All of you.”

“Fuck,” he groans, nodding. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“How do you want me?”

“Just lay down, I need to see your face when I fuck you.”

You do as he says and your back hits the plush duvet. He pulls your panties down your legs, throwing it on the floor carelessly. He crawls on top of your naked body and you hook your legs around his waist. Your heart pounds in anticipation.

“I’m gonna warn you, I might not last,” he aligns himself by your entrance, and finally sinks his cock inside your swollen pussy. You groan in unison as he bottoms out with ease, lost in the euphoria of each other's bodies.

For a moment, he stays lodged in you just like that, girth nestled against your folds, while your body adjusts to the welcome intrusion. The feeling consumes you whole–warm, wet, wonderful. You take deep, controlled breaths as you fight the urge to rut against him, but your inner walls can’t help but clench.

“Fuck, you feel so good, but I really need to move.”

“Promise we can cockwarm next time?”

“Uh huh.” and with that he starts to thrust into you in short, stuttered strokes, making you gasp for air.

“Fuuuckin hell you’re so tight,” he grunts, chasing the high of his release as dirty words continue to spill from his mouth.

You push your boobs together, his eyes magnetized by the action and watches as you pinch both nipples, making you moan.

“Yoongi…” you say his name wantonly, drunk in your desire for him. “Just use me, baby.”

Growling, he guides your leg above his shoulder for a better angle, and his pace increases tenfold. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, mixed with helpless whines and grunts.

The familiar coil tightens in your belly.

“Touch yourself,” he insists and your hand slides down to where your bodies meet. Your clit is swollen, sticky as you rub it in circular motions timing it with his thrusts. “Are you close?”

“Mmh…” you nod. “So close…”

“Me too,” he pushes inside you rapidly, deeply, like he wants you to feel him for days. His thrusts are getting erratic, and you can see that he is incredibly close with the way his brows are pinched.

Electricity crackles between you, an invisible force leaping from your body to his, building with every shared thrust. His grip on your thighs are firm, and your nails are sure to leave indents on his shoulder. Everywhere your bodies meet, a spark ignites—a surge of energy that only grows stronger.

“I’m cumming,” he warns and it’s a miracle you’re able to respond with “I’m there…” as each movement sends another jolt, until the air itself hums with the raw, electric charge of your passion and you both cum at the same time.

You feel radiant and you swear you’ve never felt more alive.

Meanwhile, Yoongi looks absolutely destroyed as he sets your leg down, and you love it. Impenetrable, aloof, Min Yoongi brought to his demise by your pussy of all things.

He buries his face on the crook of your neck, his breaths tickling your skin. Slowly he eases out of you, and you hiss as you feel his sticky cum seep from your entrance.

“I thought I couldn’t be more in love with you, but shit I was wrong,” he mumbles, face still nestled by the top of your shoulder.

You don’t know what to say. So you keep it simple. “I love you, too, baby.”

After a whirlwind of a night, you and Yoongi quietly begin to clean up. You cuddle for a stretch of time, showering each other with the sweetest words. He hands you a bottle of water from the side table with a small smile, and for a while, you both just soak in the calm.

He finishes washing up first and heads back to the bed, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Meanwhile, you're still in the ensuite, brushing your teeth, catching a glimpse of him as you finish up. The whole moment feels easy, like the perfect end to a long night.

“We can go out tomorrow if you’re down,” he says, as you spit the mouthwash on the sink. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“Aww. Our first date, huh?”

“We’ve been in plenty. You just didn’t know.”

Really?

You peek your head from the doorway of the bath, “ Yeah, but this will be my first as your girlfriend.”

That got him cheesing, nose wrinkling to hide a shy smile that was so unlike the beast that he was just a few minutes ago.

“What’s taking you so long? I already miss you,” he says pointedly, and you bound back to bed like his little pup and into his awaiting arms.

“I can get used to this,” he says against your forehead, pressing his lips to it.

“I still want to hear the song, by the way,” you mumble, referring to the supposed track that he was going to use to confess. “What is it called?”

“That That.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you slap his chest as he chuckles to himself. Not the crack song with Psy. You roll your eyes, ‘cause he thinks he is so funny, but he just cages you in tighter.

“No title yet, but you get to listen to it when we go home.”

“Mmkay.”

The next morning, you’re back from the breakfast buffet, where you sufficiently replaced all the calories you burned last night, and decide to chill in your room. Meanwhile, Yoongi makes some arrangements for your date.

Lounging on the couch, you are scrolling through IG, when a video call from your mom pops up. You quickly swipe to answer, smiling as her face appears on the screen.

“Hey, dumpling! How’s work?” she greets you with your childhood moniker, grinning like she always does when she sees you.

“Busy, but good,” you reply, while propping your phone against the lamp on the side table. “You know, the usual chaos. We’ll be home in a few days…”

“That’s good.” Then, without missing a beat, she narrows her eyes a little, leaning in toward the camera as if that’s going to make her point clearer. “So… did you use one of your dating apps while you’re there? Are you seeing anyone yet?”

She’s been asking you this for months, though always with that loving impatience that makes it hard to get annoyed.

Thankfully, today is the day that you have a different answer. “Actually… yeah. I have a boyfriend,” you admit, cheeks heating up.

Your mom’s face lights up immediately, her teasing forgotten. “Omo! Finally! That’s wonderful news. I was starting to think I’d have to phone Min Yang-hee and arrange…”

And of course, Min Yang-hee’s very own son, completely oblivious to the call, walks into view. And of course, he’s shirtless. Because why wouldn’t he be showing off those sweet little nips right now? And of course he is wearing low-hanging gray sweatpants. Because why wouldn’t his dickprint taunt you at the most inconvenient time?

“Baby, can I borrow your—” his voice cuts off as he realizes what’s happening. He freezes mid-step, eyes flicking between you and the phone.

“Yoongi-yah?!” your mom exclaims, her eyes practically sparkling.

Yoongi blinks, then awkwardly grins, as he grabs a throw pillow from the couch to shield his chest. “Oh… good morning, eomonim. Didn’t know you were, uh, here.”

Your mom’s grin turns downright mischievous. “Well, well, well. Look who finally makes a move! I was telling dumpling that I was about to call your…”

”Eomma!” You bury your face in your hands, feeling your cheeks burn with the insinuation of an arranged marriage.

“What?” she says, all fake innocence. “I’m just saying. Took you long enough, Yoongi. You’ve been trailing after her since you two were kids.”

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed, but laughing along. “Eomonim, good things take time, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure. And look at you—future grandkids are gonna have such a handsome father.”

No, your own mother did not just check your boyfriend out. “Eomma, stop…”

“But don't think I haven't been keeping up with the news. Young man, you seem to have been getting wedding proposals left and right, you better not break my dumpling’s heart.”

“Please eomma.” You say even though you were getting a little teary-eyed from her being over protective of you.

“She’s the only woman I've been interested in, eomonim. As you said, since we were kids.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Quick, let’s add your eomma here! Such good news needs to be shared.”

Yoongi, now a deep shade of pink, chuckles nervously.

“Maybe later. We have a schedule to go to…” you interject.

“Is that what you kids call having se—“

“Love you, eomma!” You eye her pointedly, sufficiently mortified by the whole conversation.

Still grinning, your mom waves you off. “Love you, too, dumpling.”

Yoongi ended up renting a convertible and driving you all over town.

For lunch, you visit a charming café in the Arts District. The place is known for its artisan sandwiches and freshly pressed juices. You share a sandwich, a soup, and a salad, enjoying each other’s company and a few laughs over a meal that’s as delightful as it is delicious.

Then you move to a coffee shop you had wanted to try and it turned out to be a gem. The café was warm, cozy, with the faint hum of chatter and the clink of mugs surrounding you both. You sat across from him, your hands intertwined on the table, his thumb mindlessly stroking the back of your hand as you talked. The conversation was light, random, teasing—the kind of banter that always made you feel like the two of you were in your own little world.

“So, if you could magically transport us anywhere right now, where would we go? And don’t say ‘bed’—I swear you can’t always be sleeping.”

“Can I say bed, but not ‘cause I want to sleep?” He smirks, leaning back in his chair, still holding your hand, his middle finger rubbing your knuckles teasingly.

You scold him, “You’re so shameless!” and try to pull your hand away but he keeps his grip tight. He takes a few moments to think about his response.

“Maybe somewhere snowing like Sapporo. It’s going to be too cold for you to keep checking your phone every five minutes when we’re out.”

You look up from your phone screen guiltily, abandoning the email notification that flashed. “I have to ’cause I work for your famous ass,” you huff.

“About that…” Yoongi starts, and you know he meant your resignation.

You sigh, realizing you haven’t really discussed this with him. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Baby,” he leans forward, eyes kind. “You don’t have to apologize, okay? You have your reasons and I respect it. I’ll always support you.”

“I think this would be good for me, you know? Try something new.” You add, “There’s this corner spot close to my flat that I’ve been looking to lease.”

“For your cafe?” his face lights up, remembering your dream from way back.

“For my cafe,” you nod, heart expanding with the excitement you see in his eyes.

“Do it.” he says. “And if you need a handsome barista to help out once in a while you know I live just two streets down.”

You laugh, shaking your head, enjoying how easily he can make you smile.

“But I can’t afford you.”

“I’ll take payments in kisses and blo–”

“Min Yoongi!”

“I’m just playing, baby.”

His hand is still on yours, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your knuckles. It was so natural, so comfortable, that you barely notice when his touch becomes a little more deliberate, more precise.

It is not until you prepare to leave that you notice something different. You stand, bag tucked on the crook of your arm, and as you reach for your jacket, you see it—a tiny paper ring, made from a straw wrapper, folded with care and snug around your finger.

Suddenly, butterflies swarm in your stomach.

You look at him, eyebrows raised, holding up your hand as if it were evidence in a crime scene. “Yoongi?” you ask with a playful smile.

He blinks, trying to look innocent. “What? Wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh,” you step closer, your eyes narrowing. “So, it just magically appeared on my finger?”

He shrugs, leaning casually against the back of his chair. “Must’ve been the wind. Or, you know, maybe it’s a sign. The universe is telling you something.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling your cheeks warm as you play along. “And what exactly is the universe trying to tell me?”

He gave you that signature smirk of his, the one that always made your (and the entire ARMY’s) heart skip a beat. “That you’ve been claimed. Obviously.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t stop smiling. “Ah, really? Claimed by some mysterious paper-ring-tying ghost?”

He shrugs again, standing up and taking your hand as you both walk toward the door. “Who knows? But if I were you, I’d hold on to that. Could be worth something one day.”

You glanced down at your finger again, your chest warm with affection. “Yeah,” you agree softly, squeezing his hand. “I think I will.”

You continue your date along the backstreets of the Strip, away from the towering hotels and flashy fountains. As you stroll in silence, enjoying the sights, your fingers mindlessly play with the little ring on your finger, and his voice echoes in your head: “You’ve been claimed.”

And suddenly, you realize it’s true. You’ve claimed each other long before today’s paper ring and long before last night’s confession.

Every day since you’ve become close friends, you’ve claimed each other in the most ordinary ways. With every mundane moment and seemingly random act of kindness, you’ve expressed your love without needing grand declarations.

He knows exactly how you like your coffee and the perfect time to bring it to you. He carries your bag even when you insist you can manage on your own and even with his own busted shoulder. He always saves a seat for you—of course, right next to him. You have a suitcase here and a closet full of his shirts back home. He wears your black hair tie on his wrist and has a whole drawer full of them at his place. You know his five shades of drunk, and you know just the right kind of tea to cure his hangover.

He has truly been yours, and you, his. You both have just been too oblivious to see it. As the realization hits you like a freight train, your gaze lands on a sign that inspires you to show him just how committed you are. Sure, it’s bold and completely out of character for you, but you don’t want to think it through. It’s stupid. But who cares? You’re in love.

“You wanna get matching tattoos?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. And maybe this is why.

This is where he finally gets lucky. And not in the crass sort of way.

Here, he has felt a surge of courage he’s never had before, pushing him to act on feelings he’s kept hidden for way too long. And while confessing to you still felt like a gamble, he was more ready and willing to roll the dice and see where it lands.

People say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But for Min Yoongi, this time is different. He’s determined to make it last—just like the identical lotus tattoo that now sits on his wrist and on yours. It isn’t just a reminder of this wild adventure; it symbolizes the beginning of something real and lasting between you two.

After getting inked, he decides to drive away from the city, heading towards a scenic cliffside spot he found on Google that morning. He thought it would be the perfect place to unwind and catch the sunset, while enjoying the spam musubi and Slurpees you got from the gas station nearby. Truth be told, he thought maybe he could sneak in a makeout session with you, too, something he knew couples would sometimes do in places like this. (At least that’s what he’s seen in American movies!) Being an idol often kept him from enjoying “normal” things, and since he couldn’t exactly do this with you near the Han without the fear of being on Dispatch that same night, he figured it would be a fun escape to pretend he was just an ordinary guy taking his girl out on a date in this foreign city.

He sits on the hood of the convertible, the metropolis stretching out below, a sea of lights slowly flickering on as the sun dips toward the horizon. You’re nestled against him, your head resting on his chest, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders.

Your phone is connected to the car speakers and it’s currently playing a ballad. He hears you hum softly but his mind drifts elsewhere, somewhere between the quiet beauty of the moment and the thoughts that have been building for weeks—maybe even longer.

It started with that whole Yoongi Marry Me thing. Who knew that cheeky little “bring the documents” quip he said in one live will set off a whole ass thing with ARMY. Or with the whole kpop industry, modesty aside.

Almost everyday the phrase is repeated to him, especially by the members (fuckin Taehyung!). Fans have been showing up to concerts in veils. Chats are filled to the brim with that proposal whenever any of the members goes live. Even when he is not there.

It’s all been fun and games until you. Until you said it. And you had to keep saying it, then suddenly it didn’t feel like a joke anymore. He started thinking he wouldn’t mind it. Like at all.

You’ve planted a seed in his brain that just kept blooming and blooming. Seeing all the wedding chapels in Las Vegas only served as potent fertilizer. And now the concept has fully blossomed in his heart and taken root in his mind.

He feels the warmth of you leaning into him, your breathing soft and steady, your humming so sweet, and everything about this moment feels… right. More right than any plan he’s ever made, more perfect than anything he could have mapped out for himself. It hits him then, with a kind of clarity that almost startles him.

He’s done with waiting. Done with the endless planning, the careful timelines, the stream of approvals needed for every thing he wanted to do. This, right here, is his everything. And for the first time, the idea of doing something spontaneous doesn’t terrify him. It excites him. A whole life with you excites him.

And fuck, if it’s good enough for Michael Jordan…

He glances at you, the way your eyes reflect the soft, fading light, and something roars in his chest—an overwhelming certainty that he can’t hold back anymore. He isn’t one for grand, impulsive gestures, but this doesn’t feel impulsive at all. It feels inevitable.

“What if we just… did it?” he asks, tone light, but heavy with intention.

You tilt your head, looking up at him with that curious smile he loves. “Did what?”

His fingers tighten ever so slightly on your shoulder as he turns to face you fully, feeling a rush of nervous excitement. “Got married. Right now. No more waiting, no more planning.”

He sees the surprise flash in your eyes, the slight parting of your lips as you process what he’s just said. He waits, letting the words sink in, watching as the curiosity in your eyes slowly fades into something else.

“You’re not joking?” you whisper, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He shakes his head, the last of the setting sun casting a golden glow over the both of you. "No. I’ve… we have planned everything in my life, but this... with you, I don’t want to plan anymore. Because what good are plans if you’re not gonna be in them, with me.”

He continues, voice more certain, committed. “I wanna do it. Now. Tonight. Let’s drive to the chapel, and if you’re ready... Let's get married.”

He watches your reaction closely, his heart pounding, but not out of fear. He’s not afraid anymore. He no longer needs to hide behind liquid courage to give you little hints of what he has been feeling deep inside. He knows what he wants—what has been right in front of him this whole time. And then, just to lighten the weight of the moment, he smiles, a small chuckle escaping him.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure we’ve got your eomma’s blessing already. She’d probably drive us there herself if she knew what I was thinking.”

You laugh, that soft sound that always makes his chest tighten in adoration. The way you smile at him now—there’s no hesitation in it, only the same certainty that he feels. The city lights flicker to life behind you, but all he can see is you and your bright, sparkly eyes. And how he wishes that you would grant him the eternity of looking into them.

“Let’s do it,” you nod at him, your voice steady and sure. “Right now.”

His heart soars. He bites his lip, squeezing your shoulder, and with one last glance at the fading sun, he slides off the hood of the car, offering you his hand.

As you hop down, he drops to one knee. Taking your hand, fingers delicately closing in on the paper ring that he placed on your finger earlier in the day.

“Y/n, marry me?”

“You sure you don't want me saying ‘Yoongi, marry me‘ instead. Has a better ring to it…”

“Hajimaaa! Why you gotta ruin the moment?!”

“Sorry, ok ok, do it again.” You try to placate him with a quick press of your lips to his forehead.

He shakes his head at you. Eyes narrowed, but fond. Fond in the way your eyes sparkle with glee, even as you bite your bottom lip. Fond in the way you look at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky and you know what, he would hang the entire galaxy for you if you asked him to.

So, no more waiting. No more planning.

He finally asks: “Baby, will you marry me?”

And you finally answer: “Yes!”

Epilogue

Jimin‘s POV

Why is Tinder so, so dry? Jimin curses and contemplates tossing his phone in the trash.

But then his phone pings and when he looks at the notification, he sees that he is added in a Kakao group chat.

Okay. He checks the members curiously. It’s with you and Yoongi hyung.

What are you fuckers up to this time?

Tbh, he was still kinda annoyed that neither of you had told him anything after what went down at the club. He literally babysat your dejected boytoy and had to crisis PR the shit out of the situation because Yoongi had to get slightly alpha.

And seriously, how can you even stay mum to him of all people. He has listened to your every woe and whine for months about how Yoongi can’t even see you as more than a friend. Newsflash, he is obsessed with you! He has witnessed Yoongi’s pining for years and talked to him countless times to confess. ‘Cause, newsflash: you’re obsessed with him, too!

Did his attempts at playing matchmaker work? Who knows? But damn did he try. Playing cupid for the two most emotionally constipated people he knows hasn’t been easy. So after everything he has done in the background for you two idiots, how dare you keep him in the da–

His thoughts are interrupted by three pings as three messages come in rapid succession.

First, a location pin:

📍The Little White Wedding Chapel, 1301 S Las Vegas Blvd, Las Vegas, NV

Then, a text from Yoongi that made him smile so wide.

Yoongi: Get your ass here right now we need a witness.

And lastly, yours that made his grin even wider.

You: Yoongi’s marrying me!!!

-THE END-

A/N: Thank you so, so much you beautiful human for reading this story. I am forever grateful that you decided to explore this silly little world with me.

I would love to hear from you! Please leave a comment or consider reblogging if you liked it. Til next!

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kiddiesmores · 2 days

Note

Wait hear me out... maybe chef schlatt is showing reader some kitchen stuff one night (I dunno they're making food after closing or something) and she burns herself pretty badly (not like hospital bad but like she's being flirty and accidentally leans on the hot grill, something stupid like that) and schlatt has to like bandage her up. I'm thinking like knuckle kisses after it's all better?

or alternatively...

Readers batting her eyes at schlatt and being her cuteself and he gets distracted and burns himself (swearing ensues) and she takes care of his burn.

I dunno do what you want 😘

this is so real, sorry for taking FOREVER to write about it.

🥥 Bugging Schlatt after closing is so fun because not only are you getting a free meal out of it but you can also flirt without the possibility of anyone walking by!

🥥 It all went down at sauté station, He was listening to you tell a little story about some asshole who stiffed you.

🥥 But you thought he wasn’t listening so you started pouting a bit.

“You hate me, you’re not listening!”

“I am! I’m trying not to burn your food right now!”

🥥 You press your cheek against his arm and he mutters, “Careful.”

🥥 To which you roll your eyes and held onto his side like “I am careful.”

🥥 Leaning up a little to peck at his cheek with free reign since nobody else is in the store.

🥥 And it makes him laugh a little as he moves the pan over to the burner that isn’t on, mumbling about you being a little minx before turning to face you fully and give you a real kiss on the lips.

🥥 And yall were into it!

🥥 So into it that maybe you stepped back against the stove.

🥥 And maybe!! While you were trying to keep up with his now hungry kisses, the hand that wasn’t wrapped behind the base of his neck needed a surface to hold onto.

🥥 And that surface happened to accidentally be the stove.

🥥 “YEOWCH!” you flinch, backing up from Schlatt as you blew on your scorched hand, sucking harshly against your teeth.

🥥 “Shit, are you okay? How bad is it? Cmere let me rinse it off.” He’s immediately putting cold water on your hands at the sink station behind him.

🥥 Tells you to stay put and keep rinsing while he gets burn ointment from the office first aid.

🥥 When he returns he sees you sniffle a bit, and a little pool of tears in your eyes that threatens to fall any second.

🥥 “Hey-hey, it’s okay,” he hushes while turning the sink off, “Come on this will make it actually feel better.”

🥥 Guides you to the expo line, sits you on the counter.

🥥 Tediously applying the burn cream to your hand and wrapping it while you shed a few silent tears.

🥥 He was very gentle, even kissing the now wrapped burn, talking about some, “It’ll heal faster.” which made you giggle a bit.

🥥 You mumble a small ‘thank you’

🥥 Looking down at the wrapped hand with a sigh, “Can’t believe this..”

🥥 “Happens to the best of us, got burned pretty badly couple years ago,” he rolls up his sleeve to show a gnarly scar a few inches shy of his wrist, making you wince.

🥥 He gives you the go ahead to reach out and feel it, snickering when you poked at it like “oooo.”

🥥 “Now we can be burned buddies.” you state, losing the plot and rubbing up his arm and gripping his bicep, making him scoff out a “Yeah”.

🥥 “Feelin better?” he asks softly, making you nod. “Mhm, stings a little but it’s not hurting too bad anymore.” you mumble.

🥥 He nods with a low grunt, inspecting his wrapping skills before gently holding onto the injured hand.

🥥 His eyes light up, “Y'know you can’t carry trays with a wound like this..” he starts.

🥥 Your head tilts, “But tomorrow my regulars come in and they always tip me $50!” you mope.

🥥 He rolls his eyes, “Listen to what I’m saying. I’m off tomorrow.”

🥥 You shrug, making him groan and throw back his head in annoyance that you’re not getting the hint.

🥥 “If I cut you from your shift I can stay with you and..yknow..take care of you” he nods.

“Ohhhhh, why didn’t you just say that!”

“Thought it was implied.”

🥥 He moves to peck at your jaw, making you giggle as his facial hair tickles you.

🥥 Pats your thigh to signal for you to hop down, “Go grab your bag, imma put your food away and we can go.”

🥥 Watching you from behind as you move to grab your tote bag from the little cubby and letting out a low whistle when you bend down.

“Go put my food away!” “Yes ma’am.”

🥥 Waits for you at the door after putting your food in a to-go bowl, holding an arm out for you to grab.

🥥 “How am I supposed to explain how I got this when people ask?” you whine, staring at your hand while he locks the doors.

🥥 Schlatt shrugs, “Say you were trying to be a flirt and ended up searing your skin instead.” “Okay.”

🥥 He laughs, turning and pulling you tight against his side and kissing the top of your head, laughing harder when you grumble for him to get away.

“Hey, don’t be upset, I told you imma take care of you didn’t I?”

🥥 You look up at him for a moment, his stare meeting yours, a wicked smile on his face that gave you butterflies.

🥥 “Oh doctor Schlatt, save me!” you tease, fawning over him as you weakly collapse into his arms with a hand over your head, making his face scrunch while he mumbles about you being dramatic. He lifts you up to carry you the rest of the way to the truck, smiling with a shake of his head when he hears you giggling.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You mumble, batting your lashes up at him.

He smiles, “Anytime princess.”

#they’re so cute.#i love them.#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #schlatt x reader #86 mahi mahi!#jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #mike drop

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siren-141 · 2 days

Note

Hi hi! Could we do 777 with Simon Riley pretty please!!

With lots of love!!

-Mika🩷🥭

hey there, I'm so sorry that I'm just now getting around to this 😭😭 thank you so much for the request, I loved writing these. it's super late but this one concludes my summer challenge :) enjoy 🖤

warnings: none really lmao. unrequited love that's not actually unrequited. is this considered fluff?? summer sleepover

bad friends – black honey

It had been a long week. It had been raining, dark grey clouds covering the sky for what felt like the whole week, casting a shadow over the base. Everyone was beat down and the energy was low, everyone tucking themselves away in their own spaces. That’s how you wound up running yourself a piping hot bath, with your favorite eucalyptus candle lit in the corner.

Stepping into the tub, you slowly lowered yourself into the water. You could see the steam coming up from the surface past the bubbles, even in the dim light. This was ultimate relaxation for you – something you didn’t often have time for.

It had been about 15 minutes of relaxation, soft music playing in the background. Your eyes were shut, and all the tension was gone from your body.

“You should really lock your door,” a voice called out in your room. You didn’t even bother to open your eyes, knowing that voice from anywhere.

“I could hear your heavy footsteps down the hall, Simon. Not very Ghost-like when it’s 11pm on a night off.”

You smiled to yourself, taking a relaxing deep breath. Nothing about your team startled you – you were too used to them and their ways, that almost nothing would shock you.

Simon closed – and locked – your main door behind him. Walking around the dimly lit room, he took in the atmosphere. He looked around at the fake ivy plant on top of your dresser and the scattered pictures you had hung up of different landscapes and events you’d gone to, studying your space with a piqued interest. He could hear your phone playing in the bathroom, and took note of what kind of music you liked during a time like this.

“Just came in to check on you. Been kind of an off week for everyone, seems like,” he commented, walking further into your room, admiring the small homemade painting you had hanging near your bathroom door. It was a beautiful landscape, with lush grass and crystal blue skies, the sun filtering throughout the painting. Nothing like the usual scenery that your team was used to, no – something peaceful to look at at the end of each night, something to look forward to. He couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“‘m fine, just figured I’d take advantage of the night off,” you answered him, and completely instinctually, he looked towards the sound of your voice. That was his mistake.

Your voice drowned out and time seemed to slow for him. Your bathroom door was only cracked about four inches open, but those four inches seemed like the cracked gates of heaven. He looked at you, really looked at you. You laid there in the tub, soap suds covering your body and almost spilling out of the tub, your head leaned back against the shower wall. Your eyes were closed, but you looked utterly at peace. Every expanse of skin that showed through – your shoulder peeking above the tub, your neck that was exposed from your hair being pulled up, the tops of your knees that raised just over the water because the tub was too short, even for you – he committed it all to memory. He could stare at you like this forever: a renaissance painting in his own mind.

“...right?” Time started again at your prompt, and he quickly concentrated on what you had just said. You know you don’t have to check on me, right?

“‘course I do,” he grunted, turning away and shaking his head. “I check on everyone. ‘ts my job.”

Simon Riley, always the caretaker. Ghost might put up a front that he’s ruthless, emotionless, and that he doesn’t care – the first of it true – but Simon was another story. This team relied on trust and empathy for one another, whether it was obvious or not: you couldn’t run if you all hated each other. Each of you had unintentionally carved out a small part of your hearts for one another to fit in, and once you were there, there was next to nothing that could remove it. Simon might have his walls up, armed guards positioned at the top of them ready to shoot at anything that might get too close, but small gestures like this was all that was needed to see that he truly cared.

You sighed, partially from the relaxing scent of your candle drifting your way, and partially from exasperation of the stubborn man in the next room. “You should worry less about us sometimes and focus all that energy on yourself, Si. When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

The question rang in his head and all he could think about was you.

“You’ve gotta start taking care of yourself, big guy.” He sits on your bed, staring at the wall in front of him or looking around the contents of your nightstand – anywhere but through the four-inch crack of your door.

It’s silent for a moment, but it’s a comfortable silence. A few minutes go by, and he can hear the water sloshing around before you pull the drain cover and let the water drain out.

You finally make an appearance. Standing in the doorway, you had finally turned the big light on in your bathroom, having gotten dressed in your night clothes. Combing your hair out with your fingers, you looked at him with your eyebrow raised. His big frame sat on your bed, making it look so small, and you could tell he looked tired.

“I meant what I said, Simon. You deserve to take care of yourself.”

Turning around, you walked back into the bathroom, door now swung all the way open. Simon followed, crossing the small space to lean against the door frame. He was so much bigger than you, head almost hitting the top of the frame and shoulders so wide that he took up almost the entire width. He watched as you went through each bottle of your four-step skincare routine, slathering serum onto your face evenly.

He broke the silence.

“You’re beautiful.”

Of course your mind began to race, heart rate picking up immediately. You’d had feelings for the guy for quite a while now, but what would it do to the team dynamic if anyone acted on it? You couldn’t take the risk. That was the excuse you told yourself – you couldn’t risk the team being awkward. In reality? You’d always just shut off that part of you – the part of your brain that would wonder things like when are you going to find someone and imagine your dream man: why does he look just like Simon and do you really want to be alone or are you just telling yourself that

So you do what you always do when situations similar to this come up – you laugh. You play it casual and you laugh it off.

Smile wide, you don’t miss a beat as you continue to stare in your bathroom mirror, rubbing in the face cream as your third step. “My hair is a mess and I’m slugging my face right now, but okay!”

You try not to think about it, thinking that maybe it was just a late night, thinking that he had forgotten about it just as quickly as he had brought it up. You finished slathering the overnight mask onto your face, washed your hands, and as you turn to leave the bathroom without really looking, you bump into him, who didn’t even budge.

His finger gently hooks under your chin, just barely missing the line where your skincare serum starts, and lifts your head.

“I meant what I said,” he holds your eye contact until he can see that you’re fully focused on him now and that your thoughts aren’t racing like they were a minute before. He needs you to be fully present when he talks to you. “You’re beautiful.”

Your breathing is shallow, and you can almost hear your heart beating through your ears; feel the blood pumping a little extra hard throughout your veins. You couldn’t break eye contact right now if you tried – he captivated you, every one of your senses utterly surrounded by him.

He leaned down slowly, bridging the gap between you two, and your eyes closed in nervous anticipation. He was still in that moment, and you could almost feel his lips on yours before he turned his head, pressing a slow and gentle kiss to your cheek. He can hear your small gasp, breath finally finding you again, and he lingers there, eyes closing to remember this moment.

Leaning back, his hand drops back to his side and he looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes that have nothing but yearning in them. “I’d better let you get to sleep. Remember to lock your door.”

Simon crosses the room and hears your small goodnight back to him as he pulls the door shut behind him, waiting silently on the other side until he hears the lock click.

That night, you stayed up for another two hours, feeling utterly lovesick. And this time, it felt good.

#simon riley #simon “ghost” riley #call of duty #cod #cod masterlist #call of duty masterlist #summer sleepover 2024 #simon riley fluff

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chososcamgirl · 14 minutes

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER SEVEN: like chernobyl?

masterlist

extras!

• tridant BLEW UP

• trending tag on twitter, thirst traps, deep dive into each members past YOU NAME IT

• stan twt famous

• hi my beloved mutuals did u like the cameos :3

• don’t fret others will get the chance to appear too🙂‍↕️

• abi cameo in the band’s gc because it is literally our texts on twt (I AM ANSWERINF THEM NOW)

• yn blacked out for like 15 minutes then woke up and decided to get even more fucked up bc she IS a 365 party girl til she DIES (fro alcohol poisoning)

• the bridal shower actually loved her and she made it 10x more fun

• she had a deep 1 on 1 with the bride and the bride realised she needed to marry a man she loves and not for his money

• big L in yn’s department

• yn being down BAD for megumi

• girl stand up

• sukuna being down bad for yn

• will we preserver through our ex…

• idk i might fold he’s so hot

a/n: SORRY ITS LATE GUYS BUT ITS STILL SATURDAY OKAY SO IT COUNTS… NEXT CHAP OUT TMR… EAT UP LOVELIES <33

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @laughingfcx @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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girlsneedff · 11 hours

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NSFW- Minors and Ageless blogs please dni

Nepo-baby!Gojo x f!Reader, Gojo’s a loser/desperate, Modern AU, Masturbation (Gojo), slight public masturbation (tbh it’s just Satoru being down bad)

Word count: 4.5k

Author’s yap: Ok ok ok so- I started this when the lack of AC in my dorm was frying my brain, and it gave me an idea. Now I’m freezing my ass off and fantasizing about the heat. This isn’t too smutty, but if I’m still into this, I might expand… Enjoy pooks <3

Dive In!

It’s hot as shit outside, and you know what that means: the college rec center pool’s gonna be packed.

Every god-forsaken year, the Earth teeters a bit too close to the Sun just around the time that students are moving those obnoxious highlighter-colored carts up and down the streets carrying their belongings. Everyone’s wiping their foreheads, a content sigh when they step into the lobby of the dorm building. This doesn’t last too long, unfortunately. Because as soon as you step onto a resident floor, let alone an actual dorm room, it’s like Satan pulled apart his ass cheeks and sandwiched you right in between ‘em.

Hot as shit and there’s no AC, so for the very unlucky majority who didn’t bring a fan (as instructed by housing, who don’t live under these conditions, mind you), they’re stuck sizzling in their dorms, hopelessly opening their dusty windows for wishing for any semblance of a draft to come in.

It’s miserable. But luckily, there’s a solution! And no, it’s not fighting someone’s mom for the last desk fan in Target.

It’s the university’s recreational pool! Open to all students, it’s like a gift from Heaven (or a college alumni). Everyone, and I mean everyone, is there.

It’s like a big pool party (albeit indoors)- everyone’s got some sort of appendage in the water, trying to cool off. A few girls have their towels set up on the side, lying on their stomach as they scroll on their phone or read a book. A couple of people brought a beach ball- tossing it around. You're sitting on the side chatting with your roommate, Shoko, kicking your feet into the water, as she leans on the rim of the pool, hair up in a clip.

“I don’t get why they haven’t installed any AC units- or even central air.”

“If they even think about renovating, G. Hall will literally fall into smithereens.”

Shoko jokes, resting her chin in her hand as she looks up at you, tiredly.

“As if the Gojo clan wouldn’t be able to donate more money for a renovation. That’s pocket money for them.” You yawn, drained too. The heat is tiring. Especially after the two of you just finished setting up your dorm together for the third year in a row- this time, without your parents to help y’all. Y’all were burning up, and you needed to cool down- real bad.

You do a scan of the pool. Some familiar faces, others not so much. The school’s big as shit, and you keep to yourself and your group- you don’t need to know everybody. Yuki’s in the water with her boyfriend, playing chicken with some other people. She’s got a death grip on his pigtails, almost as if she’s steering him around, smothering his face between her thighs. A guy named Kento- your study partner from last year- is over by the stairs to the pool- wanting to be in it, but not completely submerged. He seems to be enjoying his time by himself. Ino and his boys are the ones hitting around the beach ball, splashing around in the extremely crowded pool.

“Look at all of our sorry asses…” You mutter, sighing as you sip on a drink you brought.

“When I didn’t want summer to end, I wasn’t talkin about the heat. But whatever. 2 more weeks being in the 8th circle of hell, and it’s back to our regularly scheduled progra- oh my-” Shoko stops mid sentence, her eyes glued to something as she hits your thigh profusely.

“What- what? Yaga in a jock strap?” You finally turn and see him (Shoko side eyes you- why would you want to look at Yaga in a jock strap). The man, The myth. The… nuisance.

“I thought he was too good to come here and hang with the common folk.”

“Maybe he wanted to cosplay as a broke college student like the rest of us for a day.”

Satoru Gojo- ultimate legacy, trust fund baby, nepo spawn, and just all-around spoiled brat. And he’s proud of it. Wearing blue Versace swim shorts and his sunglasses indoors, which only works for him with his scary ass eyes, he saunters into the place, expressing unbelievable childlike wonder at the sight of the pool.

“So this is what a public pool is like!”

“You don’t have to sound pretentious.” Suguru quips, walking in front of his best friend to scan the area. It’s crowded as a bitch in this place.

“I’m just- amazed, that's all. And you come here by yourself?”

“No. With other friends. Because I’m likable.”

Satoru frowns at that, shifting his beach chair under his arm uncomfortably.

“And it’s not like you’d come.” This was true. Under normal circumstances, Satoru wouldn’t step foot in this place. The water wouldn’t be good for his skin. But, when his pool’s getting renovated, he figures that he has no choice. He thought that there would be 5, maybe 10 people there. Well, he now knows he was wrong; almost all of JJU: Tokyo is here. And he’s now also made aware of the fact that most students don’t have AC.

He follows behind Suguru as he leads them through the crowd of bodies, the heat radiating from them all damn near breaking Satoru out into a sweat.

“Here- and lean that chair up against the wall or something. It’ll take up too much space.” Suguru says, as he hunkers down on the floor, scooting up to the clearing at the rim of the pool. He smooths the back of his hair up, readjusting his ponytail, sighing when his legs hit the water.

Yea… Satoru’s not doin that. He brought this chair, and he’s gonna use it, spatial awareness be damned. Ignoring all of the dirty looks he gets from people, he sets his chair right next to his friend (who is pretending not to know him) and sits, reclining with a dramatic sigh that only Satoru could argue was authentic. He crosses his legs and puts his hands woven behind his head, looking up and basking… in the industrial light.

“You can’t tan under this IKEA lighting.” Suguru says, not even bothering to look in Satoru’s direction.

“Yea- well, what do you propose that I do?” Satoru can feel himself getting slightly irritated with this public pool shit.

“Get in the water. That’s what we came here for, right.”

Satoru clumsily folds up his chair, not even bothering to go lean it against the wall in fear that he’d lose his sliver of access to the water (he doubts that Suguru would save it for him right now to be honest). Slowly but surely, he eases himself down into the water, holding his breath. He can already feel that he’s goin to need several bubble baths (extra bubbles) after this. He even closes his eyes, wading in the water and trying to get comfortable.

And then Satoru jumps into something. With a slight jolt, he looks over his shoulder and he’s gobsmacked seeing you look back at him, glasses threatening to fall off his dripping face.

He quickly gathers himself, pushing his glasses up then running his hand through his hair. And then he subtly recoils, realizing he just let that filthy shit in his scalp.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Shoko’s got a shit-eating grin on her face, as you look at this man, somewhat horrified. Never did you think that you would ever meet this man face to face, but here he is- back to leg. And he’s hot- I mean, not in the physical way (well, you don’t think he’s bad looking but-) he’s quite literally hot to the touch. It’s abnormal- his body temperature’s like magma.

“Sorry.” He gives you a faint smile, the right dimple he has showing slightly.

“No worries.”

There’s a period of silence, and you take this opportunity to try and turn back to your friend, but he pipes up.

“I’m Satoru, by the way. What’s your name?”

You turn to look at him, gears turning in your head as your decide whether or not you want to give him a fake name or-

Yuki calls your name from the center of the pool and you almost curse at the timing.

“Wanna hop in this round?” She calls, Choso’s hands on her thighs to steady her while her hands are cupped around her mouth, calling out to you. Choso brings them closer.

“No, I’m ok. I don’t have a partner-”

“I’ll be your partner.” Satoru practically has stars in his eyes. "If... you want me to be, though. I'm a stranger, so- so stranger danger…”

Oh brother, he’s rich and a fuckin loser.

"So you wanna play, rich boy?" Yuki asks him, completely neglecting the shudder that both you and Satoru do in response to his whack ass comment. Shit, even Choso winces in response, trying to regulate his usually very expressive face just in case Satoru sees, tells his clan, and Choso’s scholarship ends up revoked.

Satoru manages to stammer out a yes, though followed by him saying he understands if he wasn't invited to play.

"This is not kindergarten- you can play with the big kids." She jokes, hopping off her boyfriend's shoulders and into the water.

"I'll be your partner for this round, if that helps. I’m good at it, don’t worry." You're absolutely elated that Yuki offered herself- you're not sure if you would have been able to team up with Satoru. You and Choso are cool, exchanging a grin as you hop off of the ledge of the pool, plowing through the water over to him.

"Ok...."

"..."

"How do you play chicken?"

Good grief.

“I’ll teach you, then.” Yuki wades over to Satoru, and his lips contort into a nervous grin. He just prays that he doesn’t embarrass himself (anymore than he already has) in front of you.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Satoru ain't shit at playing chicken.

“I’m best friends with a bubble boy…” Suguru mutters under his breath, running his hand painstakingly over his face as he watches Satoru look like a cat in water.

Any splash to his face, and he's completely selling, allowing Yuki to fall off (much to her dismay) or giving you and Choso enough time to make y'all's way over to them to attack. It was to the point that your body was completely dry, save for your feet. Slowly but surely though (after like, 5 rounds), he begins to get the hang of it, getting over his disdain for this rancid water touching his face and accepting the fact that he'll have to do several deep cleanings of his pores when he gets home.

He's actually starting to have fun- settling more into the atmosphere and letting his competitiveness show. And you're not minding it. You were dreading having to interact with him at first, let alone play a game with him because you thought that he would be a dick, but you were wrong. Well, not exactly wrong- but he was less dicky than you thought.

“Ok- time to switch for the next round!” Yuki says with a smile (which looks slightly elated, in your opinion) as she hops off of Satoru’s shoulders.

“Hm? We don’t stay with the same partners every round?” Satoru asks- something you were also thinking. For once you too seem to be on the same page about this game.

“No! We switch every round.” What a goddamn liar. She’s just tired of losing because the pretty princess is scared of getting his face wet.

This means that you’re stuck with the pretty princess. Fuck.

You slowly climb down Choso, who is simultaneously welcoming his girlfriend with open arms. Satoru’s mind is moving a mile a minute with every little ripple of water to inadvertently send in his direction.

You make your way over to the ledge of the pool, hoisting yourself up, and by Heaven- Satoru can see your ass jiggle out of his peripheral and he almost seizes. You turn around, and sit on the ledge, just looking at him. And he swears he’s getting closer to going into cardiac arrest with every second of him being the center of your attention.

“Come here-” You beckon, motioning for him with your hand. He nods helplessly, trying not to look too desperate with how fast he’s moving to you.

“Now I’m not as good as Yuki, so if we lose, it’s not entirely on you this time.” You smile, scooting up, placing your legs over his shoulders. Good lord does this man smell… expensive. It’s good. I’m not talking played out Dior Savauge, I’m talking Hermès, Dolce and Gabbana. You’re a sucker for a good smelling man. Even if this one is quite literally the most dramatic man on Earth.

“I’m not good at all, so anything you do I’ll watch with awe.” He places his hands on your thighs- jeez, his hands are big.

You laugh, thinking he’s joking. He’s not.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You shift nervously on Satoru's shoulders, while Satoru is quite literally in Heaven- though, he would prefer it if his face were the other way. He has never been this close to a woman outside of his family, so this entire interaction was rocking his small little world. He's keeping his hands on your thighs while his mind is completely mush, his ears are flushed. It’s like as soon as you got on his shoulders, his ability to comprehend anything said to him was decimated.

“Satoru- Satoru!”

You call to him as Chosou and Yuki splash towards you, Yuki’s face wearing a huge smile now that she’s got the upper hand. You call him again, and all this bumbling buffoon can manage to say to you is “Uh-huh, u-uh-huh.”

(Shoko runs to the bathroom, almost peeing herself from laughing too hard.)

Fuck it- thinking quick, you grab a hold of his hair, trying to Remi-Ratatouille him around. And surprisingly- it works!

Left you go!

Right- to the riiiighhhhhhhhttttt-

Satoru has no fuckin idea what’s going on right now. He’s just happy to be here, a grinning mess while you pull him around the pool, narrowly avoiding Yuki, who’s maniacal laughter trails behind the two of you.

It’s like riding a horse the way he thoughtlessly follows your pull.

“Satoru- are you ok?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at your opponents. You’re hoping that your teammate will stop being so useless, gain back consciousness, and help you the fuck out.

Getting desperate, you palm the side of his face, shaking it. Suddenly, he stops moving, and it’s like his breath is caught in his throat- a sound was caught in it? You don’t know what happened, because the next thing you knew, Yuki and Choso came crashing into you, causing you and Satoru to fly into the water.

Gasping for air, you paddle in the water, eyes burning profusely. Satoru comes up soon after this, and you glare at him.

His cheeks are flushed, as he lets out deep, heavy breaths. “Sorry..” Is all he could seem to muster out, giving you a nervous grin.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Satoru’s starting to get the hang of it. Ok maybe not really- but he’s more active at least. You appreciate that, as well as the banter he’s contributing. His socially inept demeanor is slowly dissolving, and he’s flinching less and less at the water.

You’re actually having a lot of fun with him.

“You guys can’t keep running forever!” Yuki yells, getting kind of frustrated from how the two of you keep slipping out of her grasp.

“Oh really? watch us.” Satoru’s grip tightens on your thighs as he splashes around to put more distance between y’all, causing you to squeal.

“Satoru if I fall- go slow!” You say in between laughing fits.

“Just hold on, and you won’t!”

Maybe you too had a fighting chance with this. Actually- you think you might win at least a round or two.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You two lost. Miserably. Yuki’s a fucking beast, and Choso’s the definition of an immovable force. You guys could only get away from them for so long- let’s not forget the pool’s crowded as shit. Y’all didn’t stand a chance. But hey- Satoru’s not too bad. Maybe he was just having a rough time adjusting to talking to people who don’t have a networth of $1 million+. But it was fun, you can not lie.

Satoru’s laugh is airy while he allows you to get off of his shoulders, listening to you teasing him for his performance. You shuffle yourself back onto the ledge of the pool next to Shoko, who seems to be in deep conversation with Suguru.

“I never thought that someone could be that bad at Chicken.”

“Hey- I prefaced this entire thing with the fact that I didn’t know how to play.” He laughs again- he’s so giggly right now, removing himself from between your legs and going to the area next to you, places his head in his hand while he looks up at you.

“Yea, but that bad?”

“Mention it again and I’ll have a meeting with Financial Aid about you.”

The both of you crack up.

…He’s kind of pretty- somewhere in the game he pushed his sunglasses up onto his hair, wet strands of white sticking to his forehead.The sight of his smile warms you up a bit inside. When he’s down here with the common people, he’s a pretty cool person to be around.

“I can see why you don’t come here often, then.” You say, tiling your head towards him.

“Ah, well, I usually just go to my par-” Satoru’s voice dies off. How about he doesn’t talk about his privilege for a bit. Cosplay a normal college student for a little- at least with you. He wants to relate to you- to get to know you on all levels- as much as humanly possible.

“I… just didn’t see a purpose for it before. But this was fun.”

“A sign for you to come more often, then.”

“Will you be here?”

You smirk. “Why, so you can get our asses whooped in a game again?”

He grins, right dimple once again making an appearance.

“Just asking- the poop- pool- pool. Fuck. The pool’s nice.” He sighs- covering his face in embarrassment, cheeks swelled up with blood.

“Sorry. Waterlog.”

You burst out laughing- his slip up and awkward responses are starting to grow on you. It’s cute.

“Well I’m sure that you have AC, so you don’t have to worry too much about being hot and sticky in a room.”

“Mmmwell,” He takes a breath, “I wouldn’t mind being hot and sticky with- hm.”

He pauses, letting his embarrassment settle in. “I’ll stop trying to talk now.”

This gets another giggle from you. “You could just say that it would be nice to see me again.” You adjust your bikini bottoms (haha) up on your hips, and then place your hand to your side to lean closer to him.

“It would be, yes.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to see you, either.”

“Satoru. We gotta go-” Suguru stands up from the ledge with a stretch. “We needa go grab groceries for the apartment.”

Satoru groans. He swiftly hoists himself up out of the water effortlessly (he hopes that you were watching, thanking the lord that he constantly worked out at the apartment gym) and quickly grabs his chair, holding it in front of himself.

“I’ll see you- and the pool again.”

“Mhm.” You wave him bye while he trails behind Suguru out of the pool room.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

He came in the pool.

He. Fucking. Came.

Sperm swimming in the chlorine.

He doesn't even know how it happened. With every tug of his white tufts, his dick throbbed and twitched, rubbing against the fabric of his swim shorts in a way that was driving him mad. He was already fighting for his life with having your pussy pressed up against the back of his neck. And the way that you called his name- Oo, it was dizzying for him.

Next thing he knew, your hand was on his face, and he was biting the shit out of his tongue trying not to moan, knees buckling while he shoots into the water.

And you smiled at him!

He practically talked Suguru’s ear off (nothing new) in the car about it while on the drive back to their apartment. Besides the cumming in his pants part- nah, he’s taking that to the grave. He was just so giddy about the day. His first flirtatious interaction with the opposite sex! How exciting!

“Yea yea I get it she’s so pretty, you get hard thinking about her, and you come in your pants just thinkin about her. Can we get out of fantasyland and go into Trader Joe’s now?”

Suguru rolls his eyes, looking out the passenger seat window, his arm hanging out. Satoru flushes.

“Why would anybody cum in the pool?”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

But yes, where was he? Oh yea, his hand’s fisting his cock.

He doesn’t know how his hand ended up there.

Oh, he was so pathetic today. He couldn’t even speak normally to you, let alone touch you without short-circuiting. And the way you looked at him. Like he was an absolute idiot- he’s never had anyone look at him like that before… except Suguru but it’s not the same. In a weird way, it turns him on. At least he redeemed himself slightly in the end, while he was subtly rubbing himself against the pool walls, the small dips in the tiling making the friction so much more enjoyable.

What a fucking loser, getting off to the sound of your voice- and in a public place? Your pretty little laugh did wonders to him. And to be under your gaze with such scrutiny- ohmygod he was so happy he brought that chair, using it to cover his hard-on as he smiled at you like an idiot, following behind his best friend like a preschooler going back inside after recess.

He loved seeing how you adjusted your bathing-suit, nipples becoming erect as soon as you got out of the pool. The way that your pussy was a flimsy cloth away from coming into real contact with him- he is swimming in his thoughts right now.

And you smelt so good- it’s definitely nothing he’s ever smelt before (because he’s been close to any woman that’s had a scent worth below $200). The smell is just so- you (he plans on driving to every single fragrance store to pinpoint said scent so he can spray it on his pillow to smell while he plays with himself).

There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to have you splayed out on his bed with his head between your thighs, eating you out until you’re frantically calling for him, a tight grip on his hair the way that only you can do. Fucking his hand while you moan, for him- he’d go bankrupt to hear it. He would make you feel good- he knows it- he’ll make it his life’s mission. The little stutters and quivers you’d make when you would get close, pleading for him to make you cum. And don’t even get him started on how he would feel when his cock sinks into you. He’s confident that he wouldn’t last any longer within five minutes. As soon as he pushes past the rim, he’d be shooting ropes. So he’d have to eat you out first to save the little slivers of his dignity that he has left.

He wonders- would you think he was big? Would you struggle taking him? Fuck, seeing you whine and moan, begging him with cute little “slow down”s and whimpering about how good he’s stretching your cunt.

He’s so stuck up in the way that your hands entangled themselves into his hair- fuck- he lets out a helpless whine as he continues his fuck sesh, moving his hand upupup, the ring of precum chasing his hand with each stroke. You used his body with little regard to how he would feel- not like he cared. You could use him however the hell you’d like. Fuck, his dick was aching with each tug.

And you got in that water.

He’s filthy- just so- so depraved for the way that that makes him harder, causing him to stroke himself faster. You were practically bathing in his cum, albeit unknowingly. How fucking nasty is that? He pictures you accidentally swallowing it- what would it be like watching you actually take it? Would you replicate your teary, chlorine-stung eyes while you were on your knees for him, throat fucked-out, tongue lolled, and waiting for his cum?

With that, he’s seeing stars, shooting comets onto his satin sheets, utterances of “Oh fuck”s and “I’m cumming”s, and finally, with a sigh, says your name while his lower torso twitches from the sensitivity, accompanied with the cool breeze his fan is blowing onto his handless cock.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“The amount of emails we’ve been getting about the heat is starting to get a bit concerning, I must admit.” One of the chairs of the university says, mouth full of food.

All of the important figure heads of the college are sitting at the Gojo family’s long dinner table, conversing like the old buddies they are. It’s a usual thing for them to do, where they chat about stupid, unimportant uppity-rich people things, like school funding or whatever.

“What do you think we should do about this?” The housing chair directs this question to Satoru’s father, who opens his mouth before his son interrupts quickly, voice booming in the confident air that he learned to develop with people in (or slightly below- not too far below) his tax bracket.

“My friend’s in the dorms say that the dorms are pretty cool- It’s cold in there, even.” Satoru says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders while he pushes his wagyu around on his plate.

What a fuckin liar, but it’s the cross he’s willing to bare in order to see you again. Bikini covering the parts that make his mouth water, fanning yourself from the heat- hot and bothered, just like him. It’ll be worth the possible pimples he’ll get.

With this, the big-wigs frame their decision around this.

“Oh, really? It’s already so cold…”

“it would also mean that we would have to expand the budget.”

“The students should be fine without AC. If anything, the pool is open.”

Satoru looks down, smiling to himself.

If the students of Jujutsu University: Tokyo knew that the only reason they’re not getting AC units is because Satoru Gojo, all-around nepo-baby, spoiled brat, and pussy-whipped loser wants to have a chance to see the girl he fucks himself to at the pool again, they’d barbeque and skewer him alive.

#jjk #gojo x black reader #gojo satoru #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk satoru #i love losers

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