#shirtless echo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 1 year ago

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Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h.

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.

And then it’s all black.

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”

“It’s al-”

“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh.

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

��Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit.

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.

All for him.

It’s too much.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.

You.

And then he’s cumming.

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture.

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do.

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”

Except maybe those.

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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࣪₊ 𐙚 YOU SAY IT'S BIG BUT U TAKE IT ?! ★

gojo, nanami, toji, sukuna, geto. you come home struck by a love curse and need their help on "recovering" from the after effects. (anon req)

𐚁̸ wc. 3.8k

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, feral reader, love pollen/curse, unprotected, sukuna has two dicks, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f + m receiving), squırting, biting, spanks, dumbification, overstim, brēeding, premature ejaculatıon, mdni.

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“wha— you’re clingier than usual,” the curse grumbles as you burst through the door. you’re panting steadily. he was almost shirtless with his usual kimono that’s exposing his abs. rickety arms of yours wrap around his waist before you drop right down onto your knees. with a raised eyebrow, he huffs. “eh. should i even ask.”

“no,” you reply within a second. your voice inwas nothing but a pure trembly tune. your body . . it felt hot all over, some stupid pollen or whatever it was was responsible for your feral state. you were even smelling the definition of the word too. you were grateful he didn’t ask, alas instead—he crosses all of his arms before glancing down at you. pawing at his boxers to fall down, it comes down slowly. the wait was killing you as you glance at his huge hardened bulge preparing to be exposed. oh, you’re already drooling. you needed sukuna so bad, your thighs were already quaking. the air surrounding you both suddenly felt scorching and the minuscule goosebumps that reside amongst your skin felt even hotter. “i- i need a taste, ‘kuna. please.”

he hums in amusement. “oh? don’t let me stop you then, horny girl,” and an oversized hand grips onto the crown of your head. with a nod, he views as your eyes light up at the now hefty sight of his two flashy dicks. with a groan—he shudders once he gapes at your tongue and how it licks against the one near the front. “mhm, you little . . minx. good, take it then. enjoy your precious meal.”

sukuna’s in love with your mouth—with your tongue, you’re so sloppy and you just can’t help it.

running your sweet tongue along both areas of his dicks—every part, the base, the length, and even the sensitive frenulum—he groans loudly. it’s an almost roar that echoes through his chambers. both of his dicks which were visibly stacked amongst each other. one was in front while the other was in back. each were the same amounts of thick and broad. thickset and fucking heavy, you bob your head down against the first one until he shoots raw into your mouth within just a few minutes. “fuck, easy, e-easy,” he stammers, feeling you snake a hand against his neglected cock to stroke it, fondling with his heavyset balls.

hearing sukuna stutter does something to you. you couldn’t exactly describe it, but you wanted to hear more of it. his head tilts back slightly as his lips purse, preparing to click his tongue. “ugh, can’t handle you when you suck that good,” and he grabs you by the hair, making you return his lascivious gaze. “look at you. jus’ a cock drunken mess. got m-me,” and he deeply exhales. sukuna chokes on his own words, barely even able to finish his sentence.

you took so much out of him in such little time. truth be told, maybe this love curse whatever it was, was a good thing. spit races down both sides of your mouth as you happily keep his shaft warm into your tight throat. his cum was a lot, a bittery taste of his own lingers on your tongue before he cock taps against the roof of your mouth. if it wasn’t for you doing a simple trick with your fingers, you’d have gag. you wanted more, lathering your tongue against his tip with no shame—you then reach a hand down to play with your pulsing clit.

“mphm.” you mumble inaudibly, feeling him start to push your head further down. a chaffing smile goes against your mouth and he scoffs. you’re making him feel things. things he didn’t even know he could feel. sukuna’s cold heart significantly flutters at the sight of you. it flutters simply at how good you make him feel. it’s a feeling he didn’t want to stop. at least not yet.

“god, ‘m gonna cum again,” he inhales before exhaling lowly. as he does so, his chest collapses back in from his sigh before he’s now facefucking you. the curse’s thigh taps and clenches, muscles creating a flexion within the nerves stored inside before he sees you drooling for more. as the bobbing of your head’s tempo increases, he groans before making you stare dead into his eyes with a simple grip. “nasty girl. comin’ home just to slobber on my dick, look at that f-face, fuuuuck,” and the moment you end up making him cum for about the umpteenth time of the night, he’s embarrassed. face flushed, you’re switching between his dicks to give them both equal amounts of love before he moves you off from sucking him. “brat,” he glares, grabbing your chin as a few sloshing spurts of cum pour down your chin. sukuna then leans in to kiss you, his tongue tweaks against your lips and he tastes own arousal with no shame at all. shame never exists for a man like him—a cursed being like him. you moan, feeling a fang of his gently bite into your bottom lip before he pulls away. in a low, shaky tone, he grumbles. “wipe that smile off your face, woman. this isn’t o-over.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

“my love?” nanami hoarsely pulls down the newspaper he was reading from his face. the glimmer of the g-shock he wore that wraps around his wrist ricochets against the chandelier hanging above the two of you. eyeing you closely, he leans back against his wooden rocking chair. “how was work? your boss take it easy on you today?”

“kento,” you breathe, getting right on his lap. you’re met with those same gentle fawn irises that’s captured your heart within an instant. a hand of his gently strokes against your waist before he watches you speak in such a needy way. “touch me— please, i want you so bad.”

nanami chortles lowly. “aw, i want you too honey.”

“no . . like, i want you,” and he sees how you’re glancing back at him with feral, blown pupils. nanami could tell how needy you were just from your tone and body language alone. he could never say no to you, his beloved wife. nanami knew you, and most importantly, he knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand . .

the moment he’s got you laid on your back, everything’s lost. it’s as if time comes to an abrupt stop. the moment you feel his thick cock ease it’s way into your cunt, you immensely swallow him whole. “so warm ‘n snug,” he whispers, bringing his lips toward your face to pepper various kisses against your skin. he’s so gentle with you, he always was. he cups your chin before giving you a deep kiss to distract you from the brief tang of you clamping onto him. “how . . do you feel? is this okay—?”

his low voice was so smooth—leisurely, he’s rocking his hips against you before he playfully nibbles near your chin. a hand of his intertwined with your fingers as he waits for your sweet response. “i- i feel hot,” you moan, throwing your arms around him. “more please, ‘ken. makes me throb when you touch me.”

nanami chuckles, a quick piston of his hips and your legs wrap around his slim waist. his cologne swarms around your nostrils before you whine again. you sound so pretty—melodious, each moan that escapes out of you sounds like a harmony within each lewdly musical moment that passes. “so the curse makes you more sensitive for me?” he coos against your neck, another free hand of his rubbing against your tummy. you’re just laid back, taking every appetizing inch of him and your eyes roll and roll to the very backs of your cranium. “my sweet girl,” and his voice—you could get off to it, you were already profusely pulsing from his deeply through strokes regardless. “i’ll touch every inch of this perfect body if it ‘cures’ you, mhm.”

his touch makes you more sensitive though. nanami was sensual, taking his time with you. his pace was not to fast or too slow. just right . .

his fat cock slowly jackhammers itself into you, irregular breaths sounding more and more jagged. as he’s talking you through it against the shell of your ear, you dig your fingertips into his back. as you run a hand down, you feel a tiny mole print against his skin. “kento, r- right there, riiiight there,” and you’re keeping the entirety of his waist hostage with your ankles. “cum in me, your cum’s gonna save me i think . . s-so, please.”

“you say such silly things sometimes, my sweet,” he whispers against your neck, giving it a long suck. you moan from his tongue flicking against the new mark he created before he’s quickening his hips just a tad bit. the bed creaks and sings, it’s as if it’s making a new mixtape with its noises. “but alright, if my baby wants me to fill her up so she can feel better, i’ll do that,” and before he shoots into you—he grabs your chin. “ah, but look at me though,” and he’s panting heavily, sepia-colored strands sticking against the sheet of sweat that goes against his forehead. “look at me. look into my eyes, wifey,” and he sneaks a kiss onto your trembling lips. thrusting into you at brimming speed, he groans. “atta girl, there she is,” he purrs at you, a thumb brushing against your quivering bottom lip. he looked at you as if he loved you, nanami was sweet but a secret filthy man at heart. only for you though. “wanna see that pretty face. think ‘m gonna give you a baby or two while ‘m at it, my love. f-fuck.”

☆ GOJO SATORU

“girl—could be a little nicer y’know,” gojo grumbles as you lightly flick him against his back onto the plump mattress. you were always no match for his unprovoked sass. with a teasing pout, he’s staring right back up at you as you straddle his chin. grabbing a fistful of his hair, you inch your pooling warm entrance against his face. “how do you even get struck by a ‘love’ curse anyway? thought that only happens in fan fiction, heh.”

“just shut up,” you moan, hovering over your boyfriend’s face. he was so pretty — just gawking at him alone had you going more feral. gojo’s eyes, they were always so ethereal looking. a bright blueish cerulean—almost a viridescent green with how it reflects against the bedroom light. “f-fuck, i want you to taste it so bad, ‘toru. want you.”

with an impish smile, he slides the side of your panties aside. “soooo, what are ya waitin’ for? let me eat this ‘curse’ out of you, angel.”

and the moment you plant your sopping wet cunt against his face, he’s ultimately determined to do so. gojo was a messy eater. it was really no denying it. you’re swiping your slick heat against his nose like a credit card and he eats it up everytime. drool pours from the corners of his mouth as he’s gripping your thighs with both hands. doughy padded thumbs of his pierce into your skin as you’re rutting against his face in rapturing pleasure. “like that baby, f-fuck.”

“go on—praise me some more,” he giggles, warm breath fanning against your entrance. your stomach caves and seizes in and out as you’re still moving all around. it doesn’t take long before your legs start to quaver. “call me a good boy, yeah.”

as much as you wanted to eye roll in the most dramatic way, you couldn’t.

you’ve got a firm grip into his white, snowy strands before giving it a solid yank. “g- good boy, ‘s good for me, ‘toru. think your tongue is working,” and your voice was so soft, its delivery was almost a mere whisper. gojo’s sucking against your clit, casually making out with it in such a sloppy way that’s he’s imitating a french kiss. you continuously pulse into his mouth, feeling him breath through his nose before he spanks your sensitive entrance. as he does such a thing, a splash of your own arousal goes onto his face. teasingly, he sticks out his tongue to lick it clean. “f-fuck.” you whine, and he starts to feel himself get hard. not from you calling him a good boy, but the view itself.

the view of you, riding his face, straddling him in such a sexy way makes him feel a raging hard on in his boxers.

oh, the way you were maintaining such eye contact.

so sensual, you use his face for your own pleasure, hearing your heartbeat arise at a more quick through your ears. the sharp edges of gojo’s teeth nibble playfully against your thighs before you whimper once he prods a lengthy finger inside. he’s located your g-spot just like that, immediately moaning aloud before his digit curls up into your gummy walls. “fuck, you’re so hot when you pull my hair, ‘s no fair,” and as you’re whimpering loudly, chewing on the skin of your arm—you end up finishing after a while.

the moment you do, you end up squirting a bit. it comes out in a tiny trickle—gojo’s face lights up as you’re struggling to keep your thighs open for him but he spreads them further apart for you anyway. “shit,” he exhales with a cunning grin, that smug expression you oh so desperately wanted to wipe off. “i didn’t know my girl was a squirter. maybe you should get struck by that love curse again,” and he licks against your pussy for a final time before spanking your folds. “let’s do that again. wanna get you real soaked tonight. i always like my girls messy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“no way you woke me up just so i could fuck you.” toji deadpans, bringing a hand towards the hair that sticks against his chest, scratching it for four long seconds. two arched brows of his curl into a furrow before he grunts. “i was havin’ a good ass dream too.”

“toji i’m gonna die,” you protest, tugging at his boxers. “i searched up the symptoms a- and it said that if i don’t do anything um— sexual related, ‘m gonna die within four hours.”

“oh boo,” he rolls his eyes, and you moan once you feel the roughness of his palm squeeze against your ass. toji pulls you close to him, so close that you could feel the heat of his body radiate against your own. so close that you could smell his natural manly scent. the strong manly musk, his scent alone had you throbbing right inside of your laced little panties. in a groggy voice, toji leans in to suck against your neck, earning out a mewling whimper from you. “fine, but don’t be surprised if i don’t let ya cum. my dream was really fuckin’ good.”

knowing toji—he was probably dreaming about being a millionaire, but anyway . .

he happily helps with your little issue by fucking you thoroughly into the sheets. harp hips of his penetrate into you again and again. you whine, bratty cacophonous whimpers spew out of your lips as you cling onto the milky, pale sheets. it’s probably been hours, the entire room has a candied aroma of pure desire and intimacy. toji groans as your cunt clamps against him tightly. two scarred hands of grab ahold of your waist before pressing it deeper against him. “mhm, ‘s it workin’ baby? needed a good fuck, baby?”

“y- yes,” you moan, strands of hair almost blinding your eyesight by how it continues to get in your face from the quick paced movement. skin against skin—skin tight. everything felt heavenly. toji’s husky pitched groans only makes you throb even more before he leans right up closer against your ass. “harder, fuck me, ‘toji. pleaseplease. make me cum.”

with his own heavy huffs of breath escaping, he gets all the way up close before raising a foot to press down against your head.

a shrieking gasp comes out of you at the angle. he’s buried so deep now that your pussy stings and smacks from his sack. his hefty sack that hangs. kissing his teeth, toji rolls his eyes back from how good you squeeze around him before groaning once more. “goddamn, y’er a little slut. wakin’ me up for dick, ‘oughta edge the shit out of ya,” and he grabs a nice amount of your hair, making you raise up. the soft, delicate wool of his sock still glides against your skin and you moan from his rude, overzealous tempo. “yeah? should the baby girl cum, or nah. personally, i‘d say no. you were bein’ a brat. 'love curse' my ass.”

you try to sit up but he only pushes you back down, your face smushed against your fluffed out pillow.

“nuh uh, sit the fuck back down,” he snarls, swatting a soft palm against your ass. you’re so close—you moan again as he deepens his hits. his rhythm that was once so decent was now sloppy and merciless. toji’s fat mushroom tip thwacks and thwacks against your clit so much that you could feel it’s delicious curve. it’s a tickling sensation if anything—but the last thing you were doing was laughing. as he tightens his grip a bit, resuming to rock his hips into you, he purrs against your ear in a throaty chuckle. “heh, oh so you can’t speak now? thought ya wanted me to go harder?”

“i- i do,” you try to explain, but it only forms into a sweet meaningless babble. “fuuuuck, ‘s good but take your foot off me, toji. your sock is um.. wet.”

“your sock is um wet,” he mocks you before lowering his foot. you cringe as he pitches his voice—you don’t even sound like that. as he’s still having you arched over, watching as you then hide your face into the crook of your elbow. with a final smack against your ass, he pulls out before letting off an offended, tch. “ungrateful ass.”

☆ GETO SUGURU

“rough day?” geto slyly smiles, watching you struggle to walk into his room. he locks his phone to get a good look at you. you’re heaving insane amounts of breaths, pant after pant squeezing out of your full lungs as if you’d just got down with a marathon. “aw, let me guess. that love curse again? baby, you really gotta stop gettin’ yourself in these positions. it’s silly.”

“suguru,” you whine, collapsing right into his lap. the way you flop onto him was so cute—you’re met with a smug grin and dark, inky eyes that’s taking in all of your features. always so pretty. he smells so good, it’s driving you crazy. “wanna ride you.”

“you always ride me,” he strokes your chin, staring into your eyes lovingly. his hair was pinned into a unkempt yet attractive ponytail. geto gingerly wraps a hand around your throat before whispering against your lips. “so it is that lust curse again, isn’t it? careful. startin’ to think you’re doing this on purpose just to ride me, pretty girl.”

it works every time though—because within minutes later, you’re riding geto on the plump sofa. he was trying to multitask, trying to send an important email but your hips always snapped him back to reality. eventually, his phone slips out of his hand. geto groans at the way your rhythm’s got him in such a chokehold. you’re unhinged, playing with your tits right in front of him that he can’t help but feel against your soft mounds himself.

“s-shit,” he hisses, your body forever an image embedded in his mind that he couldn’t erase. your pussy squelches against his cock and you feel him reach such deep angles all at once. his girth was enough to make your mouth salivate with slippery saliva. mouthwatering, the upward curve of geto’s dick has you going stupid, you’re whining constantly before you lightly shove him back against the cushioned furniture. “slow down, you’re gonna make me c-cum quick, baby, goddamn.”

perhaps your hips alone were the enemy all along, you’re barely giving him a chance to breathe and it turns him onever more. how feral you were—he could see how blown and needy your pupils were. as you wrap your arms around him, still jerking your hips forward, you pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. geto groans right into your mouth, it’s guttural. playfully, you twirl a finger around his hair as you’re fucking him. geto’s hand placement was against your hips, long pretty lashes fluttering every few seconds before he gasps. “baby,” he huffs, a slippery strand of spit leaving your lips as he tugs away. with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, he moans again, yet this time it’s louder, a bit more pitchy. “i’m gonna c- cum, shit your hips is gonna kill me.“

“don’t waste it p- please,” you plead into his ear, the soft breaths of your voice that exit from your throat makes his dick twitch inside you. you’re still grinding against him, the tempo was so speedy that it gives geto whiplash. he was truly witnessing his life flash before his eyes—all thanks to your precious pussy, featuring your crazed hips. he hardly doesn’t know where to roam his hands—but they remain glued to your waist, attempting to guide you closer. “inside, sugu. spill it ‘n me, make a mess.”

groaning—his head tosses itself back in rapture as he falls into his lewd, anticipated embrace. he’s feeling hot and warm just like you. the warmth your pussy provided him makes him bite his lip.

“fuck, fuck, f-fuuuuck,” he swears once you suddenly pick your hips back up. after a few seconds once you gradually slow down—he’s shooting a warm load of cum into you. so gooey, it fills you to the brim and you slow down finally, still swaying against him to make sure it’s fully plugged full. it pours into you all at once, a whopping amount of seed that’s so much that it oozes between the crevices of your thighs. you rode geto so good that he doesn’t even notice the sofa had ended up collapsing. the sound was short and concise—he’s moaning once you wrap a hand around his throat, feeling the vibrations of his grunts go against your fingertips. “phew,” he swallows, still dumping a good amount of ropy amounts inside before he goes limp against the couch. geto still has your hips in place before he’s gasping for short collected breaths. with glossy eyes, he notices your needy smug grin, not showing one ounce of fatigue. “again, huh? fuck, let me catch my breath first baby, you’re fuckin’ dangerous.”

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rafesangelita · 13 days ago

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♡ who needs a boyfriend when you have a best friend like rafe who lets you use him to get yourself off?

warnings: mentions of fwb, lots of dirty talk, light praise, unprotected sex, rafe being a giver before a receiver..

“are you asleep?” you whispered, snaking your hand over rafe’s shirtless form. trying to get any kind of sleep when you were next to him was deemed impossible, especially when he knew that you weren’t wearing anything underneath that pink nightdress of yours. “no, not really.” he hummed groggily, turning his body to face you. you two have had such a weird ‘best friends with benefits’ dynamic going on for so long now, there was nothing that fazed you two when it came to sleeping together in the same bed.. let alone being naked and in close proximity.

“what’s wrong?” he pulled you on top of him, your heat sitting right where you needed him the most. biting your lip, you waited for rafe to meet your gaze before it clicked for him. hiking up the sheer material of your nightdress, your best friend snaked a hand between your legs, a curse leaving his lips as he ran his fingers up and down your soaked folds. “oh, you just want your pretty hole filled, huh?” you nodded, taking him out of the confines of his underwear. “yes—” you whined, “can i please use your cock, ray?” rafe grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a kiss before doing away with your top.

“that’s what friends are for.” he whispered, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he slid into you. rafe took a handful of your ass, a pained mewl sounding from your mouth as he groped the flesh roughly. “get yourself off, ‘pretty, fuck yourself back to sleep.” he encouraged you, his breath tickling the side of your face as you moved on top of him. you could just cry, the mere girth of rafe’s cock stretching you open so deliciously. all he had to do was lay there and listen to your little whimpers and whines as you hiccuped your praises for him. “you f-fill me up so good!” you cried out, your nails digging into his skin.

“yeah?” he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh, eliciting a squeal from your lips, “is anyone else letting you use their cock like this?” you shook your head, leaving sloppy kisses along his jawline. “no, just you!” rafe knew that already, considering he had devoted most of his time to chasing off every guy who thought they could have a chance with you, he just loved hearing you confirm it for him. surprisingly enough, rafe didn’t care if you made him cum or not, he reached his climax just knowing that you counted on him to make you feel good.

“oh, fuck,” you took in a sharp breath, circling your hips so your clit met his pubic bone, “rafe!” with your ministrations faltering, you struggled to keep up with your movements, a frustrated cry echoing off the walls of his bedroom. resting his hands in the small of your back, rafe pinned you against his chest as you came undone around his cock, your tears of pure unadulterated pleasure running down his shoulder as you trembled with the force of your orgasm. rafe felt the tension in his stomach starting to coil tight as he was close to finishing himself, his jaw clenching as you shook in his arms.

thumbing away the stray tears that managed to stay on the surface of your skin, rafe brought you down from your high with a soft ‘shhhh..’ rasping through the small space. his hands cupped your face, both of you exchanging a look before you slid off of him with a hiss. fully expecting to just hold you close and call it a night, rafe looked down at you with confusion as you laid down on your tummy between his thighs. “w-what are you doing?” he asked, swallowing thickly once you batted your lashes up at him. “what kind of friend would i be without returning the favor?”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

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ryoflix · 22 days ago

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sukuna dealing with mosquitos during the summer | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, estb. rl ؛ ଓ

summer hit like a slap to the face — heat hanging thick in the air, fans spinning like they’re chasing god, and your house sealed tighter than a fortress. you’ve done your part: citronella, netting, repellent patches, the whole holy arsenal. but sukuna? sukuna has declared war.

he’s shirtless again — because, of course — wearing nothing but loose sweatpants and a tank top clinging to his back from the humidity. and in his hand, at all times, like a holy relic? the electric mosquito bat. his weapon of choice. his excalibur. he paces the hallways at night like a sentry. you caught him once, just standing in the kids’ doorway at midnight, eyes narrowed, scanning the ceiling.

“what are you doing?” you whispered.

he didn’t even turn his head. “heard something.”

“it’s one mosquito.”

“one is all it takes.” his voice low, almost growling. “you saw what it did to her leg last week. looked like a damn curse mark.”

and he meant it. because ever since your daughter waddled in with a swollen red bump and tearful eyes, sukuna’s been on edge. visibly off. it’s not about the bump. it’s about the audacity. his child. bitten. by some nobody insect.

he lost sleep over that. actual sleep. paced the living room like a general planning revenge. googled “dengue symptoms” on your phone until it nearly overheated. now he carries that mosquito bat the way others might cradle a baby.

and the moment he hears it — the faintest bzzt in the air — he’s on his feet. doesn’t matter if he was lounging half-asleep with his head on your lap, sweat slick across his neck, sighing about how tired he is. the buzz sounds, and he snaps up like a statue come to life.

you watch from the kitchen as he prowls through the living room, bat raised like a god ready to smite. the twins, already in their pajamas, peek out from behind the couch like it’s movie night.

ZZZZzAP!

he strikes. the mosquito falls with a sizzle and a tiny spark, like a defeated villain. sukuna stands over it, chest heaving, a little dramatic for someone who once leveled cities. “got it,” he mutters, brushing a hand across his brow like he just ended a battle.

“daddy’s so strong,” your daughter sighs, cradling her stuffed bear.

“so strong,” your son echoes, fists clenched in admiration.

sukuna glances back at them, then at you, trying to downplay the sheer pride swelling in his chest. “...someone’s gotta keep this place safe,” he mumbles, slapping the bat against his palm. “not like those bug strips do shit.”

“uh-huh,” you say, casually spraying repellent into the air behind him. he doesn’t notice. he’s already scanning the ceiling again.

later that night, with the twins fast asleep and the hum of the ceiling fan barely masking the night noises outside, sukuna sits on the edge of the bed, still holding the bat like it’s an extension of his soul. you curl beside him and nudge his arm. “you coming to bed, or you gonna interrogate the walls?”

he doesn’t move, eyes narrowed.

“just one more patrol.”

and sure enough — another faint buzz.

he’s gone before you can blink.

sizzle.

peace, restored. warrior, satisfied. family, safe.

#⌗ episodes #dad! sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk crack #jujutsu kaisen crack #sukuna crack #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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melancholy-of-nadia · 9 months ago

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i'm not sure?! (m) | jjk/pjm/kth

title: i'm not sure?! pairing: jungkook x jimin x taehyung x show producer!reader(f) rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff, smut ; the canon idol au summary: You're a producer working on a BTS travel show, called "Are You Sure?!" staring BTS members Jimin and Jungkook, with their fellow member guest star Taehyung. Everything is going well on set as filming for the night comes to an end, but when Jungkook and Jimin inform you that they caught you staring at their shirtless bodies, things quickly escalate between you guys by the poolside. warnings: fluff, language, pwp, threesome, foursome, tit play, nipple play, licking, some body boob worship, blowjobs, hand jobs, eating out, multiple orgasms, ass slapping, light mlm moment, cumming, oral sex (m and f receieving), biting, praise, they all have a big dicks but they're different!, tatted jk and jimin is a warning in itself, jungkook is a bit more rough, jimin is soft :(((, taehyung dom tease!, insinuation that this is not their first rodeo lmfao, kisses note: i am watching are you sure?! and i've thought many thoughts... i hope this one shot can be prescribed to you and heal whatever insane and nasty intrusive thoughts you guys have when watching. i am a simple woman, but these men only slightly older than me have me wrecked :"))) also s/o to @daegudrama for editing despite her busyness total word count: 6.6k drop date: August 29th, 2024 5pm pst ao3 link

A day of filming wrapped as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the lush greenery of Jeju Island.

The final shot had captured the last rays of sunlight glinting off the shimmering pool, where Jimin and Jungkook had been playfully splashing each other and playing mermaids, their laughter echoing through the tranquil evening air. The crew began to pack up the equipment, the usual post-shoot chatter filling the space as everyone prepared to unwind after another successful day.

You, the producer, had been watching the monitors closely, ensuring every moment was captured perfectly for "Are You Sure?"—the travel reality show hosted by BTS members Jimin and Jungkook. You’ve seen how their chemistry was undeniable since filming started out in the US in July. Now, once again, their camaraderie was infectious as they explored the beauty of Jeju, Korea with their fellow bandmate and guest star Taehyung by their side. Each outing in Jeju had been a hit: indoor rock climbing, go-karting, savoring omakase as well as other Jeju delicacies, and now, the pool at the luxurious house accommodation, where they seemed to find endless ways to entertain themselves, and the audiences who would eventually be watching this.

However, throughout this filming project, you found your eyes constantly lingering. The cool blue water rippled gently as Jimin and Jungkook clambered out, their naked torsos glistening in the fading light. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught yourself staring a little too long, mesmerized by the sight of them so effortlessly carefree and touchy. There was something about the way they moved, their playful energy, that made it hard to look away.

You shake off the thought. Get it together, Y/N! You finally got a big gig producing a reality show for BTS in your mid-20s and you cannot be ruining it over your lust. You sigh. Maybe the lack of touch and a relationship is really getting to you, but that’s what happens when you value your career above other mundane things. You have to remind yourself that you have to continue staying professional to make it to the end of filming this.

What you don’t know is that your stares haven’t gone unnoticed, especially by the youngest of the trio, Jungkook.

As you begin to collect your things, your heart skips a beat when you hear a voice call out to you.

“Hey, PD-nim. Can you come join us by the pool for a bit before you go,” Jungkook says, his tone casual, but his smile inviting. “We wanted to talk about tomorrow’s shoot.”

Jimin nods in agreement, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans against the edge of the pool. “Yeah, we’ve got some ideas for tomorrow. Plus, it’s a nice night—no reason to rush off, right?”

You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing. The day has been long, and you can feel the exhaustion settling in. But the chance to spend a few more moments in their company, even if just to discuss the next day's itinerary, is too tempting to resist.

“Uh,” you turn to look around at the other staff, seemingly wondering if you should stay behind.

However, the ones who notice the interaction shrug, seemingly wanting to go back to their accommodation next door and eat dinner. Great.

“Sure, I can stick around for a bit.” trying to keep your voice steady as you walk over to where they’re waiting.

All the staff but you fully exit, closing the large doors that encase you in this space with these beautiful men. You sit on one of the comfortable seats by the pool, nervously hugging your knees as you watch Jimin and Jungkook swim toward you. You notice Taehyung is still inside the living room, lying on the floor as he scrolls on his phone. “Is he coming to join us?” You ask, wondering if there are any concerns for tomorrow, wouldn’t it be good to have him hear this information too?

“He’ll join us later~” Jimin answers, his tone sounding like he’s up to something, but his adorable smirk makes you not question it.

“Ah, alright.”

A brief silence follows as you look to Jimin and Jungkook to start the conversation, but instead, they exchange a glance and giggle.

You’re confused, but you recognize this as typical behavior from them. “Is there something wrong?”

Jungkook’s giggling becomes softer before it cuts, “You know, we’ve noticed you staring at us too much throughout the trip in America and here.”

Holy shit! They noticed!

Panic sets in. Oh no no no. Is this it? They probably think you’re creepy. What if they think you’re some sort of sasaeng fan who somehow got involved in the production of this show to stalk them?

You’ll be labeled a pervert, potentially losing your job and getting blacklisted from the industry. All because you couldn’t keep your eyes off of their beautiful faces… and bodies. It’s not your fault! While you were a fan of BTS years ago, you gave that up once you entered the entertainment industry a few years ago and started out as a production assistant. You’ve occasionally seen them at music and end of the year shows you worked on, but you gently admired them from afar, prioritizing your work over anything else.

“I–” You struggle to find the words to defend yourself. “I’m so sorry!” You cover your face with your hands, your words muffled. “I-I didn’t mean to! Y-You’re… He’s…”

The professional and stoic exterior you’ve maintained begins to crumble now that you’ve been caught red-handed.

But despite your panic, Jimin and Jungkook find your reaction completely endearing.

“She’s reacting exactly as cute as you said!” Jimin laughs, splashing water at Jungkook, who swims toward the pool ladder to get out.

“I didn’t realize she’d be this flustered, though!” Jungkook says, a hint of concern in his voice. He climbs out of the pool and walks toward you, dripping water onto the deck. “PD-nim, don’t worry about it.”

You peek through your fingers, still mortified, as Jungkook approaches, looking as attractive as ever with his body glistening from light reflecting on the remnants of water falling down his body. His expression is soft, reassuring, and it only makes your heart race faster.

Jimin lets out a soft chuckle. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re just teasing you,” His voice is light and teasing as he floats lazily in the pool “We’re not uncomfortable. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Jungkook nods, his expression gentle yet probing. “Yup! You’ve been nothing but professional this whole time. We just noticed that… maybe there’s more beneath the surface.”

Jimin gracefully lifts himself out of the pool and takes the seat on your other side. His presence is both comforting and disarming. “It’s like there’s something you’re holding back,” he adds, his tone hiding something deeper. “Something you’re denying yourself.”

You exhale slowly, trying to steady your nerves. Internally, you’re awestruck. It’s like they read you like a book. The intensity of their gazes still makes your heart race. Before you can respond, Jungkook’s eyes drop to your chest, his smile turning playful again.

“You know,” he says, “I noticed the black bikini top peeking out from under your tank top earlier.”

Your breath catches as his fingers touch the straps that tie behind your neck. You’d planned to swim later, after filming, wearing the bikini under your tank top and maxi skirt. Seeing how much fun they were having, you’d wanted to join in. But now, with their attention focused on you, you feel exposed in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Jimin leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Why don’t you take off your clothes so we can see it better? We’ll help you~”

Take off your clothes?! Your heart pounds in your chest, the suggestion hanging in the air between you. The teasing is taking a turn, and you’re not sure how to respond. Saying no might kill the mood, and who knows what they’d think—or say. But if you say yes… there’s no telling where this might lead.

You’re not sure. But after a moment’s hesitation, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay…”

Jungkook gently takes hold of the hem of your tank top, his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch is both soft and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine as he slowly lifts the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath catches in your throat as Jungkook pulls the tank top over your head, revealing the black bikini top beneath. Your cleavage and the roundness of your breasts are on full display, which makes them slightly more excited. The cool air hits your skin, making you acutely aware of how exposed you are.

But the look in their eyes isn’t one of judgment—it’s something far more intense, more primal.

Jimin watches with a satisfied smile, his gaze flickering between you and Jungkook. “You don’t need to hide, okay?” he adds, his voice soft yet commanding. “We’re all just having a little fun, right?”

Jungkook’s hands linger on your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly against the skin just above the waistband of your maxi skirt. “This too,” he says, his voice almost a whisper as he hooks his fingers under the fabric.

You glance at Jimin, who nods encouragingly, his eyes dark with anticipation. There’s no turning back now, and a part of you doesn’t want to.

With a gentle tug, Jimin helps you slide the skirt down your hips, letting it pool around your feet. You stand up, stepping out of it. Now, your body is fully on display in the black bikini that suddenly feels far more revealing than it did before.

Jimin’s smile widens as his gaze travels over you, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “Wow, you look even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his voice sending a thrill through you.

“She’s really pretty,” Jungkook’s hands trail up your sides, his touch light but possessive. “Let’s go in the pool for a swim,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

You’re momentarily thrown off by the sudden change of scenario, blinking in surprise. The intensity of the moment shifts, and both Jimin and Jungkook burst into soft giggles at your reaction. Before you can say anything, Jungkook takes your hands and, with a mischievous grin, pulls you up from the lounge chair.

In one swift motion, he lifts you into his arms, the strength in his hold both reassuring and thrilling. “Hold on tight,” he says, winking at you before he leaps into the pool, bringing you along with him.

“Huh!? Wahh!!” The water rushes around you, cool and refreshing as you both plunge beneath the surface.

When you resurface, laughing and splashing, Jimin stands at the edge, watching with amusement. “Wait for me!” he calls out before executing a perfect cannonball right between you and Jungkook, sending a wave of water crashing over both of you.

The three of you laugh as the playful atmosphere takes over. The tension from earlier dissolves into something lighthearted and fun. In the pool, you play a variety of games: splashing water at each other, racing from one end to the other, seeing who can hold their breath the longest, and even attempting to dunk each other under the water.

You become more familiar with them and vice versa.

Jimin and Jungkook take turns lifting you up and tossing you into the deeper end, your laughter echoing in the night. At one point, Jungkook even suggests a round of “chicken fight,” where Jimin hoists you onto his shoulders while Jungkook does the same with an imaginary opponent, both of you trying to push each other off into the water.

As the night progresses, the games become more relaxed, the three of you floating side by side, your bodies gently swaying with the ripples of the water.

Maybe this is all that’s going to happen. Maybe you were overthinking any other scenario. They were just teasing you because you were staring at them throughout the filming. You guys are gonna call it a night, right?

Right–

“Y/N, can I touch your breasts.”

The sudden question jolts you out of your thoughts, and you quickly stand up in the pool, water cascading off your skin. Jungkook is closer now, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that wasn’t there before. His eyes are darker, a smoldering intensity taking over the playful spark you’re used to.

You swallow hard, caught completely off guard. “Is there… a reason?” you manage to ask, your voice coming out shakier than you’d like. You are on the bigger side than most girls here, so it’s not entirely surprising that your chest caught his eye.

Jungkook steps even closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “I’m just curious,” he says softly, his voice low and almost hypnotic. “I want to see how they feel.”

Your heart races, every nerve in your body tingling as the situation escalates far beyond anything you’d imagined. You can’t believe this is happening, and yet, there’s something in the way he looks at you that makes it impossible to say no.

“Uh… sure,” you respond, barely above a whisper, your cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

Jungkook’s hand moves slowly, deliberately, under the cup of your bikini top. His touch is tentative at first, as if he’s savoring the moment, but then his fingers press more firmly against your skin, exploring the softness with a deliberate curiosity. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his thumb brush against your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

The sensation is heightened by the sight of his tattooed right arm, the intricate patterns of his sleeve adding a dark contrast to his skin. The ink swirls and curves with every movement, the bold lines almost mesmerizing as his hand continues its exploration.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatens to escape, but you can’t help the way your body reacts to his touch. The water feels warmer now, the atmosphere is charged with sexual tension. Luckily the cameras outside are now off, but you still can’t let the staff in the building next door hear anything going on.

Jimin, who had been floating nearby, quietly watching, now moves closer as well, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Jungkook,” he says softly, his voice a gentle reminder that he’s there too, “Don’t hog all the fun.”

Jungkook pulls back slightly, his hand still lingering on your skin as he glances at Jimin with a playful smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jimin leans closer, his gaze intent and voice soft. “I’m going to touch you too, is that okay?”

You nod, anticipation and nervousness swirling within you.

Jimin’s hand moves under the bikini cup to grasp your left breast, his touch gentle yet confident as he begins to explore. His fingers graze and play with your nipple, causing a shiver to run through your body. His thumb and forefingers move in careful back and forth motions. Tenderly tweaking them, carefully observing the way your face reacts to his every touch. He appears as if he is under a trance, and looks at you with such a need in his eyes.

The sensation is heightened by Jungkook, who leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m gonna remove your top so I can suck on them a bit,” He says shyly, pausing for a moment to untie your bikini straps from the back of your neck and remove your bikini top, before lowering his head and softly pressing his lips to your nipple, his tongue darting out to tease.

His hands push your breasts together as his tongue caresses the inner curves of your tits, swirling his tongue across them. Your hands are on his shoulders as he continues, licking every inch of your chest, nuzzling his face between them and leaving kisses along the path. His tongue flicks your right nipple and your breathing hitches in your throat. Despite the water in the way, you can feel yourself becoming wet from below.

Jimin watches, clearly intrigued, and soon follows suit, his mouth finding the other breast. He rubs his mouth along it, giving it a couple of kisses then wrapping his lips around it. Suctioning and taking in the tit with such hungry delight.

You feel like you have whiplash, as you cry out from the warmth of their mouths on your skin, your back arches off of the wall of the pool. You want to touch them, reach for them, feel the silkiness of his hair in your grasp.

But Jimin doesn’t let up, taking his time licking slowly around your areola until your nipple perks up, hard and stiff. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue, and with the sudden cold from the night air, it feels all too much.

Jungkook looks up at you through his wet hair, through black lashes as he widens his mouth over your breast, his teeth bared, scraping the fat of your breast without ever breaking the skin. You cry out in a cluster of pleasure, maybe pain, as your senses are confused about all of the sensations at once.

Despite the feelings of them against you, their actions are synchronized and perfectly in tune with each other.

The pool’s gentle ripples and breeze seem to fade into the background as the focus narrows to the intimate touch of the two men. Their movements are tender and explorative, a blend of curiosity and desire that leaves you breathless and overwhelmed.

Your mind is fighting for dear life to stay sane and not lose to your animalistic urges,

“Let’s get out of the pool,” Jungkook commands, his voice firm yet enticing. “I want you to sit back on that daybed couch, baby.”

The shift in how he’s addressing you in the past 45 minutes is striking—both intimate and commanding. You nod, your body responding almost instinctively to his command as you all exit the pool. The three of you walk over to the poolside daybed, water dripping off your bodies, cooling in the night.

You sink into the plush cushions, the soft fabric cool against your heated skin. The daybed is large, designed for lounging, but right now, it feels like the center of something much more intense. Jungkook and Jimin kneel on either side of you, their knees pressing into the mattress as they lean over you, their wet bodies glistening under the soft pool lights.

You look at both of them, a daring thought forming in your mind. “I want to… lick at your chests too,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of eagerness, shyness and uncertainty.

The thought of exploring the contrasting textures of their skin, the difference in their nipples under your tongue, is almost overwhelming. You wonder how each will react, the mere anticipation making your breath catch.

Jimin’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of encouragement and desire. “We’re here for you.”

Jungkook watches intently, his gaze dark with expectation. “We’re all yours,” he says softly, his tone dripping with promise.

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing against their chests to feel the firmness of their muscles under your touch. The warmth of their skin sends a shiver down your spine as you explore the contours of their bodies. Your hands glide over Jungkook's chest first, pausing to tease his nipples with your fingertips gently. His breath hitches, a low hum of approval escaping his lips as he watches you with darkened eyes.

Encouraged by his reaction, you lean in closer, your mouth hovering just above his skin. You start with a soft kiss on his chest before taking one of his small chocolate nipples into your mouth, your tongue swirling around it in a slow, deliberate motion. Jungkook’s hand instinctively reaches up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he lets out a quiet groan of pleasure. His chest rises and falls more rapidly, his breathing growing heavier as you continue to tease him, alternating between gentle licks and firmer sucks.

The sound of his pleasure fuels your desire, making you want to elicit even more reactions from him. But as you pull back slightly, your gaze shifts to Jimin, who has been watching with equal intensity. His eyes are filled with anticipation, his lips slightly parted as if he’s already imagining what it will feel like when it’s his turn.

You move towards Jimin, your fingers tracing the outline of his chest as you did with Jungkook. His skin feels different—softer, yet still firm beneath your touch. Just below his right breast, he has a delicate script tattoo, the word "Nevermind" inked in elegant, flowing letters. You've always found it sexy, this handwritten tattoo adds a personal touch to his perfectly sculpted body.

His nipples are also differently shaped, bigger, and a bit lighter in color. You can feel the slight tremble in his body as you gently roll his nipple between your fingers before leaning in to taste him. Your mouth closes over his nipple, your tongue flicking against it in a teasing rhythm that draws a sharp inhale from him. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his grip tightening slightly as you continue to explore him with your mouth.

Jimin’s reactions are more subtle, yet no less intense. His soft moans mix with Jungkook’s heavier breathing, creating a symphony of sounds that only heighten your own arousal. The way their bodies respond to your touch, the contrast in their reactions, drives you to explore further, to discover just how much pleasure you can bring them.

You pull back slightly, glancing toward the large doors that separate the pool area from the rest of the accommodation. A flicker of concern crosses your mind, and you bite your lip before whispering, “You two need to stay quiet. We don’t want anyone overhearing us.”

Any slight mistake and you will lose your job, remember?

Jimin and Jungkook exchange a glance, their playful expressions tinged with a shared understanding. They nod, their eyes never leaving yours as they silently agree to your request. But just as you start to relax, your actions come to a stop when you feel them guiding your hands downwards, placing them on their lower bodies.

Your breath catches as your fingers wrap around their growing hardness, the heat and firmness of their cocks hidden under their swim trunks pressing against your palms. Jimin lets out a shaky exhale, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath against your ear. “I’ve wanted to feel you so bad for months now,” he confesses, his voice low and thick with desire.

Jungkook, not to be outdone, adds in a hushed tone, his eyes glinting with a dark sparkle, “Me too. You don’t know how much you’ve been driving us crazy.”

Their words send a thrill through you, intensifying the moment. You didn’t realize you were having this effect on them. You look at them both, their shared longing evident in their eyes. Slowly, you pull their members out from their swim trunks, your heart racing as you position yourself between them, sinking to your knees on the cushioned daybed.

Oh fuck…

The size difference even extends to their dicks. Jungkook’s is much longer, with veins prominent on its sides. Jimin’s is shorter, but the girth is insane. You can’t help but imagine how they’d feel inside your pussy. No, you can’t get ahead of yourself Y/N. Not yet at least…

With a mixture of boldness and anticipation, you lean down, your lips parting as you begin to lick at their members, starting with soft, tentative strokes of your tongue. The sensation of their heated skin against your tongue is intoxicating, their quiet groans spurring you on. You alternate between them, your tongue tracing the veins along their lengths, savoring the contrast in texture and taste.

Jimin’s breath hitches as you swirl your tongue around the tip of his member, the salty taste mingling with the slickness of your saliva. His fingers suddenly tighten in your hair, but he remains obediently quiet, the tension in his body evident as he struggles to hold back his angelic voice.

You shift to Jungkook, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate sucking. His quiet sounds of pleasure are like music to your ears, the low hums of approval vibrating. His hands rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but not forceful, guiding you as you take him deeper, feeling the way his body responds to every movement of your tongue.

At the same time, your hand reaches out to Jimin, wrapping around his throbbing length. You start stroking him with a steady rhythm, making sure to keep him engaged, the sensation of your fingers gliding over his slick skin keeping his arousal high. Jimin’s breath hitches, his eyes half-lidded with desire as he watches you.

The two of them try their best to stay quiet, but the occasional gasp, lust-filled phrases or whispered name of yours slips out, betraying their growing need.

“You’re so good at this PD nim…”

“Y/N, you’re so fucking fine…”

“Such a good girl, Y/N…”

“Fuck, right there…”

The thrill of their restraint only heightens your own arousal, driving you to explore them further, your lips and tongue working in tandem to bring them closer to the edge.

While working your mouth over Jungkook, you feel Jimin’s hand sliding up your body, his fingers brushing against your wet skin before cupping your breast. His thumb grazes over your nipple, teasing it to a hardened peak, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. The dual feeling—Jimin’s touch on your breast and Jungkook’s heat filling your mouth—intensifies the moment, driving you to pleasure them both with renewed focus.

The tension in the atmosphere thickens, all your quiet breaths turning into ragged gasps. You can feel the subtle changes in their bodies, the way their muscles tighten, and the way their grips on you grow firmer. The anticipation builds, and you know they’re close, teetering on the edge of release.

Jimin is the first to break the silence, his voice low and filled with need. “Y/N… can I come on your chest?” His eyes are dark with lust, the words almost a plea.

Jungkook isn’t far behind, his voice breathless and shaky as he adds, “And I–I want to come in your mouth. Is that okay?”

The heat in their words sends a shiver down your spine. You pause, looking up at them, their faces flushed with desire.

“Y-Yes that’s fine with me,” You nod, your consent clear in your eyes and the slight smile that tugs at your lips.

With their requests granted, you resume your ministrations with renewed intensity. Your hands work in tandem, stroking their members with a firm, steady rhythm while your tongue flicks and teases them both. The taste of them lingers on your tongue, salty and intoxicating, driving you to push them further, to bring them to the edge of ecstasy.

Their breaths quicken, and you can tell they’re both struggling to hold back, to savor the moment as long as possible. But the pleasure is overwhelming, and soon their restraint begins to falter.

Jungkook’s voice is the first to crack, a desperate whisper as he warns you, “I’m close… so close…”

Jimin removes his hand from your hair. Instead, Jungkook’s hand, adorned with intricate tattoos and the bold "ARMY" inked across his knuckles, slides from your shoulder to your hair this time. The grip is firm and possessive, his fingers weaving into your strands with a fierce, almost primal hold. The veins beneath his tattooed skin pulsate as he uses his arm to guide you closer, pushing himself deeper into you with each powerful thrust. His tattooed bicep flexes with every movement, demonstrating his strength and control, while the rhythmic thrusts become more urgent.

Jimin's breath hitches as soft, erotic moans escape his lips, each sound laced with urgency to let go. His voice quivers, with a strained yet sensual whisper, “Me too… I’m going to come…” The words tumble out in a series of ragged breaths

With one last, deliberate stroke of your hand and a final suck, you push them both over the edge.

“F-Fuck!” Jimin lets out a guttural groan as he releases, his hot seed spilling onto your breasts, painting your skin with his pleasure. The warmth of it spreads across your breasts, the sensation almost surreal as you continue to stroke him, milking out every last drop.

At the same time, Jungkook’s hips buck slightly as he comes, the hot, salty taste of his release flooding your mouth. You swallow him down eagerly, your tongue swirling around him to milk him of every last bit. The taste of him lingers, warm and slightly bitter, but satisfying in a way that leaves you wanting more.

The sounds they make—those broken moans, the gasps of pleasure—echo in your ears, a symphony of gratification. Their bodies tremble with the aftershocks of their orgasms, their hands gentle but insistent as they guide you through the final moments of their release.

When they’ve finally come down from the high, their breathing ragged but steadying, they look down at you with a mix of awe and satisfaction. The sight of you, your chest slick with Jimin’s release and your lips still wet from Jungkook seems to stir something deeper in them—a shared sense of intimacy that goes beyond mere physical pleasure. Your fingers move instinctively, collecting Jimin’s release and bringing it to your lips, savoring the taste as you clean yourself, erasing the evidence of what just transpired. The sensation is both surreal and thrilling, the intimacy of the moment lingering in the air.

Jungkook's voice breaks through the haze, his tone a mix of innocence and desire. “PD-nim, can we do more with you?” His eyes sparkle with the same enthusiasm you’ve seen during filming, making it nearly impossible to deny him.

“H-Huh!? Oh…” you stammer, caught off guard. That look in his eyes—it’s almost impossible to resist. But a small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you should be heading back before the other staff starts wondering where you are.

“C’mon, we’ll be quick!” Jimin adds, his voice smooth and coaxing, making it even harder to stick to your resolve. “We can eat you out, or we can penetr—”

Before he can finish, another voice cuts through the tension, startling you. “Oh… so that’s what you guys were doing?”

You turn your head sharply to see Taehyung standing there, now wearing swim trunks, with a smirk playing on his lips. Your heart races, the sudden realization hitting you like a wave. “Oh my God, I forgot about Taehyung…” you gasp, instinctively trying to cover yourself, though it’s far too late for modesty.

“Hey, I thought you were going to head to bed?” Jimin narrows his eyes at the slightly younger man. He must’ve been watching you all this entire time, he thinks.

He chuckles, an amused glint in his eyes as he takes in the scene. “I thought you guys were still playing in the pool or something… but I’m not surprised things ended up this way. You two are always up to shit like this.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, clearly unimpressed yet intrigued.

“Huh?” you manage to squeak out, your mind reeling. Always up to shit like this? What’s that supposed to mean–

Taehyung’s smirk deepens, and he steps closer. “Anyways, I’m bored. Let me join in too,” he says casually with a boxy smile, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I won’t disappoint heh~”

He winks. HE WINKS!

The three members of the BTS maknae line look at you deviously, waiting to pounce on you at your command.

“I don’t think we should be–”

“Are you sure?” Jimin and Jungkook say in unison.

“I… “ The title of the show is going to come back to haunt you.

“I’m not sure…?” You can’t find yourself to say no, having already gone to the deep end.

You will be closer to getting fired if you get caught at this rate, but to hell with it, “Okay, fine!”

And immediately, they’re all over your body, reigniting the hidden flame in your heart that reminds you how much you loved them as a fan years before. You won’t survive this.

“Come over here,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice deep and commanding as he settles against the pillows of the daybed. He props himself up, making sure he’s comfortable, then motions for you to crawl in front of him.

Your heart races as you move into position, with Jungkook and Jimin on each side of you, their eyes dark with lust. The daybed is deep enough that you’re perfectly nestled between them.

As you get closer to Taehyung, you feel his hands sliding up your thighs, tugging lightly at the waistband of your bikini bottoms. You gasp softly, a thrill running through you as he pulls them down slowly, exposing your wetness. The sensation sends a shiver through you, heightening your anticipation and eagerness to get this over with. You lift your hips slightly to help him slide them off completely, leaving you fully exposed.

Taehyung’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

He props himself up with the pillows behind his head, his hands settling on your hips as he guides you closer. “Sit on my face,” he tells you, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Your breath catches at the bold command, but the heat in his eyes, the way his hands grip your hips, sends a rush of excitement through you. You move to straddle him, your heart pounding as you position yourself over his face. Jungkook and Jimin remain close, their hands brushing over your body, adding to the growing heat between you all.

As you lower yourself onto his waiting mouth, the first touch of his tongue against your most sensitive spot sends a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

“A-Ah~ T-Taehyung…” You gasp, your fingers gripping the daybed as Taehyung’s tongue begins to work its magic, teasing and tasting you with skillful precision.

Taehyung’s tongue explores you, from your clit to your entrance. His mouth working in a rhythm that leaves you breathless, and your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

Jimin and Jungkook are on either side of you, their hands moving to your breasts, where they each take a breast in their grasp. Their mouths soon follow, lips closing over your nipples as they begin to suck and tease you with their tongues once more. The dual sensation of Taehyung’s mouth on you and the boys’ attention on your breasts sends your mind reeling, pleasure coursing through you to unleash an orgasm. But you need to be patient and let it continue consuming you.

Jungkook’s hand slides down, tugging off Taehyung’s trunks with a practiced ease before wrapping his fingers around Taehyung’s impressive length. The sight makes your eyes widen, but you aren’t entirely surprised by their actions—after all, you’ve seen how touchy BTS are with one another. Even filming earlier in the day and even back in the States. But this? Seeing them work together to push you to the brink of pleasure only makes you even hornier.

And Taehyung’s dick… it’s massive, much bigger than the other two. The way his tan skin contrasts with the thick, veined shaft is mesmerizing, almost too much to take in. You can’t help but imagine what it would feel like inside you, making you ache with the anticipation of trying it next time.

Jimin, not to be outdone, reaches over to stroke Jungkook, his touch slow and deliberate, making sure to keep him just as aroused. His free hand slips down to touch himself, fingers wrapping around his own length as he matches the pace. The sensation of their hands moving in tandem, coupled with the attention they’re lavishing on you, makes your body tremble with need.

You ride Taehyung’s face, grinding down against his mouth as his tongue works magic on you, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can. Your hands clutch the edges of the daybed for support, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you lose yourself in the sensations they’re giving you. Since you’re facing outwards, Taehyung’s hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulls you even closer, deepening the connection between his mouth and your most sensitive spot. His grip is firm and possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he devours you with renewed intensity. He gives it a slap, which makes you cringe before you go back to indulging in the pleasure.

The feeling of the two men’s mouths on your breasts, Taehyung’s tongue inside you, and the sight of their hands pleasuring each other is almost too much to bear. The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, your body quivering with the need to release.

Jimin and Jungkook suck harder on your nipples, their teeth grazing them just enough to send jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Taehyung’s tongue flicks and swirls with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then, finally, it all becomes too much. The pleasure explodes within you, sending you spiraling into an intense orgasm that leaves you gasping for breath. Your body tenses, your thighs clenching around Taehyung’s head as you ride out the waves of ecstasy, the sensation amplified by the boys’ continued ministrations.

As the last tremors of your orgasm fade, you collapse forward slightly, your body spent and trembling. Taehyung gently guides you off him, his lips slick with your arousal, and you fall onto the daybed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook quickly follow, their own bodies shuddering as they reach their peaks, their releases mingling, landing onto each others bodies or the fabric beneath them.

Now the three of you lay there, breathless and spent, with limbs piled on top of each other. The air is thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, however a yearning for more still remains. The outdoor area is quiet, save for the sound of your heavy breathing, as you all come down from the high of your shared pleasure.

Jungkook leans in close, his voice low and filled with unfulfilled desire. “I’m so eager to fuck you, but I’ll wait until tomorrow after the itinerary is done,” he murmurs, his eyes smoldering with lust as he looks down at you.

Jimin, still tenderly stroking your skin, adds with a soft smile, “We don’t want you getting into trouble, PD-nim. We’ll be patient.”

You manage a weak smile, your mind swirling with the aftershocks of what just happened. “How have the staff not conveniently come in to check on us?” you wonder aloud, your voice shaky with exhaustion and disbelief.

The three of them exchange a glance, a shared understanding passing between them.

Don’t say that the staff are aware that they’re doing this…!? Taehyung’s words from earlier were already… odd, but you decide not to think too hard on it right now. You need to head back anyway, so let’s keep this drama-free, you think to yourself. Wouldn’t be the first time you hear about idols doing these things.

They begin to clean you up, wiping away the evidence of your intense encounter. They’re gentle, their touches soothing as they take care of you, ensuring that you’re comfortable before helping you to your feet to get dressed.

They walk you to the door, each of them pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before they see you out, their eyes filled with satisfaction. You step out, your mind reeling from the events that just transpired.

“Oh my god…” you say to yourself in a whisper.

As you walk away from the daybed, you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this situation—tangled up with the three members of BTS in a way you never could have imagined. The memory of their hands, their mouths, their words lingers with you, a heady reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. And though you know the risks, the dangers of what you’ve done, you can’t bring yourself to regret a single moment.

With a deep breath, you start heading back to your accommodation, telling yourself you still have more days of this show’s filming to go. And more chance encounters with them as well.

The End????

A/N: HAPPY SURPRISE ONE SHOT DROP! OKAY. ALSO I HAD PLANNED TO BLUE BALL YOU GUYS AND NOT GIVE YOU A TAE SCENE BUT RAE SAID I SHOULD WRITE IT SO I DID! I've seen all y'all thirsting over are you sure?! and honestly, the maknae line really FED US SO WELL WITH THIS SHOW. also never in my life did i think there would be no censoring of their bodies, but thank you god for allowing us to indulge in their beauty and cute antics lmao. if you somehow survived this and made it to the end, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think or like bc i was going THROUGH IT writing this 🥴 if it wasn’t good, i am so sorry for wasting your time. 😭

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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 26 days ago

Text

𝝑𝑒 ． BIGGGGGG GUY ! 𝒻𝓉．𝓂𝓎𝒹ℯ𝒾𝓂ℴ𝓈

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 tws : nsfw/smut. fem!reader, size kink, breeding kink, kitty mydei (hybrid), mate pressing, cūm play, nipple sucking, holding orgasm, squirting, multiple of rounds, sub reader & dom mydei, biting, spanking, no preparation, heavy dubcon and hair pulling.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis : your big kitty is in heat. (minors do not interact!)

You didn’t know what it meant when Mydei started acting strange.

He was already quiet, intense, a little too sharp-eyed for a hybrid you were told was “tame.” But the way he moved around you now? Stalking. Pacing. His tail swished behind him, low and tense, and his golden eyes stayed pinned to you no matter what you were doing—folding laundry, sipping water, brushing your teeth. He watched like he was starving.

And you didn’t know hybrids went into heat.

Not until he snapped.

It was late. You padded barefoot into the kitchen for a drink, wearing one of his oversized black tees and cotton panties. You didn’t expect him to be there—leaning against the counter shirtless, chest rising with shallow breaths, sweat curling golden hair to his temples, tattoos glowing faintly red beneath the skin.

He turned when you entered.

His pupils were wide. Almost blown out.

“…Master.”

You paused. “Mydei?”

“You smell sweet,” he rasped. “Wet, I can fucking taste it.”

Your thighs clenched. “W-What?”

His head cocked slowly. His ears twitched. And then—he lunged.

You gasped as your back slammed against the fridge, breath stolen by the sudden grip of big hands dragging your legs around his hips. His cock pressed hot and heavy through his sweats, grinding between your thighs. You squirmed, but he growled—a guttural, chest-deep snarl—and pinned your wrists above your head in one hand.

“I tried,” he whispered, breath ragged against your neck. “Tried to be good. But I’m in heat. And you smell like you want it. So stop pretending.”

He yanked your panties aside and shoved his cock between your folds.

No prep. No warning.

You screamed—he was huge, thick, veiny, leaking hot against your slit. He didn’t slide in. He forced your pussy open around the blunt, aching head, inch by inch, dragging your slick out with every brutal push. You thrashed, gasping, overwhelmed by the stretch.

“M-Mydei, too big—!”

“You’ll take it.” His mouth was on your throat, kissing, sucking, biting. “You’re my mate now. This pussy belongs to me.”

You sobbed as he bottomed out. Buried to the hilt. It hurt—deep and too much—but the pressure made your pussy flutter, desperate and needy.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, tail whipping behind him. “Like you were made to get stuffed full of my cock.”

He rutted into you like an animal. Fast, heavy, loud. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the kitchen as your body bounced against the fridge. He licked up your neck, sucked your nipple through your shirt, then ripped the fabric open to get at your bare breasts. His mouth was hot and wet, tongue swirling, teeth scraping.

You moaned. You couldn’t help it.

“Hold it,” he growled, hips pounding. “Don’t you cum. Not yet.”

Your legs shook. Your pussy clenched around him, dripping.

He pulled out suddenly—just enough to slap the tip against your clit. You jerked, whining. He slammed back in and you screamed, squirting messily between your thighs. Slick gushed around his cock.

He purred.

Low and vibrating.

“My messy little master,” he cooed, kissing your tear-stained cheeks. “So wet for me.”

He dropped you onto the counter and knelt.

Then his tongue was on your pussy—long, rough, lapping through the cum and slick. He sucked your clit and licked around your folds, cleaning every drop, pushing two fingers in and spreading you wide to see it all leaking out.

You were crying now. Overstimulated, twitching.

“C-Can’t—please—!”

“Shhh,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit. “I’m purring for you. You’re doing so good.”

He flipped you over and bent you over the counter.

The kitchen counter was cold under your skin, a shocking contrast to the heat pooling deep inside you. Your legs were spread wide, bent and trembling as they hooked over Mydei’s forearms, his larger body looming above you. His golden hair was wild and messy from the first round, the ends brushing your cheeks, his pupils narrowed and sharp in that soft, predatory way—half-lidded and drunk on you.

His cum was still leaking out of you from earlier, slicking your thighs, but that didn’t stop him. If anything, it only made him purr louder as he pressed his cock right back into your overstimulated cunt, slow and deliberate. He didn’t care that you were still twitching, still gasping. No—he relished it. He needed it.

“Still so tight,” he groaned, voice rumbling low in his throat. “Still squeezin’ me like you didn’t just milk me dry. Master’s pussy’s just made for me, huh?”

His tail wound tightly around your waist like a belt, the tuft brushing your tummy, reminding you of how deep he was. The stretch burned in the best way, and he didn’t thrust. Not yet. He stayed deep, all the way inside, hips flush against yours, mate-pressing. Pinning you. Claiming you.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, heavy with need again already.

He leaned down, nose brushing your cheek, nuzzling with affection completely at odds with how wrecked you already were. “Gonna make you take it all again, master,” he whispered, tugging your hair back so your throat arched for him. His lips found the soft skin there and kissed it, nipping with just a hint of fang. “This time, I won’t let any of it spill out. Gonna keep you plugged full.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, and you could feel him twitch inside you.

“That's it,” he purred, pressing in just a little deeper, making your back arch off the counter as you whimpered. “You feel that? That’s where it needs to be. Right there, nice and deep. Don’t run from it now. You were made to be filled.”

He rocked his hips just once, barely moving—but even that small shift made your body jerk. His cum squelched softly inside, making you feel every slick, messy inch of him.

“Y’really gonna squirt for me again, huh?” he breathed, watching your expression with greedy delight. “One little grind and you're already clenching up like a good girl.”

You couldn’t stop your body from reacting—everything was too much, too sensitive, too full. Your eyes welled up with tears from the pressure building again, and you reached for him blindly. He caught your hand in his, pinning it to the counter above your head with a gentle growl.

“Not yet,” he cooed. “Wanna feel you beg for it. You held it last time, you can hold it again, can’t you? Be good for me. Be a good little master.”

Your legs kicked helplessly, and he chuckled, cock grinding in slow, deep circles that made your toes curl. He nuzzled your cheek again like a pleased cat, while his other hand trailed down between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit in soft, slow strokes.

And that was it.

You came again with a strangled sob, pussy squirting around him, soaking his cock and your inner thighs and the counter beneath you. Your legs trembled as you tried to close them, but he held you open, watching the mess with a wide, possessive smile.

"Good girl,” he breathed, hips beginning to thrust now—deeper, faster, chasing his own high. “Fuck, look at you. So pretty when you lose it for me.”

The counter creaked beneath you, but he didn’t stop, hips snapping hard and slow, driving his cum deeper every time.

And when he came—again—it was with a shuddering gasp, pressing as deep as he could go, holding himself inside, keeping you stretched and stuffed.

Neither of you moved.

Not for a long time.

His tail stayed wrapped around your waist, his arms curled protectively around you as he nuzzled into your neck with a sleepy purr. “Still not done,” he murmured. “But I’ll let you breathe a master. Just for now…”

You were still on the counter, your back damp with sweat, your thighs glistening and spread wide, twitching from overstimulation. Mydei never pulled out—not fully. His cock stayed nestled inside, his cum lazily leaking around the base, warm and thick and dripping down onto the counter edge.

He hadn’t even softened.

You felt him twitch inside again, and before you could even catch your breath, he was moving.

“Round three, master,” he murmured against your skin, voice raspy and smug. “You didn’t think I was gonna stop, did you? Not ‘til this pretty pussy learns how to hold it.”

His hips rolled forward in one slow, deep stroke, and your entire body jolted, pleasure shooting through your core like electricity. You were beyond sensitive—your clit throbbed, your cunt spasmed—and he could feel it. He loved it.

“Still clenching like you’re begging me to stay,” he purred, lips dragging lower, latching onto your nipple without warning. His mouth was hot and hungry, tongue flicking fast, before sucking hard enough to make your back arch and your pussy clench again.

You cried out, voice thin and helpless.

His hand smoothed over your ass, caressing it lovingly—and then came the spank. A sharp slap that made your thighs flinch and your breath catch. Then another. And another. The soft sting echoed through the room, warmth blooming where his palm struck.

“Good girl,” he whispered around your nipple, still sucking, still grinding slow and deep inside. “You can take more. I know you can. Don’t you dare cum yet.”

You whimpered, squirming, begging with your eyes even as your walls fluttered.

His cock twitched inside you, thick and hot and impossibly deep.

Your legs kicked against his sides, but his arms caged you in, one hand squeezing your breast while his other hand slipped between your thighs to press your clit—slow, maddening circles, just enough to make your body spasm again. You choked on a moan, legs shaking violently.

“You hold it,” he growled. “You hold that orgasm ‘til I say. Be a good little master. I want this last one messy. Screaming. You hear me?”

You nodded weakly, tears in your eyes, pussy spasming around him while your body trembled with the effort of holding it back. His tail curled around your thigh again, dragging you open wider, hips thrusting harder now—sharp, deep, desperate.

“Now,” he snarled, voice thick and raw in your ear. “Cum for me now.”

You shattered.

You screamed as your orgasm hit you like a wave, squirting so hard your legs gave out, your pussy clenching and milking his cock with wild, spasming pulses. His name spilled from your lips over and over as your vision blurred.

He thrust one more time, deep and final, before he spilled inside you again, hot and endless, painting your insides full for the third time.

He stayed there, buried to the hilt, panting against your skin, tongue lazily flicking your overstimulated nipple as you both came down.

“That’s it… that’s it, master,” he breathed, kissing your chest. “So full now. Bet you can feel it all inside. Makin’ sure it stays. You’re mine.”

He nuzzled against you, tail still curled possessively, cum trickling slowly down the curve of your ass onto the counter as he lazily rutted a few more times—just to make sure it took.

No one moved.

Just the sound of heavy breathing, his arms cradling you like a prize, his lips brushing your sweat-slick skin in sleepy kisses.

“I’ll clean up,” he whispered. “But not yet… Just wanna stay like this a little longer.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

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vanteguccir · 1 month ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: BOSTON SURPRISE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where is the Boston show of the Surprise Party Tour, Y/N is pregnant, and it's Matt's turn to bring his surprise.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　being pregnant.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

After a long two year wait, the Sturniolo Triplets Surprise Party Tour was finally on the road.

The buzz of the theater was really electric, the pre-show jitters vibrating as fans filled the seats just beyond the thick curtains separating backstage from the main stage. Y/N practically radiated excitement, her steps light as she roamed around, eyes scanning every corner for Matt.

She was beyond ecstatic, to say the least. Being on the road with the triplets was her absolute favorite thing, and she had missed it so much since their last tour in 2023.

Her oversized custom shirt - the one that Nick had personally designed - hung loosely over her frame, matching his own shirt for the night. She smiled softly as she walked past crew members, setting up last-minute details. Nick and Chris were talking to the organizer somewhere behind the stage, deep in conversation, but her only focus was on finding Matt.

Just as she rounded a corner, Paula’s familiar voice echoed.

"Y/N! You look stunning."

Y/N turned her head, catching sight of the boys’ stylist walking toward her, a warm smile on her face.

"Nick did amazing with this shirt." Paula continued, eyes scanning the outfit with approval. "It looks amazing on you."

"You're too nice, Paula." Y/N’s cheeks heated as she grinned. Paula always had a way of making her feel extra confident. "Have you seen Matt?"

"He’s still in his dressing room." Paula replied before a yell of her name echoed, followed by the woman quickly excusing herself.

Y/N continued down the hall, stopping in front of the door marked with Matt’s name. She knocked gently, the sound barely audible over the distant hum of the crowd outside.

Slowly, she pushed the door open just enough to peek her head inside.

"Hey." She greeted softly, her lips curving into a small smile at the sight of Matt's fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, his shirtless torso on full display.

His soft blue eyes lifted to meet hers as she stepped in and closed the door behind her, and the moment they locked onto hers, his entire body seemed to relax just slightly.

"Hey angel." He muttered gently.

She wasted no time crossing the room, stepping into his space as her arms wrapped tightly around his bare waist. Her hands ran up the milky skin of his back, relishing the warmth radiating off him as she pressed soft kisses against his lips before tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

His arms wound around her immediately, pulling her so close she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. She loved being wrapped up in him like this.

A heavy sigh left Matt’s lips as he rested his chin atop her head. He was holding her like he never wanted to let go, and Y/N could feel it - his tension, his nerves, the anxious beat of his heart against her own chest.

She pressed a hand flat against the middle of his back, rubbing small, soothing circles.

"Hey, deep breaths, baby."

He obeyed, inhaling deeply, his hands sliding down to settle against her hips. His thumbs brushed over the soft fabric of her shirt above her lower stomach as if grounding himself.

"M'so nervous." He admitted, voice raspy and low, his forehead dipping against hers. "Not about what my- our family will say, I know they’ll be happy. But the fans..." His arms tightened slightly. "I just- this is so big, y'know?"

Y/N smiled softly, tilting her chin to kiss him once more, her lips lingering in reassurance.

"They’re going to be so happy, Matt." She murmured against his lips, her hands cupping the soft skin right above his ribs. "And even if they need a second to process it, we have each other. We’ve always had each other."

His eyes softened, filled with nothing but love and admiration as he let out a shaky breath. He leans in even more, basically smothering her, but she doesn’t mind - he needs the comfort, and he’s always only been able to be calmed by her.

"I love you." He whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Before she could respond, a loud knock rattled the door.

"Matt!" Nick’s voice rang from the other side. "Are you dead in there? We gotta go!"

Matt groaned.

"Angel." He exhaled sharply, anxiously searching for Y/N's eyes one last time.

"You got this, my little star." Y/N nodded softly, and Matt's grip tightened for just a second longer before he finally, reluctantly, pulled back.

She smiled, squeezing his biceps one last time before stepping aside as he grabbed his shirt, ready to walk out onto that stage and into one of the biggest moments of their lives.

Matt, Chris, and Nick were lounging on stage like it was their living room, already used to the two iconic, slightly worn orange couches that had followed them across the country like loyal dogs.

Matt had claimed the right couch for himself, sitting cross-legged with a mic resting casually in one hand. On the left couch, Chris and Nick sat shoulder to shoulder, mirroring each other’s relaxed posture.

In the crowd, Y/N was in her usual spot - dead center, front row, the seat Matt always reserved for her. The one where he could look down and find her face instantly, grounding himself with just one glance.

But tonight, she wasn’t alone.

To her right sat Mary Lou, her hands folded neatly in her lap and a warm smile decorating her radiating face. Next to her was Jimmy, sitting tall and expectant, eyes scanning the stage like he was trying to drink it all in.

It was the first - and only - show they could attend, thanks to this tour stop being just a short drive from home. The last time they saw their sons on stage felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, the giant screen behind the triplets lit up. A video snapped to life, flickering for a second before showing a clip of Matt fixing his tie.

And just like that, the room erupted. Screams shot up like fireworks, echoing off every wall.

Matt leaned back dramatically, flopping his free arm up.

"Alright, alright, chill out!" He grinned, voice teasing over the noise, trying not to laugh with the giddiness that came with his fans' reactions to himself. "First of all, I just wanna say, I deserve a full-blown award for keeping this secret."

Nick whipped his head toward him with a suspicious look, brows raised.

"No, I’m not even joking." Matt laughed, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "You guys have no idea how hard it was not to spill. Like, not just to you." He pointed at his brothers. "But to them too."

He turned, locking eyes with his parents, who were watching him intently, frowning.

"But when I found out we were doing a Boston show." Matt continued, voice dipping into something more sincere. "I knew this had to be my big surprise. I’ve been waiting for this moment for months."

The cheers kicked back up again - high-pitched, chaotic, and full of love.

"Okay, before we play the video, I need y’all to promise me something." He pointed toward the audience. "I need complete silence while it plays. Like, I want every single one of you to just sit back and take it all in." He smirked. "Don’t worry, you can scream after."

As the room quieted, you could feel the shift.

And then - click - the screen changed.

A home video. The inside of the triplets' LA house flickered onto the screen.

The camera wobbled for a second before being placed down on the coffee table. The image sharpened, revealing Matt's upper body moving a bit away from it, leaning down against the cream-colored couch, red hoodie up, grey sweatpants low, looking as cozy as humanly possible.

He waved at the camera with a little grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes yet.

"Hey, guys. If you’re watching this." He started, voice soft. "That means I finally get to say something I’ve been dying to share."

He ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling slowly like he was about to let go of a weight he'd carried for way too long.

"This message is for two very important groups." He said, pointing toward the lens. "One, my family. And two, every single fan watching right now."

Back on stage, Nick was glued to the screen, eyes narrowed, completely focused. Chris, meanwhile, kept shifting, glancing between Matt and the video like he was trying to figure out what was coming next, his leg bouncing with anxiety.

"So, here’s the deal." Video-Matt continued. "Two weeks ago, something happened. Something kinda insane. And when I found out about the tour the next day, I knew... I just knew this had to be one of my surprises."

He leaned forward, eyes flickering down for a second as he nervously clasped his hands together, like grounding himself.

"So, uh... yeah. Here it is."

The screen went black.

And then a low, steady sound filled the theater.

Thump-thump.

Not music.

Not a voice.

Something deeper, more alive.

A heartbeat.

Small, fast, and impossibly real.

The video sharpened into focus, though clearly filmed on a phone, the angle a little off-kilter like it had been propped up in a rush. The room on screen was soft and warm, washed in late afternoon sunlight.

Not a studio, not a stage. A hospital room. Neutral-colored walls. A monitor to the side.

Y/N lay on the examination bed, her brown sweater lifted to reveal her lower belly, shiny with gel. Her leggings were pulled down slightly, allowing the doctor to gently move the ultrasound wand over her skin.

Matt was right by her side, and he looked wrecked in the most beautiful way. Completely undone.

His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, cheeks blotchy with emotion. Tears slipped down silently as he gripped Y/N’s hand like it was the only thing tethering him to the planet. His commitment ring shimmered in the soft light as his right hand constantly - and very awkwardly - cleaned the tear tracks.

Y/N had her free hand over her mouth, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe through the sob building between her ribcage and going up full force. Her eyes were locked on the monitor, wide and wet, as a tiny, hazy figure wiggled faintly on the screen.

The doctor’s voice was quiet, almost reverent.

"That’s your baby’s heartbeat."

And Matt let out this broken, wet laugh, the kind that happens when you’re completely overwhelmed and overflowing all at once, a sob following right behind. He shook his head like he couldn’t even process what he was seeing.

"That’s our baby." He whispered, his voice cracking in half as he pulled Y/N’s hand to his lips and kissed it, keeping it pressed against his mouth. "That’s literally our baby."

Back in the theater, no one moved.

Not a sound.

It was like everyone in the room had just had the wind knocked out of them. Mouths covered in shock, eyes wide with disbelief.

Chris sat frozen, his jaw slack. Nick blinked slowly like he was trying to reboot.

Neither of them said a word - they couldn’t.

Their brother was having a baby.

Mary Lou, on the other hand, was already sobbing into her hands, her shoulders shaking, eyes covered in glasses tightly shut as if trying to hold back even more tears. Jimmy sat beside her with shining eyes, blinking back upcoming tears with a shaky inhale like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

On the screen, Matt’s watery smile stayed glued to the monitor, completely and utterly obsessed.

"Can’t believe y’letting me make you a mumma." Matt hums, almost in awe, like the words tasted too good to be true. "Gonna be the best, angel. I know it."

The video faded to black again.

Y/N, sitting quietly in the theater seat, was trying her best to keep it together, her eyes glassy and full. She pressed her pink tinted lips tightly together, like any little crack would shatter her.

The sound of her baby’s heartbeat echoed in her ears, and it was everything - terrifying, surreal, breathtaking. She clutched her stomach with both hands without thinking, her decorated nails lazily scratching over her shirt, like holding the secret tighter would make it easier not to cry.

Then, one last clip.

Matt, back in their cozy LA living room, sitting in his usual spot on the couch, his eyes slightly red but glowing, lit up with so much love.

"So, yeah." He sniffled, grinning shyly. "I wanted to tell you guys in the best way I knew how." He paused, visibly holding back more tears. "Y/N and I are having a baby."

He glanced off to the side for a second, sniffing.

"And we couldn’t be happier."

The screen went black.

Not a sound.

Not a breath.

And then, the world exploded.

Screams ripped through the air like a tidal wave, the theater shaking from the sheer force of it. Fans were crying, sobbing, yelling, clutching their faces in disbelief. It was chaos - beautiful, euphoric chaos.

Nick was the first to move, and he didn’t move. He launched. One second, he was sitting on the couch. The next he was across the stage, slamming into Matt with so much force, it nearly knocked them both down to the floor.

Chris was right behind him, eyes glossy, chin wobbling, and then suddenly, all three brothers were in this tangled, messy pile of limbs and love.

"Oh my god, Matt." Nick choked out, arms locked around Matt’s neck. "You’re gonna be a dad. You’re gonna be a freaking dad."

Chris was now crying - full-on crying - Fresh Love covered shoulders shaking, fingers gripping the back of Matt’s jacket like he didn’t wanna ever let go.

"I’m gonna be an uncle." He whispered, voice breaking like glass, pink lips wet with tears. "I get to be an uncle, man-"

And Matt just stood there in the middle of them, eyes wide, smile splitting his face in half, heart pounding like a drum solo inside his chest.

Down there, Mary Lou had already jumped to her feet, tears streaming down her face as she delicately pulled Y/N up and into her arms, pulling her shaking body into the warmest, tightest, most mom-like hug imaginable. The kind of hug that made everything feel safe.

"Oh, sweetheart." She whispered, voice shaking with emotion. "You just made me the happiest woman alive." She pulled back for a second just to cup Y/N’s cheeks, ignoring how her fingers got wet by Y/N's salty tears, soft eyes twinkling with pride and love. "You’re gonna be such a good mom. And I’m gonna spoil the hell outta this baby, just you wait."

Y/N couldn’t even speak. She just nodded, blinking through fat tears, heart hammering against her ribs.

Then, Matt looked down.

Somehow, in the storm of screaming and crying and fans limbs and lights, his eyes found her. His girl. Standing between the stage and the front row, being held by his mom, trembling hand over her belly, absolutely wrecked by the moment. Teary, overwhelmed, glowing in the most heartbreakingly beautiful way.

And something snapped in him.

He didn’t think.

He ran.

The bodyguards surrounding both sides of the stage went wild, arms outstretched, trying to block or guide him back, yelling over their earpieces.

But Matt didn’t care.

He dodged through them like it was instinct, ears muted to the fans yells from the front row, like his body was already halfway to her before his mind even caught up.

He reached her.

And without a word, without a second’s hesitation, he pulled her into the tightest hug, body accidentally hitting Mary Lou's in the process.

Big hands met Y/N's back, circling around her upper body, lifting her slightly off the ground as he wrapped himself around her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

"You- you-" He stammered against her cheek, their tears mixing between skin. "You did this. You’re giving me everything."

He kissed her face - cheeks, nose, forehead - his lips shaky and soft and desperate.

And then, with one hand still on her back, the other reached for the mic.

He turned back to the crowd, chest heaving, heart out in the open.

"I’M GONNA BE A DAD!!"

The theater detonated.

Y/N laughed through her now ugly cry, burying her face into Matt’s neck.

And Matt just held her tighter.

"So that's the reason Y/N's been using more hoodies than normal."

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 4 months ago

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Touch Starved

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Summary: This was inspired by a tweet and his gif I saw on twitter. You accidentally walk in on Bucky touching himself when he thinks he is alone. Turns out he is thinking about you. A/N: Unbeta'ed, so sorry for the mistakes! Warnings: NSFW but not that explicit. Word count: 1,379 words

The team had made a last minute decision to go out, but you weren’t in the mood to join them. It has been quite a while since you’d had some time to yourself, and you happily retreated to your quarters with a bag full of late-night snacks in tow.

The thought of having the living area all to yourself was oddly comforting. There was something incredibly liberating about walking through the quiet corridors alone. After carefully stashing your snacks in the kitchen, you glanced around the hallway to ensure no one was around. Satisfied that the coast was clear, you stepped out of your room wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks.

The polished floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights and begged you to indulge in one of your guilty pleasures: dancing and sliding across the freshly waxed surface. You were mid-slide, grinning to yourself like the Cheshire cat, when an unexpected groan pierced the silence.

The sound startled you, nearly making you lose your balance as you skidded to a stop. You scanned the corridor, heart pounding in our ears, as you tried to pin point the source of the noise.

You were met with silence for a few moments. Just as you had convinced yourself that your imagination was getting the best of you, you heard it again. Only this time, it was unmistakable— it sounded like your name.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of a crack in one of the doors. Immediately, you knew that it was the source of the sound. Approaching slowly, you realized that it was Bucky’s room.

Shit! You thought back to earlier, replaying the moment you watched the others leave. Had Bucky gone with them? You didn’t remember seeing him head out. Could he still be here?

A soft, almost pained whimper reached your ears, followed again by your name.

Without hesitation, you pushed open the door, a growing sense of dread and concern rising inside you. Bucky often had nightmares— you’d heard his anguished cries echoing in the dead of night. You didn’t want to let him suffer for a minute longer than necessary— not if you could help it.

But as you silently pushed open the door, the sight before you stopped you in your tracks, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the super soldier, sprawled out on the bed. He was shirtless. You could see the muscles in his abdomen rippling like waves as he writhed around on the mattress.

Another muffled groan escaped him and your eyes were drawn to the pillow he had clamped over his face. It would have been an alarming image, if it wasn’t for the fact that his pants were undone and his flesh hand was wrapped firmly around his cock.

You froze. Every single coherent thought vanished from your head in an instant. You stood in the doorway, mouth parted in silent shock as a flush of heat rushed to your face as your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing.

This is not what you had expected. At all.

Your instincts told you to turn around, to leave and grant him the privacy he so clearly thought he had. But for some reason, your feet refused to move. You stayed rooted to the spot as a cocktail of emotions swirled inside you— shock, embarrassment and lastly desire.

Only when he groaned your name again, the sound muffled by the pillow but clear enough to send a shiver down your spine and a flood of heat between your legs. Your heart raced as you realized that he wasn’t just lost in the moment— he was lost in the thought of you.

Your instincts finally kicked in, belatedly propelling you to turn on your heels and leave as quickly and quietly as possible. But your socks betrayed you, letting out a squeak against the polished floor.

Bucky’s movements stilled.

“Shit,” you heard him mutter under his breath, his voice low and filled with mortification. There was a rustle of sheets and before you could fully escape, his voice called out.

“Who’s there?” His words came out sharp and panicked.

You came to a halt outside his room, cursing your hesitation. You glanced around the corner just in time to see him sit up, clutching the tiny pillow against his lap, as though it could shield him from the situation he had found himself in. HIs face was flushed, his chest heaved and his wide blue eyes locked onto yours.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice cracking, overwhelmed by shame. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his vibranium hand. “I… I didn’t know anyone was—”

“I’m so sorry!” you blurted out. “I—I mean to, I shouldn’t have—” Words failed you, and you swiftly darted out into the hallway, hiding around the edge of the doorway.

But you didn’t go far.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest and for some reason, your legs felt like lead, stopping you from running away. You pressed your back against the wall, taking a shaky inhale to calm your thundering heart and trying to process what had just happened.

You needed to keep walking. You should be retreating to your room where you could pretend none of this ever happened. You should. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Something was pulling at your strings, master of puppetry controlling your actions, refusing to let you leave. It was desire. The way he had said your name— with so much longing— played in your mind on a loop. You hadn’t missed the way his body moved, the vulnerability he’d displayed on his flushed face. And then there was the way his eyes had widened with shock when he realized it was you.

Before you could truly think about your actions, your feet had started carrying you back to the door. You hesitated for a second but the pull inside you— the part of you that craved him— propelled you forwards.

You stepped back inside.

His face was crimson, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Was it anger? Embarrassment? Or… something else entirely?

You couldn’t decipher the expression on his face but the tension in the room weighed down on both of you.

Wordlessly, you approached him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and he immediately curled in on himself, clutching the pillow tighter to his chest. His body was angled away from you, his gaze fixed on the wall, refusing to meet yours.

You shuffled closer, moving carefully, unsure if he wanted you to stay or to leave. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t give you any indication that he was aware of your presence. But you could feel the tension radiating from him like a forcefield. His knuckles were white against the fabric of the pillow, and he sat so rigidly it was as if his body didn’t know how to relax anymore.

“Bucky,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with kindness and affection.

Still, he didn’t respond. He seemed paralyzed, trapped in this moment of shame and uncertainty.

Slowly, you reached out, unable to control the tremble of your hand as you cradled his cheek. He flinched at first, his body stiffening, but he didn’t pull away. You kept your touch gentle but deliberate, and when he didn’t resist, you applied the lightest pressure to turn his head toward you.

At long last, his eyes met yours— his pupils dilated, unfocused and vulnerable.

You held his gaze, letting the air between you grow heavy with meaning. Your thumb brushed fondly against the stubble on his jaw, and you leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving him every chance to pull away.

He didn’t.

When your lips first met his, they moved slowly, with tenderness, almost searching. You gave him the opportunity to object… he didn’t. And suddenly the heat building inside you made it impossible for you to hold back. You deepened the kiss— conveying your longing— leaving no room for doubt, no room for misinterpretation. You wanted him.

And as his lips began to respond to yours, the pillow slipped from his grasp, forgotten as he surrendered to the intensity of your connection.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes smut #touch starved

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cumironi · 1 month ago

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SO, SHARPENING KNIVES, HUH? jjk men

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji, shiu, higuruma

summary. you are mad at your boyfriend because you dream of him with another girl, and at 2am, they find you in the kitchen, sharpening knives...

warning. established relationship! jjk men, non-sorcerer, 23 you & 31 them, fluff, crack, petname(s).

#GOJO SATORU

it’s 2:08 a.m.

the house is dark aside from the dim fridge light that leaks across the tiled kitchen floor. the soft metal-on-metal sound echoes faintly, a slow shink—shink—shink that drifts down the hallway like a warning bell in a horror movie. and that’s what pulls gojo from bed—not the chill air, not the absence of your warmth beside him—but that sound. the same sound that made his brain go, hm. sexy and concerning.

he drags himself down the hallway, shirtless and in some embarrassingly expensive pajama pants with little ducks on them, rubbing his eyes as he rounds the corner into the kitchen.

and there you are. sitting pretty at the counter in one of his oversized t-shirts and nothing else, your legs swinging idly off the stool as you sharpen a kitchen knife with deep concentration. the air is thick with unspoken rage.

gojo leans against the doorframe, yawns, and mumbles, “baby, if you’re planning on killing me, at least let me put on some cologne first. i wanna die smelling sexy.”

you don’t look at him. just run the knife across the whetstone again and mutter, “shut up, satoru.”

uh-oh. first name usage.

he blinks, wide awake now, and pads closer with a slow, cautious step like a man approaching a wild animal with a stick of beef jerky. “okay, okay, we’re using full names now. is this like… a sexy roleplay thing or am i about to be on an episode of dateline?”

you still don’t look up. your tone is flat. “i’m mad at you.”

he frowns, pushing his glasses up as he squints dramatically. “why? what’d i do?”

you pause for a second. the whetstone stills. then, honestly, almost angrily, “i don’t remember. but you pissed me off, and i know it.”

he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. “okay. so. you’re mad. but you don’t know why.”

“but i feel mad.”

“so you're telling me my sweet, perfect, sexy college girl with the sharpest eyeliner and even sharper tongue is in the kitchen… at 2am… sharpening knives… because she thinks i did something?”

you glance up slowly, face calm, eyes a storm. “do you wanna find out if it’s real or not?”

he chokes on a laugh. “jesus christ, i’ve never been more turned on in my life.”

you roll your eyes, tossing the knife down onto the counter with a clang. “this isn’t funny, satoru.”

he immediately sobers up. walks over, places both hands on your thighs and spreads them gently so he can stand between them. he rests his forehead against yours, voice low now, soft. “okay. sorry, baby. if i did something—even if i didn’t—you’re allowed to be mad. i probably deserved it.”

you lean into him a little, which is a good sign. but you don’t hug him back when he wraps his arms around your waist.

he starts rocking you gently like a damn lullaby, humming something dumb—probably that tiktok sound of “it’s me, hi, i’m the problem, it’s me,” except he sings it in falsetto.

you snort against his neck despite yourself.

“there she is,” he grins, pressing a kiss to your temple. “come on. let’s go back to bed. or you can keep sharpening knives and i’ll lay on the floor dramatically and pretend you stabbed me for cheating on you in your dreams.”

“…it was a dream, wasn’t it?”

“ah-ha!” he gasps dramatically. “so i didn’t even do anything and i still almost died?”

you finally wrap your arms around his neck, sighing as you lean fully into him. “you were flirting with someone else in my dream. i woke up mad and it stayed.”

he grins, wicked and teasing. “was she hotter than you?”

you slap his back. hard. “satoru.”

he wheezes but keeps laughing, nose buried in your neck. “i love you so much it’s actually stupid. i love that you get mad at me for fake shit. it’s hot.”

“you’re insane.”

“and you’re the hottest nightmare girl i’ve ever met.” he kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then lower. “but like, seriously, if you’re gonna kill me, can you do it while sitting on my face?”

“get out of my kitchen.”

“fine, but i’m taking you with me.”

and he does—scoops you right off the stool, knives and all, and carries you back to bed like some deranged prince charming. you’re still a little mad. but you’re also warm in his arms, and when he presses a kiss to your forehead and calls you his little knife-wielding goddess, you’re not quite as mad as before.

GETO SUGURU

it’s 2:12 a.m.

the moonlight filters through the slats of the blinds, casting pale shadows across the kitchen where you sit at the counter, elbow propped, chin in hand, eyes narrowed at the knife you’re currently sharpening like it’s the damn source of all your rage. the blade catches the light with every pass against the whetstone—shink, shink, shink—a steady, menacing rhythm that echoes through the quiet apartment.

geto had been reading in his study—something thick, philosophical, probably written by a dead white man—when he noticed your absence the moment he came to the bedroom. and the sound. and the vibe.

he doesn’t bother turning on the light when he enters. doesn’t have to. he sees you in the kitchen like some pissed-off housewife from a mafia movie. the kind that poisons the soup when her husband comes home smelling like another woman.

“...should i be concerned, or is this one of your stress-relief hobbies again?” his voice is calm, amused, but low—like he’s testing the waters.

you don’t answer at first. just scrape the blade again. and again.

he steps in, barefoot and shirtless, hair down and tied low at the nape of his neck. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, a little slouched from sleep, and he stifles a yawn as he eyes you from across the island.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“you.”

his brow lifts. “mm. can’t say i’m surprised. what’d i do this time?”

“i don’t remember,” you mutter. “but i know you did something. i feel mad.”

he blinks. then slowly walks over, rests both hands flat on the counter, leans over just enough so you’re nose-to-nose. his voice is low, soothing, dangerous. “baby. you’re sharpening knives in my kitchen. you’re allowed to be mad at me, but can we at least talk about whether i deserve to be disemboweled or not?”

you don’t flinch. “the fact that i don’t remember doesn’t mean you didn’t do something. you have that guilty little face.”

“what guilty face?”

“that one.” you jab your finger toward his face like it insulted your ancestors. “the one you make when you’re trying to act innocent after being a whore.”

he blinks. then smirks, slow and indulgent. “okay, now i know you dreamt something wild again. lemme guess… i cheated on you with a librarian while you were giving a college presentation and your powerpoint crashed?”

you pause. jaw clenched. “…maybe.”

he hums, walks around the counter, and stands behind you. his arms circle around your waist from behind, hands brushing against your stomach beneath the oversized tee. “you poor thing. had to suffer through my dream whore behavior and a technical mishap? i should be punished.”

you huff. “you think this is funny?”

“no,” he murmurs against your shoulder, pressing a kiss there, “i think it’s adorable. my sweet girl gets so mad over dream-geto being a slut. how much do you love me, huh, if my imaginary crimes piss you off that bad?”

you try to pull away, but he’s already slipping his hands up to your thighs, rubbing slow circles, pulling you back against him. “and here i was, dreaming about waking you up gently with kisses and praise. but no, i wake up to my girlfriend about to reenact kill bill in our kitchen.”

“suguru—”

he cuts you off with a kiss, lips dragging along your jaw, then down to your neck, voice dropping low and rich. “want me to apologize? i will. i’m sorry, baby. i’m sorry for whatever my subconscious did in your dream. and i’m sorry you were stressed. and i’m sorry you were so alone in it.”

your fingers twitch, then relax around the knife handle. the whetstone sits idle. you sigh, soft now, tired.

“you looked at her like you used to look at me,” you mumble, quieter this time. “in the dream. that’s what hurt.”

his whole body stills. then—without hesitation—he turns you around on the stool, tugs your legs open, and sinks to his knees in front of you. his hands are firm around your waist, eyes locked with yours like you’re the only real thing in the world.

“you listen to me, baby,” he says, voice rough. “no one—no one—gets that look but you. no past, no fantasy, no dream. i look at you like that because i love you. because you’re mine. and even if i had to memorize a thousand faces, yours would always be the one i come back to.”

you blink down at him, the lump in your throat making it hard to answer.

he kisses the inside of your thigh. “still mad?”

“...a little.”

he smiles against your skin. “good. keep that knife out. i like my girls mean.”

“you’re disgusting.”

“yeah, and you love me.”

you sigh. set the knife down. and when he lifts you into his arms like you weigh nothing, you let him carry you back to bed.

you fall asleep with your cheek against his chest and his hand gently playing with your hair, muttering every few minutes, “i didn’t even look at her in your dream. i bet she had bad eyebrows.”

“she did,” you whisper. “fucking awful.”

“good.”

NANAMI KENTO

it’s 2:23 a.m.

the air is still, the apartment too quiet, save for the gentle scrape of steel-on-stone echoing from the kitchen. nanami wakes the way he always does—immediately, sharply, like his body just knows something’s wrong. he blinks at the empty spot beside him in bed, still warm, still shaped like you. then he hears it: shhhk… shhhk… slow, methodical.

he sighs. runs a hand down his face.

this again.

he doesn’t even grab his glasses. just gets up, pulls on his robe with the resigned patience of a man already done with everyone’s bullshit, and follows the sound.

and there you are. in his button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up like a mob wife, hair a mess and mood worse. you’re at the kitchen counter, bent slightly forward, sharpening his most expensive cooking knife with a precision that’d make a grown man sweat. your brows are pinched together, your lips in a pout, muttering to yourself under your breath.

nanami watches you for a moment from the doorway, completely silent, and then—

“darling.”

you don’t look up. “don’t talk to me.”

his sigh is so deep, so father of three tired, that you nearly flinch. “am i allowed to ask why?”

you stop sharpening for a second. inhale. then, cold as the blade in your hand: “you pissed me off.”

he walks into the kitchen. calm. slow. quiet, like approaching a sleeping lion. he leans his hip against the counter, crosses his arms, and looks at you like you’re both a tragedy and the love of his life.

“...when?” he asks.

“i don’t know.”

“what did i do?”

“i don’t remember.”

he blinks once. then sighs again, reaches up, pinches the bridge of his nose. “so, let me get this straight—i am currently being silently punished… for an unknown offense… that happened at an unknown time… and may or may not have been real?”

you nod, calmly. “correct.”

“and the appropriate response to this was… weaponry?”

“it was either this or throwing your french press out the window. i made the merciful choice.”

he stares at you. deadpan. “you are the most terrifying woman i’ve ever loved.”

you say nothing. just go back to sharpening. shhhk. shhhk.

he closes his eyes. takes a breath.

then he steps closer, one hand sliding slowly around your waist, the other carefully easing the knife out of your hand like you’re a bomb about to go off.

“i’m sorry.”

you look at him then, eyes narrowed. “for what?”

“i don’t know. but you have a very sharp knife and my only other option was dying at two in the morning in boxer shorts.”

you purse your lips. then whisper, “you were mean to me. in my dream.”

“...oh for god’s sake.”

“you left me,” you mumble, voice quiet now, like it’s stupid but still hurts. “you just packed up and left. said i was too much for you.”

something in his chest twists.

his hand slides up to the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw.

“i would never leave you.”

“even if i’m mean?”

“especially then.” his eyes are firm now, voice slow and steady, grounding you like always. “i will take every single mood swing, knife threat, and dramatic 2am dream tantrum. you want to sharpen things? i’ll sit here and read the manual to you. you want to yell at me for dream-nanami being a dick? i’ll write you a formal apology and sign it in blood.”

“you’re such a loser,” you whisper.

“a loser who loves you.” he presses his forehead to yours, tone dry. “and who desperately wants to go back to bed.”

you finally relax, leaning into his touch. “…can i still throw your french press out the window?”

he pulls back. “absolutely not.”

“what if i just threaten it?”

“you are unhinged.”

“you’re in love with me.”

he groans. then kisses you, slow and deliberate, just to shut you up.

when he carries you back to bed—bridal style, with a tired grumble under his breath about dramatic women and sleep deprivation—you curl up against his chest and mutter, “you better not leave me in another dream.”

he kisses the top of your head. “i’ll stay even when you try to stab me.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

it’s 2:38 a.m.

the fridge light is the only source of glow in the dark kitchen, casting this eerie blue hue over your face as you sit at the counter, hunched forward, eyes glassy and distant. there’s a cold can of soda next to you—untouched—and in your hands, the glint of a freshly sharpened blade.

you don’t even flinch when the hallway creaks.

toji appears like a shadow—bare chest, boxers low on his hips, hair a mess, tattoos still visible under the faint glow. he’s scratching his head like he’s just woken up from a nap he didn’t even remember falling into. and as soon as his eyes land on you, sharpening one of his knives with alarming focus, he pauses.

“…the fuck you doing?”

you don't look up. just grit out, “thinking.” shhhhkkk. shhhhkkk. blade scrapes the stone, your rhythm steady and pissed.

toji squints. “uh-huh. are we mad at someone?”

“we,” you hiss, “are mad at you.”

he exhales through his nose, tosses his head back. “jesus christ, again?”

you finally glance up at him, sharp and accusing. “don’t start with me.”

“no, no—i mean, can you at least tell me what the hell i did before you start sharpening my goddamn knives like we’re prepping for war?”

“you looked at her.”

his brow arches. “...her?”

“in my dream.” you slap the whetstone down and rise, eyes burning. “and you said, and i quote, ‘damn, she’s thicker than my girl.’”

a beat of silence.

toji blinks. “...you’re fucking with me.”

“do i look like i’m joking?”

he looks you up and down—your sleepy face, your oversized shirt (his shirt), bare legs, and the murder-ready glint in your eyes.

“…no.”

you slam the knife down dramatically, like you’re giving up murder for now, and fold your arms. “i don’t care if it was a dream. you betrayed me.”

toji snorts. rubs a hand down his face. “baby, i don’t even talk like that.”

“you did in the dream. and you said it with your whole chest.”

he steps closer, the floor creaking under his heavy steps. “okay, so let me get this straight: i got dream-jumped by dream-you, because dream-me looked at dream-ass?”

“correct.”

“and now you’re awake, pissed, and threatening to turn me into sashimi at 2am?”

“correct.”

he whistles low. “that’s hot.”

“toji—”

“no, i’m serious,” he cuts in, wrapping an arm around your waist, dragging you flush to him like you’re not seconds from violence. “you’re insane. dangerously unhinged. sharp object, grudge-fueled, nightmare-fueled rage? it’s doing it for me.”

“you’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, trying to push him off.

he grins, dips his head into your neck. “mmm, yeah, but i’m your annoying bastard. and clearly the man of your dreams—”

you smack his shoulder. “you cheated on me in that dream!”

“and you’re still thinking about me. sounds like you’re obsessed, sweetheart.”

you growl. he laughs. full-on, chest-rumbling, god-i-love-this-woman laugh, then kisses the corner of your mouth and leans in close. “tell you what. next time i’m asleep, come in and slap me awake. remind me that my girl’s the thickest, baddest, prettiest thing in the multiverse.”

you narrow your eyes. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“nah,” he smirks. “i’m lucky you’re crazy.”

he plucks the knife from the counter, tosses it back in the drawer without looking, and picks you up like you weigh nothing—arm hooked under your thighs, carrying you back to bed while you hit his chest the entire time.

“and if you dream of me saying stupid shit again,” he adds casually, “make me pay for it when you wake me up. i’m not afraid of a little punishment.”

you scoff, curling against his chest despite yourself. “maybe i’ll smother you with a pillow next time.”

he grins, teeth sharp. “make it the fluffy one.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it’s 2:56 a.m.

the silence in the house is oppressive, like even the walls are holding their breath. the only sound slicing through it is the rhythmic shiiing… shiiing… of steel grinding against whetstone.

and there you are. bathed in moonlight, crouched at the kitchen table like an ancient assassin. in nothing but one of sukuna’s black shirts that swallows you whole, sleeves pushed up, hair a mess. the way you’re hunched over the blade—sharp, smooth, focused—makes you look like a vengeful spirit.

and it’s clear you’re furious.

but you haven’t said a word.

from behind, a slow, amused chuckle cuts through the stillness like a blade.

“...and what kind of tantrum is this, little wife?”

you don’t look up. you just turn the knife slightly in your hand, catching the light on the edge. “don’t test me, sukuna.”

he pads into the room barefoot, shirtless, with nothing but loose black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. every tattoo on his chest flexes as he scratches lazily at his stomach and leans against the doorway, grinning like the devil himself.

“you gonna stab me in your sleep again? because i still have the scar from the last time you got dramatic.”

you finally look up—slow, lethal, eyes burning. “i should’ve gone deeper.”

his grin widens. “what did i do this time, hm? kill your plants? eat the last pudding? or was it another dream me?”

you stand abruptly, knife still in hand. “you were flirting. with some bimbo in a red dress. right in front of me. like i was invisible.”

“...dream-me again. got it.”

“you ignored me!” you snap. “you were smirking and leaning close and she was touching your arm and you laughed and—”

“and what?” he interrupts, voice suddenly darker, stepping forward. “you think i’d actually look at another woman when i’ve got you?”

“you did,” you growl, shoving the knife down on the counter, “in the dream, you did.”

he stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell his skin—warm, a little like smoke and spice. his hand comes up, grips your chin, forces you to look at him.

“then let me be clear,” he says lowly, voice like silk dragged across a blade. “i don't give a shit about anyone else. i look at you, think about you, want you. even when i’m asleep. you think some faceless red-dress fantasy’s gonna replace the girl who sharpens knives and threatens my life at 3 a.m.? don’t insult me.”

you blink. your pout falters just slightly. “you were smirking…”

he snorts, then suddenly grabs your waist and lifts you up onto the counter like you weigh nothing, standing between your thighs with a wicked smirk on his lips.

“you get like this every time you dream about me misbehaving,” he mutters, dragging his hands up your thighs, “but you never dream about me begging for your forgiveness. where’s that dream, sweetheart?”

you huff. “maybe because you never apologize.”

“i do it in my own way.” he leans in, lips brushing your ear. “usually by making you cry on this counter.”

your breath hitches. “you’re such a fucking menace.”

“and you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” he growls, kissing your jaw, your neck. “look at you, sharpening knives in the middle of the night. unhinged, dangerous, insane—my perfect little nightmare.”

you slap his chest, but your legs instinctively tighten around his waist. “i’m still mad.”

“good. stay mad.” he kisses you again, slow and messy this time. “dream me’s an asshole, but real me?” he smirks, licking into your mouth. “real me worships you.”

you try to stay angry. you do. but the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way he grins like he owns the world and you’re the crown on his head—it all makes your chest flutter and knees weak.

you grab his jaw, bite his lower lip, and mutter, “if i catch you looking at another dream bitch again, i’ll gut you in your sleep.”

his grin is all teeth. “now that’s love.”

SHIU KONG

it’s 2:17 a.m. and the kitchen is dead quiet—except for the low, menacing sound of metal scraping against stone.

you’re at the table in one of his oversized dress shirts, sleeves rolled up, legs bare, hunched over the blade like a mob wife who’s finally snapped. hair messy. eyes blank. pissed.

a sharpening stone. a chef’s knife. your exhale.

and suddenly—

a groggy voice from the hallway:

“…you better not be sharpening that because of me.”

you don’t even look up. just shhhhhk—shhhhhk.

“i don’t know. am i?” you ask, flat.

shiu appears in the doorway, shirtless, gray sweats low, tie still hanging around his neck like he passed out in it. he leans on the frame, rubbing one eye like this isn’t the fifth time he’s caught you looking like this.

“okay. what the hell did i do now?”

you finally pause the sharpening, slow, steady, and look up at him with narrowed eyes. “you smiled at her.”

he blinks. “...who?”

“don’t play stupid.” your voice is low, dangerous. “the girl with the brown hair. in the blue dress. at that stupid little business dinner you dragged me to in my dream.”

a beat.

shiu runs a hand down his face. “…this is a dream crime, isn’t it?”

“you said she had a nice laugh.”

“oh my god—”

“and then you leaned in when she was talking! and you smirked. smirked, shiu.” you slap the blade down dramatically. “you were so damn charming.”

he groans. hard. walks into the kitchen like he’s been personally wronged and dramatically yanks a chair out to sit across from you.

“okay, first of all,” he starts, pointing a finger at you, “i don't even like women who talk that much. if she laughed at one more finance joke, i’d probably have started drinking hand sanitizer.”

you squint. “then why’d you smile?”

“because dream-me is a fucking idiot apparently. just like real-me, for falling in love with the queen of vengeance.”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you’re so dramatic.”

“me? you’re sitting at the table sharpening knives like a disappointed italian grandmother.”

“i’m being proactive.”

“you’re being hot.” he shrugs. “deranged, unwell, a little scary—but hot.”

“you always say that when i’m mad.”

“and it’s always true. you should be furious more often.”

you stare at him, flat. “say something charming again. i dare you.”

he leans in, chin on his palm, lazy grin spreading across his lips. “i think you're sexiest when you're plotting my murder.”

you slam the blade back onto the table with a thud.

he exhales, then rises from the chair, walking around the table slowly until he’s behind you. his hands slide over your shoulders, down your arms, slow and unhurried.

“c’mon,” he murmurs into your ear, “you wanna really punish me? come back to bed. take it out on me there. i’ll even wear that stupid tie you like.”

you huff, arms crossed. “the one i used to choke you with last time?”

“that’s the one,” he smirks. “see? you remember.”

you don’t turn around—but your lip twitches. and he sees it.

“you’re impossible,” you mutter.

“and yours,” he whispers back, brushing a kiss against your temple. “now c’mon, before you cut off a finger trying to teach dream-me a lesson.”

he gently plucks the knife from your hand and tugs you to your feet.

“next time you smile at another woman,” you say, letting him drag you down the hall, “i’m putting glitter in all your dry-cleaning.”

he snorts. “joke’s on you. i’ll look fabulous.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

it’s 2:34 a.m.

your apartment is dead silent. no traffic, no buzzing electronics, just the occasional shhkt… shhkt… shhkt of metal being sharpened in steady, practiced strokes.

and there you are—kneeling at the coffee table, hair messy, lips pursed, one of hiroshi’s crisp white button-ups hanging off your frame. a serious, eerily focused look in your eye as you sharpen the knife like you’re prepping for trial by combat.

the overhead light’s off, but the dim kitchen lamp casts long shadows across the room, catching on the edge of the blade every time you tilt your wrist.

you don’t notice the door open to the bedroom.

and then,

a sleepy voice, cautious but gentle,

“…do i need to hire a lawyer?”

you don’t answer at first. the knife just makes another clean pass on the stone.

he steps into view slowly—disheveled, soft gray sweats slung low on his hips, hair sticking up on one side. he rubs the heel of his palm into his eye, squinting. “or am i about to be the defendant?”

you glance up. narrow your eyes. “you told her she looked elegant.”

he pauses mid-step.

“…who?”

“the woman at the opera. in the green dress. in my dream. don’t play dumb.”

there’s a long silence.

he takes a deep breath. “…okay. dream-me’s a bastard. i’ll give you that.”

“you smiled at her,” you snap. “you complimented her earrings. you said she had refined taste.”

he covers his mouth with a hand, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “i was polite, apparently. can i just say—dream-me is way braver than me. real-me knows better.”

you slam the knife down on the table with a sharp clatter. “you told her she smelled like vanilla and cedar.”

he stares.

“okay. what the hell kind of man am i in this dream?!”

you squint at him, full-blown offended. “that’s my perfume.”

his face softens immediately. “wait—are you upset because dream-me complimented her for smelling like you?”

you go silent.

then murmur, “it’s the principle.”

he exhales slowly and walks over, crouching down in front of you, taking the knife gently from your hand. “okay. i’ll talk to him. dream-me and i clearly need to have a serious conversation.”

you huff. “he’s arrogant.”

“mm.” he sets the knife aside and cups your cheek with his palm. “and he clearly doesn’t realize he’s already got everything he could ever want right here, sharpening a very real, very sharp knife at two in the morning while looking ridiculously pretty in my shirt.”

you glance away, cheeks warm. “you’re not gonna charm your way out of this.”

he smiles gently, thumb brushing your cheek. “i’m not trying to. i’m trying to survive the night.”

you roll your eyes, leaning your face into his palm just slightly. “…you said she reminded you of your mother.”

he chokes. “okay, no—i’m innocent on that one. your honor, i plead the fifth.”

you crack a small laugh, finally. he softens.

“you know i’d never look at anyone else, right?” he says, quiet now. “you’re… it for me. even if i’m half asleep, lost in a dream, at a trial, or just doing laundry. it’s always you. only you.”

“…you should’ve said that in the dream.”

he hums and leans forward, brushing his lips against your forehead. “next time, i will. and i’ll tell her to leave the opera, too. loud.”

you mumble, “good.”

“now come back to bed,” he murmurs, tugging you gently up by the waist, “before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

“no promises.”

he smiles against your hair, “yeah, i figured.”

2K notes · View notes

cloudzoro · 11 months ago

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Hand Placement | One Piece ♡

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Where they prefer to put their hands when fucking you good.

masterlist

a/n: hi! it's been a good few months that I was inactive and now I'm back to writing and I feel nice and refreshed ♡

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ace, crocodile, law, mihawk, nami, reiju, robin, sanji, tashigi, zoro

cw: squirting, overstimulation, fem!reader, gagging, rough sex, unprotected sex, finger sucking, face sitting

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Ace - Pussy

Ace watches your face intently as he rocks his hips into you, admiring the way you look when he's fucking you. He thinks you are so beautiful and raw under him like this that he can't wait to make you fall apart.

When your pussy clenches around him and your words start to slur together he knows you're close. He shushes your desperate whimpers, promising you he's going to make you cum. Ace reaches a hand between you to rub at your clit, letting out an amused hum when you whine at the pressure. You're sensitive and your nerves are on fire at the contact. He hasn't even looked down to where he's touching you, so focused on the way your pretty face tenses as you approach your orgasm. He loves how responsive you are when he touches you. He keeps his hand going while you cum, playing with your pussy until you push his hands away from the sensitivity.

Crocodile - Hair

Crocodile sits shirtless on the sofa, leaning back with his hard cock out of his trousers. You kneel next to him on the cushions, slightly nervous of how you're going to even fit him in your mouth. You've sucked him off many times but you're still intimidated by his size. He asks if you're ok as he caresses your cheek with his hand. As soon as you nod in response to his question his hand slides to your hair, gripping a handful and pulling you down so your mouth hovers over his cock. He keeps a tight hold of your locks as you work him into your mouth. He lets out a deep groan as he guides you on his cock, showing you the pace he wants. Once you're able to keep the pace by yourself, he relaxes his grip but doesn't let go of your hair.

Law - Back

He's a real softie so he can't help that his favourite position is you riding him. Law loves the way you take the lead but he's still in control, he loves the way your tits look when you bounce on his cock, and he loves the way you look down at him in awe of how good he feels inside of you. You take him so well and respond to his gruff voice when he tells you to slow down or speed up.

He keeps his hands on your hips at first until your thighs start to shake and your movements begin to slow. You don't even have to beg him to take over because he snakes his hands around to your back and pulls you flush against him before you can even get a word out. he lifts you slightly so he has room to plant his feet and fuck up into you. It feels special and intimate to hold your body so close to his, and he hides his flushed face in the crook of your neck as he coaxes you to your first orgasm of the night.

Mihawk - Wrists

Mihawk has you up against the wall of his castle, holding both hands behind your back by the wrists. You try to move your hips against the thigh he has wedged between your legs, but you can't get the friction right, and you cry out in frustration. He feigns cluelessness and asks you what's wrong, darkly smiling as you whine about how you can't get off. You struggle against his grip, desperate to have him touch you where you need him most, but it's no use.

He keeps one hand holding your wrist and uses the other one to pull his cock free. He asks you if you're going to be good and after a nod from you, he readjusts his position as pushes his cock into you, enjoying the way your moan echoes through the large building. With his hand holding your wrists behind your back, you have no way to brace yourself and your face ends up pressed against the cold stone. You don't complain about it though, he filling you up too well to care.

Nami - Thighs

Nami laughs from between your legs as you squirm against the sheets. She could eat you out for hours just to hear the cute noises you make. Even though you've been together for a while, you're still nervous about sex with Nami. She's so confident in herself that she intimidates you.

Nami hasn't touched you yet, taking a moment to appreciate your naked form. When her eyes linger on your pussy for a second too long you try to close your legs in embarrassment but Nami moves fast and grabs your thighs forcing them apart to make room for her face. She briefly scolds you for keeping her from seeing her favourite thing in the world and lowers her face to your cunt. She digs her nails slightly into your skin as she licks over your clit. The way she moans against your pussy has you pushing your hips into her face to get even more. Nami remains unfazed, using her grip to keep you in place as she takes you apart with her tongue.

Reiju - Ass

When Reiju tells you to sit on her face, she means sit on it. none of that hovering bullshit will satisfy her. She wants to taste you more than anything but you just won't listen to her and insist that you'll suffocate her or crush her face - to which she responds that she doesn't see a problem with either of those options.

Sick and tired of your whining and determined to show you a good time, Reiju grabs two handfuls of your ass cheeks and parts them so she can get better access to your hole. In a swift show of strength, she pulls you down against her face, tongue finding your hole immediately. A quick slap to the ass acts as a silent instruction from Reiju to rock yourself against her face. Now that worries have somewhat subsided, you oblige, moving your hips.

Robin - Everywhere

Robin has unlimited hands, which means unlimited ways to please you and hold you. She kneels on bed between your spread legs that are being held open by two stray arms. Similarly, two hands are pinning your wrists down and two more are groping at your chest. Her real hands are focus on your pussy, fingers thrusting and curling inside you. Her smile is soft as she leans over you to kiss you, not stopping her fingers. She shushes you as you whimper at her. She tells you to be quiet in case someone walks in but you don't know if you can.

The added stimulation on your chest combined with Robin's fingers being knuckle deep inside you has you barrelling towards an orgasm embarrassingly fast. Feeling you clench around her fingers, Robin summons another hand to cover your mouth so you don't moan too loudly. She focuses most of her energy on her real hands twisting and pumping enough to make you cum as hard as possible. She has a hrin on her face as she watches your body tense up and juices flood her hand.

Sanji - hands

Ever the hopeless romantic, Sanji likes to take things slowly with you. He was a total virgin when you first started dating and he's loved learning to please you and getting the chance to figure out what makes your body squirm. He's an enthusiastic lover who sees sex as a show of his utter devotion to you.

He whispers affirmations and sweet pet names as ge pushes his cock into you. Almost instinctively, he reaches out to your hands and interlocks your fingers. You can tell by the way his hands squeeze yours that he's just as, if not more, affected by the way your pussy squeezes him. He keeps your hands intertwined above your head as he rocks hips despite his sensitivity, repeating how much he loves you over and over again.

Tashigi - hips

Tashigi was inexperienced but, through some fun explorations with you, had figured out she preferred to put on a strap and take you to cloud 9. She's a service top, deriving pleasure from pleasing you. She's had you beneath her, instructing her on where to kiss and lick and bite to mark you up the way you like it.

She's learned in your short time together how to make you comfortable so when she turns you over onto your hands and knees, she makes sure to tuck a pillow under your hips and smooth a hand down your spine to make sure you're not in an awkward position. Her hands settle at your hips as she pushes her strap into you. The way you moan out as she thrusts her hips goes straight to her core, and she tightens her grip on your hips. When you whimper out a plea to go faster, she doesn't hesitate using her strength to hold your hips still so she can get you at a good angle. She hears your cry of pleasure into the pillows on her bed and throws her concentration into hitting the right spot that's going to have you shaking under her. Her grip is so tight against your skin that it might leave marks when you're done, the thought of which pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Zoro - mouth

Sex with Zoro is always filthy and intimate. You can feel him everywhere in your surroundings and he defiles your pretty body with cum, sweat and saliva. His favourite part of your body is your mouth; he loves when you talk back to him or another crewmember, he loves the blissful satisfied smile that you reserve only for him and he loves the way your pretty lips look stretching to accommodate his huge cock.

He's laid you down on your back and is fingering you open, sucking at your clit. When you beg for his cock he promises you you'll get it, he's just gotta stretch you out first. You cum pretty quickly, Zoro's intensity has you riled up. He helps you work through your orgasm before removing his fingers from you. Instead of locking his own fingers clean, he sucks some of your juices off and then holds his fingers - covered in a mix of your cum and his saliva to your lips.

He tells you that if you're a good girl and suck his fingers clean that he'll finally fuck you the way you want. You accept his fingers into your mouth and suck, bobbing your head slightly as if you were sucking his duck. Zoro's breath hitches as you run your tongue over the pads of his fingers. He pushes his fingers slightly further into your mouth as he pushes the tip of his cock into you. He doesn't move his fingers from your warm wet mouth, using them as a - really hot - makeshift gag to keep you quiet. Watching your muffled squeals around his fingers as he finally bottoms out inside you almost breaks his self control when it comes to sex.

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