#y’all already know what’s coming next

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💪🏻 PhysicalTherapist!Oscar Piastri x Male!reader

F1 X Reader; Role Reversal series Masterlist

Summary: When you get into a pretty horrific crash that costs you the rest of the season Oscar is there to pick up the pieces and help nurse your leg back to health.

CW: car accidents, talks of amputation, crying, screaming, probably inaccurate medical terminology (if anyone wants to correct me on anything I can change please let me know!), swearing (It’s just embedded into my vocab), use of drugs in a medical sense, one mention of foreplay, One mention of sex, content is a bit jumpy and the ending is rushed af but I just wanted to get this out.

A/N: Oscar has a PhD, The timelines don’t line up I am aware. For the sake of this we are pretending he is a child prodigy because I said so.

Sources of information: https://www.healthywa.wa.gov.au/Articles/F_I/Ilizarov-frame,

~

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 269k others

Your_Username Boyfriend took a week off work y’all know what that means. Oscar is coming to a race 🥰😍❤️😘💕💖♥️😍🥰

oscarpiastri I think you need more PR training because wtf 😦

Your_Username What? I never said (Or did for that matter) anything sexual, I just love you

oscarpiastri I love you too but what is with the emojis?

mclaren We like Oscar, Oscar keeps you from downing a monster and then wondering why you can hear your own heartbeat

oscarpiastri I feel so loved 😍

User1 Oscar and Admin teaming up against (Y/N) will never not be funny 😭✋

User2 This means we get more videos of “goo-goo eyes” (Y/N) again because you already know Oscar is being dragged everywhere with him this weekend.

~

“I love you” You said, catching Oscars lips against yours. Whenever he was at a race you had to kiss him before you got in the car, you claimed it was for ‘luck’.

You then pulled your balaclava and your helmet over your head and Oscar kissed the top of your helmet, another thing you insisted he do “I love you too” he responded.

You climbed over the halo of your car and slid into the seat, waving to Oscar as your mechanics guided your car to the grid.

Then it was interviews, reviewing data, the national anthem and then another quick word with Martin Brundle with Sky Sports before sliding your balaclava and helmet over your head again and climbing back in your car for the formation lap.

You were starting P3, not bad all things considered. You had Carlos in P2 front of you and then Charles in P1, in the grand scheme of things not too shabby.

The cars kicked off as you did the formation lap, you went round no problems. getting into your place on the grid, Lando next to you.

The race kicked off, Lando managed to gain a place on you which you very quickly take back in the first corner.

You went back and fourth for the next few laps, swapping positions every few corners. Everything was going fine, you had been allowed to race each other.

Then you were side by side chasing each other down a straight and as you got to the corner he didn’t turn with you and he didn’t brake. Lando was having a brake failure and you were away to be a victim of it too.

Landos car completely T-barred yours. You kept gliding across the gravel trap until you hit the barrier.

And then came the pain.

The impact made you body ache, everything hurt. You couldn’t source where you were hurting from because everywhere hurt.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) respond please” Your engineer demanded. You pressed the button on your wheel but found no energy to speak, your lungs hurt too much. You just groaned down the line, hoping that would satisfy. “Okay. Okay, the marshals are on their way. Please just hang in there” He sounded distressed.

Lando was already up and walking. Your car has cushioned the blow of the crash for him and now his front wing was pressing into the side of the front wing of.

Landos helmet appeared above you, shielding your eyes from the sunlight a little more.

“C’mon mate, you have to get up” Lando said reaching his hand into the car for you to take it. You took it and attempted to stand up but when your left leg got any weight on it you fell. The pain travelled al up your leg, striking every nerve in your system.

You collapsed back into your seat and let the warm embrace of darkness take you.

~

Oscars heart was away to fall out his throat. He watched you make contact with the wall. He watched Lando get out unscathed and now he was watching Lando attempt to help you because the marshals were taking too long.

He watched as you took Lando’s hand and try and pull yourself up and then he watched as you fell back into your seat. That was when Lando turned to the drone cameras nearby and made some sort of gesture to them. Then the broadcast was cut and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

He chucked his headphones provided by McLaren onto the table before him, got up and went to your drivers room. He needed to get his stuff and leave. He needed to be with you when you were inevitably admitted to hospital.

He was rushing, recklessly throwing your things in your backpack you brought with you. It had both your things in it but you being the ever loving gentleman you were to carry it.

“Fuck, keys” Oscar muttered. He had no clue where you left the keys to your rented McLaren. Eventually after spiralling for a good 10 minutes he found the keys in one of the drawers you had in your bathroom. Keys, phone and wallet all kept safe in one place. Oscar felt like he could breathe again.

“Mate, are you really away to drive like this?” Your performance coach, Mitchell, said from the door to your drivers room.

“Yeah, I need to be with him” Oscar said, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he turned around.

“Do you even know what hospital they’re taking him to?” Mitchell asked, Oscar hesitated. Shit. He didn’t know where you were. He shook his head.

“I know where they’re taking him let me drive you Oscar, It’s not safe for you to be driving right now” Mitchell added.

“Yeah okay” Oscar said, placing the keys in the jacket pocket (Just in case). He swing the backpack over his shoulder and began following Mitchell out of the room. He just wanted out of here and be wherever you were.

You had been taking to a high level trauma centre in Milan. The drive wasn’t too bad considering the crowds were still at the circuit and in no rush to leave.

It was smooth sailing, right through the roads until they got to the hospital. Oscar still felt sick. He didn’t know what was wrong with you. His hand’s were shaking. He was scared, he needed to hold your hand and tell you were okay before he would even think about calming down.

He abandoned your trainer before he had even properly parked the car. As soon as he seen the doors he swung the car door open and bolted.

“I’m here to-“ He took a breathe, he ran too fast, “I’m here to see (Y/N) (L/N), he should have been admitted about 5 minutes ago” Oscar said, he eyes moving erratically as if you would instantly appear before him.

“He was admitted to the ER on red alert 3 minutes ago. May I ask your relation to the patient?” The nurse enquired.

“Uhh- I umm. I’m his boyfriend and power of attorney” Oscar said. Your team would have transferred over your paperwork, the nurses would know who he was, his power of attorney was listed on your papers.

That was one of the most difficult conversations you had ever had with Oscar. You brought it up one night when you were in bed, Oscar remembers being asked so clearly, ‘If I ever become incapacitated, will you speak for me?’ Oscar though it was just a safety precaution, your job was dangerous, he never thought he may actually have to decided what was best for you when you couldn’t.

“Name?” The nurse further enquired. Typing something into the computer before her

“Oscar” He said, pulling out his wallet and handing over his ID “Oscar Piastri”

“Okay, your boyfriend is in trauma room 3 right now. You can wait in the waiting room until someone comes to see you.” Oscar just nodded. He sometimes forget that just because he was technically a doctor he still could not see you, he didn’t work here.

Your trainer eventually caught up with him. They both sat side by side in the waiting room expecting news, waiting, watching people come and leave and still no news.

Oscar wept numerous time in the 2 hours they were sat in the waiting room. Mitchell being the one to rub his shoulder and remind him how stubborn you were.

Eventually a doctor in bloodied scrubs came and requested him, he doesn’t think he has ever stood up so fast.

“Mr. Piastri?” The doctor asked before beginning. Shit. The doctor does not sound like he has good news.

“Yeah” He said, letting in a deep breath.

“We have an update on your partner” Oscar glanced up at the doctor, something hopeful sparked within him. “He is in surgery, his lung collapsed and we had to re-inflate it. He currently is breathing on his own however. He has some swelling on the brain, that should go down with rest.”

“Thats it?” Oscar asked, why were you in surgery if you were going to be fine?

“Its his left leg we’re worries about, its broken in 3 different places and he is already showing signs of infection” The doctor began “Do you wish us to try and save it with pins and screws or guarantee his safety and get rid of his leg?” The doctor enquired.

Oscar was going to spew, what kind of sick twisted act of god was this. Why did he have to be the one to decided whether or not to keep it.

On one had, he knew first hand how long certain types of breaks took to heal, breaking a bone in more than one place would take months to heal and he knew you would spend most of that time in agony, feeling sorry for yourself.

On the other hand however, putting you though an amputation would most likely kill your spirit, end your career and make you hate him. It would however save you from the infection that, if it spreads, could very well kill you. Why could Mitchell not have just stayed your power of attorney? Life would have been so much easier and he would not have to make the choice.

Oscar bit his lip.

Why did it have to be him to make this call?

Fuck.

“Save the leg” He blurted out. It was probably the right call. At least try and fix what was broken. Amputation was a total worst case scenario.

“Okay, we’ll see what we can do” And with that the doctor pivoted on their heel and stormed back down the hall to what Oscar assumes was the surgical ward.

Oscar slumped back down in the chair next to Mitchell. Mitchel looked back at him, as if waiting for a response but not wanting to push.

“He’s in surgery, his lung collapsed and he has minor swelling in the brain.” Oscar began, Mitchell just watched intently as Oscar spoke “His leg is broken in three places and he’s showing signs of early infection, they just asked if I wanted them to try and fix it or amputate it” Oscars voice kept cracking as he tried not to cry.

“Oh” Mitchell said, leaning back in his chair. Oscar and Mitchell became pretty close friends since they met, they watched a lot of races together and both had degrees in sport science, even if Oscar went on to achieve a PhD and Mitchell went straight into work.

“Yeah” Oscar sighed out, rubbing the corners of his eyes to stop the tears flowing. “I told them to try save it, I think he would kill me if I didn’t” Oscar said, smiling slightly trying to lighten the mood

“I need to call him mum” Oscar said, pulling out his phone and wondered into a more isolated corner of the waiting room.

Your parents worked, they couldn’t just drop everything just to come see you. Oscar was there and there was no point making the journey if Oscar was there and you were stable.

Your mum picked up after 1 ring. She must’ve been waiting by her phone for news. “Hello, (Y/Mothers/N)”

“Oh Oscar, where is he? Can I speak to him?” Your mother exclaimed, she sounded like she had been crying. Understandable considering she had just watched one of her sons get into a horrific accident, watch him collapse and then hear nothing again for hours.

“I’m sorry, he’s in surgery right now. His leg is broken in 3 places and it needs to be screwed back together with metal plates” Oscar said down the phone. He did not want to be the one to relay this news but he was the only one that could.

“Oh…” Your bother began “Well keep me updated then. Thank you Oscar” Your mother said before promptly hanging up the phone. She clearly was in no fit state to talk to anyone right now.

Oscar sighed and returned to Mitchell. He sat in the seat and curled his knees up to his chest. Your mum would be fine, she had your siblings with her.

~

Hours passed before they heard anything again. It was just silence, crying, him and Mitchell catching up a bit, more silence until the doctor in the scrubs showed up again.

“Relations of Mr. (L/N)?” Oscar and Mitchell stood up and nodded. “He’s out of surgery, he is stable, still breathing on his own but we want to keep him sedated for the time being.” The doctor began “You can however go and see him, No plants for children in the ICU however and please mind the wires and metal.”

Oscar never reacted so fast. He had never wanted to get somewhere more than he did right now. He followed the signs to the ICU only then to remember he still didn’t know what room you were in. He pulled a nurse aside.

“Do you know where I could find (Y/N) (L/N)?” Oscar asked her. The nurse just started blankly at him. Crap. She didn’t speak english, he totally forgot he was in a country where the native language was not english.

“Uhhh- Leg, broken leg” he repeated, gesturing down at his leg, thankfully she got the message and nodded. Signalling him to follow her.

She led him to a room a little further down the hall. She opened the door and looked at Oscar. Oscar thanked her and she nodded and left.

Oscar took one look at you and started crying again. Oscar had never seen you so still. Your chest was still rising and falling but you were far too still.

Your leg was secured in metal. You were going to freak the fuck out when you woke up again.

“Oh baby” Oscar said gently, he takes a seat in the chair by your bed. Takes your hand and kisses it gently. “You’re gonna be okay”

He had no idea if you could hear him however, if on the off chance you could, he wanted to talk to you, remind you he was there.

“Lando’s gonna be okay at least, you cushioned his blow” Oscar said, he didn’t know if he was joking or not but if he didn’t laugh he would probably cry so he just went with it.

“Your mum is worried about you” Oscar began, he had to keep talking because he could get so easily freaked out by the silence of a room. “I think she needs to talk to you before she believes you’re okay, I know your siblings won’t leave her though.”

~

Oscar stayed with you for 3 days, he left to go shower and shave once but it was rushed and he missed bits. He was terrified of leaving you and coming back to you having some sort of issue. Expecting to come back and you were not breathing.

Mitchell had gone home, he had a family waiting for him at and as much as he cares about you he knows you have Oscar and he would be okay to go home and be with his kids.

“The doctors say you’re making good progress at least. Say your head is healing quite well.” Oscar began, picking up your hand and kissing it, trying not to irritate the cannula you had in your hand.

“I’m gonna go and update your mum, I will be right back baby I promise” He said, kissing your forehead gently and leaving the room, phone in hand.

Little did he know that in the 15 minutes he had spent talking to your mother you would wake up surrounded by nurses with no clue where you were or what was happening.

~

“I want Oscar” You cried out through sobs of pure agony that was running through your body right now. This was far from the most dignified moment of your life but you didn’t care, you were in pain and you wanted your boyfriend to hold you.

The nurses were scrambling about trying locate Oscar, he was in the waiting room on the phone updating your mother the last time any of the nurses had seen him.

Eventually he came back up the corridor, expecting you to still be asleep under the sedative they had given you when you had been taken into the hospital when you wouldn’t stop screaming.

Instead he was met with 2 nurses all looking slightly distressed as they stood at the outside of your door, a further nurse in the room trying to calm you down.

“He’s awake and wants you, Mr. Piastri however if you do not calm him down we may need to sedate him again before he does himself another injury.” The shorter nurse of the two said as she glanced back into the room behind her.

“O-okay” Oscar replied, paling a little at the thought of them having to sedate you again just because you could not come to terms with what was happening right now.

He entered the room not really knowing what to expect from you considering you had just woken up from being asleep for 3 days and had just found out you needed reconstructive surgery on you leg. He was met with your tear streaked face followed by hiccups and more of you shouting at nurses to find Oscar.

“I’m here baby, i’m sorry! I shouldn’t have left” Oscar announced his presence in the room, the nurses parting so that he can get through and see you.

Oscar approached you gently, still unsure if you were considering attacking or not. He gently kissed your forehead and you just started crying again.

“It hurts so much” You cried through more sobs. This was probably the most you had cried like… ever.

The last thing you remembered was kissing Oscar goodbye on the grid as you pulled your helmet over your head and prepared for lights out so why were you in a hospital? Why were you in so much pain?

“I don’t- what even happened?” You said, practically gasping for air between words.

“You were in a crash, shattered your Tibia and did yourself some internal damage” Oscar began, he sat in the chair that was beside the bed you were in. The nursed had cleared out now, they no longer thought you were going to hurt yourself or anyone else “Baby, your lung collapsed and I was so scared. They had to sedate you when they brought you in just to calm you down”

You sat there looking at Oscar as if he had just grown 6 heads. You blinked, hoping maybe you were dreaming, that you would wake up and this would all be a nasty dream and then you didn’t wake up, this was your new, horrific? reality.

You looked down at your leg and there it was again, that ugly metal rods that poked out of your leg, mocking you and your career. You needed your leg, it was not something that you could just live without and still be an f1 driver.

“Wh- Oscar this is some sick joke right? Do you know how long bones take to heal? Months, Oscar, months” You say, your breathing speeding up again as you spiralled into panic, realistically you knew he knew how long bones took to heal it was literally his job to deal with patients who suffered broken bones and trauma that impacted their mobility

“(Y/N), look at me” Oscar said, holding your hand up to his mouth and kissing it. “This is not what you needed right now, I know that, but you should be grateful you even still have your leg, it was touch and go for a while” Oscar knew it was harsh to tell you such cruel things when you were panicking but he also knew that sometimes a slap back to reality is needed.

“I- okay” You said taking a deep breath through your nose and out through the mouth trying to calm yourself down. “It still hurts, can they give me more drugs?” you asked, normally you would swear off using drugs for anything. Even taking ibuprofen made you weary but you were genuinely in so much pain.

“Afraid not baby, they already maxed out your dose before they woke you up. You’re gonna be real floaty soon” Oscar said, a slight smile grazing his face. You had never been high before so the amount of drugs they had you on were going to hit you like a train.

Your doctor came into the room a few moments later after being told by the horde of nurses that you were awake and distressed. (and that they gave you more drugs so he better be quick if he wants you coherent).

“Ahhh Mr. (L/N), you’re awake!” He said in an overly put on happy voice. “As you may have noticed you’ve been out for a while” You just nodded along.

“Your injuries were quite extensive. You punctured a lung, gave yourself quite the concussion and the most obvious injury you may have noticed is your shattered Tibia.” You bit your lip slightly and nodded, looking at the metal structure that surrounded the bottom of your left leg.

Oscar squeezed your hand a little tighter, letting you know he was here. He wasn’t interfering with the doctors conversation, letting you take in what you were being told.

“We’ll assign you with a physical therapist once your leg is healed which we hope to be sorted in the next 2-4 months.” The doctor began and Oscar took this as his moment to interrupt.

“Hold it- i’m right here, I can take care of his physio” Oscar began, he knew you didn’t cope well with new people and people touching you so he, ultimately, would be your best bet at getting anywhere with physical therapy anyway.

“Mr. Piastri, I understand that you want to help but you’re much too close to this” The doctor began before Oscar cut him off.

“No, he doesn’t cope well being touched by strangers. It’ll take numerous sessions just to get him to let another physio touch him, let me do this” He begged, arguing for you as if you weren’t right there (metaphorically you weren’t, the morphine was beginning to kick in and you were feeling loopy as fuck) “I know him, we live together and I travel with him when I manage to close my clinic for a few days please just assign me to take care of him”

Oscar didn’t care how pathetic he sounded right now, He knew you, he knew your routines and little rituals you had before races and things you did to put yourself to sleep at night.

You two had known each other since you were young, you had both been shipped off to boarding school and were educated together. You separated when Oscar when to university to study sport science and you went off to persue Formula 1 and met each other again after your trainer referred you to a proper physio after a particularly bad bout of neck and back pain.

Ever since then you had been inseparable, never seen apart. Point is he needed to care for you in anyway he could. He would make room for you in his schedule, he ran his own private clinic in london so it wouldn’t be that hard to shift his schedule around for you.

The doctor bit his lip, considering it for a moment. “Now are you absolutely sure about this, because frankly I don’t think this is a good idea” He began

“Yes, yes I am. I can take care of him. I know him, I know what he liked and what he doesn’t plus he already is comfortable with me touching him” Oscar began spewing out reasons he should take care of you, why he needs to take care of you.

“And I live with him, I would be with him most days. Just please. It would save the hassle of you trying to find a physiotherapist in London from here anyway” Oscar would literally start a war if this doctor did not get his shit together and let Oscar take over your care.

“Okay fine, we can discuss paperwork later but as for just now I would go and sit with him. He’s gonna get real giddy in a few minutes” The doctor said, gathering up his stuff and promptly leaving the room. It was just you and Oscar again, just this time you’re awake.

“Has anyone ever told you, you have pretty hair” You said, staring at Oscar as if he was the Sistine Chapel. You eyes were already getting a bit bloodshot and glassy, Oscar just blushed slightly.

“Maybe once or twice” Oscar said, playing into what ever mind games the Morphine was playing in you. It was in fact you that always told Oscar he had pretty hair and got all stroppy when he got a haircut.

He took your hand and kissed it again. “I think you should go to sleep before you say anything else you’ll regret”

“Fine” You said like a stroppy toddler. You lay back and let yourself fall asleep. Your soft breaths once again filled the room as you let yourself rest.

Oscar just sat back and sighed, it was going to be a long few months with you but he was willing. He wanted this, it was always you that took care of him. He wanted it to be his turn to take care of you.

~

After another few weeks, a fuck tonne of drugs, loads of tears and lots of sleeping you were eventually discharged and sent home with crutches and a prescription for more pain killers.

The flight back home was a bit of a nightmare considering you couldn’t go through a metal detector without setting it off, you were in so much pain it was ridiculous. You would have taken pills for the pain but you had put them in your suitcase and not your carry on.

Oscar had tried his best to soothe you but ultimately there was nothing he could do but hold your hand and give you kisses until you got off the plane.

“You know you never had to shut your clinic to stay with me, you could have gone home to run the place” You said. You had felt guilty as anything after Oscar told you he was staying and taking time off to be with you.

“I didn’t shut my clinic, I left in Tina charge while I was gone.” He shrugged, casual as anything “Plus I was technically seeing a patient” He said smugly.

You were Oscars patient now, he had your medical file on his work computer, he had your patient history and he was not gonna let it go. He was so serious about this that he blanked you when you said it would make for great foreplay.

“You are such a sap” You said, pushing him gently. You were, thankfully, flying private. You weren’t sure you could deal with the public and the paparazzi taking non -consentual photos of you in an airport with crutches, a metal brace around your leg and your boyfriend correcting your posture every 5 minutes.

The flight was uneventful for the remainder. You eventually dozed off, Oscar had opted to lay you in his lap and rub your scalp until you fell asleep and he didn’t wake you up until you were away to land.

The car ride to your London home was also largely uneventful. You called a cab because neither of you had a car readily available (not like you could drive anyway).

The first issue you faced was when you got to your house and remembered you had stairs to climb to get into your house. Oscar had to take your bags inside and then have to guide you up the stairs slowly.

“This is fucking humiliating” You mutter as Oscar guides you up the stairs. “World’s greatest athletes and I can’t even climb the stairs to my own house” You mutter, Oscar hears though. He always does somehow.

“You are still a good athlete baby, you’re just hurt and need taken care of right now thats all” Oscar responds gently. He was always patient with you when you started spiralling and getting into your own head.

You had an athletes mentality and that was something Oscar had gotten very used to considering he worked with athletes of varying professions and levels and though you. With you he saw the mental ups and downs he assumes most athletes go though.

“What am I supposed to do for the next 3 months” You exclaim as Oscar helps you onto your sofa. “I can’t exercise properly, Can’t go on walks or runs, I can’t even sleep in my side” You whine. For some a break like this would be ideal but not for you, you could not for the life of you sit still for long periods of time.

“Exercise is actually good for your leg, even if your shin is fucked right now you still need to keep the leg moving.” Oscar explained “You’ll just be in more pain if you don’t move it”

“Now, you’re gonna take your painkillers and then go for a nap because I think you need rest” Oscar said, slipping a pill in between your lips and forcing you to drink the water he gave to you

He lifted his head from its place on the sofa, threw the cushion out from under it and slotted himself in it’s place. Placing you back down so your head was lay in his lap.

“Now, i’m comfy, you’re comfy and everyone is safe so go to sleep” He said, stroking your face gently with his hands “I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise”

You let your eyes droop and your aches to go numb as the warmth of sleep overtook your system. You had no problems letting Oscar massage your face to send you to sleep.

In reality Oscar felt he needed to watch you sleep, to watch you breathe, the even rise and fall of your chest was a comfort to him. The last time he could not see you sleeping your lung collapsed and you could not breathe. Oscar felt it was his duty and as a doctor (technically) to be the one to take note of your health, make sure your body was working properly.

He turned the TV on and eventually he himself dozed off. He would never tell anyone, especially not you, how tired he let himself become those last few weeks in Italy. He was going to make himself sick if he stayed in hospital with you a little longer just so he could stay with you.

~

The next few weeks were hellish.

Oscar had been helping you move your legs and clean the entry site of the pins in your leg. Or he was trying, you kept doing so well and then having days where you were in nothing but pain and cried all day.

In between all of this Oscar had also gone back into work, just with reduced hours, he did still have clients after all. Your injury didn’t just magically heal his other patients that he saw regularly

Today, Oscar wasn’t really doing much with you. He was just having you practice walking on your crutches again.

“You know this would be easier if you came into my practise instead of using our living room” Oscar said, looking up at you from the sofa

“No!” You exclaim “I cannot leave the house like this, Do you know how humiliating this would be if a fan found me, I can’t fucking walk Oscar!” You wanted to shout so very badly but you couldn’t because you knew better than to piss of your physio (and boyfriend)

“Baby, I understand I really do bu-“ Oscar began

“No you don’t! You do not understand, I am under constant scrutiny from the press and the fans and the news. I cannot have them see me like this. I cannot handle the rumours about my career by random people on the internet” You snap.

“You’re right” Oscar said, looking at the floor. “I do not understand baby but you need proper equipment, which I have, it’s just at my practise. Please just let them speculate for the sake of your health. Hell even make a statement yourself just to shut them up.”

“You’re right, i’m being stupid.” You began, adjusting yourself as you lean onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping, I love you”

“I love you too” Oscar said kissing your hairline gently.

~

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 704k others

Your_Username Life since my accident 🩶

Seriously though I would like to send a massive thanks to the Paramedics and Doctors in Italy that literally saved my life. I’m not gonna go into detail about my injuries until I feel ready but it was scary. Even bigger thanks to Dr. Boyfriend who took me home and has dealt with my moody ass for the past few weeks

As for my career, I am still unsure as to what will happen with my future. You aren’t rid of me just yet though, I can promise you that.

Lots of Love, (Y/N) (L/N)

oscarpiastri So very proud of you baby, We’re gonna get through this together 💪🏻

mclaren We’re gonna miss you at MTC for the next few months ☹️

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~

The following weeks were a nightmare, Oscar began working close to his full schedule. You wondered if this is what Oscar felt like when you were away for weeks at a time for racing. Only so much TV could fill the time you spend sitting on the couch, doing basic exercises to keep your leg moving and more sitting on the couch.

When Oscar was home you spent a lot of time listening about his day, you not having much to add to that conversation these days. Sometimes your recovering and his work overlapped.

That was the times you enjoyed the most lately.

You got to see Oscar in his ‘natural habitat’ as you would call it. It’s where he was content, in his zone. It was so nice to see him so comfortable in an environment most people feel tense in.

Earlier in the week you had been papped waking from Oscar’s car to the clinic on crutches. You had never been phased by the paparazzi but now, in your state you were mortified.

“I really don’t know why it’s such a big deal” Oscar said, you were sat in his office in his exam bed as he cleaned the entry points or your pins. “I mean the media know you’re injured, they know you won’t be driving for a while and they know i’m doing your physio” He shrugged.

“I know, it’s just a bit irritating that they can’t just let me be injured in peace y’know?” You reply, wincing slightly as Oscar pressed at a particularly tender piece of skin

“I get that but surely it could be worse, people know you’re okay, The media can stop trying to contact you for your where about and People know you’re with me and you’re all mine” Oscar said, leaving a slightly unprompted kiss to your knee

“I supposed” You grumble, laying back on the exam bed as Oscar began making you bend your leg. “I love you”

“I love you too”

~

“(Y/N) you fabulous, fabulous man! You my friend have just won your first championship” You engineer yelled over you comms.

You couldn’t respond, you were crying while trying to navigate your cooldown lap.

A 18-months ago you almost lost your leg, told that you would probably never walk again. A year ago you could barely bed you knee. Eight months ago you were falling behind in the championship, the media beating you up. Five months ago you began your record breaking comeback and right now you had just won the championship off all championships in Vegas

You climbed out of your car after taking a moment to yourself. A deep breath. A moment of silence.

You did the usual jumping into the crowd of engineers as they pulled you over the fence and held you up. It took 5 minutes for your feet to return to the ground. And then there was Oscar, who was also crying.

You went to hug him, pulling him close and then pulling him over the fence so you could properly give him kissed “This is all because of you baby, all of it. You’re the one who nursed me back to health, back to this point” You whispered in his ear, over the crowds of people screaming your name.

“I’m so proud of you” He said kissing your cheek. Photographers taking this as their moment to strike. “And you are getting railed so hard tonight”

And now you’re less glad you’re surrounded by photographers.

[tonycries]

Animals - G.S.

Synopsis. Yes, your best friend is secretly an alpha. Yes, he acts like a fúcking anímal when he rúts. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alíve.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Gojo, rúts, best-friends-to-lóvers, creampíes, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, knots, MARATHON SÉX, overstím, knots, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pússy-spánking, héats tríggered, semi-public, matíng press, oraI (fem), slight bondagé, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 7.0k (uh-oh)

A/N. Nanami always gets the short end of the stick LMAO, anyway hope y’all have the loveliest week <3

“Satoru, you’re being strange.”

Granted, Gojo Satoru acting weird wasn’t anything new. 

Especially not when he’s two hours deep into the most droning meeting you’d bribed him into attending as of late - knee bouncing, fingers tapping, head turned towards that firmly shut door like he just wanted to escape. Needed to. 

Then again, even you found your attention waning. Finding whispering with your best friend much more interesting than whatever latest mission statistic Yaga had to present. 

“M’doing just peachy, sweetheart.” Gojo smiles - but it looks stilted, pained. And even through his blindfold, you already knew his snowy brows were furrowed. “Who’s the one not listening to ol’ man Yaga now?”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes down at his figure beside you - draped over the cool mahogany table as if he owned the place. “Well- you better not be faking sick to get out of this meeting. Again.”

He only hums, “Don’t worry your pretty lil’ h-head about it, m’kay?”

With a final, tired rub at your temples, you’re turning back to Nanami to ask for all the world where Yaga was on his fifty-page report now-

And then, it hits you.

Suddenly.

Something smells sweet.

Like candy - particularly that sugary, strawberry-flavored kind you’ve had to tell Gojo off on more than one occasion for eating too many of. Tilting your head just a bit, you think you could also catch hints of honey and pine, such a strange, hypnotic combination.

“S-Satoru…” your words come out in a syrupy gush, feeling your head whirl.

“Hm?”

And despite yourself, you’re taking in deep, heavy inhales of the air surrounding you. Hungry. Mouth salivating as that heady, perfumed whiff clouds up all your senses. “Do you- hah- what is- do you smell-”

“Ngh- no?” he’s cutting you off with a barely-audible groan, one you probably wouldn’t have even caught if your abilities weren’t so sharpened right now. Gojo’s movements seem sluggish, languid as if he was moving through molasses when he raises up one hand to massage the back of his neck.

You can only watch as his head droops down onto the long table with a wince. 

Strange. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have almost thought- 

No, there was no time to be entertaining wild conspiracies. Because at this very moment you’re too caught up flitting through the dates of all your previous heats in your mind. Urgently. 

Three weeks.

Your next heat wasn’t due for another three weeks. So, sure, you didn’t take your suppressants just yet but, that really didn’t matter, did it?

It wasn’t normal for jujutsu sorcerers to be anything other than a beta - and as an omega, you knew firsthand just how difficult it was to fight tooth and nail just to be able to sit at this table. 

Historically, any other faction of society would rather be caught dead than outed, and have their second gender be taken advantage of by the very curses you were supposed to exorcize. Forced to face the stigma of alphas and omegas being too “unstable” or “vulnerable” to be trusted with missions.

This was the very thing you’d been trying to avoid ever since you argued your way into studying at Jujutsu Tech - losing control. 

Especially now.

But god, you were burning up. It smelled so sexy.

And, taking a sweeping glance around the table of betas - at your fellow sorcerers, those grim elders, and your disheveled best friend - that left only you to explain the scent.

You were only thankful that their noses weren’t as powerful as yours. Clinging onto this as a saving grace, with a shaky gulp, you gently nudge Nanami on his side. “Hey- Ken?”

“Yes?” And maybe it was the heat - whatever this was - but Nanami’s deep baritone sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning in traitorously closer to his heated body. His jaw ticks, “Is something wrong? You look…”

“Satoru’s also-”

“So what?”

Without warning, one of his hands comes to splay out across your forehead. Just a mere touch has him sucking in a sharp gasp, “You feel warm, I think you have a fever. You can’t continue the meeting like this.” 

You shake your bleary head in protest. 

“I won’t let you.” Nanami’s voice hardens with a tone of finality, and yet, you still find yourself trying to whirl around to look at Gojo. Maybe for help, maybe for a distraction to escape when your colleague speaks again - this time directed at Yaga. “Principal Yaga, it seems my dear friend here is sick.” Circling an arm around your shoulders to pull you up from your seat and onto weak legs. “If you’ll please excuse us, I will escort-”

Nanami stills - everything stills. 

Everyone stills when his voice tapers off with a ragged grunt, and you feel his chest heave in unsteady breaths. So close now that you can mark the exact moment Nanami’s eyes widen, “Are you…”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit-

“Wait.” Yaga’s voice bellows reproachfully. “Is this- That smell-” But even he can’t find the words, slumping back down into his seat.

Truly, the scent was so saturated now, so primal that even the most stubborn of unmated betas were sneaking peeks at you. You bite your lips raw at another glossy gush from your already-heated cunt. It was so embarrassing - your heats have never acted like this before, let alone come three weeks early.

Sure, perhaps that one time on your very first day at Jujutsu Tech itself - which was embarrassing by itself. And, yet, your mind had never been clearer than it was right now. 

Eyes sliding over to a familiar, trembling mop of white hair - never been needier. 

Fuck, what was your delirious self thinking-

As if drawn by an invisible string, Nanami’s inching impossibly into your hot proximity, hazel eyes falling half-lidded when he takes in a deep whiff. Grumbling, “My love-” Another. And another. Nose almost grazing your pulse now, “-you’re in-”

Slam!

“Out.”

It’s a threat.

That was the first thought that slammed into you, and then the voice continues, slow, snarling like a predator on the edge of ripping something to shreds. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Before you finally understand, it’s a command.

There’s one strong hand around your front, pinning you against a sculpted chest. Something about it has your pulse booming in your ears, fingers clawing at that pale wrist at your shoulder. Yet, he doesn’t even flinch.

Nanami, however, reluctantly detaches his hands from your body, and you finally have enough strength to look towards the origin of the words. Only for your glassy gaze to meet with a towering Gojo Satoru standing at his full height - when did he even get up? 

Jaw clench, sharp canines bared, blindfold dangling haphazardly around his neck - ah, he looked like a man that crawled from hell and back simply to take you all along with him. 

With you at lucky number one. 

First in his line of sight. Close enough that you can finally smell him. 

Oh.

Oh. 

And you swear you saw his eyes tint with the faintest blue lightning when your own scent perks up. Boring into you for just a millisecond before narrowing his gaze down at a stupefied Nanami, cracking the kinks in his neck. “Unless ya wanna watch.” He bares the rest of the room with his flooring glare, “Unless all of you want to watch.”

It’s chaos. 

They understood - perhaps long before even you did. 

Chairs clatter, the desk trembles, and that safe haven of the door is swung open. That weezing council of elders are first to stumble over one another into the hallway, Yaga following shortly with a wordless sigh. 

Until the only ones left are you and him - and Nanami.

Blond brows raising, his eyes flit frantically between you and a possessive Gojo. Sputtering out, each word jagged, and dry as if they’re being wrenched from his chest. “What is the meaning of this- We- I thought you were a- a beta.” 

Everyone did, and Nanami was speaking what your mind couldn’t right now. 

Gojo Satoru always presented himself as a beta - never affected by your heats, never disappearing once every few months for his ruts as you remember Suguru did. He always seemed so normal - perhaps the one thing about him that was. Unaffected by the stupid little trials and tribulations of alphas and omegas in sorcery. 

But it was undeniable, he was an alpha. 

And taking a deep inhale of his saccharine sweet perfume - so overpowering - he might just be the strongest you’ve ever encountered. How fitting.

“You thought.” Gojo’s voice was clipped, rumbling with a low growl that sent electrifying shivers down to your very cunt. And his tone just makes Nanami jolt. “And I can’t right now so I- fuck-”

Gojo’s body wracks with a violent shudder, making him hunch over - with you in tow. His hot breath puffs out in feverish pants near your ear, abs clenching as another velvety wave of pheromones emit from him. 

You mewl when your body is jostled in his toned arms, nudging the very curve of your ass - tight uniform skirt hiking up just enough - so that you push in a slow drag against something rock-hard. Massive. Weeping out in a sticky damp spot that seeps into your skin. 

“Hah-” you’re gasping, face swirling to nose up the crook of his neck - where the candied scent was most prominent. “Toru–”

There’s a gasp - and it’s not from you this time. 

Both you and Gojo are snapping your dazed heads upwards at a frozen Nanami, his hand shooting to cover his nose. Eyes wild- “I-”

Before thinking better of it, it seems like Nanami opted to keep some part of his sanity as he abruptly turns on his heels without a second glance backwards. Marching robotically, the only moment he stops is once he’s at the doorway. One hand tugging on his suddenly too-tight pants, the other on the doorknob. Eyes still trained forwards when he calls out gruffly, “Don’t break the table, insurance doesn’t cover it.”

SLAM!

Finally alone.

Your vision swims - is the door even locked? Is this- God, you feel hot. So hot - too hot.

And Gojo’s burning up, arms wrapping around you so tight that you could feel the way his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. He breathes out into your ear, “My pretty girl…”

“Oh sh-shit–” you’re whimpering, big fat tears welling up behind your eyes. And without wasting a second, as soon as it splatters hotly on your best friend’s skin, he licks a long, lazy stripe to lap at the hazy saltiness. Babbling away, “Feel so dizzy hngh- and you- you’re an alpha?”

Honestly, part of you still didn’t want to believe it.

But as soon as he husks out a gravelly moan, as soon as his tongue dips down a wet pathway to the scent gland on your neck - you already know you won’t be making it out of this alive. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“Mhm- fuck! m’sorry.” he grunts into your skin, slightly muffled. Nipping ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry m’sorry- had to- my sudden rut made my- hah, made my pretty omega go into heat, didn’t it?”

His soft palms glide down your trembly body, greedily kneading every dip and curve that comes his way. He’s lost. So, so lost. 

Plastering his lips down every inch of skin he could reach, that sweet scent sticking to you like a sloppy second skin. And you can barely even think when you feel his swollen dick just twitch behind you, a fresh wave of swelteringly hot precum sloshing right through your silken skirt.

You whimper when you’re rutting messily back and forth, and he drags a thick thumb to pry your spit-glossed lips open. “Aww, poor baby. Tell me- fuck tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

And all you can really give him right now is a circular swivel of your hips, which evidently wasn’t enough. 

Because Gojo’s furious tip only hardens, and he hisses with a slight tug up your skirt. Cold fingers dancing ravenously up the edge of your drenched panties, gliding the very rounded tip of his index slowly across your sopping slit. 

“Tha’s not enough.” he snickers, and suddenly you’re hit with another wave of emanating pheromones. Enough to make you just slobber a glistening coating all down his long digits. “Use your ah- w-words like a big girl now. Because when I start…” His teeth find your earlobe, and his fingers find themselves planting a dripping wet slap! across your puffed-up clit. Unwavering. Unapologetic. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“Please, Toru.” That cute little nickname makes him jump, makes him throw his head back with a low moan. Brows scrunching together as if pained. “Don’t want you to stop-”

Maybe you were going to say more - maybe you would’ve called him that nickname and driven him even crazier. 

But Gojo doesn’t wait to find out. 

In one, fluid motion he’s picking up your body into the easiest princess carry you two would’ve laughed at if this was one of those romcoms you watched together. Just splaying you out on your back across the cool table, he situates himself in the perfect position between your legs. 

Oh, how he loved this view. How he’s spent so many ruts just like this imagining this view.

“F-fuck- You have no idea how- how crazy it drove me.” rasping groans drag out from his throat, strained with every slow drag of his cock down the front of your now-see-through panties. “How wild-” You’re nearly screaming when his canines dig in to that soft spot underneath your ear. “-to pretend I didn’t know you smelled so hah- so fucking delicious.”

And then you feel him still - alert, ready.

Chest heaving, an almost chilling tone dipping into his words when he spits, “Except when you smell like him.”

Your jaw falls slack when the temperature in the room heats up another few heady degrees, and the sheer power of your two scents mixing together is almost maddening. 

“He- he? Toru, what do you-” you’re gasping out in tiny huffs, while he busies himself with biting and licking down your exposed neck. Enough to leave you smeared all over with marks. “Who- Kento?”

“Oh, sayin’ another man’s name when you’re with- fuck- me?” Gojo’s bucking powerfully into you, his body was pinning you down. Scorching, now. “Such a naughty omega- I should kill him for how he touched you.”

Truly, his alpha was fucking clawing at him to trek out of this room right now and finish off the job - but, no, you were too hypnotic. And Gojo Satoru, the strongest, was no match for you.

The wet thwack of his fingers once more kisses in a rude smack against your clit, making you squeal. Ringing across your thundering ears, he swears at that broken, blissful noise from you. “Fuckin’ oh, would ya let him see you like this, too? Let him touch you like th-this?”

And Gojo looked so starved, velvety blindfold tickling your chin when he leans in close. Lips ghosting your own - but not quite. You’re suddenly brought back to the very first thought you had - that this is about to be a bloodbath. 

“I wouldn’t–” you bite back in your honeyed tone, and you can feel your omega just purr in satisfaction. “N’ it’s not my fault that someone-”

Smack! Harder, sprinkled with tiny bolts of electricity.

“Correct.” 

It’s breathed out into your mouth - a quick, hedonistic peck. Gojo just taunting your sanity before he’s pulling away with a gruff string of profanity, like it hurt him just as much as it did to you. 

You feel your slick dribble down into a saturated puddle below you. And the mere sight of it makes Gojo just reel his hips deliriously forwards, grinding his massive bulge across your dripping cunt until you could see it soil a fountainy dark patch on his pants. 

“F-fuckin’-” his eyes roll to the back of his head at how hot you were. How pouring wet. Wrangling your quivering legs painfully stretched open, “-woman of my dreams.”

With two, thick fingers hooked over the hem of your skirt, it’s being torn off in an easy pull. Falling somewhere in a pile of impractical tatters onto the meeting room floor, along with your shirt.

And as soon as it’s off, Gojo’s only growing more feral. More hungry. 

He’s drooling from one corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t even notice at this point. Honestly, barely even realizing the burning pain when he falls to the floor on his knees. Clattering haphazardly, insatiably nosing up your jittery inner thighs. 

“Oh sweetheart- oh my pretty girl. My pretty, pretty girl–” he’s breathing out, head lolling drunkenly against your legs. And Gojo gulps when he spreads your panties away with a wet glide of his thumb, just enough to see your messy hole winking up at him eagerly. All soaked and needy. “M’gonna have so much fun being yours.”

He kisses wetly through your panties - without warning, without even breathing. Just surging his pretty face into the heated crevice between your thighs, taste buds on his pinkish tongue grazing up the soaked fabric.

Like he was addicted.

“Oh- oh my god-” you’re mewling out, lower lip wobbly at every sultry swirl of Gojo’s tongue over your pussy lips, painting your messy hole in every mesh of slick and spit he could conjure up. “It feels too- hah–”

You were always so sensitive during your heats, every single one of your senses heightened to the max. So it made your mind all overwhelmingly melty inside to have his steaming hot mouth on your equally ravenous cunt. Hungry.

Yeah, he was addicted.

Dragging a few fingers in-between your glistening folds, scissoring them shamefully open to spit. Once. Twice. 

Some of it splatters strayly onto the start of your thighs, which Gojo glady licks up all over again to stream out a thick wad back onto your silt. Until your cunt was drooling translucent dredges of everything he has to give, he smears his messy thumb in easy rotations around your clit. Filthy. 

“So gorgeous- so good f’me.” Gojo titters, biting down teasingly on the very edge of your panties. And he can’t hide that fucked-out little groan when pulls it back, back, back to just snap! it meanly right on your cunt. “Fuck- you taste as s-sweet as you smell, mmm–”

You’re yelping when his long tongue draws a slow circle around the edge of that first ring of muscle, just barely pushing back against how your gummy walls are trying to hug him. To milk him for everything he has.

“S-such a tease-” you whine, fingers tangling into his cloudy white hair. Soft - the silken tresses smoothed over your palm, slotting between your digits when you pull his mouth roughly onto your pussy. “Jus’ want you on me- ngh!”

“Ohh ya can still t-talk easy, huh?” Gojo raises an amused brow from in-between your legs, that won’t be possible soon with how he’s going to have you. “Well then, don’t you dare beg me to go easy on you, girl.”

And he keeps the panties on - fuck, he keeps the panties on when mashing those ragged, rosy lips of his in a steamy make-out with your cunt. It’s as if he was breathing you in, so close that you could feel every clench of Gojo’s jaw, every grind of his chin into the very base of your pussy. 

“Sh-shitttt-” he spits, stray wisps of white covering his eyesight. Dragging you on his tongue through pure instinct. “Shit wait- ah you’re so fuckin’ so-”

Unable to even finish his sentences with that usually-sharp tongue of his. No, that tongue right now was too occupied with the steady, repetitive drag along your snug channel. Bullying into your sodden sensitive spots, thrusting back and forth back and forth back and-

And his fingers, oh those infamous fingers were straying back onto the sensitive nub of your clit. Drawing tight, tempestuous circles that have you keening at the dual stimulation, thighs stuttering to an embarrassed close. 

“Open.”

It’s just like before - and Gojo’s using that annoyingly baritone tone of his that hits you at your very core, that makes your omega snap open your legs for him.

Even you’re surprised at how pliant your body acts before your mind right now - and so is Gojo. though, his expression doesn’t show it, every bit of that feral animal that scared everyone out of this room not too long ago. 

“That’s it- that’s it–” he can’t hold back, hands glued to the globes of your ass to pin you still against his mouth. “Ha- so fuckin’ different when ya listen to me, so fucking sweet.” Breathing in deeply, “Were ya giving off this scent so Nanami could do this, too?” 

Thwack!

Another mocking slap against your clit - not enough to make you cry, but with just enough buzzing jujutsu to make your batting lashes teary - forces you to find your words. 

And fuck, Gojo swears there’s no sweeter music than the sound of your voice - especially when you’re moaning like that. 

Voice breaking into a whine, accompanied by a few raw clenches of your pussy around his furious tongue. “N-no fuck- don’t know-” your hips arch into the most perfect curve he’s ever seen. One that makes his mouth water, cock straining against his pants. “Toru- jus’ want you, wanna cum- wanna- want you so bad.”

Fuck - and who was he to not go along with each and every one of your pretty whims?

Pussydrunken already. He’d read about this - but he really had no clue how potent an omega in heat was, never having spent a rut with one. That little special occasion was always saved for you but, ah, that was a story for another time.

“M’gonna cum- hah- so- close-” 

Right now, he couldn’t think of anything other than how gorgeous you would look when you cum. How delicious - your sweetened scent raising up by a few notches, taking over his sentences. 

He feels his cock just throb at the mere thought.

Which is why Gojo’s pulling away with one final, sodden kiss on your pussy. You feel the curvaceous curl of his smirk against your cunt, and a deep, filthy inhale. 

“Nah.” he smiles a glistening smile up at you - grin glossed all over with a sheen of your sweet, sweet juices. And the rest of his face was almost-obscured with a curtain of his white bangs, but you still think you could peek the glow of his inhuman eyes through them. Powerful. “Don’ think you’re c-cumming anywhere other than on my knot first, pretty girl.”

And he’s so tall that Gojo’s blocking out the dim meeting room lights when he stands up - slow, smug, making you spend each passing second in such anticipation. 

Face expressionless - almost hypnotized - when he shrugs his shirt off. Lips parted into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded, heaving he slides his belt off almost lazily. 

It clatters! to the ground, and he’s sliding down his drenchingly wet boxers with it - leaving a gleaming trail of precum down the front of his toned pelvis. Letting his achy cock finally spring free, he hisses when it hits the too-cool air. 

And you do, too - though, for much different reasons. 

Because Gojo’s so unfairly big - fitting, for an alpha of his stature. Blushed the prettiest pink at his rotund head that matched his cheeks right now, gradiating down into creamy tufts of white at his thick base. Showing the starting of his knot swelling. It made you wonder whether he tasted as sweet as he smelled. So hard it looked painful, curving into a long, solid shaft that glides a wet smear across his washboard abs. It makes your omega just preen, rabid to have him inside you right now now now-

“Heh, impatient lil’ thing, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” Gojo huffs out in a heady bout of laughter. “Can practically feel yer omega ngh- calling out to me, is this what you want?”

You claw ferally at the milky display of his back, branding him in your own way. “Yes- please-” 

A sudden rip! makes you realize you still had your panties on - up until a few seconds ago, at least. Jostling him ever-so-slightly closer, you mewl when the rounded tip of his angry cock nudges against your pussy lips. Melding into a slight kiss that already makes him stream steaming hot ropes of precum.

And if you were in any better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed the way the light above flicker, fizzing with electricity just as much as you were right now. 

“Heheh- oh y-you made me like this, ya realize?” he chuckles out - but his voice didn’t show even a hint of humor. It’s like he was out of control, out of rationality with each languid drag in-between your folds. Babbling, “You threw me into- fuck fuck fuck this is all- your-”

Honestly, Gojo’s so utterly shocked he managed to grit even half that sentence out. 

Because every sloppy second has him grinding upwards in the tiniest of ruts into your sung cunt, tiny, mindless grinds that make a low ah! ah! ah! rip from his throat. 

“Open that mouth f’me, sweetness-”

As soon as you do, you’re feeling a thick, glossy stream of saliva slosh onto your lolling tongue. Mouth wrenched shut until you swallow - and you do. Happily. Filthily. 

That’s enough to make Gojo lose it. 

And he’s plunging headfirst into your toasty insides, shoving back that tiny bit of resistance before your elastic walls are milking him so well. Greedily swallowing up every one of his generous inches, and it only seemed like more was to come.

“Oh shit- ohhh sh-shit-” His eyes are rolling to the very back of his head, mouth hanging open, that tiny trickle of drool splatters onto your skin. 

“T-Toruu—” your cunt was addictive, and so were those moans of yours. Craning your neck upwards, “Kiss me, please.”

For a second, he’s leaning in - making it seem like he was about to smear that firmly placed gloss all over his lips onto yours. But Gojo only sneaks a peck at the corner of your mouth, then the other - and then one on the tip of your nose. 

“I will I will-” he’s musing, giggles bursting from his lips. “Once we’ve mated, can’t get too greedy at once now? Can I?”

But oh how his actions spoke otherwise, because Gojo’s powerful hips absolutely refused to stop until he was well and fully buried into the hot depths of your cunt. Sheathing himself in all your soppingly wet walls, the sheer tightness was enough for him to throw his head back, heavy balls squeezing. In and out in and out. 

“Ohhh fuck-” Two hands of his roughly attach themselves to your hips, pitching up your needy whines when he drools down your pussy even more thoroughly. “You sure do make it f-fuckin’ hard though-”

You whine when your ass hits against something bulging and hot, whirling those dazed eyes of yours down at the intrusion. 

“Shit-” you’re gasping, eyes widening. And the sheer awe in your eyes is enough to make him grow, blood pumping to every thick inch of his cock until he was expanding even girthier, molding your pliant walls to his size. “That’s your knot- I-I-”

“I-I-I-” Gojo mocks, in a voice octaves higher than usual. Fucking the rest of that sentence with a harsh roll of his hips, knocking bruisingly at your cervix. “C’mon now ah- tell me- you can t-tell me anything.” Kissing softly at your ear lobe, zaps of jujutsu making you jump. “M’your best friend, right?”

How ironic.

All you can gift him in response is a few soft whimpers that only make him wilder.

“Fuck!” you’re keening when another one of his slams leave you gasping for air, feeling like he was clashing into your very womb. Glissading a deep, wet glide of his fat, curved tip across your spongy cervix, his breath hitches at the slight recoil. “I want it-” 

Your words make him almost falter with his ruthless pace, and you take it upon yourself to just drag him down by his muscled shoulders. Until he was hunching over you, abs flexing against your front, “I want your hah- knot in m-”

And you can’t even finish the sentence - you don’t know if you want to.

Because just that syrupy jumble of words is enough to make Gojo Satoru snap. 

To cut you off with a rough growl, teeth bared at you, in a split-second he has you limp legs thrown over his shoulder. Biceps flexing in such a mouth-watering way when he makes them lock at the ankle, bending down, down, down into the meanest little mating press your joints would allow. 

The change in angle has you scrambling - has him scrambling to crash his leaky head into your swollen g-spot. Hitting that bulging bullseye with no regrets - over. And over. And over and over and-

“Oh, marry me sweetheart.” he’s panting into your mouth. His pulsing girth rummaging your insides so good, dragging every ridge and thumping vein on his shaft against your sweet spots. He was so big that you felt like your syrupy cunt had already forgotten what it felt like without him pounding into you. Suckling wetly at the corner of your lips, “Marry me marry me- oh, fuck- gonna give you m-my knot. Don’ think I could go on hah- l-living without ya, pretty.”

He was feral - eyes glowing a blazing blue, sparks of lightning bolting down his milky skin. And you swear with each speeding cadence of his, the lights flickered on and off. 

Every slippery smack of his tight, cum-filled balls has you seeing stars, yearning for the additional burning stretch of being plugged by his knot. 

You’re throwing your arms over his neck, reeling him in like he was your prey, though his hips were devouring you. “W-we’re not even dating and you want me t-to be your hngh-”

“-wife!” He kisses every inch of your face, down your neck, over that soft scent gland of yours - now so overstimulating his senses with your sweet scent that he’s almost forgotten what his own smelled like. Buzzes of electricity skimming down your skin with each touch. He’s groaning, “Be my wife- please- fuck, I need you to be my wife.” Planting an almost-french kiss on that one sweet spot. Once. twice. “M-my mate- sh-shit-”

And you already knew Gojo was close with the way his pretty eyes are almost fluttering shut, the way his hefty balls clamp. Twitching in desperation, his thickened base pumps in even deeper - harder. As if he was trying to rut every single inch into your clingy depths. 

Every single inch.

“Mhm–” you moan, feeling the staggering stretch of his even hotter cock shape your walls. “I wanna- wanna be your-”

You don’t even bother finishing your sentence - and neither does Gojo let you.

Because it only takes a few more sloppy jackhammers before he’s finally sinking his taut knot into you. The stretch is so insane you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, being plugged so suddenly full. 

And then you’re hurtling headfirst into your high - toes curling, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, your spine bowing so sluttily into his. And Gojo-

Oh, Gojo had his mouth sagging open the moment he felt his massive knot intrude against your silken sweet walls, stretching that snug channel around all of him. And he wishes he had the willpower to look down at the heavenly sight, he wishes he could do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your precious scent gland as he cums and cums and cums. 

The lights burst, shards deflecting off the limitless he’d coated over the both of you. 

Teeth breaking skin, metal tasting on his tongue, scents tangling together into one now.

You do your best to bite him back on his heady neck, breaking through Gojo’s milky skin to reveal a set of pretty pink indents.

Finally yours. Finally his. 

“O-oh, pretty girl–” he hiccups, voice cracking. Hips not moving even the tiniest second of momentum while he stuffs your tight pussy full of his potent seed. “My wife- my mate.”

And Gojo almost bawls when the tight lock of his knot prevents him from plunging into you as deeply and thoroughly as he wanted to right now. Sobbing down big fat tears that splatter! against your lips while he kisses your mind dizzy.

You could feel the syrupy slosh of his cum inside you with each one of his dragged-out grinds, milking your orgasm for as long as possible. Unmoving. Unapologetic in how he was spitting out such voluminous loads of milky white seed that overfilled you. 

“Shit- so much-” you’re whining, still clinging to him. And you don’t think he even hears you right now, mind blanking. “I feel so full, Toru-”

But you didn’t have to babble out those words for him to know, somehow, he just knew. Knew every single thing about you, but couldn’t dredge up the words to respond.

Too pussydrunken to do anything but bite you on your scent gland all over, he kisses a wet trail up to your lips, “Now you- really hafta m-marry me heh.”

Bang! 

Gojo’s fist comes crashing down on the rickety table - it’s too much for him.

Those ringing squelches and the way you were sucking out every single drop of his cum makes his sensitive shaft twitch. Tears blimping up into his eyes again, more and more velvety ribbons ooze out. “My wife- my wife my wife my wife- my mate-”

It’s just about all he can say - like a mantra. Over and over against your lips, until the peaks of your pleasure turn into mere tingles, until Gojo’s own knot is softening down. Slightly.

Just enough that he can pull out-

“Toru, what-”

“Shhh, pretty girl-” He’s kissing your puffed-up clit with another spank from his trembly fingers, and then an actual kiss. Mouth slotting over the mess he’s made below. Grazing all over like a creamy gloss. Filthy. “Rut’s just started.”

His ravenous tongue drags out your overstimulated high, and you’re clinging onto a lock of his snowy hair for dear life. 

“Please-” you beg, voice shot. You don’t even know what you were begging for, but god was Gojo Satoru happy to let himself be used. “Please please please, Toru-”

Oh, his fingers tighten on your thighs - imprinting neat patterns of crescents. Animalistic, in how Gojo just drags your twitchy body forwards.

His eyes were drooping shut, gaze crazed - frantic where he looked you right in the eyes from down below. Head craning to ram his stretchy tongue even deeper, quirking up deftly like he’s wanting to bruise his taste buds along your walls. 

Slurping at and collecting the creamy mess on his tongue - only to spit it back into your sloppy hole. Messy. 

Even with the dark, lightless room - with only those stray sparks of power to accompany you two - such loud squelches echo across his own ears. And just by the noise Gojo could tell how wet you were - as if you weren’t drooling over the lower half of his face, up to his cheekbones, already. 

Sticking to your inner thighs in an obscene drip! drip! drip!

It’s so shameful and you love it. 

And you love that you’re so cockdrunken that you aren’t even sure when you’re cumming - if you’re cumming. Whether those sudden crashes of pleasure were because of your nth orgasm tonight, or because of the way Gojo kisses you with another thwack!

Adrenaline and electricity coursing through your veins, ears thundering with your rapid pulse. Oh god, you never knew a heat could feel this good - this maddening. 

You moan, and he’s eagerly lapping up every sweet bead of slick you have to offer, like a man that hasn’t had an ounce of water in weeks. Brows furrowed, jaw sagging open-

“Shit shit shit-” he’s rasping out, and the very slide of his fingers across your skin sends waves of powerful jujutsu - somehow bunching at your clit just right. “M’cumming- m- m’still cumming fuck- won’t- stop-”

Just as soon as your orgasm is ending, Gojo’s is just starting. Like he’d been holding back on this from the moment he’d started eating out your overspilling pussy - happily. 

And exactly on time, too, because you barely even have the time to catch your breath before Gojo’s standing on his two unsteady feet. Just splitting you open on all of his red, raw inches - uncaring for your little mewls and those tears. 

Because you were sucking him up madly. 

Spearheading his swollen cock into you like he was trying to fuck another orgasm out of you. His strokes are long, harsh, showing off all the years of strength he built up boasting the title of the strongest. 

And this hastily put-together mating press has his cum just overspilling out of you by now, dribbling down in wet globs that made you wonder how much more he could fill you up. It seeps in a white circle underneath your ass, slicking you back and forth along the wood at each harsh ram. 

Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Made me this- hngh- this way, y’know?” he spits into your mouth - followed by a slurred string of swears. Every time his heftily smacking balls clench, you could feel the table creak under pressure. “Sat next to me with that fucking skirt- smelling so fucking- ngh- good- do you even know how delicious ya are?”

You can’t answer - because he’s back to squeezing in his staggering knot into you. Sparks exploding out from the corner of his scrunched-up eyes, forehead knocking into yours.

Gojo kisses you like he couldn’t get enough, letting you taste all the sin from just before. 

“Three weeks away, huh?” That accusatory little inflection in his words isn’t lost on you, only growing stronger and stronger as his staccato grows sloppier. “Have your- hah- heat in three weeks and fuck- I could just- smell it on you-”

It’s incredible. Sliding your frenzied bodies across on another, stinging with skin-on-skin and how your gooey walls constricted around him.

“Showing off in that scent and that skirt-” His eyes are almost bulging out of his head now, hips stuttering like just the very thought of that pile of fabric at the corner of the room drove him mad. “-fuck that skirt- always fuckin’ hated it. Hated how Nanami loves hngh- it. Made me lose fucking control a-and you know what?”

One of his hands curls around your throat now, the other taking hold of your left - kissing your ring finger pointedly. “I’ll do it all over again if it means I’d get to have ya like this, my mate.”

And just then he’s coating your melty insides in a creamy sheen, that overworked divot right at the end of his dick was firmly pressed up against your g-spot. Plugging you with his knot, and you swear you could see a little inflation forming where he was filling you to your limits. 

Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop until his body practically forced him.

Gojo’s biting down hard exactly over those deep indents on your scent glands when his gushing spurts of seed turn into almost-painful blanks. 

Over and over, he’s cumming nothing. 

“L-love you, Toru-” you’re babbling out, reeling him in to peck the corners of his smirking mouth. 

Utterly fucked out of your mind enough that you don’t even register the loud boom! from somewhere in the distant grounds of Jujutsu Tech. Barely even care that the overpriced meeting table is now sagging on one side, just about in splinters. 

“Aww, m-my c-cockdrunk baby–” he titters shakily into your glossed-pout. “Love you, too, always have always- will-”  Patting the bulge on your stomach, before kissing you gently, “Ever since I th-threw ya into heat the ngh- first time ya met me.”

Oh. 

And later, you’ll learn that that almost-deafening boom was the generator for Jujutsu Tech, mysteriously bursting after a sudden spike in atomic pressure in the surrounding area. You’ll find out that every piece of furniture in the surrounding buildings had moved about six inches in your direction, and that the now-ruined table was an irreplaceable heirloom.

But for now, all you register is soft. 

Warm. 

With a gasp you realize you’re in a bedroom - Gojo’s bedroom.

“Did- did you teleport-”

“Mhm-” he pants, and in the dim lighting you could spot his leering grin. Satisfied. Pussydrunken. And you could feel his knot swell up hotly, halfway through to its previous size. 

You sputter, trying so desperately to find the words. Difficult, when Gojo still had you wrapped around his thick cock, all the way up to his fat, drenched base. Swiveling his cock in slow, sultry grinds for how much he couldn’t ram exactly how he wanted to right now. “Wh-why didn’t you do this before–?”

“Because-” he licks over his mating mark on you. “-wanted to show off what animals we were.” His grin grows wider, as does his tired cock. And that dangling blindfold around his neck ends up around your wrists, tying you up pliantly for him. “What animals we will be.”

---

Right now, all Nanami can think about is you you you- Yet,he doesn’t expect to see you for about the next week. Or, at least, that’s the hopeful side of him - knowing Gojo, and the state he’d left the meeting room in, he won’t see you again for a month. 

Possibly not walking.

Perhaps, that’s for the best. Looking down at his swollen, throbbing cock - one fist wrapped around its thick base, the other around his shaky phone, he clicks on that familiar app. 

Shit, his rut is near. Now, actually. 

Nanami sighs, it’s hard pretending not to be animals.

A/N. Was soooo giggling writing about how the table was some heirloom.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[whateveriwant]

I know I’ve already gone on and on about what it’s like to have a size difference with Simon Riley, but I’m sorry, I just will never get over how big and strong this man is.

Like I feel like sometimes his size gets lost on us since he’s surrounded by other tall, buff military guys all the time. But y’all, I’m telling you, this man is big. Like 6’4, 250+ pounds, big enough to eclipse the sun big.

With a man that big, it honestly doesn’t even matter what size you are because he’s always going to be bigger and stronger than you anyway. You can be tall, short, stocky, thin, whatever, and this man is still fully capable (and willing? 👀) of snapping you in half like a twig.

Are you worried about potential home invaders? Well, you shouldn’t be. One quick flick of his wrist and he’s breaking the neck of anyone who tries to threaten you. Did you accidentally lock yourself out of the house? Well, don’t bother calling a locksmith. There’s no lock left to pick after he’s just caved the door in with his foot. Do you have a really stubborn jar you’re struggling to open? Well, hand it over, love. He can crack that sucker open in half a second flat.

But Lord, don’t even get me started when it comes to all the ways Simon uses that strength of his in the bedroom.

Like when he tells you to sit on his face so he can eat you out. Don’t even try it with that nervous, hovering, “I’m too heavy, Si,” bullshit. You better sit your ass down right when and where he tells you to or he’ll hold you down by the hips until he’s had his fill.

Or when, after a night of heavy flirting and teasing, he’s got that look in his eye as he corners you against your entryway wall. Don’t be surprised when one moment your feet are firmly planted on the ground, and the next you’re lifted into the air, your legs slung over his arms as he drills into you like you’re his own little fuck puppet.

Or when he’s got you spread out on his bed, got your knees up by your ears, got the backs of your thighs burning in a way that’s matched only by how your walls have to stretch to take his thick cock. Don’t think he’s being mean or malicious when he sees your eyes well with tears but does nothing to change the way he’s fucking down into you. It’s not that Simon doesn’t care whenever you cry and quiver and plead with him to go easier on you, it’s that he knows the truth. He knows that, deep down, you love when he handles you like he isn’t afraid to break you.

[mybiasisexo]

.

[lokissweater]

“i would never lie to you.”

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: inumaki’s always coming home to you from missions coughing up mass amounts of blood and completely overdoing it while fighting curses with his cursed speech technique. and no matter how many times you tell him to be careful, he just doesn’t, arguing with him, giving him the cold shoulder, and completely unaware of the reason behind why he fights so hard when he’s out there— that reason being of course… because of you.

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, toge and reader have a lil argument but it’s more the aftermath, slight sexual mention but it’s literally once and nothing LOL, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not doing enough SNIFFF, angst with comfort, toge is DEVOTED to you, aged up characters, pet names, afab!reader.

word count: 2.3k

authors note: short n sweet one!! wanted to give you guys a break from my MLA format essays i always make y’all read LMFAOOO!! this one is SHO SOFT AHHHH :] i hope this keeps you guys fed in the meantime while i write the next one! i love you and i love you all ALWAYS MWAAHH <33

————————————————————————

toge inumaki hates it when you don’t talk to him.

as if he doesn’t do that enough already, toge absolutely despises when you both get into arguments or heated discussions and you turn a cold shoulder to him— needing space to unwind and prevent yourself from lashing out even more, to let the situation simmer down.

he understands it. believe him he does— you’re upset and angry and you need time to cool off… but toge is stubborn and needy and just doesn’t care, needing you and only you, him going absolutely crazy at the silence in your shared apartment that he was starting to hear random ringing in his ear drums.

so as he sat on the couch, eyes unblinking as they stared off into the darkness of the living room as the sun had already began to set, you upstairs locked away— he wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and let his cursed speech force you to come downstairs and talk to him.

but he didn’t, though the thought was definitely tempting, as toge vowed the day that he laid eyes on you to never ever use his cursed technique on you, even if it was harmless, an oath he wanted to carry with him until his very death bed and until he was six feet under.

his ears perked up then at the quiet sounds of the upstairs room door knob twisting and clicking open, soft padded footsteps making their way down the hall and closer to where he was, feet sticking against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

at the sight of you with your hair a little disheveled, your eyes so red and puffy, and an arm wrapped around yourself as you rummaged through the fridge looking for fuck knows what and not sparing a single glance at him— toge felt like a fifty pound gutting weight was resting on his chest and crushing his heart.

you had both argued about something you always seemed to circle back to almost every week. but this time, you were sick and tired and fed up, seeing as toge was never going to try and understand the situation at hand through your worried eyes.

every time toge was out for a mission, you would spend your days anxiously throwing yourself over the couch or trying to keep yourself busy with random activities like baking or scrapbooking (which you deemed later meaningless), all within the sole purpose of trying to get your mind off of your boyfriend and the recklessness he always seemed to pull while on missions, regardless of how much you begged and pleaded with him to be more careful and aware of his health.

toge inumaki had such a powerful and lethal cursed technique that frightened and astonished you all at the same time, a conflicting feeling to have when he had to leave you in the middle of the night or during the early hours of the morning to run around and fight curses… but always coming home to you warm and loving and safe.

but not right now.

not when toge had literally come home this morning with not even two steps in the door and he was already on his knees, coughing up strings and loads of crimson blood, it pooling on the floor as he had used his cursed speech to the highest degree today and had you a crying mess thinking he was dying.

and he always did that. always. today was just the worst of them all, him without a fault coming home with excruciating pain in his bruised and clawed up throat, the cough syrup medicine he usually downed like water having absolutely no effect anymore as you scrambled around every time trying to find a solution, toge brushing off your distressed and frightened rambling as if his health wasn’t a big deal, and as if how much it affected you wasn’t a big deal either.

upon you closing the fridge, toge slowly stood from the couch and carefully walked over to you, his throat still in pieces but his mind lurching and guilty over how upset you were at him.

he slowly raised a gentle hand and placed it on your shoulder, you shaking your head somberly in response— your back to him.

“i don’t wanna talk right now toge i’m sorry…” you mumbled, rubbing over your tired sore eyes.

he squeezed your shoulder, insisting.

but you only shook your head again.

toge huffed and placed both hands on your shoulders this time, physically turning you around to face him— his eyes soft and his eyebrows pinched together in pure concern for you.

you peeked up reluctantly, but the sight of his face and the events from earlier flashing through your mind only made your bottom lip wobble and the bottom of your palms shoot up to dig into your eyes, more stinging tears flooding in and slipping through the corners of your closed lids.

his heart fucking broke.

“why don’t you care toge?” you hiccuped. “i worry myself sick every time you leave for a mission and— and that’s fine because it’s what you do but you never take care of yourself!”

he gently pried your shaking hands away from your eyes and wiped your tears softly with his thumbs, caressing your cheeks after— wishing so badly, more than anything in this fucking world, to just be able to speak to you like a normal human being instead of resorting to words scrambled on a piece of paper or text messages on a screen.

he gently placed a little timid peck to your nose before releasing your face and fumbling around in his pockets for his phone, tapping it awake once he retrieved it and opening his notes app to write out a sentence.

he flipped and faced the screen towards you, the brightness making you squint a bit.

“i do care i swear. i just always forget when i’m in the middle of it and i’m sorry baby.”

“so you keep forgetting after what feels like the fifteenth time i’ve told you?” you wiped more tears from your cheeks. “how— how do you think it makes me feel when you come home and you’re coughing up blood all over your clothes and the furniture huh? all over me?”

he sighed softly through his nose and went to type again, but you continued.

“i get scared toge that one day you’ll push yourself way too far and then you just won’t come home. you scare me when you cough up so much blood like that!—”

toge tugged you in then with his unoccupied hand and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head in and stuffing your face against his chest— the scent of his freshly washed t-shirt filling your nose as you cried softly.

fuck he felt like such a douche.

he typed for a moment behind your head, a pit in his stomach that only grew in size the longer he heard your little sniffles.

toge pulled back a bit, his arms still keeping you in place but just enough so that he could lower his phone and show you his message.

“please please don’t cry. i’m really sorry okay i really am and honest to god this won’t happen again.”

you nodded meekly and he flipped his phone back, quickly typing again and showing you once he finished.

“i feel like you think i don’t care but that’s not true at all. part of the reason why i try so hard when i work is because the more curses i fuck up the safer you’ll be when you’re out there without me.”

you laughed a bit at his wording, and he beamed at that, typing.

“i love you pretty girl. and im sorry i always get blood everywhere.”

“oh i don’t care about the mess baby, i care about youu,” you whined lightly and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in tight.

“and i love you too, a lot… like an embarrassing amount that strips away my dignity.”

he chuckled boyishly and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his body stuttering slightly as a single thought grazed his mind— the same thought that’s been in the crevices of his brain since he asked you to be his.

you felt his tension and pulled back.

“what?”

toge bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, his weight shifting as he contemplated telling you something he didn’t want to burden or upset you with, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing over your chubby cheek.

you quirked an eyebrow. “what? are you cheating on me?”

he burst out laughing and shook his head, kissing your forehead before dropping his hand from your cheek and pulling out his phone again.

he typed for a minute then showed you.

“me not being able to speak to you like a normal boyfriend should or respond to you whenever makes me freaking useless. so i push myself out there to keep you safe because that’s literally the least i can do for you, since i can’t even do the bare minimum.”

you gasped softly. “toge huh? this is—”

he shook his head once more and you stopped as he typed again.

“i always try to make you laugh with the things that i do or whenever i text you because i’m afraid that one day you’ll get tired of me not being able to talk to you and you’ll leave. which is also something i would never blame you for and understand.”

your heart squeezed in the worst excruciatingly way possible, completely baffled and mortified to the fact that toge was thinking about things like this and wholeheartedly believing it without you noticing or him saying anything to you about it.

he typed again.

“that’s why i cosplay as gojo when i leave for missions and come back a dumbass with blood in my mouth. that’s why i forget when you tell me to be careful because the need to be something for you is way fucking greater.”

“togeee!” you sobbed, bursting out crying like a little baby as you were moved and haunted by his words simultaneously, your arms engulfing him as he desperately shot his hands out and quickly wiped your tears again, shaking his head frantically as if pleading with you not to cry.

“how could you ever believe that?” you nudged him away and hiccuped, your eyes serious. “why haven’t you told me about this? everything you just said is literally propaganda.”

he chuckled, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“toge, why do you think i’ve been with you for so long? do you think i’m just dicking around?”

“dicking around on my dick?”

you swatted his phone away. “no! not right now.”

you both shared a small giggle, twinkling eyes looking at each other.

“if i felt like you weren’t doing even the bare minimum, i would’ve been gone before you had the chance to put this ring on—”

his gaze drifted down to the black shiny heart promise ring on your ring finger that you held up for him, and he smiled softly.

“baby what you do for me everyday is above and beyond the bare minimum. i’m happy. i’m so happy to be with you that you not doing enough has never crossed my mind and it never will.”

you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him down a little, gently. “i’ve never cared about your ability to speak. i fell in love with you, who you are, and the fact that i did without you having to iterate words to me? olympic sport.”

toge rolled his eyes playfully at your comment, and you stood on your tippy toes and kissed the tip of his pretty nose then. “all men do when they talk is lie anyways…” you tilted your head. “but i know you’ll never lie to me.”

“never.” he mouthed silently.

he bundled you up in his arms and lifted you like you were nothing, him carefully leaning in and pressing his lips to yours as if you were a fragile little thing— kissing you so devotedly, warmly, his forehead resting against yours once he pulled apart after greedily getting his daily fix of you.

“i know your job as a jujutsu sorcerer pays the bills and comes with you putting yourself in difficult situations… and my job doesn’t even compare, but please don’t overdo it for my sake. i want you to come home, okay?”

you know it’s selfish… he should be saving lives no matter the cost.

but he was your man. was it so bad to just want to keep him for the rest of your days? to get the chance to grow old with him, and buy a little quiet house on the country side like you always joked about in the late hours of the night with him? drinking cool glasses of lemonade on the porch?

“please don’t always be the hero.” you whispered guiltily. “but if you must… just keep me in mind while you do it.”

you’re always on his mind. he hopes you know that.

toge breathed softly through his nose and smoothly set you back down, the pads of your feet making contact with the icy tile flooring as his hands dragged up from around your waist to the sides of your head, him pushing a hard kiss to your cheek as if to seal your request.

“do you promise?” you mumbled.

he pulled back and held his little pinky out for you, and you giggled, linking yours with his firmly.

“you can’t go back on it okay? you used your pinky it’s legally binding!” you warned, a silly smile on your face. “don’t lie to me and break it.”

toge grinned and leaned towards you as he bent down a bit— your gaze locking with his as he looked at you at eye level with his hands on his knees, him mouthing his next words, slowly.

words that made your cheeks buzz a cutesy pink, words that he took seriously, and words that tied you to him and the little house by the countryside he wanted so badly with you, as those words solidified how much he truly truly loved you— him hoping you always knew.

“i would never lie to you.” he mouthed.

taglist!! <33: @saebaey

[darnell-la]

perchance..dry humping with logan….pretty please with all the cherries on top

𝗦����𝗔𝗜𝗡 '𝗘𝗠 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬

summary: Logan had just became apart of the x men. he’s always been known to flirt with whoever he could, but when y/n came around, he realized she was the only one he wanted to smell like.

warnings: up late, public humping, embarrassed, kissing, submission, dominance, dry orgasm, love confession, etc.

note: we kind of want to write a submissive!logan… tell us what y’all think.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Whatcha doin’ down here, bub? It’s like three in the mornin,” Logan made his way into the kitchen. Y/n had jumped from the man’s voice. She wasn’t expecting anyone down here. She wasn’t expecting him down here.

“God — I-I’m just listening to music,” y/n placed her phone down and took her headphones out. She was lying and somehow, Logan knew that. The way she slammed her phone — He couldn’t hold back his smirk.

“Are you sure that’s what you’re up to?” Logan asked as he sat next to y/n with his eyes on her phone. “Yes, I was-“ she tried to lie but she was cut off when Logan snatched her phone.

“Hey!” She yelled and whispered at the man, praying her phone was locked, but it wasn’t. Shit. “Let’s see what we have here,” Logan leaned back in his chair as he clicked the video he assumed she was just watching.

“Why are you watching us train?” Logan asked, already finding whatever she was doing boring. “You’re not even in the video,” he laughed, trying to figure out what it was that she was looking at until he noticed the video was cropped.

It was cropped to show him closer. The man skipped the video and noticed it was almost an hour long of him fighting.

The smirk that grew on his face, raised y/n’s heart rate. She was caught and she had nothing to back her up.

“Now, what made you do this, bub?” Logan slid her phone across the table for her to look at. “If I’m not mistaken, that looks like me — for an hour,” he pointed at himself fight training.

“I-I can't explain,” she said low, so embarrassed that she got caught. How could she get caught? She knew she should’ve stayed in her room.

“I don’t think there’s much to explain, princess. Seems you get off by watching me fight,” Logan was now hunching over, looking at her with his sweet and soft eyes.

She couldn’t look at him. She swore she would pass out if she did.

“You like watching me fight?” Logan asked y/n, a right hand softly touching her thigh. He’s been teasing her ever since he got here. Tonight was the first time he touched her. She was going inside on the inside.

“I know you do, you wanna know why?” He asked, hands getting higher until he stopped under her nightgown. His fingers were grazing her panties. Y/n looked up at the older boy, eyes shy.

“Because I can smell that pretty cunt leak,” his voice was sweet, yet dark. “And you’re always like that. It’s hard walking past you because you’re always so damn wet,” he tease as he rubbed on her clothes heat.

“Logan,” she whispered, not knowing if she wanted him to do this. They’re in the kitchen, so anyone could come down here and see how flustered she is from the way he’s talking and touching her.

“C’mere, bub,” Logan pulled away before patting his lap. Y/n was confused at first, but got the idea and did was she was told. She got up and went to sit, back facing him until he turned her around to sit, facing him.

As soon as she sat down, she felt how hard he was. It felt like actual metal, but she knew a human cock had no bone — So why is he this hard?

“You feel that, princess? Got me like this as soon as I walked in,” he said, making his cock throb through his pajamas. “I-I don’t know if we can do this,” y/n spoke. She’s never been a submissive kind, but he brought it out of her.

“Why not? I’ve liked you ever since I got here. Had to work weeks to make you nervous,” Logan’s hands traveled from her back, down to her ass to grip and pull at.

“We’re in the kitchen, Logan. A-And I don’t think the girls that you talk to will-“ she went to say but he cut her off quickly. “Ah uh — I don’t talk to anyone, bub. They talk to me,” he corrected her.

“I’ve been workin’ hard to impress you. No one else. Who gives a shit if they want me. I don’t want them,” Logan lifted his hand to cup her chin.

“Are you okay with that?” He asked, now using his hand that was on her ass to move her, making her grind on his clothes cock.

The whine that left her mouth, made Logan’s heart skip a beat. She sounds so beautiful.

“C’mon, baby, tell me — Tell me you’re okay with being my pretty girl,” he said, slowly moving his own hips. He kept asking her, wanting her to reply as her mind fogged up.

“O-Okay,” her head fell onto his shoulder. Logan lifted the girl's head back up only to lean in and suck on her neck. He wanted to make sure she knew he was going to claim her.

“Lo,” y/n moaned, now moving her own hips, feeling her cunt throb on him. She was getting hot and her stomach felt funny. Kind of when she masturbated but better.

She’s never grinned at someone, but this felt so good. This felt amazing.

“Always lookin’ so pretty, baby,” Logan said as his hands lifted her nightgown up so he could touch and feel her skin. “T-Thank you,” she stuttered as she looked into the man’s eyes.

Y/n was the first to lean in and taste Logan. He was sweet. He already knew she was sweet, but finding it out for himself was the best feeling.

Y/n’s hips began to speed up as her moans got a bit louder. Logan knew she was near. He couldn’t help but smirk on her lips. She was falling apart right on top of him.

“C-Cumming,” the word was barely heard from the low she was. Her moan was broken as she shook. She’s never had her cunt throb this hard before. She couldn’t stop it.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned under his breath as his hips bucked. He swear he wouldn’t cum in his pants. He’s not one of those, but tonight — he was different. Y/n felt wetness grow under him, and she knew it wasn’t her.

She was confused until she looked at the man in front of her. His breathing stuttered, his body twitched and his shaky arm was holding her back into him so she’d be closer to him.

“O-Oh my god, baby — Fuck,” the man caught his breath and calmed down from his high. In his mind, he thought she was emasculated, but when he looked at her needy eyes, he knew she still felt submissive.

“You’re so good, baby,” Logan gave her a peck. “I think I’m in love,” he joked, but they could both tell he wasn’t joking. “I know I am,” y/n said as her hands rested on his shoulders.

Logan felt relief before he smashed his lips on hers, making out with her roughly but softly at the same time. He eventually took her up to his room, not being able to hold back and tell her how he was going to move everything from her room into his.

He didn’t think he wanted her this bad, but after tonight — After she showed how much she liked him back, he needed to keep her around him at all costs. He was in love and she was too.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 12: Fire In My Veins

Summary: Your heat begins. Luckily you have a good alpha to take care of you during your most vulnerable time. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, knotting, spanking (it’s like once), fluids so many fluids, heat cycles, mating cycles, lots of talk of breeding and mating, biting, brief mention of blood, this is gross y’all, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: It was quite the ordeal, this chapter, and it's come a long way from when I first wrote it between Sunday and Monday this week. It's pretty much just smut so enjoy!!

The smut starts after the first scene and goes to the end, so only read up to the first green line if you don’t want the smut. You’re not missing much, just Price biting the reader to claim her, but I’ll talk more about that in the next chapter.

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“You alright, love?” 

You look up from where you had been staring at the floor, suddenly pulled back into the real world by Gaz’s voice. He had been organizing the nutrient bars and electrolyte bottles in your room while you sat and dissociated to the sound of rustling paper bags. 

You stare at his furrowed brows and worried eyes for a moment before averting your gaze with a nod. “Yeah.” 

The carpet under your feet has never looked quite so interesting before.

Gaz moves to sit next to you on the bed, sinking down onto the mattress with a sigh. “Nervous?” 

You nod in response, clutching the strawberry pillow in your arms tighter against your chest. 

“You’ll be alright.” Gaz says, his hand warm as it presses against your back. “I’m gonna take good care of you, yeah? Both you and Price. I’ll be right outside that door, and I’ll be in and out too. Dr. Keller’s ready in case something happens, but I don’t think anything will.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close against him. “You’re in good hands.” 

“There’s no going back after this.” You say, leaning into his side. 

“No, I don’t think any of us would want to anyway.” He smiles down at your surprised face. “What? I thought that was obvious. We all want you as part of our pack. You are part of the pack already, at least in every way but officially. None of us would trade you for anything.”

Your eyes fill with tears at his words. You know it’s just the stress and the hormones and the impending heat that could start at any time, but his words reach some deep part of you that was worried that they were all faking, that they all actually hated you. His words calm you a bit, easing away that stress and fear that you’ve been carrying for the last almost six weeks. 

“Come now, none of that.” Gaz says, wiping the tear that trails down your cheek. “Can’t afford getting dehydrated now.” 

You can’t help but laugh, even though you know he’s right. You’ve had so much liquid over the last couple days you feel as though you might burst at any second. It was necessary, considering the amount of fluid you were about to lose. 

Gaz leans down, kissing all over your face. You giggle, falling back on your bed to try and escape, but he follows you, continuing to plant little kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Kyle!” You shriek, giggling as his kisses tickle your skin. 

He pauses, leaning up so you’re eye to eye, a grin on his face. “You called me Kyle.” 

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You say, blinking up at him. 

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You can call me Kyle as much as you’d like, love.” He says as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in place as you kiss him back. His arm snakes beneath you, pressing you tightly against his chest. He groans quietly into your lips, body taught against yours. You can feel every part of him, the muscles under his shirt, the strength of his thighs. Your head is spinning, and you know it’s mostly due to your impending heat. 

You let out a quiet whine as his lips leave yours, trailing down your neck to your shoulder. He leaves a scalding kiss over your scent gland, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin. 

“Can’t wait to see the mark,” He murmurs against your skin, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as your body begins to warm a little. “When Price claims you, makes you his.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, a shudder running through your whole body. 

Kyle chuckles, sucking a mark on your collarbone. “You won’t be just his, though, huh? Gonna be ours.” 

You let out a whine at his words, your fingers trailing up the back of his neck. He lets out a quiet groan, his body shuddering as you tease the sensitive skin. You feel lightheaded and dizzy from the rapidly shifting hormones of your pre-heat. You’re very close to the start. Any day now you could wake in a sweat with an insatiable ache between your thighs. You're like a ticking time bomb, but neither of the demolition experts you now live with can disarm you. 

If only it could be so easy. 

Kyle presses one last kiss to your lips before he pulls back, smiling down at you. “You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.” 

You can’t help but believe him, especially with those big brown eyes staring down at you. 

It’s sweltering. A fire has started beneath your skin, flames licking your veins, your very cells scorching in the fiery inferno that has overtaken you. An arid desert has bloomed in your mouth, your tongue heavy and sticky. Sweat has slicked your skin, consciousness only bringing awareness to the dampness of your sheets and pajamas. 

It also brings awareness to the pain. 

There’s an intense ache between your legs, your pelvis cramping. Slick has coated your thighs, soaking through your pajama pants, the fabric clinging to your skin. It’s too much, the sensations of your pajamas and the weight of the blankets nearly driving you to insanity. You need to be bare. It’s too hot and the drag of the fabric across your skin makes you want to cry. 

Not to mention the intense need burning through you. 

The mattress protector crinkles as you shift on the bed, every movement taking an excess amount of energy as you attempt to tug your shirt off with fumbling fingers. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, your arms heavy and sluggish as you peel the fabric from your sticky skin, letting it fall to the floor. You lay there exhausted, body twitching as your temperature begins to spike. You blindly reach out, fingers trembling as they grasp at your phone. Your eyes are bleary as you blink rapidly at the too bright screen. You fumble with clumsy fingers on the screen, dialing the first number you see, not caring who it is.

“Hello?” 

You let out a quiet whine at the rough voice, thick with sleep. You can’t get your mouth to move, to form any words as you lay there pathetically, half undressed and soaked in sweat and slick. There’s an ache between your thighs, pulsing in time with your heart. Your free hand fumbles with your waistband, desperate to try and get your pants down, to remove the feeling of your underwear sticking to your slick folds. 

“Help.” You manage a single word, not even sure it was intelligible. You let out a frustrated whimper, your body not cooperating to lift your hips so you can pull down your pants. 

A moment of silence passes before you get a response. “Fuck, be right there, love.” 

The line clicks, and a moment later a door is opening down the hall. You’re silently grateful you hadn’t locked your door last night, as there was no way you would be able to get out of bed and make it across the floor. It opens just enough for the figure to slip in before he closes it, not wanting to let your scent freely flow down the hallway. 

The light of the lamp on your nightstand accosts your eyes as it’s turned on, making you squint. You don’t miss the way Kyle’s nose crinkles for a moment as he catches the sickly sweet, overwhelming aroma of your scent as it pours from your body. His hand is cool against your forehead as he brushes the stray strands of hair sticking to your skin back. Johnny had braided it last night at least to try and keep it out of the way. 

“Easy.” He says quietly, shushing you as you whimper in need. 

You let out a whine as Kyle pushes the blankets out of the way. You’re incapable of caring that you’re half naked in front of him for the first time, and he pays it no mind. You tug uselessly at your pajama pants again, letting out a frustrated whine as you fail to shimmy them down your legs again. Kyle bats your hands away, slipping his fingers under the waistband and tugging the pants down your legs. You sigh in relief as the fabric is pulled away from your skin, a shiver running through you as the cool air hits your slicked folds. 

Kyle gathers your clothes, adding them into the bag of things that would need to be washed as soon as your heat is over before he returns to your side. 

“I need you to drink something for me, then I’ll go get Price, alright?” He says, kneeling down next to the bed as he grabs the electrolyte drink from your nightstand. 

You flop against his chest as he slips an arm around you, helping prop you up. Your face presses into his neck, inhaling deeply. A whine of disappointment leaves your lips as you realize he’s not what you need, your omega dissatisfied with the scent of beta emanating from him. 

“I know.” He says, easing you away from his neck. “Just drink this first and then you can have your alpha.” 

“Alpha.” You whimper, leaning against Kyle’s chest. 

He helps you drink some of the sweet liquid, and you gulp it down, relieved as it eases some of the dryness in your mouth. He lets you drink half of the bottle before he pulls it away, setting it on the nightstand. 

“Good girl.” He praises you, helping you lay back down against your pillow. “I’ll go get Price. I’ll get your alpha.” 

You hum contently at the promise of what’s coming, your omega practically screaming for her alpha, for some relief. 

Kyle slips back out the door, your head buzzing as the intense arousal and need burning within you gets stronger. Your pussy is pulsing, slick dribbling out of you as the need to mate takes over. The primordial instinct to reproduce is strong, your omega clawing at your mind, screaming to be bred, screaming to be bred, to carry pups. You need your alpha. You need his knot. 

You roll onto your stomach, pressing your hips into the mattress. You need something, anything to ease the aching pulse in your body. You begin to rut against the sheets, dragging your clit against the rough fabric. You let out a quiet whine as the friction sends pleasure shooting through you, a slight relief from the pain of your intense arousal. 

The door opens, your head shooting up as the heavy scent of alpha washes over you. Your eyes dilate, a shudder traveling from your head to your toes as the familiar scent of damp earth laced with the musk of arousal invades your senses. You let out another whine as John approaches the bed, your hips still rutting desperately against the sheets. You look utterly ruined, wide eyed and sweat-slicked, panting like an animal in heat. 

You are an animal in heat. 

“Look at you.” John mumbles, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. He stands over you, watching the desperate movements of your hips for a moment. “Needy little thing.” He teases, setting his phone on your nightstand before tugging his shirt over his head. 

You watch as every inch of skin is revealed to you, lips parting as you take him in. The strength of his muscles, the softness of his stomach. You want to lick every inch of him. You want to roll around in his scent, cover yourself in his essence, mark every part of your body with him. 

You arch into his touch as he drags a hand down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You press your ass into his hand as he passes over it, fingers tugging your thighs apart. He groans again as a wave of your thick, sweet scent washes over him. 

“Let me see you.” He growls, sweatpants hitting the floor. 

You hear him, but you’re too busy staring at him in awe. More slick slips out of you at the sight of his cock, red and angry and painfully hard already. You can almost swear it’s pulsing in time with your pussy. A harsh gasp is pulled from your throat as he brings his hand down across your ass, the sound of skin striking skin loud enough to pull you back to reality. 

“I said, present for your alpha.” He says, the rough rumble of his inner alpha coating the edges of his voice. 

You whimper in response, scrambling up onto your hands and knees like a good omega for him as he kneels on the bed behind you.  

“Good girl.” He rumbles, a pleased whine leaving your lips at his praise. 

You push back into his hands as he cups your ass, his hand smoothing over the burning spot on the cheek he’d slapped. You can’t feel the pain from it, far too lost in your heat-riddled brain to register anything but the need pulsing between your thighs and the alpha staring at your soaked pussy. Thumbs part your folds, slick dribbling onto the sheets as he stares at your pussy. 

“So fucking slick for me.” He groans, dragging a thumb along your slit. 

“For you alpha!” You gasp, pressing back harder against his hands. 

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he drags his thumb through your folds again, pressing the digit against your clit. Your gasp is broken by a whimper, your clit already sensitive from you humping against your bed like a needy pup. You bend your top half down, relaxing against the mattress as you grind back against his hand. He lets you, keeping his hand still as he lets you work yourself to pleasure on your own. 

“Please! Please!” You beg, mind going numb with pleasure as his thumb brushes your clit with every rock of your hips. Your legs are already shaking, body trembling as the pleasure starts to build and build, the promise of relief coming at the hands of your alpha. 

“Eager little thing,” He rumbles, his breath fanning across your folds. 

You moan as his tongue drags along your slit, tasting your slick. Your fingers sink into the sheets, holding on as his tongue prods your entrance, his mouth slurping at the slick dripping from you. It’s obscene, but either of you care, both of you too lost in your need. 

Your knees nearly give out, your pussy clenching around his tongue as he applies more pressure against your clit, drawing slow circles with his thumb. He’s groaning against you, the quiet sound rumbling deep in his chest. He’s losing his own sanity, his alpha taking over as your heat triggers his rut instincts. His alpha has to be screaming as much as your omega is to mate. 

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, washing over you with a power that almost makes you black out. Slick spills out of you as your pussy flutters, soaking John’s face and beard in your juices. He’s relentless, not giving you even a second as he continues to fuck you with his tongue as his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit. Your legs are shaking, eyes rolling as the pleasure continues to build. Despite your orgasm, it’s not enough. Your brain knows it and your body knows it. You need a knot before you’ll be able to relax, before the pain and the need fades enough for your brain to relax. 

Even then, it will only be for a moment. 

“Alpha!” You whine, pushing back against his face, seeking out more. 

John growls against your pussy, the sound vibrating into your very soul. You let out a whimper in response, clutching at the sheets desperately. He pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips. You wish you could see him, the way his face shines with your slick, his beard soaked with your release. He licks his lips, savoring every last taste of you he can get as he sinks his fingers into you. 

You clamp down around the thick digits, a groan leaving his lips as you squeeze around him. You’re desperate for another orgasm, another chance at relief from the blazing inferno under your skin, the painful need still pulsing in your pelvis. 

“Please, alpha!” You whine, bucking back against his hand. “Hurts.”

He shushes you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers. The wet squelch of your pussy is loud in the small room, obscene and depraved, but you cannot bring yourself to care who might be able to hear as another orgasm rushes through your body. You whine in pleasure as slick dribbles out around his fingers, forced out by the fluttering of your walls. You can’t stop, don’t stop, as you continue to rock back against him. He watches you, holding his hand still as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You’re still desperate for more, still needing the one thing he won’t give you yet. 

He pulls his fingers from you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy is still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, still trying to clench around nothing. John curses as he drags his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick and your release across the sensitive skin. 

“Tell me what you need.” He rasps, the edges of his voice harsh as his alpha begins to take over.

“Need your knot, alpha.” You whine, pushing your hips back, searching for anything that might offer some more relief. “Please.”

He lets out a pleased rumble, shifting behind you. You bite your lip in anticipation and excitement, your body twitching as his rough hands smooth over the skin of your hips. His touch is electric, amplified by the sensitivity brought on by your heat. You want to feel him against you, you want to feel him inside of you. You need him, every fiber of your being, every cell in your body reaching out to him, inviting him in. 

A quiet mewl escapes you as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick on his hard length. Your entire body flutters in anticipation as he pushes against your entrance, meeting no resistance as he presses into you. Your body aids him, relaxing around him as it welcomes the intrusion. There’s no pain, no discomfort as he stretches you open, aided by the copious slick that still seeps out around his cock. You practically shudder in relief as you finally get what you want, what you need. 

Your alpha’s cock inside you. 

His grip is tight on your hips as he begins to move, rocking his own hips as he presses deeper into you. He shifts his legs around yours, pressing himself closer until he’s flush against your ass. You can feel him deep inside you, and you’re almost certain you could see it if you looked. You brace yourself against the bed, instinct taking over as you begin to move with him, rocking back to meet his thrusts. It’s lewd, the sound of skin slapping skin as he sets an almost frantic pace, sharp thrusts accentuating the wet squelch of your pussy around him, and the sound of his hips meeting your ass. 

His fingers dig into your hips almost to the point of pain, but you don’t care. You’re far too lost in your instincts, and the pleasure, to care much about anything. The hormones and endorphins block it out, only one thought on your mind, playing on repeat. 

Knot knot knot knot.

You moan loudly as Price ruts into you, not caring who might hear, or who can hear. Price moans and growls, the sweetness of your scent blocking out all thoughts except how much he needs to breed you, how much he needs to be a good alpha and take care of his omega. 

You just want to be a good omega for your alpha. 

You cum again with a cry, pussy fluttering around his cock as more slick dribbles out of you, soaking the sheets below you. John doesn’t stop, save for a slight falter of his thrusts as you squeeze around him tightly, your pussy trying to milk his own orgasm from him. Your body is shaking, his hands the only thing keeping your hips upright as more and more pleasure continues to build despite now three orgasms that have rocked through you. 

You need him to cum, you need him to fill you up with his knot. You need to feel the warmth of his seed inside you, the heaviness of it as it fills you. Drool begins to pool on the sheets below your face, adding to the mix of fluids soaked into your already damp sheets. John’s pace never falters, even as sweat begins to build on his brow, sliding down the sides of his face. You want to lick it, follow the trail of salty liquid as it falls down his neck and onto his chest. 

Sweat drips from your own skin as another orgasm begins to build. You can tell John is close too as his grip tightens on your hips, the pain registering just for a moment at the back of your mind. You’ll forget it by the time your heat ends, the momentary pull to awareness lost in the haze of mindless pleasure and a need to mate. 

“C’mon.” John growls, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Give it to me.” 

You let out a whine, knowing what it is he wants, what it is you need as you push yourself back up onto shaking arms, the adrenaline the only thing giving you the strength to move. John moves your braids to the other side of your neck, his chest pressing against your back. It changes the angle of his thrusts as he grinds against you, the swelling at the base of his cock catching on your walls as he continues to thrust deeply into you. 

“Please,” You whimper, bearing your neck to him as he kisses along the line of your shoulder. “Please alpha. Wanna be yours.” You whimper, arching into him in an attempt to get closer as his teeth drag across your skin. 

“My good omega.” He growls, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin right next to your scent gland at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “My good girl. Gonna take my knot like a good omega? Let me fill you up with pups as I make you mine?” 

You let out a high pitched whine at his words, trying to press your neck closer to his mouth. “Please, alpha! Please! Wanna be a good omega!” 

He curses under his breath, his arm wrapping around your body to hold you up. His knot presses into you, stretching you open as it continues to swell until he’s locked inside you. You cum around his knot at the sensation of being filled so completely, his hips continuing to grind against you as he chases his own orgasm. 

You nearly black out as his teeth sink into your skin, the pinch lasting only for a second before pleasure rushes through you. You let out a loud, high-pitched sound as he claims you, marking you as his forever. Another, sudden orgasm slams into you, his arm holding you still as you try to writhe on his knot. He growls into your skin as he stills, hips jerking against your ass as he cums inside you. 

Your arms give out as he releases your shoulder, blood dripping onto the sheets below you. Your head is spinning as he drags his tongue across the raised skin, cleaning the mark he’s left on you. 

He shushes you as you let out little whimpers and whines, gently easing your body so you’re laying flat against the bed. “Easy, that’s my good girl.” He praises you, pressing gentle kisses against your neck. “My good omega. Take my knot so well.” 

Your vision slowly fades to darkness as exhaustion takes over, a small smile tugging at your lips from his praise. 

His eyes are dark and glazed as he stares up at you, mouth parted as he breathes heavily. Your head is thrown back, the sweetest little moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you bounce on his cock. His hands hold your hips, far too tight to be comfortable against your sweat-soaked skin as he guides your movements, but you offer no complaint. His thighs are soaked with your slick and a mix of fluids that seems to endlessly drip from you. Your own thighs are shaking around him, exhaustion prevalent in your sloppy movements. You’re close, eyes fluttering as your grip tightens on his shoulders. Your nails bite into his skin but he doesn’t care. He can’t feel much of anything but pleasure at the moment. 

He guides you through your orgasm as it rocks through you, your body shuddering around him. His hips press up against yours as he reaches his own end, spilling into you as his knot locks into place, connecting you two once again. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, nor does he care. All he wants is to be inside you, fucking his seed into you until you’re swollen with it. He stares down at where you’re connected for a moment, your pussy spread open around his knot.

He guides you against his chest as your body gives out, the haze of his instincts lifting just momentarily. His body aches, soreness settling in as his mind clears. You lick at his throat, tasting his sweat-slicked skin. Sweet little whimpers and whines leave your lips as you rest against him, completely boneless and at his mercy.

He reaches over to the nightstand, wrapping an arm around you to hold you still so he doesn’t tug on the knot as he grabs the bottle of electrolytes. He unscrews the cap, gently easing you back. You’re both still breathing heavily as he cradles the back of your head with one hand, helping you drink the electrolytes. You gulp it down even in your exhausted state, your body recognizing its need for sustenance. 

He drinks the rest after you finish, tossing the bottle onto the floor with the others. He picks up one of the nutrient bars, peeling the wrapper off before he begins to eat, feeding you bites of it as he does. You’re half asleep, chewing slowly as you rest against his chest, body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of another of what’s now a countless number of orgasms. 

He gives you the last little bit of the bar before he relaxes back against the headboard, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you. The skin on your shoulder is still angry and slightly swollen from his claiming bite. It doesn’t help that he’s sunk his teeth into that spot twice now since he first claimed you. 

He swells with pride upon seeing it, the proof that you’re now his, a warning to others not to mess with you. It’s a slight weight off his shoulders. He has to worry less about someone trying something. Some haughty, cocksure alpha getting it through his head that he wants what he can’t have, that he can just take what’s not his. A low growl rumbles through his chest at the thought. 

He shushes you as you stir in response to the warning growl, a purr rumbling through his chest as he eases you back into a relaxed state. His good little omega, his sweet little omega, taking his knot so well. 

You make a quiet noise as he twitches inside you, the feeling of being enveloped in your tight heat almost like heaven. He closes his eyes, calming his inner alpha. He knows you need to rest. You need a little break before you start up again, before your heat continues to ravage you. 

Before he continues to ravage you. 

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[luvsupa]

BUT YOU’RE A …VAMPIRE?!

terrible summary: fucking the towns hottest college student—a bonus. . . he’s a vampire!

tags: vampire!choso x fem!reader, choso and reader are in college, reader babysits yuji, heavily inspired by tvd 🙂‍↕️, lowkey long before smut scene sorryyy, smut (p in v), face sitting, mating press, blōod play, sqūirting, feral choso, sub!choso (a little), hes insanely fast and strong, errmm idk what else, mdni

w.c: 2.3k

a/n: 1. TY GUYS FOR 1.5K ???? THIS IS INSANEEE, 2. I hope u guys enjoy bc this is my first kinktober so I hope I satisfy y’all 🧟‍♀️

kinktober masterlist

“this movie’s not even scary,” yuji mutters from under the blankets, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. he begged you to play halloween, the most gruesome movie you’ve ever seen. maybe it wasn’t the best idea for a teenage boy—he’d probably have nightmares—but you just wanted him to stop whining. you giggle as he shrieks when michael myers catches a screaming woman, his eyes glued to the screen despite his words.

suddenly, the movie pauses, and you glance up from your phone, wondering why. “can you do my halloween makeup now? megumi’s coming soon, and we’re going trick-or-treating,” yuji asks, hopeful. you sigh internally, not because of him, but because this isn’t how you planned to spend your halloween. midterms are next week, and you haven’t even started studying!

you nod, grabbing your makeup bag already packed with halloween supplies. yuji sits in the dining room—where the lighting is better—facing the television. he’s jumpy as the movie resumes, flinching at every scare, ruining the makeup more than once. you’re just applying fake blood to his mouth to piece together the vampire look when the front door slams open, the sound deafening. you both scream, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the source.

choso.

you nearly drop the makeup brush, fake blood splattering the polished floor. choso’s laughter echoes through the room, and you stare at him in shock, your heart racing from the scare—and the sight of him. you haven’t seen him in nearly a year since he moved abroad for school. you thought your crush on him had faded, but now, seeing him again…he’s even more attractive. more buff. and is he dressed as a vampire? how fitting for the brothers.

choso brings in, a beautiful girl trailing behind him, her expression uneasy. you notice something odd—they’re matching.

“that wasn’t funny, choso,” yuji grumbles, pushing him away when choso messes up his slicked-back hair. but your attention is elsewhere, drawn to choso’s costume. the fangs look too real, and dried blood stains the corners of his lips. your stomach twists with unease.

“hey, choso, your costume is… really cool,” you manage to say, your voice catching as his gaze locks onto yours. his eyes—there’s a tint of red. it feels like he’s staring straight through you, searching for something deeper. and then, you notice the girl again, her pale complexion, her exhausted, haunted look.

and her neck.

multiple bite marks—no, fang marks—line her skin, and you swear you see blood trickling from one of them. who in the hell did their makeup?

“costume? oh no, we’re not—”

“teenage versions of dracula and draculara,” choso cuts in coldly, his gaze never leaving yours. your heart pounds, the tension in the room thickening. you know what dracula looks like and it’s not what he’s wearing.

the movie continues playing in the background as it fades into nothing. choso’s lips twitch as he stares at your neck, his eyes darkening when they land on the pulsing vein just beneath the surface. you feel a lump form in your throat, and yuji shifts awkwardly between you both, oblivious to the growing danger.

without another word, choso snaps out of it, pulling the girl upstairs in a hurry. loud, frantic footsteps echo as the door slams shut behind them. you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

after finishing yuji’s costume, the movie mercifully ends. you take a few photos of yuji with his plastic vampire fangs before megumi and nobara arrive in matching outfits. they thank you, and with a final warning to stay close to the block, you send them off. at last, you’re alone—ready to relax.

but when you return to the dining room, your peace is shattered. the mess from the makeup is worse than you remembered, and you groan. you huff as you start cleaning up, scrubbing the floor and tossing used brushes into the nearby sink. and then, you feel it.

someone’s watching you.

you freeze, a chill running down your spine. slowly, you turn around, your heart racing, and nearly scream again. choso is leaning against the staircase, his dark eyes fixed on you, an unsettling smile tugging at his lips.

“gosh, choso, you scared me,” you exclaim, clutching the counter for support.

“no need to be scared,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous as he walks closer following you into the kitchen. “i was just… admiring the view.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, but there’s a sinister edge to his words that makes you uneasy. still, you mutter a soft “pervert,” hoping to shake off the tension. but choso hears you clearly, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

you walk to the dirty dishes as you start cleaning up the previous mess, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as he offers to help, standing too close for comfort. his presence is suffocating, his body radiating cold as he dries each dish you hand him. “so… you got a boyfriend?” he asks bluntly, and your breath catches.

“no… i’ve been busy with school,” you stammer, your heart pounding in your chest. his lips curl into a smirk, and you hear him whisper, “good girl.”

your knees weaken, and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling a surge of warmth between your legs. he knows. he can smell it. your mind spins as you struggle to focus on washing the dishes. when your hand accidentally brushes his, the icy coldness jolts you, your breath hitching.

you glance at him through the window in front of the sink. dread pooling in your stomach. no way…

the fangs. the eyes. the ice cold touch.

he’s a—

“c’monnn, you’re letting the water run too long,” choso interrupts, snapping you back to reality. you quickly apologize, shaking off the thought as you rinse off the next dirty dish. holding a tiny kitchen knife, you stare at your reflection in the window. choso stands impatiently, waiting for you to hurry up. biting your lip, you rinse the knife, but just before you hand it to him, you ‘accidentally’ slice the tip of your finger.

you watch the way his eyes darken, his pupils dilating as veins bulge beneath his skin. his lips part, his fangs elongating as he watches your blood dribble down with the almost animalistic hunger.

panic grips you and instinct kicks in, and you sprint for the front door, tears stinging your eyes, terrified of ending up like the victims in the horror movies. you twist the doorknob, but choso is suddenly in front of you, covering your mouth with his hand as he dragging you back inside, the door slams behind you with a deafening thud.

“shh, baby…I know, ’m not gonna hurt you,” choso whispers, his voice rough as he coaxes you to the couch. you tremble, tears blurring your vision.

“cho… you’re a—a vampire?” you manage to choke out, the words feeling unreal in your mouth. choso nods, his eyes fixed on the blood still oozing from your finger. something inside you shifts, your fear dissolving as something darker takes over.

fuck it.

“you want it, cho’?” you murmur, lifting your finger to his lips, smearing your blood across them. his eyes roll back, his fangs glistening as he lets out a desperate moan, his hunger consuming him.

you lean closer, your voice a seductive whisper, “then take it.”

and oh did you truly mess up. badly.

choso had never tasted anything as sweet and addicting as you—the sweetest he’s ever known since his transformation into a vampire. that’s why he has you sitting on his face, your pussy suffocating him as his icy hands pull you deeper against his mouth. your thighs tremble on either side of his head, fingers gripping the armrest for support. your eyes roll back as his slick tongue plunges deep into your pulsing walls, his nose brushing against your swollen clit.

“ch-cho’. . slow d-down..” you wail, trying to pull away from his inhuman tongue—but he growls. the wet, messy sounds of slurping and groans fill your ears as you’re losing yourself on his tongue. you can’t help it—you start grinding even deeper into his face, chasing that high as he hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. your nails dig into the armrest, knuckles white, as you glance down with glazed eyes—his brows are furrowed, veins pulsing under his skin, soft brown hair that was once tied up now sprawled wildly across the couch.

he’s slurping you up like you’re his last meal, completely lost in the taste of you. it’s like you’ve got him under some kind of spell, and he can’t stop. he pulls you deeper into his face until you’re sure you’ll break. your thighs shake uncontrollably, your stomach tightening as you feel your orgasm slam into you, broken cries spilling from your lips, soaking his tongue in your release.

“mmf— ‘m gonna—”

“not yet,” choso commands, lifting you off his face and tossing you flat on your back with a rough ‘oof’ escaping your lips. your mind is too foggy to register anything as he grabs your ankles, placing them on either side of his shoulders. your cunt spasms uncontrollably, slick dripping down as you whimper, watching him grip the base of his thick cock. his chubby tip parts your swollen folds, sliding up and down your dripping slit, teasing your twitching hole, not giving you what you desperately need. your gaze locks with his, and your heart skips a beat—his eyes fixed on the pulsing vein in your neck, his mouth trembling as his fangs grow longer.

“hahh— I need a t-taste,” he moans, the whites of his eyes turning black as he repeats the same words, over and over, to himself. before you can even respond, he slams into you, balls-deep, a broken sob tearing from your throat he’s stretching you so wide it hurts so good as his thick crown head bullies your sweet spot. your whole body jiggles with each brutal thrust, clenching down hard as his cock stretches you abnormally wide. he’s lost in the feeling, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you swear he’s leaving bruises, all while he keeps mumbling to himself, lost in a frenzy.

he’s completely feral, growling with every thrust, eyes locked on your neck like he’s about to tear into you, his cock stretching you wide as your body shakes from the sheer force of his inhumane thrusts.

“y-yes… cho’, have a t-taste,” you stutter, tilting your head to the side, exposing the throbbing vein he’s been eyeing with hunger. his eyes gleam with feral desire as he leans down, his thick cock still relentlessly jackhammering deep inside you. 

he groans into your neck, inhaling your scent, and your shaking hands pull him closer, legs wrapping tight around his waist, locking him in as your eyes roll back. the sharp sting of his fangs sinking deep into your neck pulls a guttural moan from you, his mouth latched onto your skin as he drinks, each slurp sending electric shocks through your body. his thrusts become erratic, vicious, slamming into your poor cervix as he drinks greedily from you.

“s-such a good vampire,” you pant, praising him as he pulls away from your neck, rising up to look at you—and fuck, he’s completely lost in it. his blacked-out eyes, mouth hanging open, dripping with blood, his chin smeared in a mess of fluids. his monstrous look beyond attractive you don’t even think—you grab him by the face and yank him down to your lips, moaning as the metallic tang of your blood touches your tongue. your lips move against his hungrily, tasting the mix of your blood and his spit as he pounds into your sloppy, swollen cunt that grips him so tight it’s driving him crazy. his thrusts become more brutal, more desperate, his cock throbbing as you cling to him, completely helpless under his inhuman strength.

he pulls away from the kiss with a growl, leaving you breathless, licking your lips as the taste of blood lingers. with no warning, choso grabs your thighs and folds you in half—ankles pressed right up against your ears. he fucks you deeper, so deep you swear he’s going to break you, every thrust harder, more punishing than the last as you whimper and sob beneath him.

“fuckkk— pussy’s suckin’ the s-soul outta me,” he groans, forcing your thighs deeper into your chest, bending you in half like you’re nothing. all you can do is take it, your body completely at his mercy, trembling under his brutal, inhuman pace. his cock pounds into you relentlessly, each thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body, your mind turning into a haze of desperate moans and babbled pleas.

and then, it hits—your orgasm slams into you, hard and fast, like a wave crashing over you. eyes rolling back as your walls clamp down around him, milking his cock, spasming so hard you’re seeing stars. your legs shake uncontrollably as you feel the hot rush of your release soaking both of you, dripping down your thighs, adding to the messy slick between your bodies. you’re screaming, but it’s incoherent—just broken sobs and moans, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure ripping through you.

choso feels it too, your pussy squeezing him so tight he can barely move, and with a deep growl, he spills inside you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you to the brim. you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you so full that it starts to leak out, your stomach bulging slightly from how much he’s pumped into you. your whole body trembles, completely spent, as your cunt flutters around him, milking every last drop.

“heyy pretty, c’mon—wake up,” choso coos, giving your swollen, throbbing cunt a hard slap. the impact makes you jolt, and the wet, sticky sound echoes through the living room as your mixed juices splatter everywhere, slick covering your lower stomach and seeping into the couch. broken moans slip past your lips, your eyes fluttering open just in time to see him towering over you, his cock still hard and dripping with cum, more spilling from his tip.

“we’re nowhere near done.” 

[kithtaehyung]

minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

-

-

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. 

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck. 

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change. 

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline. 

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.” 

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.” 

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut. 

Fuck. Yoongi’s right. 

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.” 

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls, 

“Not interested.” 

Oh. He’s… 

Oh. 

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial? 

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie. 

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.” 

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core. 

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom. 

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not. 

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room. 

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on? 

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here. 

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot. 

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light. 

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish. 

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use. 

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld. 

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead. 

Uhh. 

What. 

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin. 

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air. 

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done. 

Almost. 

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing. 

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state? 

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.” 

Again with that little slant. 

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life. 

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl. 

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded. 

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved? 

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right… 

Doesn’t matter. 

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.  

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck. 

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright. 

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet. 

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still. 

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut. 

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.” 

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.” 

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel. 

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.” 

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.” 

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them. 

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer. 

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so. 

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside. 

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.  

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your— 

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!” 

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.” 

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for? 

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette. 

And just like that, the conversation dies. 

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible. 

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead. 

Your noodles.

Your noodles. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill. 

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand. 

A robed arm. 

Your new utensils come back into view. 

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there. 

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes, 

“Eat.” 

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain? 

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.” 

“You are.” 

“Not anymore.” 

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.” 

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.” 

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.” 

“I literally can’t—” 

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.” 

“What?” 

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight. 

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.” 

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.” 

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.” 

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin. 

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.” 

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier. 

Yoongi looks pissed as hell. 

But he hasn’t moved. 

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again. 

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today. 

Fuck, you wanna hurl. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair. 

“It’s better in the long run.” 

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this. 

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes. 

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.  

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too. 

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers. 

“What were you looking for.” 

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth. 

“Did you find it.” 

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?” 

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.” 

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?” 

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought. 

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.” 

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.” 

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion. 

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl. 

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat. 

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure. 

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out. 

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home. 

Yearning pierces right through your chest. 

The elevator is right over there. 

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No. 

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too. 

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase. 

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep. 

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety. 

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room. 

And your defense mechanism blares. 

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why? 

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too? 

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay? 

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.” 

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?” 

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.” 

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.” 

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes. 

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.” 

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms. 

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest. 

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs. 

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.” 

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.” 

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine. 

Well. 

So much for leaving. 

You may spend more time here than you thought. 

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call. 

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that. 

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now. 

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space. 

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere. 

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator. 

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area. 

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet. 

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below. 

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out. 

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart. 

That was so long ago. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time. 

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem. 

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm. 

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some. 

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter. 

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.” 

“Do you even drink?” 

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying. 

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?” 

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.” 

“It’s usually silent, too.” 

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.” 

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.” 

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”  

He takes the offered can. “Mm.” 

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present. 

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs. 

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day. 

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?” 

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”  

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.” 

Your look carries a slight pang. 

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.” 

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see. 

But when it’s open, you freeze. 

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New. 

Wait. 

These patterns. 

These are il-don? 

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless. 

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.” 

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?” 

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.” 

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?” 

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.” 

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter. 

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.” 

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?” 

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?” 

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?” 

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.” 

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.” 

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself. 

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear, 

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…” 

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.” 

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now? 

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.” 

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away. 

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose, 

“I should’ve left you for dead.” 

Wait. 

Stop. 

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever. 

And it is frightening. 

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.” 

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist. 

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.  

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.” 

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually. 

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you. 

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power? 

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk. 

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can. 

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it. 

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.” 

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged. 

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes, 

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.” 

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning. 

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it. 

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same. 

So you quell that monster pacing in your core. 

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be. 

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.” 

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin. 

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.” 

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend, 

“This world has already tried enough.” 

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again. 

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn. 

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it. 

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more. 

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else. 

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations. 

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.” 

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip. 

And you freeze. 

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate. 

But fuck, you kinda want to. 

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed. 

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…” 

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to. 

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.” 

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest, 

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong? 

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore. 

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.” 

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone. 

Oh. You’re going home. 

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short. 

What was that? What was any of that? 

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over. 

…But do you want it to be? 

Yes. 

Of course you do. 

Clouds let moonlight shine again. 

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real. 

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane. 

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging. 

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out. 

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed? 

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets. 

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes. 

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams. 

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own. 

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion. 

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air. 

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out. 

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too? 

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness. 

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start. 

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do. 

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows. 

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity. 

For nothing. 

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all. 

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal. 

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder. 

Fuck everything. 

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.” 

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares. 

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[portgasdwrld]

📂Op men + them being needy

Featuring: monster trio

Warning: Suggestive, NSFW, fem!reader, established relationship, english isn’t my first language

Important: Pls read my navigation before sending/commenting asks. I would love to do them, but some of y’all don’t spend two seconds trynna make sure ur ask is fine with me first 🫶🏻

Note: Y’all voted for that one and ngl i wanted to write this one, so we all share the same slutty mind. Also thank you for 100 followers 🫶🏻lm super glad that y’all are enjoying my writing💕 This took sm more time than I thought it would. Ima make a separate one for Ace whenever I have time 😭

Luffy

Luffy was laying down on his bed as you were not too far from him trying out some make up in the mirror facing his bed. He had insisted to nap with you next to him, so he had his long arm stretched around your waist lazily as you were dolling yourself up.

You hear him stir awake from his sleep as he groans and yawns loudly.

-What time is it?

He drags in a sleepy tone as he rolls to the side still covered by the sheets.

-Mmm, you only slept for an hour. You can go back to sleep baby.

You answer him as you take a quick look at your watch. You knew how he loves to sleep after he ate and especially if there isn’t much to do.

-It’s hard when you aren’t laying down next to me, I like to hug you close to mee.

He whines a little. You see him rub his eyes and softly sit between his messy sheets through the reflection of your mirror.

-I’m sorry baby, I will come later when I’m done, okay ?

You say softly as you apply a new colour of your eyeshadow palette on your eyelid. He gets closer to you, now sitting not too far behind you. His pretty dark eyes shift between your products and your face.

- What’s this, it shines~

He asks curious while pointing at your highlighter. You chuckle and open it to swipe some on the tip of your finger. You thought it would be a fun time to mess a little with him, so you swap some on top of your boob to show him. You smirk and point at your breast, showing him that it make your skin shine, when applied.

-it’s to make your skin shine, you simplify it to him.

His eyes looks down and stare at your chest. His arms unwrap from your body and with his finger he touches your skin to see if it stains his finger too and it does a little.

-Waaaw, amazing! That’s so cool

You nod with a smile and a comfortable silence falls between you two. He watches you apply your eyeshadow using multiple techniques. He let his chin rest on your shoulder and his expression gets a bit serious. He stares at you through the mirror.

-Y/n ?

-Mmm?

-I’m hard, let’s fuck.

You choke a little at his sudden straightforwardness. You take few seconds to take in what he just said, before throwing a look behind your shoulder to stare at your suddenly needy boyfriend.

-Luffy… just how ?

You ask defeated. He has the habit to get hard so randomly, not that you complained because sex with him was always more than satisfying. Though, It was just somewhat inconvenient when you were already doing something.

-I can just jerk off while you finish off, he propose seeing your unsure expression. The way he said that was so laid back that it made you giggle a little. Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you??You smile fondly at him, but letting him do that would be more torture than anything else.

-Or you can cockwarm me while you finish off like we did last time.

The “last time” he was referring to, ended by you two fucking with your undone hair. You shake your head, you couldn’t say no to him. It was always tempting to have him inside of you.

He kisses the crook of your neck, dragging your name in a groan taunting you to give him an answer.

-I like the last idea more, you finally reply with a shy smile. You gaze at him through the mirror and you see him grin.

-Alright !

You stand up to throw away your panty on his bed as he stroke his dick few times before you sat on it. You both left a moan as the contact was made. You were never used at the deepness he could reach. Your legs weakly fixed your position on his laps.

-Is it okay ?

He asks making sure you were comfortable. You nod as you gaze back at him. He pecks your cheek, his brown hair slightly tickling you, before leaning his body back, now supported by his arms. The view you have is just so delicious, you are about to give up any plans your had on finishing your make up.

-Luffy, you are making this so hard for me I swear.

You let out shakily under your breath, because he clearly couldn’t stay completely still.

He laughs as he approaches his body to yours, his warm breath brushing on your neck, his eyes looks at you with excitement.

-Can I play with your boobs ?

-Luffy…

You whine almost pleading him to be kind to you and let you do your make up without so much distraction. No way you are going to hold back with him touching you like that.

-Pleaseee

-Ugh… fuck it.

I need to write a whole mirror fucking fic with him now🧎🏻‍♀️

Zoro

Zoro is going out of his mind. His usual cool and collected image is crumbling every time he breaths. His eye stare at your figure with a burning gaze. He wants you so badly right now, but it was lowkey hurting his ego to tell you directly how he felt (he’s in fact too shy, but he would never admit that to himself.)

You definitely noticed his behaviour during the day, when he let his hand rest a little too long on your ass when you hugged him or when he kept taking glances at your boobs peeking from the low cut of your shirt.

You didn’t want to give it to him so easily without him openly saying that he wanted you. It was no fun otherwise. So you teased him all day, acting all clueless to his advances. It was until he snapped and pulled you into his room late in the afternoon.

-You have been so fucking annoying all day. You really enjoy acting all dumb when you want to.

-I dont know what you are talking about?

You reply with an innocent stare as you unconsciously bite your lips quickly and look up to him. He groans as he climbs on top of you on the bed, his large and strong body towering you was already enough to make your head dizzy. He leans his face few inches in front of yours. Your nose filled up with the scent of his cologne.

-You want to keep playing this ?

- Admit it.

-Admit what ?

He gulps with furrowed eyebrows. You smirk and wrap your arms around his neck. You pull the green haired man closer teasing the proximity of your lips to his.

-Admit that you want me.

You whisper with the same smile glued to your lips. Zoro eye slightly widen but he presses his lips on yours without adding another word, but you are fast to push him away by pressing upward your hands on his chest.

-Come on, baby~ You can’t even admit something so little ?

You pout as you knew his competitive ass wouldn’t take it and he would eventually get frustrated, and maybe give up.

-I will treat you so well if you do, I just need to hear it~

You continue hoping it would cheer your shy boyfriend to speak the words. You know he’s not the best with expressing his emotions, but god it felt good to see him all tensed because he wanted to fuck you so badly. You travel your fingers up his neck, brushing fading hickeys you left on him few days ago.

You see him sigh as he straightens his upper body. You give him a confused look for a moment, but it disappears when his lips curve into his familiar smirk.

He let his body fall next to you and you feel his strong arm slide under your waist. He pulls you against him and with his other arms, he props your body on top of his. You sit not too far from his hips area. He places his hands on each side of your hips and he gives a light spank on your ass earning a small surprised moan from you.

-What are you doing? I thought I was clear babe.

You say while crossing your arms under your chest. He chuckles and push your hips on top of his bulge. You could feel he was starting to get hard.

-I want you, so be good now and ride me.

You smile happy to hear it finally from him, but he still found a way to make it an order, so it earned a small giggle from you.

-What’s funny?

-Nothing. I said I will treat you right, so let me take care of you.

You said while going down on him. You pulled down his pants to reveal his half hard dick. You took it in your hand and with your thumb you spread the precum all over his tip while giving it few strokes with your other hand. You give few licks to tease him a little, but you shortly after wrap your plump lips around his cock. He hiss as his fingers brush away the hair in front of your eyes that was blocking his view.

-Fuck, just like that

He groans as he places his hand on top of your head trying to make you take more of his length. You let him do as he wishes, as you wanted tonight to be focused on him. He pushes his cock until it was deep enough into your throat that it was painfully hitting the back of it. Tears were starting to form into your eyes as you look up at him. He leaves a low moan and let his head fall behind as he give a lazy thrust into your mouth. He let go of your head not trying to hurt you and you take that chance to remove it from your mouth and breath.

-Shit, you’re so big

You pant with a heavy breath as you stroke his dick up and down using your spit. He smirk at your compliment and you don’t let him reply as you dive his cock into your mouth once again, sucking harshly getting a loud groan out of his mouth.

You torture his dick like this for few minutes as you take him deeply into your throat and suck harshly on his dick by also teasing his slit with your tongue. He was a moaning mess and honestly it’s been a while since you saw him so vocal about the pleasure he was feeling, that it was soaking your panties.

You stroke him with both of your hands as your mouth was sucking his tip and with the help of few thrust, he came into your mouth. You swallowed everything with a funny face and flashed your tongue at him so he could see. You then removed your shorts and panties along with your top, leaving you naked on top of him.

-I should let you suck me off like this more often.

-Yeah, well if I didn’t have to beg all the time to have your cock, I would suck you even upside down.

You retort as you position yourself on top of his dick, ready to slide him in you. Zoro roll his eye at your comment, but he grabs your thighs tightly, anticipating the feeling of your pussy around his cock.

You chuckle seeing him waiting for you to put it inside of you, in silence. You lean and give him a peck on his forehead with a soft smile. Your boyfriends cheeks blushed as he gives you a bit of a “wtf” stare.

-So eager, are we baby?

Sanji

Sanji was smoking outside as his body was leaning against the railing of the ship. His fluffy blond hair brushed by the cold breeze of the early night. His gaze seems lost in a trail of thoughts that only him will know about. You smile to yourself when you finally find your boyfriend.

« It’s a cold night, but lucky me I have someone to cuddle to keep me warm » you say, startling him a little.

He smiles as he recognizes your voice immediately. Sanji doesn’t hide the way his eyes enjoy savouring the view of your body in this little black silk dress. It was his favourite. The dress is so short that he could just bend you over the rail and he would not only have a great view of your pussy, but he could also easily take you there.

Why was it so easy for you to drive him crazy ? Just you being such an effortlessly beautiful women was enough to make his thoughts foggy. It wasn’t too fair for his heart and his dick.

-You are going to catch a cold, my love. Come here.

He finally replies while opening his arms. You rush a little into his embrace, loving the way his body’s warmth and the mix of his cologne and the cigarette’s smog fill your nose and senses. He presses his body against yours and you let the back of your head rest on his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders after throwing his cigarette in the ocean.

-How did you find tonight’s dinner, chérie?

-It was delicious as always darling.

You whisper enjoying the tranquility on the boat for once. Sanji hums in response as he let his hairy chin slightly tickle your neck. His lips brush your ear as his warm breath tickles your neck.

-You know you make me a mad man when you wear this.

-Do I?

You answer with a chuckle honestly forgetting how your boyfriend had a particular liking in this night dress. He loves everything you wear anyways so for you it didn’t change much, but as he presses his dick on your lower back, you kinda get what he’s leading to.

You feel his lips move to your neck where he presses them, where he sucks and bites your skin, leaving proof of his love on it.

-I wouldn’t mind dessert at this hour

He mumbles as his arms find a rest now on your breast. He presses his hips closer to your body and you do him the grace of slightly grinding your ass against his bulge.

-What do you mean?

You ask him playing dumb. It was so fun to tease Sanji. He was always so enthusiastic whenever something concerned you.

-I want to fuck you, darling

He continues as his unwrap your body from his arms. His fingers slide down your waist to tease the hem of your short dress. He let them wonder beneath it, feeling the softness of your ass. A gasp left your mouth when his cold fingers press against your clothed core.

-I could just bend you over this rail and fuck you so good, hmm?

He pushes his digits under your panty and let his fingers get coated of your juices before letting them slide upward where he pinches your clit. A moan leaves your throat loudly and you quickly bite your lips to stop any more sounds to come out.

You two could honestly get caught at any moment that someone decides to exit their room, but the thought itself made you even more wet.

-S-sanji, we could get caught..

-I know, but I can’t help myself when you look this good. I want you so badly that I don’t care about the rest.

He retorts with a heavy sigh as he continues to play with clit. He then opt to dive one of his long fingers inside of you, catching you off guard. You try your best to keep any sounds in, but he was making it so hard for you when he was moving so fast.

-Fuck, Sanji. Please fuck me.

You whine as your body naturally leans on the rail. Sanji other hand pushes your lower back to create a curve that earn a groan from his mouth.

Your boyfriend closes the distance pushing now a second finger deeper inside of you. His pace is fast and precise, trying his best to listen to the way your body react to the spot he touches inside of you. Sanji does still keep an eye out in case someone catches you two though..

Hitting all the right spots and playing with your clits with his other hand, you feel your climax approaching. With a last thrust of his finger and some dirty word whispered, you cum all over his fingers, staining his black pants a little.

-You’re insane..

You let out as you try to catch your breath. He smirks and give you a back hug, leaving plenty of kisses on your necks and collarbone.

-let’s go back to our room, so you take care of me~

[tonycries]

THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!

Synopsis. Don’t worry, he knows exactly the solution when you’re upset - fúck it out of you, of course!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, FÉRAL GOJO, cheering you up, oraI (fem receiving), breéding, MAJOR overstím, PRAISE, THEY’RE SO DOWN BAD, lowkey sweet, slight exhíbitionism (Toji’s), mean Geto, síxty-nine, chokíng, making Choso cry mhm, spítting, pússy-slappíng, cúmplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. You’re loved n’ I hope y’all have a good leak day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Noise complaint(s)

Any time Toji decided to visit you in your cute lil’ apartment, so did a few complaints from your neighbors. 

It wasn’t because of his intimidating presence, or those deadly glares of his - targeted at everyone but you, or even because of the way his large frame unapologetically blocked every doorway in your building.

No, they were noise complaints. 

“So that’s what’s got my girl so mm- upset?” Toji has the audacity to chuckle - chuckle - so raggedly at that syrupy pout of yours he’s kissing away. “Usually you and this sweet pussy-” He cups a palm at your glistening cunt, smearing your sweet, sweet juices in a glossy sheen down his wrist. “-are so happy to see me, n’ now you want to keep her quiet? All because some blue-balled loser just moved in next door and got jealous overhearing your pretty moans?”

At your nervous nod, he clicks his tongue gruffly, “Makin’ you all upset like this, tch-” Leaning down to whisper, until his sharp canines graze dangerously against your earlobe, “He’s about to find out that he hasn’t heard even half of it.”

“But Toji!” you’re squealing, fingers scrambling to clamp your already-deliriously sagging mouth shut. “I told you- we have to mmpf- be quiet. He seemed so grumpy, and-”

You’re being cut off with Toji nudging the divot of his fat head against your g-spot, until all those complaints are lodged in your quivering chest by a moan. Teasing, “Talking ‘bout another man when m’trynna make you feel better, doll? Bold today, aren’t ya?”

“N-no I was jus-” Barely-audible babbles drag out of you at the heavenly stretch of your pussy lips. Toji’s muscled chest heaves up and down at the way your pussy lips addictively swallow up his leaky cock, slobbering down, down, down his length till it glistened in the dim lighting. Your legs kicking up in the air when he insistently feeds your cunt inch by greedy inch. 

Again. And again and again and so needy. Depraved. 

But it still wasn’t enough for him.

“Aww, come on, woman.” He’s rolling his eyes, that tiny scar curling up in a devilish grin when he pries away the hand on your mouth. “Why’re you lyin’ to yourself like this? I know you wanna heh- scream my name as much as this cute cunt of yours is right now. Do it.”

As if to confirm his point, Toji’s pushing apart your puffy folds to let your gaping pussy squelch! even louder at each of his bullying thrusts. Tight ring of muscle taking each and every smack of his sharp hip bones so well, the riotous creaking of your bed following shortly, headboard just slamming into your poor wall despite being bolted onto it.

It was already so loud. 

“I don’t hngh-” you let out a feverish gasp when each roll of his hypnotic cadence gets too much. “I don’t wanna give off a b-bad impression…I just want the neighbors to like me.”

Heart clenching in his chest at how cute you are, how sorry your voice sounds, he finds his irritation flaring once again at whoever this bastard was that had you doubting yourself this way.

“Doll– they’d be fuckin’ stupid not to. And I’d beat their asses, too.” Two soft pads of his fingers come to smush your cheeks together, forcing you to stare up into his darkened emerald eyes. “But my poor baby’s still ngh- upset, no?” When you’re hesitant with your answer, they slide down to your neck - just barely putting a bit of leering pressure, “Answer me while m’still being nice, doll.”

It’s all you can do to choke out a shrill, “Yes.” He can feel your walls clenching around every ridge and prominent vein down his shaft so tight with every sultry, mewled-out word. “H-he was really sweet! But it made me- a bit- jus’ a bit.”

“See?” And Toji sounds so smug, predatory tone bleeding into the way his harsh rams pick up to an obscene speed. A thumb of his dips down to swivel over your neglected clit, wrenching out those candied moans he loves so much. “Nothin’ wrong with makin’ my girl feel better after a shitty experience. N’ if anyone has anything to s-say, they can come complain to hngh- me.”

“B-but-”

“Ah ah-” Toji kisses sloppily at your lips trying to press together and quieten, sucking on your lower lip. “What did I say just now? Loud, pretty girl.” 

And it’s like a dam breaks open right then and there, you’re arching your body off the bed like such a slut to press your bare tits against Toji’s pecs. Sensitive. Faster. “Toji- oh fuck, m’so-”

“Heh, louder. I don’t hear you losing your beautiful voice yet.”

Keening, “M’so close. Fuck- g-gonna cum all over your cock.”

He’s cupping his ear so mockingly, hips still stuttering and thrusting forwards without a moments’ faltering. “Still can’t hear you, m-ah not gonna let you cum if you’re not loud enough, y’know.”

You were sure your sinful noises were traveling through the heavy, plastered wall now. Picking up in pitch and speed with every double-attack on your sweet spots everywhere. Spearing the lewd curve of his dick into you, he’s fucking you into the mattress so mean - meaner that usual. Rugged muscles of his toned waist flexing when he jostles and thrusts unforgivingly. Your voice is hoarse at this point, “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck Toji m’cumming. I’m-”

Every other loud moan is drowned out by the ringing in your ears, Toji’s own soft rasps filtering through the white-hot pleasure running down your spine. 

He’s fucking you through wave after wave of high, gifting your bruised g-spot with a thorough, sly pistons of his still-swollen cock. Something that didn’t bode well for you, you already knew. 

“Tha’s it. Yeahh, that’s it-” A hand cups the back of your head gently, even though his slamming staccato was anything but. “Loud. Jus’ like that- shit, gonna make him jealous. Have him regret makin’ my girl upset, fuck-” An irritated banging sounds from the other side of the wall right above your headboard - your neighbor. “Fuck, just watch I’ll give him a real show.” Still throwing jagged hips your way, ram after ram. “What’s the fucker’s name again?”

“He- he said his name was Shiu.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Sweet, sweet treat

“I can fix it.” your husband eyed that droopy bowl of frosting and back to your candied, icing-glossed pout. He can’t help but plant a sweet, sweltering kiss on them, just groaning out, “We can do it together.” Barely managing to break away and breathe out, “S’gonna- turn out- perfect, my love.”

Which is how you find yourself splayed out so shamefully on the cool granite countertops of your kitchen, your soft cotton dress only pulled lazily to the side. Nanami’s knees seated firmly on the hardwood floors, face tucked in between the heavenly sweet folds of your already soaked cunt. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Ken–” he makes you let out a honeyed drawl with every drag of his hot tongue up and down your soppingly wet slit. “Y-you’re gonna get the- ngh- counter dirty!”

So what? He thinks, and it only takes a flicker of surprise in your half-lidded eyes for him to realize he accidentally said that out loud. Not used to those uncharacteristically brash sentences, but Nanami was so drunk off your addictive juices right now. 

Tipping his head back, back, back to let them make their slow, sultry journey down his throat. He’s slurring out proudly, “I’ll clean the mess after I cheer up my upset lil’ wife, okay?”

With this, he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Adding to the glistening gloss that traveled down your folds - and Nanami couldn’t help himself but kiss at the mess he’s made. Over and over and-

“F-fuuuck, jus’ like that-” You’re keening when he’s alternating between hollowing his cheeks out with methodical, never-ending sucks on your sensitive clit and just peeking inside your needy hole with his tongue. “You’re too good with your hngh! -tongue, Ken–”

It’s impossible to run away - and he knew that, too. Every little inch you backed on the counter had him just dragging you back twice as much. Hot tongue clashing and angry to part your swollen pussy lips. 

You can only thread your fingers through his neat blond hair even tighter when he surges back forward. Pussydrunk. Groaning at the lewd smack of his tongue dipping in and out of your puffy folds, Thumb circling around your throbbing clit, “And you’re too sweet, darling. Even sweeter than-” He pools your slick on two thick fingers of his, coating a glossy sheen of obscenity all the way from his rounded tips to the gold wedding ring glinting in the dim light. Before popping them in his mouth to take such long, cleansing drags without even a shred of abashed hesitation, “-that icing of yours.”

“I know–” you’re babbling in disappointment, the full force of your failed attempts at baking something special earlier this evening hitting you once again at full force. “Ugh, what a waste. I can’t even-”

A syrupy beat passes. One. Two. 

And at that very moment, you’re feeling the maddening stretching of your gummy walls being forced to their very limits. Whirling your dazed gaze down to spot that Nanami was now standing, belt unbuckled, tugged down just enough that you were reeling from the pressure of his fat head just barely kissing past your fluttering hole. 

“That’s my wife you’re talkin’ about.” he growls, low and satiny. Hands steadying on the two sides of your trembling thighs, his grunts catch in his throat when he thoroughly sinks his swollen length in. Never-ending, dizzying. A quick frosting-coated glide of Nanami’s fingers on your lips, and he’s pressing another lingering kiss on your slack mouth. Tasting you and the sweet icing and you, “And I don’t let anyone talk about her that way, my love.”

Now, usually, Nanami was a man of patience - liking to prepare and play around with your pretty pussy as if you were his favorite toy. Molding your plush walls like clay to take his massive cock.

But now, oh now Nanami Kento was anything but patient. Shit, he didn’t even know if your snug walls could take him right now. 

Hands curling up into painful fists far away from the curve of your hips, as if he was trying to stop himself from just grabbing your quivering body and just slamming himself inside you until he reached your lungs, your heart, that stupid brain of yours that loved to overthink.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ say anything bad about my wife. You’re perfect.” he breathes, greedy hazel eyes looking like they could devour you whole. “The frosting is perfect, the anniversary cake is perfect, your smile, your mind, you-” You’re being attacked by a flurry of kisses being gifted on every inch of your face that could be reached, “You you you- I love you.”

If you were in the right state of mind, you’d have responded back in a heartbeat. But right now, he’s not waiting a split-second longer before bullying the rest of his swollen, filthy cock in. Solid inches being shoved inside to force your walls to accommodate, stretching out so maddeningly across every divot and upwards curve down his shaft.

In and out in and out in and-

Your nails tear across his favorite blue button-up, down his muscled shoulders, down to that speckled yellow tie you’d gotten him a few years ago. 

“You’re so- hngh-” you squeal, tugging Nanami closer by his tie. Making him bully past your narrow opening even deeper, slick walls squeezing so tight at how his weepy red tip presses right on top of your g-spot. 

He chuckles, it’s so endearing how you’re already too cockdrunk to speak. One engulfing hand on your shoulder is all it takes for you to be sprawled back on the cool counter. Nanami’s pummeling cock bullying so deep inside your hot core it’s the only thing you can think about - nothing but him. 

“How about, after-” Another dredge of sweet sweet frosting is dabbed along your lips, your heated skin. All for Nanami to lick sultrily, “-we’ll make the cake together, hm?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Just use me, baby.”

Those shallow, sultry words are falling from Choso’s rosy lips before he even realizes it - ringing like sheer melodies over the heady smacking of skin-on-skin where he’s bullying his fat cock into you. 

After a few seconds of his sloppy, stuttering rams sending the gooey puddle of cum and slick spreading further and further on the sticky, silken sheets below you - the words finally register. 

“Use you, baby?” you purr, batting your lashes in a way that has him gulping. Feeling his aching shaft twitch against your gummy walls, swollen balls squeezing so so angrily with how much seed he’d been gushing out tonight. “You want me to use you?”

Each thrust of his is lingering, rolling forwards to push you further and further up that pooling mess. He can’t think, he can’t even breathe. And it takes everything in Choso to groan out, “Yes yes- fuck, please.” You’re feeling him place a trail of wet kisses up to the nape of your neck, big tears clinging to his dark lashes, “If my- hngh- if my girl is upset, I want her to use me. Ruin me till she forgets all about it.”

It only takes a split-second for you to immediately flip around your positions, pinning a whiny, pliant Choso so harshly down onto the plush mattress. 

“Hngh- oh, baby—” He bounces slightly at the sheer force. Dewy eyes rolling to the back of his head at the slobbering sheen of cum dripping down his long, long length. Bucking up his quivering hips till you’re speared all the way down on his cock, clit hitting the tufts of black at his thick hilt. “Fuuuck—.” He’s groaning raggedly, like a mantra, two big arms tugging your body stuck to his sculpted front. Nodding half-lucidly, “Yeah- yeah just like that. Whatever you want with me.”

Your pace was unforgiving - barely even giving him a moment to spew out those pussydrunk promises before rocking your hips up and down up and-

“Use you, huh?” you echo back his own words, the sheer need dripping in them having Choso bow his body upwards to pummel into you in a matching feverish pace. You’re humming, thinking back to those stupid pick-up lines the creepy new manager at work had snided just today. It was harmless, but oh how Choso would kill him if he knew. “Well then, don’t mind if I do.”

With a pained keen, he’s surging upwards onto his elbows, craning his head to mesh your honeyed lips with his. “Mmm- mpfh yeah, exactly like this.” Mixing out such throaty groans with your gasps, so desperate to please you with the way he plants two feet on the bed, thrusting up hazily to find your sweet spots, “S’this any better? How do you- ngh how do you feel, baby?”

You’re letting out a drunken giggle with how he’s the one asking - when really it should be you. Because your sweet boyfriend looked so ruined, eyes wrecked with tears. Milky skin a canvas for possessive red marks from your nails. Kiss-bitten lips spit-glossed and permanently parted in ecstasy, only slacking further every time your snug channel dragged down him. 

“Much better, forgot about m’day already.” you’re hissing into his open mouth. “So fuckin’ gorgeous n’ mine, that bastard doesn’t know what the fuck he’s ah- talking about.”

Choso had no idea what you were talking about - though, he thinks his mind is too much of a hot, gooey mess to understand right now. Still so needy to please. Only being able to babble out a stupid, “Yours- fuck m’yours.”

And despite being the one setting the tempo, you can only let out such whiny groans at the sheer stretch Choso’s swollen cock is causing you. By the way he’s molding your gummy walls to each and every throbbing vein decorating down him.

“Sh-shit m’so close, baby.” he whines, a fresh wave of tears streaming down with each overstimulating smack! of his tight, overworked balls against the curve of your ass. Lazily, like he’s moving through molasses, Choso’s drawing messy patterns on your pulsing clit - not even circles, brain too fried to. “M’so close fuck- I need you to- I need-”

“Shhh shhh.” you coo, running a hand through his dark strands, damp with sweat. “Cum f’me, Cho~”

“Hngh!” He can’t stop his hips from bucking up ferally, crying out, “But- I can’t. Wan’ you to feel better. Need you to cum f’me. Use me-”

“Cho.”

“Please-”

“Choso.” you warn, narrowing your eyes, deciding to tease him a little with shallow, repetitive grinds of your hips up and down. Toes curling at the friction of his creamy seed sloshing around inside. “Cum.”

“Hngh- but-” he’s thrashing upwards, so addicted to the rough collision of your sensitive spots against his fat head. Pulling out such fucked-out moans from you already, “But m’spposed to be making you feel happy-”

Your fingers deftly find themselves on Choso’s temping throat, right above his racing pulse. You tighten your nails just enough to leave five matching crescents to match the rest of his marked-up body.

“Cho–” you puff in a sultry groan against his ear. “All I want is for you to fill me up right now.”

And then he’s spilling into you in thick, hot dredge after dredge of his potent seed - before you’ve even finished your sentence. It overfills your pre-painted cunt, that obscene white slopping out of your slit and onto where your hips rocked against your boyfriend’s even harder. A creamy white ring forming mouthwateringly. Relentlessly. 

“See?” Choso couldn’t - vision blurry, ears stuffed with cotton. “I don’t care what any sleazy manager has to say, you’re perfect for me.” A gentle kiss is placed on his pouty, worried lips and shit you still didn’t show any signs of slowing down, overstimulating him to tears. You trace his furious marks, “N’ pick me up from work tomorrow in your skimpiest muscle tee~”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Overtime?

A lewd smack! is all that’s ringing in your ears right now, so loud over the distant hum of the photocopier. Accompanied shortly by Geto’s sing-song rasp of, “Heh, missin’ our reservation for this- Are you the one havin’ a bad day or am I?”

Before you can answer, you’re being gifted with another mean kiss of your boyfriend’s palm against your bulging pussy. Smack! Lingering on the nudge of where he could feel your sloppy hole mending around his girthy shaft, before dancing upwards to grip your hair in a sultry hold. 

Pulling your entire weight up, up, up like he didn’t care about the way he was treating you like some ragdoll right now. Up to drag his lips towards your ear, “Doesn’t matter, because m’still fuckin’ you just the same.”

“S-Sugu–” your breaths crack with need when he’s pushing in a harsh thrust to slam back into the very bottom of your poor pussy. Eyes darting to the tiny window of your office photocopy room, “Sugu, we’re going to get caught.”

“And yet, she’s still hah- sucking me up as sluttily as ever.” he grins, tilting his head back to get those long, inky strands out of his face. He chuckles at the obscene sight of your cunt stretched to her limits, struggling, and drooling a sweet, sweet gloss down his length. “What’s with the ngh- attitude now? You said you wanted to feel better about working overtime so here we are.”

You bite down on your lower lip to hold back your moans when his fat tip draws a solid, straight line across your bruised cervix. Slamming forwards to have you scrambling forwards into some more important paperwork you really should be looking over right now. 

“I did but-”

“Problem solved then.” Geto lets out a low whistle, sounding so utterly smug when he pulls your hips deeper into his. “Now let me make this shitty workload hah- so much better for you, gorgeous.”

Honestly, when you told your dear boyfriend that you’d have to cancel tonight’s date because of a sudden deadline for tomorrow, you felt guilty. Working after everyone else had left, spewing out upset little apologies until he told you he’d come over to the office to “help you take your mind off of things.”

You just didn’t expect it’d end up like this. 

Smack!

Geto scoffs, “Aww documents have you zoning out on me again, pretty girl? Take a break, didn’t I tell ya you don’t have to worry about work and all those stupid things when you’re with me?”

Your knees weaken involuntarily when his gruff question is followed by such an unapologetic crash into your ravaged g-spot. Thankfully being held up by one of Geto’s strong arms to fuck yourself back all the way from his red, weepy tip to that see-through ring dredged up on his thick base. Somehow, you’re managing to gasp out, “N-no, I was just…”

“N-n-no, you were just zoning out, that’s what.” he’s mocking your answer in an overly-dramatic higher pitch, adding a few extra moans you were spilling with every harsh slam after slam of his hips. “What did I tell you now, relax. Let me fuck this shitty overtime and that shitty boss outta ya cute lil’ head, gorgeous. You and her-” His red-rimmed eyes, drunk on the feeling of your slicked walls enveloping him, lock on the sight of his curved dick disappearing so easily in and out of you. “-don’t have to worry about a thing right now.”

It was that same little promise - the one he’d whispered over and over into your sagging open mouth when he’d first ambushed you in the photocopy room. Bending you over the nearest flat surface before ramming into you all those thick, greedy inches of his long-needy cock.

And here he still was. 

Splatters of your syrupy slick coats his toned pelvis with every jagged thrust, fucking you so deep - so disrespectfully - into the office desk. Your feet don’t even touch the ground now, mind spinning and syrupy. Geto’s bending his own to angle up exactly to hit the bullseye of your sweet spots. All those familiarly mapped-out areas to drive anything and everything out of your mind but him and the temptation for more more more-

Click!

Both of you are raising your heads in sync at the distinct clamor of an opening door somewhere in the office - shit, was someone doing patrols at this time?

Your jaw drops open in shock - and the feeling of your boyfriend sliding two slender fingers to your pulsing clit. Drawing rough, skimming circles on the bundle of nerves. He has you jolting and arching your back right into him, his arms - exactly where he loved to have you. 

“Now we’re-” your words come in strangled little stutters, mindlessly bouncing your ass back onto his cock. Feeling the sinful tremors run down your spine with each slam, “-we’re really gonna get hah- caught. And I’m not even halfway through my project yet.”

And Geto - that smug bastard - sounds amused. He thinks he’ll have a ah- talk with your boss later about piling on workloads later. But for now, he sounds so fucking content when he’s musing, “Better cum fast before they give you more than overtime, pretty girl.” Before planting a deceivingly chaste peck on your lips, “Though, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to havin’ a cute lil’ housewife to spoil all day either.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - QUIET TIME!

“Oh, Kuna–”

“Now that’s music to my ears.” Sukuna smirks darkly, lips searing in a trail right down your arched spine. Two inhumanly large hands massage down your back, pulling you against his sculpted front. “So much better to hear you say m’name than complain about some fuckin’ eugh-” His tone trembles in distaste, “-office drama.”

Scoffing, “No need to be so mean, Kuna. You really should’ve heard what Mrs. Smith down at-”

That little tangent earns you a sharp smack! to the fat of your bare ass, cupping the little tremors with a chuckle. He hums with a mocking lilt in his baritone voice, “You’re testing my patience~” Sukuna goes back to kneading at the stressed knots in your body. “Shut up and let me massage you, woman.”

And oh you should’ve learned your lesson - should’ve taken this rare, sweet little moment you’d gotten from your rough boyfriend. Should’ve done anything other than huff out, “Ugh, if only you’d heard what she said, ruined my whole-”

“Lift your hips.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden interruption, “Wh-what?”

“Lift your hips goddammit.”

It’s all you can do to mindlessly head his gruffed out words, legs stuttering and shaky when you get up on all fours. A gasp rips from your throat when Sukuna shuffles into the gap between your pliant body and the silken bedsheets. Not stopping until his hot breath was puffing against your sopping slit, your eyes mere inches away from his massive erection. Throbbing thickly and outlined with precum through his boxers. 

Your mouth waters, “K-Kuna what-”

“So it really takes this to get me back on your mind, huh, brat?” he’s cutting you off with another branding smack on your ass - this time, the very rounded tips of his thick fingers just grazing against your dripping folds. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ about some fuckin’ Mrs. Smith even when I’m right here.”

“Are you jealous?” you muse, brows turning upwards in confusion. “Because I can assure you-”

Before you can run your mouth again, Sukuna’s cutting you off with one hand reaching down to wrap around your throat. The other pulls your shaky hips down to sit on his face. 

“How’s this for jealous?” He grunts, an obscene slurping noise pouring into your hazy bedroom, eyes rolling to the back of his head at this messy kiss with your needy cunt. “Gonna make you forget about those shitty people. Just focus on me.”

You’re managing to wrangle your greedy gaze over your shoulder to spy his lewdly wet smirk, glistening down with a glossed cover of your slick. They’re so pretty, so kiss-bruised in your favorite shade of pink when they wrap around your throbbing cunt to give a harsh suck. “What? Got a problem, woman?”

You wine softly in protest, your lower lip jutting out in a pout that makes his clothed cock just coat down his fat tip with syrupy precum. Opening your mouth to retort and-

In all of two seconds, Sukuna’s hand snug around your throat drops down to tug on his boxers. Tall, angry erection hitting your parted lips with a soft thwack! It doesn’t stay there for long - no, because you feel that familiar pressure back on your throat again, and his achy cock being bullied down, down, down your throat. 

“Actually, don’t answer that.” he’s letting out a strained groan, sanity dancing away with every clench of your tight throat around his glistening shaft. Holding you still with the hand on your throat, Sukuna’s powerful thigh muscles strain when he’s fucking up into your heavenly mouth slow, sultry. Spitting to coat him in all your sweet saliva, “Consider this quiet time, just shut up and take my cock.”

Your eyes are watering, Sukuna’s girth rubbing against every part of your plushy mouth. Swirling a pool of salty precum on your tongue. You can’t do anything but keen brokenly around that warm weight when long, thick fingers are spreading your puffy folds to wrangle his long tongue in deeper. Textures of his tastebuds grazing over and over against your spongy entrance - your clit. 

“Hngh- mmpf-” you’re jutting your hips traitorously. Dragging your slobbering pussy up and down his thorough lips, giving longing, drunken licks up from your weepy base to your hot clit. “Kuna-”

He breaks away with a sinful smack! Your sensitive bud being tugged along with snapping strings of delicate precum and slick.

“Mhm, that’s what I like-” he’s slurring out words mixing together with need. Free hand coming down to toy your clit between two rolling fingers. And you could tell how much he liked this, fat shaft twitching animalistically inside your mouth. Nudging his leaking head at the back of your throat, it’s only with how long you’ve been with Sukuna that you manage not to gag. “-to have you shut up on my cock this way. That pretty mouth is better used for something other than rememberin’ some shitty people when you’re with me. They can fuck right off with the disrespect towards my woman.”

It’s all you can do to keep your jaw slacking further and further with every dragged-out smack of Sukuna’s heavy balls against your face. His hips using you like some glorified cocksleeve, ruthless in his pace. Molding your mouth to the shape of him while he does the very same with yours.

“F-fuuuck-” you manage to gasp out through the drooling edges of your lips. “It feels so- ngh–” Moans getting lost when Sukuna flicks your throbbing clit slowly, nudging with the very tip of his dark fingernails. “You’re being so-”

“So loud.” he finishes your own sentence for you. Grinning a grin that sends shivers up your spine, right to where he was stuffing your mouth shut with all long inches of his cock. Murmuring dangerously around your sloppy hole, “Interrupt quiet time again and you don’t get to cum, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Unmistakably depraved.

“Fuuuuck, sweetheart.” Gojo’s whispering, over and over. As if he can’t - won’t - manage to articulate anything else right now. The honeyed words wrenching out of him with each sticky crash of his shaft down your sloppy slit in this firm mating press. “Do you know how hngh- long I’ve missed this sweet cunt?”

You don’t have to answer, and the echoing smack! of his too-sensitive balls against the curve of your ass is enough of one for him. Making his eyes gleam with such a feral glint, traveling straight to where he was pressing in bullying little grinds past your clamping walls. 

It’s been so long - too long - about a whole week since your pussy-whipped boyfriend was able to have his fill of you.

A soft pad of his thumb rolls in a  languid circle over your needy clit. Sending white-hot shockwaves that have you jolting the balls of your feet to greedily swallow up even more throbbing inches of him. 

“Fuck, forgot how tight you s-squeeze me when I do that.” Gojo eyes dance to the back of his head with every bottom-out hit against your clingy mess of a cunt. Crashing so messily onto every velvety inch of your cunt. It only takes a few drags of your slobbering walls down his length for your dear boyfriend to run his mouth, “Forgot allll about this because of some- hngh- some mournng for a fucking fictional character-”

“My favorite character, Toru!” you exclaim, through furrowed brows. Both of you are shocked at the fact that you’re still managing to speak in coherent sentences - just means he hasn’t fucked you good enough yet, he muses with his syrupy, pussydrunk mind. “He was my- my favorite and he died and-”

You’re immediately being shut up by two sweet lips planting on your own, immediately moving to suck on your tongue so filthily. “Well, I’m your favorite boyfriend-” Your only, but semantics. Gojo whines - whines, “Shouldn’t I- hngh- be more important?”

As if to help you make your decision, he’s burrowing his cock in such needy thrusts. And Gojo can’t help but crane his neck to bite down on your frantically racing pulse, feeling himself salivate with how well you’re milking each and every single vexing ram of his hips. Just spearing the hotly saturated tip into your spongy g-spots, so fucking big that every stroke feels like a brush against your throat, an indent into the plush walls of your pussy, wrapping and molded around his girth. 

Another bite to your neck at your silence - sharp canines just shy of drawing blood. And you swear Gojo’s eyes spark with an unnatural lightning blue when he devours you with a greedy stare, “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“You a-are.” Is all you can gasp out, but that’s not enough for the great Gojo Satoru. You’re instantly earning a rosy pout and a loaded smack! right on the bullseye of your glistening clit, faintly you think you hear the crackle of jujutsu. Thighs burning at the sheer stretch of being folded down, down, down until your knees knocked against your tits. “You’re more- hah! Fuck fuck fuck don’t– you’re more important!”

This seems to soothe your jealous boyfriend a bit, but it still doesn’t stop him from placing such brutal thrusts on your poor, ravaged pussy. Bruising. Sloppy. 

You’re whining so brokenly, “Fuck, right there- feels too good- hngh!”

“Mhm, exactly what I thought.” Another explosive slap to your sensitive nub, humming with power, and Gojo throws his head back at how much it makes you gush so wetly around his thick hilt. “Now, was that- ngh- was that so hard?” Spitting out little profanities into your lips, as if the man he was jealous over wasn’t a few pixels, “The f-fucker- Had to wait a whole week before I got to comfort my sad girl? I’d kill him myself.”

You can’t even formulate a response to that - not even if you wanted to. Because with increasingly sloppy drags of his cock against your walls, Gojo only grows more and more heated. 

“Fuck- makin’ my girl so upset. Gonna fuck all thoughts outta him for ya.” Babbling out little curses a mile a minute, swift pace bruising your spring cervix, your g-spot. A thin trickle of drool trails messily in-between your clashing kisses, only growing every time he’s ramming into your gripping cunt. “Gonna make you cum- make you mine.” Difficult, even with how you were clinging onto his every rough, angled thrust, and you don’t think Gojo even realizes the possessive little spanks he’s repeatedly leaving on your puffy clit. “Won’t you cum like a good girl f’me, sweetheart?”

He’s moaning at the sloppy way you listen to his ragged plea, letting out such pretty moans into the heady air when you fall back into your high. Toes curling, jolts of needy pleasure running down your spine, such a mess. 

It makes Gojo falter in his tempo, it makes the sharp bones on his toned hips slam into you even harder, stuttering and rutting forwards like some animal in heat that can’t bear to do anything but be buried well inside you. It makes him cum. 

“Oh- fuck, Toru s’in so deep.” You mewl, too cockdrunk to say anything else. To feel anything but the slow, sultry filling of your quivering cunt. Rope after rope of his hot cum painting the mess of your branded walls inside, and each time he’s fucking his cum even deeper you feel a lewd whimper of his name leave you. Vision tinging with need, with the feeling of being so overfilled you could barely breathe. “Oh- oh my god I feel it coming-”

Your words hitch in your throat when Gojo - cock still angry and twitching with faint wisps of trickling cum - plugs a slender finger into your bulging cunt. Stopping the overflow, the grins, “Hope you’re on the pill, my girl, because we’re not done until you forget.”

A/N. Ouu y’all should’ve seen the way I was CACKLING writing Toji’s ending.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[seungkw1]

white t-shirt — csc

💿🎧 white t-shirt - jonghyun 🎶🤍

♡ pairing: bf!seungcheol x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp ♡ wc: 2.3k ♡ warnings: dom!cheol, sub!reader, size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), nipple play, creampie, dacryphilia, sexting, brief wrist pinning (f. receiving), gendered petnames (good girl, babygirl) ♡ a/n: i went insane no fewer than 15 times while writing this. hope u enjoy <3

1:32am

You didn't mean to rile up your boyfriend when you sent him that picture. 

It was late at night. You should've been asleep already, but the bed felt empty without him. Seungcheol had only been gone for a few days, off on a trip with the boys, but you missed him. Normally, you spend your nights trying to escape from his immense body heat - an impossible task, as he insists on clinging onto you, wrapping his strong arms around you, holding you tight against him as he drifts off to sleep. But you're having a hard time sleeping without his touch. 

It's only one more night, you remind yourself. He'll be back tomorrow. But it isn't helping. 

So in his absence, you do the next best thing you can: put on one of his t-shirts. 

The shirt is thin, a simple plain white tee, buttery soft, and most importantly - it feels like him. You plop back into bed, cozying up under the sheets, ready to sleep. However, his scent against your skin is arousing, and you find yourself longing for him even more. Your hand leisurely slips downward, resting between your inner thighs. The coolness of your skin contrasts with the heat radiating from between your legs. You try to resist, but your fingertips drift toward your core. They arrive at the delicate fabric of your underwear, just barely grazing over your clothed slit. You inhale sharply - you knew you were wet, but the sticky spot that has formed reveals just how fucking much you need him right now. Your middle finger ever so slightly presses against your clit, your other hand moving to your breasts, lightly pinching your hardening nipples through your borrowed shirt. You let out a quiet whimper. As turned on as you are, you'd love to get yourself off, but you don't want to do it yourself. You want Seungcheol here, touching you, worshiping your body with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. You feel your cunt throb at the mere thought of him. 

You sigh. Rolling over, you reach to grab your phone. You didn't want to bother him too much while he was with his friends, but your neediness is winning right now. 

You open up your messages. You click the top thread, labeled “Cheollie ❤️”, and open up the selfie camera. It's dark, but the moonlight seeping through the curtains illuminates you just enough. You position the phone above you, placing your body in full view. Your nipples poke through the thin, sheer fabric, showing off your tits nicely. You lift the shirt up slightly, revealing your tummy, but also displaying the visible wet spot spreading on your panties. Perfect. 

The screen flashes as you hit the shutter button. You type out a quick message.

missing you babe 😘

You hit send. You don't even know if he's even awake at this point, but almost immediately the typing bubble pops up. He types for a good minute, then the typing stops. But no message. You wait, staring at the screen, another minute passing before he starts typing again. Finally, a response. 

you can't just send me a picture like that out of nowhere. look what you've done.

His message is followed by a slightly blurry photo: him, in the bathroom mirror, pants hastily unbuttoned and boxers shoved aside, his thick cock fully erect. 

Another message follows. 

we were in the middle of a game. i had to run off and hide because of you. 

You grin, pleased with yourself. You wanted to tease your boyfriend, make him excited to come home to you. Instead, you've made him incredibly horny - and you want to see just how far you can push him. 

i take it you like the pic then? ;)

brat. i saw how wet you are. you need me that bad babygirl? so desperate for my cock that you can't even wait til i'm home tomorrow?

i need you babe, i wanna cum so bad 

don’t you dare, love. wait for me. 

i’ll be waiting ❤️

good. no touching yourself. only i’m allowed to make you cum.

You say goodnight, then and roll over - but you're certainly not sleepy now. Your mind wanders, thinking of your boyfriend, fantasizing about how good he's going to fuck you tomorrow. 

You pull up your phone one last time to check the time, calculating the hours until he’ll be back - far too many. 

It's going to be a long night. 

—

3:34pm

Your eyes are glued to the little gray circle with a C on it as it gets closer and closer to your apartment on the map. Cheol is almost home. 

Thank fuck. If you have to wait any longer, you’re simply going to explode. 

You reread the text he sent you earlier in the day:

omw home baby, i'll be there in a couple hours. wait in bed for me, wear the same thing as last night.

So here you are, laying on the bed, in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear, which you can already feel getting wet again. You've been obedient, ignoring every urge in your body to touch yourself - but that's only made you even hornier. 

Finally, you hear the jingle of keys as the front door unlocks. You hear your boyfriend enter, taking off his shoes and setting down his things. Then - footsteps, growing louder as he approaches the bedroom. He slowly pushes the slightly-ajar door, standing in the doorway and taking in the sight of you, nearly naked, waiting for him in bed - just like he told you to. He gazes down at you, practically licking his lips, his eyes brimming with desire. You give him your best doe eyes as he saunters toward the bed. 

“Such a good girl for me, doing exactly as I told you,” he praises as he takes your face in one hand, rubbing your cheek gently. You say nothing, but tug at his arms, trying to pull him onto the bed - but he resists, standing tall as he stares lustfully into your eyes.  

“Oh, but you're still in trouble for what you did to me last night.”

You bite your lip as you grin, beaming at how much you managed to provoke him with only a single suggestive photo. Before he can stop you, you slip your hand onto the thick bulge in his sweatpants. He groans as you stroke his cock through his clothes; he lets you do so a few more times, savoring the sensation, before grabbing you by the wrist - pinning you to the bed as he climbs on top of you. He interlaces his fingers with yours as he holds you down, locking lips with you as he kisses you with aching necessity. His soft, plush lips tug at yours as he places his weight on you, pressing his hardened cock into your core. You cry out as his erection rubs gently against your clit, giving you the stimulation you've been craving. 

“Cheol,” you moan under your breath. “Missed you so much.”

He kisses your neck, humming in your ear. “I know, baby.”

His lips trail down your neck, sucking tenderly at your skin, until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in each hand, squeezing them as his thumbs repeatedly brush against your perked nipples. He positions his mouth right above one of them - you feel the warmth of his breath before he latches on, sucking gently on the bud through the thin t-shirt. You moan softly as his tongue creates a wet spot upon the fabric, making your nipple even more visible. He rubs the first nipple again as his mouth moves to your other boob, sucking more intensely as you begin to wriggle underneath him. He takes his time, going back and forth between each bud. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, “gonna cum already if you keep doing that.”

His mouth pops as he unlatches, glancing up at you amorously and giving you a sly grin. You are putty in his hands at the slightest touch - and it turns him on so badly. 

He tugs at the shirt - you lift your body off the bed, allowing him to pull it off of you. Throwing it aside hastily, he returns to your now-bare tits, kissing and licking them some more before his lips continue down your body, planting deep kisses on your stomach. He arrives at your cunt, situating himself comfortably between your legs, ready to devour you. His tongue licks a fat stripe over the growing wet spot on your underwear, the lightest of touch causing your back to arch slightly. He sucks on your clit through the fabric a few times before he grabs your underwear, pulling them off of you hastily, your soaked cunt now exposed and ready for him to eat.

He wraps his arms around your thighs as his tongue meets your pussy, licking up and down your folds. You whimper as he swirls around your clit, kissing and softly sucking on the sensitive bud. He slips his tongue into your cunt, pushing its way into your hole - his nose pressing deliciously against your clit as he tastes all of you, the vibrations from his moans making you see stars. You place your hand on his head, running your fingers through his hair as he goes down on you, your grasp growing stronger the more intensely his tongue works against your cunt. As you pull his hair he begins to grind into the mattress, needing relief from how painfully hard he’s become. He worships your pussy, eating you out as if it was his last meal on earth, savoring every drop of your juices as you writhe under him, overwhelming pleasure pulsing through your entire body. 

“Cheollie, ‘m gonna cum.”

He removes his face from your cunt, taunting you with his lips hovering just above your clit. You lift your hips, trying to put your pussy back in his mouth, but instead he slips two fingers into you. You cry out as he curls his fingertips upward, reaching your g-spot with ease. He keeps pressing the sweet spot as he slides in and out of you, his thick fingers stretching you out as he fucks you.

Not as much as his cock is going to stretch you out, your subconscious reminds you. 

“Please,” you whine, looking down at him, “need your mouth on me.”

He glances up at you, his big brown eyes meeting yours, drunk with lust. 

“Beg for it.”

“Please baby.”

“Please what?”

“Please make me cum.”

He smirks at the sight of you, tears welling in your eyes as you plead desperately for his touch. 

“My baby’s so pretty like this,” he coos, his bottom lip brushing lightly against your pulsating bud. 

You yelp as he dives back into you, his mouth latching onto your clit as his hand increases its pace, his other hand pressing against your tummy. Any remaining thoughts in your head vanish - your mind overtaken by pleasure, overtaken by him. You scream his name out as the white-hot sensation in your stomach builds, your body starting to tremble as your orgasm takes over. Seungcheol continues sucking your throbbing bud as you cum on his fingers, shaking from the powerful rush of dopamine exploding through your body. You’ve never cum this fucking hard in your life. 

You haven’t even caught your breath by the time he crawls up on top of you, his cock lined up with your entrance. You moan as he slides the head inside, your drenched walls stretching around his size. He slowly begins to thrust into you, filling you up, your pussy taking his entire length with each stroke. His body presses against yours as he buries his head into your neck, his cock pumping into you, fucking you deeper with each stroke. He groans as you tighten around him, his voice low and gravelly in your ear as his orgasm draws nearer.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, “pussy so perfect for me, fuuuck…”

Tears stream down the side of your face as you take his cock. Your nails dig into his back as you cling to him - sending him over the edge.

“Please,” you beg, “cum inside me."

“Oh god,” he moans, his body beginning to tremble as he bucks his hips into you. “I’m cumming baby…”

His cock throbs in your cunt as he releases. You whimper as he fills your pussy up, his hot ropes shooting up into you. He slows his pace, coming to a stop as he comes down, his still-twitching cock resting inside you. His lips tenderly suck at the delicate skin on your neck as you wrap your arms around his broad torso, squeezing his body into yours as tightly as you can. Eventually, he lifts his head, his face meeting yours with a kiss on the lips. He gazes at you, enamored. You lay there, breathing deeply together as you recover from your highs.

Seungcheol strokes your hair softly. “God I missed you.”

“Don't leave me ever again,” you pout playfully. 

“I can’t,” he replies, shaking his head. “Not if you’re gonna send me pictures like that. I nearly came in my pants.”

You grin lazily at him, head still spinning from your orgasm. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Cheol kisses you again, cradling your face in his hand. He grabs onto you as he rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You feel his cum dripping out of you, spilling onto his still-erect cock. He grabs you by the hips, pulling you toward his face. 

“C’mere,” he instructs, licking his lips at the sight of you about to straddle his face. “I'm not done with you yet.”

—

[svtswhorehouse]

OT 13 : drunk or high sex — nsfw

Seungcheol : drunk sex. oh. he gets rough, but like, a good kinda rough. lowkey, gets possessive and loves marking you. make sure you check your neck before you go into work the next morning cause he will leave hickeys !!! likes making sure everyone knows who you belong to and will admit to it, he has no shame.

Jeonghan : high sex. you’re telling me you wouldn’t want to make out with this man when he’s on cloud nine ? i mean, he already has “fuck me” eyes like come on. A TEASE. will tell you to wait when you start to whine cause he’s taking his sweet time. TONGUE DOES WONDERS. your eyes will never not be rolled into the back of your head. lowkey likes it when you pull his hair.

Joshua : neither, but not opposed to trying it out. prefers to be completely present and in the moment. will try it out a few times, kind of has the “if it happens, it happens” mindset. will never say no to you though. if anything it happens more when y’all are tipsy than when y’all are drunk.

Junhui : high sex. will probably make a weird joke mid-fuck and have you being like ????? wtf. but it’s okay cause it’s jun and he’ll have you seeing stars regardless. might have to take a break and switch positions cause weed makes him sleepy.

Hoshi : hear me out, high. thought he was too giggly and accident prone when drunk and didn’t wanna kill the vibe. A MUNCH !!!! like you know how people get the muchies when they’re high ? yeah, hoshi just goes down on you whenever he gets them. would be on a mission to make you squirt.

Wonwoo : high sex. honestly, you wouldn’t even be able to tell he’s high, his composure is insane. lazy sex, but he’ll still do all the work because there’s no way he’s gonna let his princess do any. tbh, really really good at rolling and will hold it up to your lips making direct eye contact while you take a hit.

Woozi : neither. man barely even drinks, what makes you think he lights up ? doesn’t need to be under the influence of anything to get you off and he can prove it to you too.

Dokyeom : drunk sex. giggly !!! all sunshine and smiles. will probably make dirty jokes just for fun, but it’s okay cause at least he makes you feel good. he’ll def pamper you with a bunch of kisses before, after, and during the act. king of aftercare when drunk, even if he knocks over everything in his way by accident but y’all can just deal with that in the morning.

Mingyu : BOTH. would not be opposed to getting cross faded. will take a hit and blow it straight into your mouth to initiate a makeout sesh. passionate and rough about everything !! will most likely end up fucking on every surface, from the couch to the kitchen counter — i would make sure you wipe that off if I were you. after, will either make you food or do a late night convenience store run with you.

Minghao : high sex. slow, sensual, and passionate. honestly might last hours just cause you two get carried away. y’all spend like an hour alone just making out until your lips are all puffy and red. not a talker when high, but he does like to make a lot of eye contact.

Seungkwan : drunk sex. tried it while high once and felt like he wasn’t productive enough ???? for some reason he’s always go, go, go. feels like he can do a lot more and please you better when drunk. a cutie pie, always making sure you’re alright at all times. will probably make you get off on his thigh and you’re not opposed cause have you seen his quads ?????

Vernon : HIGH FOR SURE. man is definitely a stoner in another life. chill. so chill, that you would have to initiate something and he’ll just go along with whatever makes you happy. might whine, but if you hear it, pretend you didn’t. also, has worn his red tinted glasses a few times during the deed for some reason ???? (ifykyk)

Dino : drunk. honestly probably got drunk cause he was trying to calm his nerves. would want to initiate it, but in the end he probably took so long that you did. his biggest fantasies come out when drunk and would either ask to try titty fucking or you’d end up sixty-nining.

[manheimsmuse]

bejewelled ; spencer reid

what’s a girl gonna do? a diamonds gotta shine!

a/n: very mildly self indulgent, i imagine this set around season one or two-ish just ‘cause the vibe of early criminal minds season will never be matched.

warnings: spencer reid x afab!bau!reader, established, secret romantic relationship, body piercings ( bellybutton ), teasing ( derek and spencer being, well, derek and spencer )

recently these late nights in the office had become more and more frequent. the team all sat in the bullpen in comfortable silence, only broken periodically when someone offered coffee from the kitchenettes unreliable coffee machine.

you rose to your feet slowly, body aching from being sat at your desk for so long. you tilt your head side to side, humming softly at the relief in your neck and shoulders before clasping your hands together and stretching them above your head.

a grave mistake.

“what is this!” elle squealed, all but launching herself across her desk then the hem of your shirt rises to expose the sparkling jewel dangling from your navel “a piercing? how edgy.”

elle’s tone is teasing as one hand shifts the hem of your shirt up just enough for her to examine the star shaped diamond with the other.

you’re too tired to swat her away, and in all honesty you welcome the distraction from the heavy workload, even if it’s drawing unwanted attention from the rest of your team.

a low wolf whistle is sent in your direction from the one derek morgan as he peers over elle’s shoulder to get a look at the jewellery, as does jj, and, naturally, penelope.

“hey, pretty boy, you know about this?” derek taunts, glancing over his shoulder at spencer, still knee deep in paperwork and ignoring the commotion surrounding your navel.

the entire team, especially derek, loved to poke fun at spencer for his little crush on you. teasing him relentlessly for not asking you on a date, for how he occasionally stumbled over his words when you sat next to him on the jet.

a bellybutton piercing, by their assumption, should’ve sent the poor kid genius into orbit.

but spencer knew already.

the two of you had been a bit of an item for a little over six months, keeping the new relationship hidden from your team for no other reason than pettiness. it was nice having something that just belonged to you two.

“yeah, i know.”

spencers mumbled response catches even you off guard, and it doesn’t even seem to register with him what came out of his mouth as he cards his hand through his hair.

“i — excuse me, what!?” penelope squeaks, heels clicking as she shuffles her way over to spencers desk and snaps his file closed “nuh uh, open your ears mister!” she scolds, tapping his forehead with the fluffy pompom on the end of her pen.

spencers laugh, your favourite sound, reaches your ears as he finally lets you catch his gaze. his eyes quickly flick up and down your body, a speedy skill he’d been perfecting since you first got together to catch a glimpse at you without anyone else noticing.

“i knew.” spencer reinforces with a nod “she caught it in her sweater last week and took it out on me”

a half truth, it was his sweater, in his apartment, but his answer seems to be enough to satisfy elle who releases her grip on your shirt.

you watch as spencer gets to his feet and, much like you, began stretching. only, to your horror, when he craned his head to the side the collar of his button up no longer shielded the dark purple bruise on his neck.

your drunken handiwork.

“now wait a damn minute..” derek began, eyes drifting from reids neck to you “now i know y’all nasty kids aren’t doing what i’m thinking.”

“no idea what you mean,” you mumble hurriedly, burying your face back in your paperwork and ignoring the giggles and prodding coming from jj and elle at either side of you.

[wesstars]

crush

cairo sweet x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when cairo goes home, what comes to mind are thoughts of you. wc: 2.3k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! all characters 18+. university au. masturbation, smoking, non-linear narrative. reader is cairo’s teaching assistant, reader described as masc presenting. a/n: let me know what y’all think :) for the vibes

masterlist

“Is Professor Miller not coming?” Winnie had just dropped into her unassigned assigned seat next to Cairo, two minutes before Greco-Roman Literary Theory started. The flipping of pages punctuated the chatter of other students waiting, a comfortable sound.

“He said he’d be gone today,” Cairo replied absently. “There’s a ‘guest lecturer,’ our teaching assistant.”

“Oh, right. Who’s that?”

Cairo shrugged. “Who knows.” 

As if on cue, the door swung open. Cairo didn’t even look up—Miller mentioned that he kept a handful of research assistants that would be there to help with the advanced reading. But honestly, Cairo wasn’t sure what they could tell her that she didn’t already know. A melodic hum fell through the air for just a moment, a chorus. 

“Good morning.” At your lilting voice, rough with the edge of 10am, Cairo started. She watched you set your messenger bag on the desk. Your white shirt pulled over your shoulders; there was a glint at your collar, a necklace peeking through. A thin watch adorned your wrist. Winnie, along with some of the class, echoed your greeting, and Cairo blinked.

Late spring afternoon draped across the furniture in Cairo’s room, the quickly waning light giving easy way to a blue hour. Dropping her bag at the door, she tore off her shirt and skirt with the confidence of one standing before a crowd. Running a hand up from her sternum to her neck, she stretched languidly, sinking down onto her bed. After so many uneventful days—when she applied to Yale, she didn’t think that there would be any uneventful days—she finally had a story to turn over in her mind. 

You. You were a mystery. Even as you had started the class with an introduction, telling Cairo you’d graduated from a middle-of-nowhere college in California and sought a writing career in Vermont before delving into research, she longed to lay out the details and pull them out from under the rug. Where did you learn to teach? Did you like to drive, or be driven? Mountains, or the sea? Where did you grow up? Was there coffee or tea in your cupboard? Cairo’s stomach burned to know. Her dark eyes burned the ceiling with smoke signals, searching for you even though you were god knows where in that seaside state.

Arching her back, Cairo let her hand travel down, palm flat against her stomach, to trace the seam of her upper thigh. As the class had progressed, your keenly observant nature did not elude Cairo. Maybe listening was something that your pedagogy instilled in you, but the way you held each student’s question in the cant of your head, an answer in your crinkling eyes, listening seemed to be in your nature. It was meticulous, the way you picked apart the class text, weaving in references and tying it all in. In that two hour lecture, Cairo learned that you watched the same way you listened. 

Balmy as it was, the humidity made her dark waves cling to her skin, and she shivered as she brushed them back, thinking of a different pair of slim hands. Your scrutiny of each student had an intention that she couldn’t quite place; a determination that thrilled her. Cairo imagined that you’d observe her the same way, that she would be the one you were most fond of. It was only natural that her own attention would draw yours onto her. Holding the weight of your envisioned gaze made Cairo’s core twist, a pleased little flush that she prayed you could see. Your affected impartiality didn’t bother Cairo—in fact, it pulled her into your shadow. In her bed, she rolled onto her stomach then her knees, shaking her hair out. 

Her hands were steady as she reached for her bedside table, thumb rolling on the wheel of her zippo as she held the cigarette to her lips. Cairo took a drag, blowing out neat smoke rings as she settled back on her heels. The skin of her own fingers was cool against her lips, and when she took the smoke away, she studied the pattern of her lipstick on the white paper as she had so many times before.

She’d watched, unabashedly and unafraid of being caught, as you drummed your fingers on the chalk tray. Would your fingertip be soft or work hardened if it pressed down her tongue? Would your skin carry the stain of her red lip as deeply, as obediently, as the malleable wrapping paper?

“Alright, class,” you cleared your throat, turning slowly around the room to make eye contact with each student. “As you know, Jonathan’s away on a conference today. I’ll start with a bit of roll, just so I can learn your names. Not many of you come to my office hours, I know.” You smiled easily. It was so guileless, Cairo mused, nearly childlike. You had the class go around the rooms with names and majors, a circuit that Cairo gave no attention to other than your lilting rhythm of hums, the tapping of your foot on the floor, the way you flicked the corner of the role sheet with your thumb. Your gaze was soon on hers, waiting expectantly. She looked right back with a blink.

“Cairo Sweet. English major.”

“Cairo.” Her name rolled off your innocent little grin, making her cock her head. “Wonderful.” Fascinating. Would you whisper midnight black desires in her ear, so deep and dark they might be murmured into the ink of your own empty room?

You continued, circling back to the front and easily transitioning to the lesson plan. You had an awfully effortless way of grasping the class’ attention, holding gently and never forcing. It wasn’t like Professor Miller, who always seemed to hasten through the lecture so he could return to his research. She could tell you liked the woods of the text, to fall down into the depths of each word, feeling its weight in you and letting it rock. Just like Cairo. 

She sighed into the warm air prickling up her skin, the curl of your voice around her name making her nipples harden in her bralette, even in retrospect. Exhaling around her cigarette, Cairo brought her hands up to palm her breasts, feeling the drag of her rubied nubs on her palms. Was it the high of the nicotine, the blur of smoke ridden air that made her float straight up into the lofty space you’d created in her mind? Though the feel of her own fingers scraping the lace against her skin was familiar, she found herself keen to think of your soft or callused hands. She was wet already, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten wet so fast.

The weight she imagined of your touch on her flushed skin was completely, deliciously foreign. Unbidden but intimately welcome, Cairo wished that your caress would find the map of her chest as familiar as a classic, something you had searched a million times over yet always managed to find something new. Shamelessly, Cairo trailed her fingers down her stomach, nails catching on every rib as she arched her back in the spilled moonlight. The mystery in the crossing of your long legs as you’d leaned back on the desk climbed up her belly, curling in the thump, thump, thump, of her heart. The uneven roll of your sleeves clung to the corners of her eyes, eidetic and oh, so, tempting. She had watched you so ardently—did you like to watch? Would you watch? 

The space between her thighs was achingly empty, craving the set of your narrow hips. She was comfortable there, and she remembered the taut stretch of wool as you dropped into your chair and set one ankle over your knee. There was something endearing about the way your trousers had pulled up to reveal slouchy black socks, and darker her mind went as the material pulling creases around your lap made her shudder and—she reached behind to pull one of her fluffy pillows under her, smoke billowing into the air. 

Cairo gave her hips an experimental roll, imagining it was the soft fabric of your slacks against her aching cunt, and grinned around her cigarette. Unlike the pillow, you would be ever so solid under her, grabbing for her thighs like a dog yearns to please. Were you more likely to bruise her skin, yanking her into you without care for blood—or would you guide her gently, make a home in her innocence and hold her more dearly than life ever could? Either way, your desire for Cairo would be so apparent that you couldn’t help yourself.

The dip of your tongue in her navel, the little smirk you’d undoubtedly wear as you went down further—would you go for her throbbing clit first, or would your lips press so warm—she didn’t know. She didn’t have to, content with all those different versions of you unfurling before her. In her bedroom, each time she moved her hips, it became easier to imagine you guiding her actions, the bump of your nose on her folds, damned if not addicting.

Cairo grinned as she fell onto her forearms, hips pushing into the soft pillow without abandon. The slide of her panties soaked with slick against her sensitive clit felt like the delicate press of your splayed hand on her desk as you’d passed, eyes occupied by the text you were holding. It had only been a split second, but it was enough for her to memorize every crease, every vein. Cairo let out a whine, a demanding little sound, as her movements grew erratic. Looking up into the heaven where you must be, she imagined that you’d murmur to her, “I’m here, I’m here, how could I be anywhere else but here?” as you traced the dip in her back. Her arousal took her down every sullied path she’d ever dreamed of, but her mind stuck on one gesture that made her mouth go dry. 

She remembered the way your shirt got just a bit untucked when you stretched during the class break. You’d instinctively tucked it back in, quick as you surveyed the class. Cairo thought that you’d dress yourself back up the same way after you bent her over the desk after class, pushing her skirt up and shoving your fingers into her, painting bruises onto her hip bones with how tight you held her.

The two of you would share a mutual understanding that she wanted this, wanted it bad enough for you to take it whenever you saw fit. Cairo decided that today, this time, you’d be as rough as you pleased, a cup of pens clattering to the ground as you pushed her down, forearm across her shoulder blades. Your necklace would be cold on her warm skin, would it be cold on her tongue? You’d put two, three fingers inside, humming in that absentminded way you did. She thought you’d nuzzle into her ear, all lips and sharp teeth, asking if she’d sprayed your favorite hair mist of hers because she hoped you’d notice—she did—and take her, break her, whatever you wanted. 

You’d send her plummeting down towards a deeper hell (or was it higher, up to your majestic heaven?), already knowing everything that her body needed. Cairo imagined herself coming so helplessly around the stretch of your fingers, so high strung from nights of trying to mimic the press of your touch on her clit, unable to reach the same heights you sent her to. As she held back tears, eyes on the ceiling in reverence, feeling herself drip to the floor, you’d sigh as your mind wandered to other things already, carelessly running a hand down her back. 

Cairo gasped, dropping her nearly finished cigarette in favor of gripping the bed sheets. The white fabric wrinkled around her fingers, reminiscent of your shirt creasing as you’d rolled your sleeves up. This was something new you could show her, just how fast she could come and just how wet it made her. It was a marvel, feeling the fabric cling to her cunt, almost as good as how you’d feel. Resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow, she murmured your name over and over again, a little susurrus of a litany, so similar to your preoccupied hum. Panting, Cairo giggled in her bliss, soft and bright as Californian oranges clinging to rich leaves. You were dark enough to be tucked into the wrinkles in the soft pillow, dark enough for Cairo to love, as a journal loves a secret.

Sated, Cairo grabbed her phone and typed your name in. The results spilled out, and she scrolled, looking for all of the details in the background of your social media posts, curiously drunk on the year’s gap in your CV. Cairo noticed the perfect little circle where the cigarette had burned when she dropped it, and she brushed away the remnants. The gesture smeared the ash on the sheets.

—

Walking into your office with barely a knock, Cairo took in the familiar room of an academic, but with your unfamiliar knick knacks around the place. A lighter, a leather wallet, glasses and wired headphones. You didn’t look surprised as you glanced up from your laptop. Instead, you smiled. 

“Cairo, isn’t it?” 

A flush of pleasure shot straight into her—you remembered. She nodded. Your shelves were covered in books and stacks of reviews, the morning’s leftover cup of coffee sitting on one of the ledges. Did you smoke before, or after your coffee? The terrible, terrible want to replace the taste of smoke on your tongue with the taste of her gave Cairo just the confidence she needed. 

“What can I do for you?”

Cairo leaned over your desk, watching the way your eyes dropped to her burgundy lipstick. “Would you be able to help me on the Aristophanes reading?” She pushed her copy of The Clouds towards you. “I can’t seem to grasp it.” Your eyes met hers. “Of course.”

--

a/n cont'd: can you read my mind, i’ve been watching you… there’s just something about you, baby… ♪ / hope you enjoyed @woewriting :)

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

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“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

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Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

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Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

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Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡