#y’all have been spared
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text

The girls may be fighting…
#my pen died#y’all have been spared#splatoon#splatoon 3#shiver splatoon#shiver hohojiro#pearl splatoon#marina splatoon#off the hook#pearlina#art#my art
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
Day like 57 of learning how to draw this kid (DOODLE PAGES MY BELOVEDS 🌸🌸💖💖💖)
He’s such a loser and I love him
BEAKLET HC IS FROM @butterflyscribbles I love her hcs with all my heart so if u see more art featuring her hcs u know why (they invade my brain 24/7/pos) GO LOOK AT HER BLOG RNNNN
watch me forget how to draw him tomorrow
(BTWWW I have a Masterpost of all my SCU stuff now!!!! Not gonna link it in every post like I do with the swap au but u can find it on my blog’s directory :3)
#sonic wachowski#movie sonic#sonic movie#sonic cinematic universe#scu fanart#sonic fanart#movie sonic fanart#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#sonic the hedgehog fanart#baby boy baby 😭😭🌸🌸🌸💖💖#I love this guy#HES SO‼️‼️‼️‼️#WHAKHXKAJXJSJD#u know#what a creature#I saw this guy and went damn new hyperfixation forever ig…#y’all don’t know what a grip this guy has on my brain it’s wild#also u may have noticed but I will NEVER give graphic tees actual designs#u get explosion like scribble or you get NOTHING#it’s rlly fun to me lol#btw there was meant to be a very sad drawing on this doodle page#but I couldn’t draw his body for some reason#so y’all have been spared…for now
188 notes
·
View notes
Text
the adventures continue. got caught in the rain, prof left us AGAIN, and I just ripped my favorite jeans with less than a week left on the trip
but at least I am watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail with a group. consolation to my soul
#I will see my dogs again soon. my giant lovable goofy dogs#penni yeets her thoughts into the void#y’all have been spared my diatribes but truly I am so done with this professor#and I didn’t click great with my group either. so.#but I’m a serial girl on her own and I love it so I’ve still been having a good time wandering around by myself
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fun fact: this is what Sun’s art tends to look like in “don’t spare your gaze” 👀
#like 2 people may find this interesting but I thought I would show it anyway 🙈#very much street art inspired. mainly use of paper stencils to get crisp lines and the spray cans to get unique blending and splatters#it’s very much rough intentionally because he’s still learning#I feel like also he tends to rush things which means that there are definitely mistakes#like the moon painting he had no idea what he was doing which is why there are so many layers of colors LMAO#but yeah! I#working on chapter 15 via finding ways to recconnect with the characters#it’s been such a long time since I wrote for them so excercise like this have really helped!#don’t spare your gaze#aftermath au#fnaf#sun fnaf#fnaf au#fnaf security breach#spraypaint#also before I update I think I’m gonna do back and fix some chapter because I have been rereading them and OW#I’m so sorry that y’all have to read that amount of mistakes
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not to be the most predictable person on this god forsaken site but Dan Heng has had me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for the last two weeks and I’m beginning to think this affliction is not going to go away
#I feel like a fucking rabid dog#I was hoping it would dissipate the longer I played#but now I’m caught up and the only other character that’s gotten me this worked up is Aventurine and y’all have seen how I feel about him#in order to spare myself further embarrassment I’ve been holding my tongue about the lizard man#but unfortunately I want to shake him around in my mouth like a glorified chew toy#hsr#dan heng#i think i hauve mara
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
grrrrr why is it so hard to write pmas 😣
#i have been spending so much energy just trying to finish chapter 9 in time for the holidays#and it all just feels wrong#if y’all could spare it i could really use some hype/motivation to work on this fic#bc it kinda feels pointless now
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
honestly ? obsessed w them

#stream#like they’re SO right#like they’re PUSHING themselves but not OVERDOING IT#which is great !!!!#we love them supporting baby steps !!!!#me on that damn cane asap#cant wait to go for walks again like omg#i’m SO looking forward to being able to EXERCISE & be a NORMAL person that WALKS 😭😭😭#i HATE - hate h a t e H A T E - having to be disabled or NEED help like bitch i’m INDEPENDENT#but i do :(#but ppl are so polite they hold doors open like thank U i Owe u My Life#ALSKALKSLAJLAKSLA it’s so funny when i’m on the elevator ppl go ☹️#like bro r u on or off ? what floor ‼️ i got places to BE chairs to SIT IN#thought i’d give y’all a bit of my misery today since u have been SPARED for 18hrs
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#people keep commenting on my fics begging for updates but i’m gonna be real y’all: i have nawt been feeling it lately#i’m still gonna finish them ofc ofc but i’ve not been in the mood to write and i’ve barely been paying attention to#much in the hilb verse / larrie nation as of late#my interest is spread across a few different things rn + work has been really hard lately#plus life in general. and there are so many awful things happening in the world#the consistent apartheid in palestine. the coltan mining disasters in congo. the horrors in sudan.#i just don’t feel in the right state to be spending my limited spare time on fanfic + on a hobby i’m not feeling very connected to at the#current time#i appreciate the support and desire to read more of my work ofc#but just as always on top of what i said above#comments strictly begging for updates make me#feel adverse to updating? like they don’t motivate me at all to work. they just stress me out#so i apologize but that also hasn’t been helping#the most i’ve been able to do the last month and a half is half heartedly edit chapter two of SMYL#it’s almost entirely smut and that’ssss also a struggle for me to write when there’s a lot of it#(and yet i have lengthy detailed smut in everything i write oops)#i will try though i hate having so much on the backburner. i just wanted to give a general update on things#alex talks
1 note
·
View note
Text

#lin rambles#I’m not doing well right now and will remain in my mental health alone hole for a while#o mean I have been in the mental unwell hole for a while but. stuff got worse idk#i should’ve restarted therapy sooner man#I’ll spare y’all the details tldr I actually have to stop saying I’m Realkt Gonna Do It This Time#and instead say I Need To Like Work On Being a Better Friend And Unpack My Issues#Now That I’m Able To Manage My OCS#ocd Pretty Well#I’m. sad I think? whatever#I’m trying my absolute best to not kill my self#tw suicide mention#tw suicidal ideation#just in case#I’m trying my best to not lull myself and have been for a while whatever keeps me going keeps me going#impending actual genuine social media break on the horizon so I can work on creative projects and irl stuff
0 notes
Text
Okay I gotta find the locked tomb kinkmeme when I’m done working, gotta read about ianthe doing freaky stuff
#I have ideas but I don’t know what’s been done#I will try to keep it tame on this account and spare y’all#if you want to send me ianthe doing freaky stuff feel free#worst thing that will happen is I say ‘oh nice’ and don’t read it
0 notes
Text

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!
ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader
ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k
ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.
ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!
dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!
you notice a strange shift in logan...
There’s something off with Logan.
The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.
It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.
Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.
And he was more territorial over you, so much more.
His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.
He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.
It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.
There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.
Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.
The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.
There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.
Then there was the scent—his scent.
You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.
Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.
Everywhere.
He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.
There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.
More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.
Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.
You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.
It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.
He’s just acting…strange.
A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.
You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.
Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.
You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.
Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.
Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.
It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.
You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.
All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp.
Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.
His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.
“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.
You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,��� you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.
You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.
“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”
There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.
The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.
"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you."
You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.
Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.
“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.
The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.
You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."
Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.
“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”
His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.
You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.
"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out."
Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat."
His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.
Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.
He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.
“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser.
Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.
It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.
You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.
Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”
Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties.
His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.
Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.
When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.
“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”
He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.
His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”
Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.
Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.
“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.
His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.
“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”
Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.
Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance.
Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.
He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.
Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.
He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”
You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.
Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.
It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.
Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.
His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.
Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.
The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.
It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea.
Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.
Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.
It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.
“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.
There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise.
His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.
His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.
“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”
You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.
Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.
You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.
Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.
“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”
And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question.
It’s a choice.
Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.
You spread your legs.
Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way.
Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.
“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.
The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run.
The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.
“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.
Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more.
Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.
“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”
You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.
Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.
“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.
“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”
The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece.
You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties.
“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.
Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.
You’re already so ready for him.
“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”
Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.
He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.
“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.
“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”
Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.
You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.
Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.
“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”
You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.
“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”
You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.
“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide.
He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.
Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.
“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.
“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”
Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.
Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge.
He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.
You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you.
“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”
“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”
You’re powerless to resist.
You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers.
Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed.
When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit.
Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes.
His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.
“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession.
You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.
But Logan’s far from finished.
His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.
Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his.
The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.
Which you know is exactly where he wants you.
He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need.
You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.
“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”
The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”
Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”
He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.
“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”
You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”
“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.
It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.
The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.
He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.
This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.
You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.
Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.
His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.
He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.
It should gross you out.
It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want.
His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control.
You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you.
“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver.
“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”
He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”
“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”
Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”
His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.
Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.
The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.
The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting.
His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls.
Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.
“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”
It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.
You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips.
You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.
“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”
You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.
The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.
You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.
It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.
It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes.
“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”
His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”
Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.
You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.
And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.
Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.
Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.
Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.
But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again.
“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.
“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”
With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch.
He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for.
The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.
His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust.
Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.
Logan notices, of course he does.
A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”
You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible.
“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.
The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.
“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”
You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought.
All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.
“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”
His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.
His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls.
“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”
You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.
Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him.
“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.
Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.
You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.
Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.
Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.
The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”
It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.
Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
#— 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ♡#ᯓ★ 𝐧𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭!#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#hold my hand y’all#and match my freak#thank you#mwah mwah mwah#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fic#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fic#wolverine imagine#wolverine smut#x men x reader#x men smut#marvel x reader#marvel smut#mcu x reader#mcu smut
2K notes
·
View notes
Text



the first time drew saw actress!reader.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── when drew was forced by madelyn to come watch this new show with her and the rest of the cast he didn’t expect to have his heart captured by the mesmerising woman on the screen.
𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey
author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 which is when game of thrones started airing in my timeline also actress!reader is anywhere between 19-22 years old.
drew was sprawled across the couch in his hotel room, aimlessly scrolling. after a long day of filming under the hot and heavy sun of morocco, he had no intention of doing anything that required effort. his plan was to simply scroll until his eyes got heavy and he knocked out, but knowing his insomnia that wouldn’t be until the early hours of the morning.
glancing at the time displayed on his phone ten pm it read, he let out a heavy sigh, though his body ached with exhaustion, his mind would not shut off. but before he could put down his phone and try to force himself to sleep, a knock sounded on the door “yeah?”
“drew! its maddie.”
“maddie?” he spoke softly, what’s she doing up at this time. usually she was asleep the moment she got back to the hotel. “come in, its open.”
she came tumbling through the door, coming to a stop in front of the couch where he laid. drew couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her. “what’s up?”
“drew! you gotta come watch this new show with us!” her hands were placed on her hips as she looked down at him.
drew sighed, a noise of exhaustion. “i can’t be fucked getting up, cline.” her face scrunched up, ready to dispute him.
“drew you have to! the last episode of season one just came out and i watched the first episode when it aired and it was so good that i stopped watching so that we could binge it all when the season finished!”
recognition sparked on his face. “wait is this game of thrones? i remember you saying how good the first episode was, like two months ago.”
madelyn’s face grew excited at the fact that he remembered. “yeah! please please, you have to come watch it, jd, bailey, chase, laci, rudy and austin are already in my room waiting.”
drew mulled over the idea for a moment. either he could rot in his room until his call time tomorrow or hang out with his friends and possibly watch a good show, if maddie’s high praise was anything to go by.
“yeah, alright let’s go.” he stood up from the couch, stretching his arms and grabbing his phone to follow maddie, who was already halfway out the door, unable to wait any longer.
when they arrived at her room, the first episode was already lined up on the screen, the hbo logo blaring in the dark room. drew greeted everyone and then took a seat on the spare love seat by the window. “you guys get forced too?” he questioned.
“yup.” jd breathed out. “nah i’ve been wanting to watch this, i remember hearing about it when they started filming, it’s supposed to be like super graphic and vulgar.” madison commented. “shit, really? i know nothing about this show, other than the fact that cline can’t shut up about it.” austin added. chuckles sounded across the room, and madelyn yelled from the kitchen where the popcorn she was making turned in the microwave. “y’all are about to thank me!”
drew simply sat in silence, with the amount maddie was praising this show, his skepticism grew, no way this show was that good. someone pressed play as soon as madelyn was seated, he didn’t see who. the intro song of the show blasted through the room and drew settled back into his seat.
“yo, pass me the popcorn?” chase rolled up the bag and chucked it across the room from where he was sat, drew caught it with ease.
he couldn’t lie, the show was good, fifteen minutes in and he was hooked. and just when he thought that it couldn’t get better, you came on the screen.
“holy fuck who is that?” jd’s voice rang out, but drew felt as though his voice came from somewhere far away. he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. “she’s beautiful right?” madelyn sighed out. mummers of agreement sounded from the people sitting in the room. “her name’s y/n y/l/n.”
“y/n” drew repeated to himself softly, almost as he was testing the feel of your name in his mouth. rolling the syllables on his tongue, in that moment he decided that no other word would ever compare to the way your name felt on his lips.
dressed in a flowing dress with daring cuts exposing your seemingly soft skin, he wondered what would it feel like if he ran his palms along the smooth expansion. your hair sliver, long and loose to play visenya targaryen, the last targaryen, the daughter of rhaegar targaryen and elia martell. drew felt as though no one had ever looked more stunning in the history of the world.
“drew? you all good man?” someone asked, he didn’t know who, he couldn’t hear or think of anything beyond you and the performance you were giving. “i think starkey’s got a crush.” rudy sang out, and the rest laughed. but drew couldn’t care less, too busy watching you.
they watched two more episodes and as the third episode came to an end drew finally broke out of his trance. while the rest occasionally made comments during the show drew could not tear himself away from the screen, afraid that if he looked away he would miss you.
“i gotta hand it to you, cline, i’m hooked. that shit was amazing!” carlacia grinned. “i fucking told you guys!” she retorted back. “but aside from that, starkey? what did you think?” she smirked at him.
“yeah, that was good.” drew’s body tingling “that’s it? just good? you don’t wanna talk about the moon eyes you were making every time visenya came on screen?” drew cheeks tinged pink. “yeah, she’s pretty.” “aye, shot your shot man, she’s so fine.” madison teased.
as drew made his way back to his room he looked at the time, two am, damn he didn’t even realise time had passed that quick. sliding into his bed after taking a quick shower, he couldn’t help himself but run a quick search of you on google. “fuck.” the soft curse slipping from his lips, just when he thought you couldn’t get hotter, he saw pictures of you, not in costume, naturally a brunette, he was so fucked. fuck it, he quickly searched up your name on instagram.
you were laying in bed scrolling through instagram when a notification popped up.
drewstarkey started following you. follow back?
first one, do you like it? if you do i’ll keep writing. reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated.
#𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 actress!reader x drew starkey works#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x actress!reader#drew starkey x you#drew starkey fic#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe cameron smut#rafe fanfiction#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
sukuna lets yuuji wear his jersey
a/n: this drabble contains angst that i didn’t want to spoil in the title (i’m so bad with titles y’all PLS bare with me okay)
college!sukuna masterlist
You know how football players usually give their jerseys to their girlfriends? College!Sukuna gives his to his little brother Yuuji.
You’re not big on sports, but Sukuna asked you to watch Yuuji a couple of times because he had “practice at the ass crack of dawn”. Seeing how ripped he is (you may or may not have walked in on him shaving his beard one time while he only had a towel wrapped around his waist) you already thought he did some kind of sport, but you never cared enough to ask him about it. It’s not until 6 months into your forced proximity that you come to know he’s actually really popular on campus.
It happens randomly. You just finished playing monopoly with Yuuji and you’re listening to your sweet little companion tell you he wants to help you cook this evening. You’re discussing what meal to cook when Sukuna comes home, late, as he did every day this week. He throws his gym bag near the living room door, gets his shoes off and grunts as a form of acknowledgment.
“You know, dogs usually bark more than you to say hi. Imagine being worse than an animal,” you say, not even looking at him, picking up the little plastic houses distributed on your table.
“Imagine never shutting the fuck up,” he answers, ruffling his still wet hair from a shower he must have taken not too long ago, not sparing you a glance either. You scowl, watching the water droplets fall on the freshly cleaned (by you) floor. Well, you have to admit he does look hot in his black hoodie. Black compliments his face tattoos really well, you think.
“Bro! Language!” His mini counterpart exclaims from in front of you, putting his hands on his hips, frowning. He looks like an old lady. A really cute and young old lady.
“Yeah, Sukuna, language,” you snort, flipping Sukuna off behind your back when Yuuji isn’t watching. The tattoed man, still standing by the door, narrows his eyes at you when you turn your back on him. Yuuji goes into his room to put the game away and leaves you two alone.
“You’re lucky I need the fucking money to live here or I would’ve fed your body to the really nice dogs who say hi by now,” your roommate says lowly, coming behind you and pushing you out of the way to lay on the couch. He pushes you harder than usual, so you stumble and bump your thigh on the table, muttering ouch and pouting. You’re pretty sure he didn’t control his strength like he usually does in your playful banters. You sit down to rub your sore spot, waiting for Yuuji to come back and start cooking with you, while he just puts his hood on his head and closes his eyes.
“Is this how you treat a lady?” You mumble, at which he scoffs, not even bothering to answer. As a natural conversation starter, you try to think of something to say. You think he looks like he could use a conversation, anyway. He’s been more distant this last week, but he always had his emo moments, so you didn’t think too much about it. Today his mood is darker than usual though, and for some reason, after six months of living together, that doesn’t sit well with you.
"How was tod-"
"Fine," He interrupts you. You're stunned by his roughness.
“Listen, tomorrow I was thinking of going-“
“Can you shut the fuck up?" He curtly barks, one of his eyebrows ticking.
You frown. "Hey, I was just-"
"I’m not joking. Shut up. Stop talking for one fucking day. God, you’re so fucking annoying,” he grits out, scrunching his eyes even more. At this, you close your mouth fast. Well, maybe he didn’t look like he wanted to have a conversation, at the end of the day.
After his outburst, the silence inside the living room is deafening.
You don’t want it to, but the tone he uses stings, even if you try not to let it get under your skin. You thought you two had become close enough to joke around this way, but you apparently guessed wrong. You just wanted to help, and he just shut you completely out. You just wanted to be a good… friend? Are you even friends?
Yuuji gets back and you stand up from the floor, going toward the kitchen. You wince when you put your weight on your leg.
You inhale deeply, reigning yourself in. “What do you think about… quesadillas?” You ask the little one calmly, and you see him beam.
“Yes, please! I want to learn how to make them good like you-“
“Kid, there’s a game tomorrow. Wanna come?” Sukuna interrupts you two. He’s still sitting on the couch with his eyes closed, but now he has his arms crossed too.
“Hell yeah!” Yuuji answers, jumping with his little fist in the air. Sukuna hums.
“Gotta tell coach. You still have the jersey from last time, yeah?” He asks, getting up from the couch and rolling his left shoulder. When it pops, he grimaces in pain a little.
“Of course I do,” the kid proudly says, looking up at his big brother with stars in his eyes. Standing next to each other they look like the ghost of the past and the ghost of the future from A Christmas Carol. Yuuji is dressed in bright yellow while if Sukuna had any more black on him he’d be a shadow. A chill runs up your spine. Spooky.
“Good,” Sukuna rasps out, solemnly getting the palm of his hand on his little brother’s head.
You start preparing the ingredients for dinner. “Are you eating with-“
“I’m going to sleep,” he interrupts you once again. He still hasn’t looked you in the eyes since he entered the apartment. You turn away, not wanting Yuuji to feel the shift in your mood by looking at your face.
“Goodnight, bro,” Yuuji says cheerfully. Your other roommate rushes inside his room, locking it from inside, and you and Yuuji are left standing in front of the stove in silence.
“Oh. Well,” you start talking again awkwardly, a fake chuckle coming through. “I guess that means he’s not eating with us,” you tell Yuuji, getting back to preparing the ingredients for your dinner, now for two.
“It’s a big game, you know,” Yuuji whisper shouts from next to you, overstuffing his quesadilla. “I already knew about it, but it feels nice when he asks me to go,” the kid continues, a small smile ever present on his lips. Your gaze softens.
“What sport and position are we talking about?” You ask him, handing him a piece of cheese to chew on while you finish preparing everything.
“He’s a quaftef bafck. He’f capftainf too,” Yuuji answers between bites. So he’s a football player. His strength makes sense now.
“You seem really proud of him, Yuuji,” you tell him sweetly, adoring the way he’s trying to get his point across by waving his hands in the air a lot.
He gulps down the cheese. “Yeah, big bro always lets me wear his jersey. He told me that if someone annoying has to be wearing it, then he might as well give it to me,” he smiles, big, while you inwardly cringe. Couldn’t be Sukuna if he didn’t say something that felt more like an insult than a compliment.
“Why is it an important game?” You ask, preparing one more quesadilla.
“Because he just became captain! It’s his first game as a captain!” The kid tells you, jumping a little on his chair and watching you, excited. Oh, is that why he looked like a bird just shat on him the whole week?
“Well, then you have to be his top supporter, don’t you think?”
The next morning, you wake up early to go grocery shopping. You wanted to ask Sukuna to come with you yesterday, but after the way he probably didn’t even notice he treated you, you really don’t feel like it. You get out of your bedroom door and are met with the sight of Yuuji already wearing his brother’s way too big jersey. You snap a pic when he’s still turned around. He looks so cute.
You go toward him, who is conveniently also toward the apartment exit. He hears your footsteps and looks at you expectantly.
“Can you help me tie the scarf?” He asks you, said scarf still in his hands. It's full of little drawings of tigers, which he told you are the mascots of the football team.
“Of course Yuuji. You look so good today, I bet your brother is really happy, mh?” You smile, getting at his eye level and wrapping the piece of cloth around his neck.
“I think he’s almost ready too!” He says, raising his eyebrows. Then, he assumes a confused expression. “Wait, aren’t you coming? I thought we were going together.”
You hesitate.
“I have to go grocery shopping today,” you answer, averting your gaze.
“Can’t it wait? It’s a really big game,” Yuuji pouts.
You hesitate again.
“I don’t think your brother wants me there, Yuuyuu,” you softly smile, trying to be nonchalant, finally securing the scarf and standing back up. You try not to look into the little boy’s eyes, because you’re sure you aren’t that good at masking your feelings.
“But he was-“
“Brat, are you ready?” Comes Sukuna’s voice from down the hall. You push Yuuji toward the approaching footsteps, mouthing Go! He’s talking to you! The child looks back at you like he wants to tell you something, but you ignore it. You hastily open the door to get out, managing to catch Sukuna’s gaze only a spare second before closing it behind your back. You stiffen. Then, you walk away.
Inside the apartment, Sukuna puts on a confused expression, matching his sibling’s one.
“Where did she go? Nevermind. We’re late, Yuuji. Run, or I’ll leave you here,” he hurries out, grabbing his house keys, hands sweating and feet carrying him to the stadium, while Yuuji tries to follow him.
When the Itadori brothers come back home, Yuuji screaming and Sukuna grinning like a madman for his team’s victory, you’re not there.
“Awh, I wanted to let her know you won,” says Yuuji pouting. In your place, there’s a sticky note on the fridge, which looks like it’s been there since this morning. In the haste of leaving, they both didn't notice it.
Go Tigers!!! P.S. for Sukuna: I left some quesadillas in the fridge. Good luck, captain.
Yuuji claps his hands, saying you must have made more yesterday after dinner when he was asleep, happy to be eating something good two days in a row. Meanwhile, Sukuna can’t take his eyes off the little piece of paper.
“Yo, do you know where she went to this morning?” He asks Yuuji, who is getting out a plate to microwave the food.
“She said she went grocery shopping. She said you didn’t want her at the game,” his little brother responds, lightly and not worried at all, like this is a reoccurring conversation.
“What?” Scoffs Sukuna, baffled, whipping his head toward his brother’s. When did he ever say something like that?
“Well, she said she thought you didn’t want her there,” specifies Yuuji, shrugging, getting two forks and two knives to put on the kitchen table. “I tried telling her you bought her a ticket too! But I don’t know, she seemed…” he stops, thinking about the correct words to say, now looking directly at his big brother’s eyes. “She seemed sad,” he finishes, muttering.
Right then, a tube of cream for bruises put near the coffee machine catches Sukuna’s eyes. He grits his teeth. He thinks back to yesterday, and to the way you rushed out this morning. To the way you obviously tried to ignore him when you locked his gaze. To the way your ticket never left his pocket, because he never properly asked you to come.
Suddenly, the words on the sticky note burn on his skin like a fresh tattoo.
Shit.
#college au#sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna oneshot#sukuna jjk#sukuna crack#jjk x y/n#jjk fics#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#sukuna angst#ryomen sukuna angst
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ִ ۫ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 | 𝐋.𝐌𝐇


⭑ PAIRING: fuck buddy ! cat dad ! minho x f. reader
𖥻 SYNOPSIS: A broken air conditioner in your best friend's apartment leads to him having to shack up with you until things get sorted, but considering his sex drive, it doesn't take long for things to get steamy in a different way...
⭑ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, temperature play kink, kissing, dry humping, masturbation (f. receiving), minho gets a bit jealous at one part, mentions of food, mentions of enhypen's jake, crying (barely), finger + tit + neck sucking (f. receiving), not proofread
𖥻 WORD COUNT: 5.2k - DAY 5
⭑ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic was originally intended to be a gift for @minhosimthings 's 21st birthday, but since I was such an amazing moot and didn't finish writing it in time, I simply decided to save it for now hehe ^^
OCTOBER.
Not usually the warmest month of the year, but it had become precisely that for your close friend Minho when his apartment AC suddenly gave out, leaving him to sleep with nothing but his boxers on almost every night—
“Proof?” You asked via text while ending your three-hour long conversation with him one night.
Ding!
A picture of Lino and his sweat-glazed body took over your phone screen, his toned thighs just barely hanging off his gingham-dressed bed set with a spare pillow being placed precariously in the place where you're certain his bulge would be.
“Since you were so desperate to get a first-hand glimpse of my suffering… hope you're satisfied now,” his text read below the photo, and you smiled at the message, not even bothering to scold yourself for blushing…
“Trust me, this did the trick... can't wait to get you outta that hell hole and in some proper air conditioning, though...”
“Looking forward to it,” Lino texted back with a pink heart emoji, “goodnight now, kitty.”
“Night night!” You returned, feeling your cheeks warm up at the pet-name he used for you, and you used to hate smiling at your phone whenever you got a flirty message from someone, but when it came to Minho, you didn’t mind the butterflies as much…
You laid your head on your pillow, facing the ceiling as a gentle sigh fell from your lips, and the selfie that Lino sent you meddled in the back of your mind, causing your imagination to do wonders in making the photo come alive...
Despite being best friends who admittedly had sex with each other from time to time, Minho, had been the subject of your sexual fantasies for a while now, and you honestly couldn’t blame yourself for it…
I mean, let’s be real, he's got that dark and handsome thing going on with a platinum smile to match.
And let's not forget about his muscular build, too, which is the result of hours spent either dancing or hitting up the gym every week.
You’ve always had a thing for him, and you vividly remember the first night you two crossed the line between strictly friends and something a little more than that.
It was the night right after he got fired from his job, and while upon stopping by your place to cool off some steam, the both of you were two drinks passed tipsy as the sexual tension ran rampant between you.
Y’all were cooking dinner together, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him as he chopped vegetables and sautéed meat...
The way his toned muscles rippled under his T-shirt as he navigated the kitchen was too much for you to handle that night... you remember feeling your panties grow damp in that moment, just like they were now as you imagined him pinning you against the kitchen counter and fucking you completely senseless.
Sliding your hands beneath your covers, you found the hem of your pajama pants while imagining Lino was right before you, telling you to undress for him.
And although your eyes were closed, you could see the whole memory as clear as day, playing each moment over slowly in your mind as if watching a clip from your favorite movie…
You thought about how you put the spoon down that you used to stir the pasta before walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist while sighing at the contact.
Envisioning the way he looked back at you with a mixture of pleasant surprise and desire staining his gorgeous features, you remember feeling his hard cock press against your front.
And back then, it startled you at first… the fact that he had gotten so turned on just from being around you—
“Minho,” you remember whispering to him, and you did the same thing now as you laid on your mattress with a heavy heart, your fingers slowly gliding over your bare cunt in the same way that his fingers touched you before.
In your memory, he only responded by grabbing your waist and kissing you deeply, all before lifting you up onto the counter and spreading your legs apart so he could get between them.
He leaned in close, his breath warm yet shiver-inducing against your face as he whispered back, “I want you so bad, ____…”
He trailed kisses down your neck, making his way to your cleavage where he toyed with your nipple slightly, and you let one of your hands grope your tits to mimic the way he touched you then.
Arching your back against the mattress, you recall moaning faintly as he sucked and bit at your sensitive skin, his skilled hands roaming your body beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.
You reached down for the button on his jeans and undid it before pulling down his zipper to free his aching cock, and you remember stroking it gently as you felt it twitch in your hand.
Lino groaned at your touch, and it wasn’t long before he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you to the edge of the counter, positioning himself at your entrance while teasing your clit with the tip of his cock.
You whimpered, both back then and presently while laying in bed, and you begged him to fuck you as if he was actually there with you.
Using your index and middle finger, you jammed them inside your cunt, crying out in pleasure while imagining your pathetic digits were your best friend’s fat cock thrusting inside you.
You remember being fucked rough and fast by him as his balls slapped against your ass with every snap of his hips, and you could feel yourself growing closer and closer to orgasming.
“M-Minho, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, feeling your walls clench around your fingers as you kept fingering yourself to the memory of him making you love to you, and you eventually did just that…
Your climax ripped through your body like a freight train, and you imagined Minho’s orgasm following yours soon after, filling you up with his hot release.
Panting out loud, you slipped your fingers from your cunt, only opening your eyes slightly now as you melted back into reality, wishing that Minho could be right beside you now like he was back then…
You thought about the way he looked at you with a satisfied smile before pulling you into a tight embrace.
“I love you, ____,” his voice responded in the back of your mind as a gentle whisper, and you felt yourself becoming sleepy as you turned to lay on your side, still shaken up from climaxing so fast…
“I love you too, Minho,” you whispered to yourself as if he could hear it, smiling with closed eyes as you finally fell fast asleep, just mere hours from facing the morning ahead of you…
THE NEXT MORNING came by faster than you expected as a now fully clothed and much less sweaty Minho stood at your doorstep, a dainty porcelain dish resting in the grasp of his veiny hands.
You had invited him over to stay over at your place until the broken AC situation at his place got sorted out, and you were more than ready to spend the next few days with him under the same roof as you…
“I come bearing treats,” he chirped with a smile as you welcomed him in with a friendly hand.
He was wearing a dark turtleneck sweater and dark pants to match with an auburn, plaid trench coat to top of his gold accessories.
“Oh, Minho,” you began while taking the tray from him, a certain smell having distracted your train of thought, “you didn't have to go out of your way and… wait… is there espresso in this?”
“Mhm,” your friend nodded proudly while kicking off his shoes before making his way to your all-too-familiar kitchen where he opened the fridge door for you, “with mascarpone creammm, lady fingersss, cocoa powderrrr—”
“You made me tiramisu?” You asked with widened eyes, making him chuckle a bit at your shocked reaction.
“As a symbol of my appreciation since you opened your home up to me, of course,” Lino smiled before leaning against the kitchen counter, and you couldn’t help yourself from giving him a hug in this moment.
At first, his body tensed up at the way your hands felt upon wrapping around him so suddenly, but he eventually relaxed as you lazily spoke the words, “You feel like a human oven right now…”
“And you feel like a freezer,” Minho returned while chuckling, just as you broke from the hug.
“Yea... I guess that happens sometimes when your air conditioner isn't busted…” you shrugged sarcastically, and Minho gives you a painfully forced laugh before following your trail back to the living room—
“Where're your cats?” You inquire, noticing that he had brought all of their play and food gear, but the pets themselves were no where in sight.
“Oh, they're waiting for me in the car, actually,” he said, walking past you to put his shoes back on at the front door.
“So your precious little felines are too good for a local pet-sitter now?” You tease, feeling your heart warm up at the sound of him snickering at your comment.
“Not just that,” he began, “my little kitties are angel's indeed, but I'm not ignorant to the fact that they can be a handful... even for me...”
You let his words sink in, taking a mental note of what he said.
“Want me to help you gather them from your car then?” You offer, meeting him where he stood at the door now.
“Please,” Minho scoffed, side-eyeing you with a small smirk, “you doubt that I can handle my own three baby's or something? I mean... c'mon, have you seen my arms lately?”
“No, actually... just your thighs,” you said while tilting your head at him, clearly checking him out, and the look he gives you would’ve otherwise knocked you clean off your feet if he was any closer to you—
Beep beep.
The sound of Minho’s car blared in the distance as you pressed to “UNLOCK” bottom on his keys upon the two of you making your way outside together.
Single-handedly, Minho opens the door for himself, and you watch with a shy smile as he scoops his cats up in his arms, their dainty paws tugging and scratching at his jacket almost immediately.
“So much for making me feel loved and cherished, you guys...” Minho says jokingly as of his cats can understand his words, and you help by opening the door for him to come back inside when you get a notification from your phone.
The sound catches Minho’s attention immediately, but you’re not aware of the dinging until you hear it again… and again, til you hear it a total of five times.
“Looks like someone’s popular today,” your friend says from behind you while setting his cats down to roam the house freely.
“Eh, it’s probably just my boss,” you return while walking over to your desk to see who the message is from, “I have a meeting later today, and he’s probably just wondering if I’m still up for it…”
Her boss?… Sending her more than three messages in a row?… Minho thought to himself in the back of his mind, and his ears are quick to notice how quiet you get suddenly.
He waits for you to say something… anything at all, but you remain silent, a focused expression taking over your face now as your thumbs tap your phone screen like crazy.
Ding.
Another message comes through, and Minho can’t ignore the curiosity brewing inside him anymore.
“Who’re you texting?”
“A friend… good thing it wasn’t my boss…”
“What friend?” He asks again, and he’s trying to hide the irritation in his voice as you fail to look him in the eyes while speaking to him.
“Just Jake…”
“Jake?” Minho repeated, almost sounding disgusted that you had even said such a thing, “you mean that… that dog guy?”
“If that’s what people are calling him these days, then yes, that dog guy,” you return plainly, eyes still glued to your phone.
Minho makes sure your front door is locked before walking past you to grab the remote from your desk, clicking the TV on so his cats could watch something while sitting on your couch.
“Whatever,” he scoffed beneath his breath, and you only spare him a quick glance before going right back to texting, “you’re clearly more of a cat person anyways… right?”
“Lino, he was just wishing me good luck at my meeting, alright?”
Yea, the meeting you didn’t even bother telling me about, Minho thought to himself again before your voice interrupted him to say:
“It’s really not that deep…”
“Right… not like I'd expect much depth from Mr. Short-Stuff to begin with—”
“Bro, knock it off, will you? You two are literally the same height for crying out loud…”
“Who said I was talking about height?”
You look up from your phone, giving him a deadpan look as you sighed with frustration, “Minho…”
“Alright, alright, I'm knocking it off now, relax…” he said as the sound of a random TV show filled h the w background now, and he internally rolled his eyes at the way you were acting with him now.
“Thank you…” you replied half-heartedly before setting your phone down on your desk finally, “and enough about Jake for the rest of the time you’re here, please… he's not a concern to you…”
“Yea, of course,” Minho sarcastically agreed as he made his way over to sit on the couch with his cats, “no concerns… no worries… you and I are just friends at the end of the day, too, right?”
“Right… just friends…” you returned, just as the alarm clock on your phone went off this time.
“Shit, I gotta get ready… I’ll be doing my meeting here at my desk, so if you could turn the TV off once I come back, that’d be great, yea?” You asked in a rushed tone, and Minho simply nodded, right before you made your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.
Sighing, the poor guy couldn’t help but feel threatened by Jake’s presence in your life… and as hard as it was for Minho to admit, Jake was a good looking guy who had an equally attractive personality to go with it…
“We’re just friends,” Minho said to himself in a mocking tone as his cat Dori crawled into his lap, purring softly for cuddles…
“Yea,” he continued to say out loud, feeling the stress in his hands barely ease away as he massaged the top of Dori’s head, “friend’s who fuck each other…”
ABOUT AN HOUR had passed before your meeting was finally all done and over with, and to your favor, everything turned out great!…
Though, you still expected to be glued to your desk for at least another hour or two as your boss had assigned you with a new company proposal to work on.
Your home-printer had just finished spitting out a stack of 25 sheets of paper that you were expected to have proof-read and revised by the next morning.
Yes, you genuinely did love your job… but sometimes, the workload could be a handful, and it wasn’t helping one bit that Lino and his cats were having a play date just a few feet away from you.
Cat toys like fuzzy balls and squeaky fish decorated your floor like a daycare center as the three animals crawled on every surface they could in your home.
Paying Minho a quick look, he was still sitting on the couch, Soonie laying on his chest as he brushed over her fluffy body with his hand, cooing at the sleepy creature…
Seeing Minho behave so lovingly with his pets always touched a soft spot inside you, and that’s when he senses your eyes are on him, turning his head on the couch briefly to return a glance.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He began, and the cat visibly purred at the feeling of Minho’s deep voice vibrating against her body.
“Very,” you said softly, looking away now as you reached for the nearby stapler, clipping the stack of paper in place, “so beautiful that it’s distracting, in fact…”
“I wasn’t talking to you, silly,” Minho chuckles, making your eyebrows screw into confused squiggles—
“I was asking Soonie about you…” he finishes, looking back at your for a second with a loving look in his eyes, and you try not to smile at his words, only because you know how much he likes teasing you for getting flustered with him…
You loved the way Lino’s presence always had a way of warming you up from the outside-in, and you almost started to feel guilty for giving him such a hard time earlier.
Clink!… Splash…
“Dori, watch out!” You called out suddenly with a loud voice, and Minho turns to see what you’re yelling about.
“That’s Doongie, ____… she’s the orange one, remember?” Minho asked jokingly, but you’re too distressed now to pay his humor any mind.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have bought so many cats so I could recall their goofy names better…” you sighed with a broken voice now, looking at the mess before you that Minho was still oblivious to…
Dori, Doongie, or whatever he name was had leaped onto your desk out of excitement, only to knock over your cup of coffee, causing it to spill all over the documents you just printed…
And yea, it was obviously an accident, but this was the second time today that you ran into an obstacle since Minho arrived, and you couldn’t hold back your anger anymore…
“Heyyy, that’s not nice,” Minho began with a pout, though his voice sounded quiet in your ears as your eyes started to brim with frustrated tears, “my kittie's were very respectful when you first joined the family… even when you always stole their daddy’s attention…”
With a quiet sniffle, you wiped the tears from your eyes as fast as you could before Lino could notice it, sulking to yourself as you thought about how long it’d take to reprint all the papers and go over them with new revisions again…
“You’re right, Lino,” you said in a weak voice, picking up the curious orange cat from your desk as she was only starting to track coffee-paw prints all over your keyboard, “And sorry, Doongie… I shouldn’t have yelled at you...”
Everything was stressing you out, at this point, and it only made you feel worse for being such a miserable host to Minho, especially in his first day over.
“I’ll come back in a bit to clean this up, but I just need to lay down for a minute if that’s okay?” You whispered, and by time Lino could process everything that was happening l, you were already walking off back to your room.
“C-clean up?… ____, come back please,” Minho stood up from the couch, calling after you only to have you shut the door at his words… literally…
A small sigh fell from his lips as he walked over to where you sat, and he’s just now becoming aware of the huge mess of coffee and soggy papers all over your desk.
“Oh, Doongie…” Minho sighed again, looking back at his cat who sat quietly at the very top of the cat tree set, playing with one of the fuzzy toy balls she had carried from the floor, “way to go ruining my romantic moment…”
MINHO TOOK IT upon himself to help and tidy things up while you were regathering yourself in your bedroom.
Sure, he usually didn’t handle household chores much beyond cooking or baking, but he still made it his duty to correct some of the damage he had cost in one way or another.
A pile of dirty dishes in your sink became the centerpiece of your kitchen, coupled with the mini trashcan in the corner being filled to the top with old coffee pods, crumbled up sheets of paper, and takeout containers.
Though, by now he had already replaced the dirty trash bag with a new one, wiped off the coffee splatters from your desk and keyboard, printed a new copy of your work documents, and jotted down all the revisions you made to the best of his ability,
All that was left to do now was tackle the dishes you left behind...
Running some warm and bubbly water for the dishes, Minho slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, grabbed a sponge, and started scrubbing away.
You could faintly hear the clinking of plates from your room which made you run out to see what he was up to.
“Hello again, stranger….” Minho greeted sarcastically, despite the way he smiled at you.
“Hey…” you returned quietly while walking behind him and wrapping your arms at his waist... a gesture you're just now realizing you did a little too frequently to call yourselves just friends...
“You didn’t have to do all this,” you continued, looking beside his frame to watch as he rinsed the bubbles from around the sink, “I should be cleaning my own messes, Minho... you're supposed to be a guest, for Christ's sake…”
“I know,” he says softly, mirroring the tranquility in your tone, “just figured you could use the extra help, though…”
Slipping off the gloves, he hangs them over the sink, before removing your hands from hugging him, “Go in the den real quick, and I'll meet you in there...”
And either being too exhausted to object or simply obedient to his dominance, you do exactly as he says, walking back to the living room and taking a seat on the couch... and you're glad to find that his cats are sleeping in their shared kitty bed, resting soundly together.
Meanwhile, Minho was busy rummaging through your fridge, looking for the dessert tray he had brought earlier. He wanted to cute you a nice square of tiramisu from the dish before heading back to the living room, a single fork clad in his grasp.
You watched him with a raised eyebrow as he approached, placing the plate of tiramisu in your hands. He then settled at the end of the couch across from you, reaching down to grab your ankles and pull your legs toward him.
That was odd, you thought to yourself, very odd...
“So, let's skip the bullshit here and cut straight to the chase,” he began in a low voice, shamelessly letting his fingers trail up your calves before parting your legs open at the knees; “You’ve been trying to avoid me, haven't you?”
You let yourself blink a few times before challenging him in a similarly catty tone, “I don’t know, have you given me a reason to?”
“Of course not… Hell, I even made you this fancy ass dessert from scratch... you should be praising the air I breathe right now...”
“Alright, Gordon Ramsey... give me a second to taste it first and then I’ll decide if you deserve that much…” You replied, taking the fork that he handed to you from his grasp before sticking it into the fluffy treat and bringing it to your mouth.
“Finally... now how's it taste?” He asks, tilting his head at how long you took to swallow such a small bite.
“It's delicious,” you return with a nonchalant voice to egg him on even more, even though deep down you had to fight the urge to take another bite.
It was almost shocking how good it tasted, and his ratio of all the ingredients was worth cultivating an entire culinary study for...
Though, your train of thought was soon interrupted once he leaned in closer to you, resting his flexed hands on the couch armrest you laid your head on, caging you beneath his frame...
“Y'know... you seemed much more pleasant over text the other night, but now... you're cold… what changed?” Minho asked, and you fought the feeling of nerves growing within your stomach, thinking back to how you imagined him on top of you just like this while you fucked yourself dizzy with your fingers...
“Maybe it’s this,” you whispered, tugging at the lower hem of his shirt, as a glint of playfulness flickered in his eyes, “you should know by now how bothered I get when thing's keep getting in the way of my desires...”
“Good, then. I’ll keep it on so you have something to hang onto,” he returned through a smirk, and you scoffed at him, right before taking another bite of the tiramisu.
“Please, just drop the act, ____,” Minho chuckled at your failed attempt at being intimidating, “You’ve practically been eye fucking me this whole time, anyway, so it's no surprise you’ve been so moody all day… you need me to fuck your nerves away, huh?”
“Oh, don't flatter yourself, Minho,” you retort, even though the dirty manner of his words makes you feel a rush inside.
Clink.
You take the fork, digging into the tiramisu once more as you gathered a hefty forkful, right before feeding some to Minho.
Though, a bit of the cream lingers at the corner of his mouth, and you moisten the tip of your thumb with your own spit before swiping at his lips and asking, “You always eat this messy?”
And Minho only responds with the fattest smirk you've seen all day, grabbing your wrist as he took your whole thumb in his mouth, humming around it as he sucked it clean before releasing it with a pop.
“You freaky bastard—”
“Just admit that you miss my touch…” Minho interrupts your insult, his voice laced with seduction as he shimmies all the way between your legs now, pressing his crotch against yours, “you’re doing anything you can to put your hands on me, anyway… so why don't you just take what you want?”
His question meddles in the fog of your mind, and you feel your heart rate start to increase just from having his body pressed so close to yours...
It was different from the times when you'd innocently hug him... it was different from the fantasies you had in the darkness of your room while completely alone... and above all, it was different when you were sober, fully present to experience every emotion bubbling inside you, even the nervous ones.
“Poor baby,” Lino pouts, and his voice pulls you back from your thought, shivering from wishing as he takes the cold, metal fork and runs it along the side of your neck, “you're too shy for your own good...”
His words resound in the back of your mind again, and you're not sure how long they linger there, but before you know it, he has his lips against yours, kissing you deeply as the thought of tiramisu is long gone, the pastry plate sitting on the floor now.
And he's groaning into your mouth, the taste of espresso on his tongue making you chase his lips even more, but only for his hand to keep pushing you down by the chest.
“M-Minho,” you mumble in between kissing him, “could you stop teasing me for one fucking second, please?...”
He lets himself chuckle at your neediness, smiling against your lips now as he whispers, “Sorry, kitty... I just like getting you worked up sometimes...”
And that's when your turn comes around to make him feel flustered as you let one of your hands find the base of his neck, and his breath hitches as you squeeze slightly, watching as the sexiest smirk overtakes his face now.
Leaning back down, Minho kisses you even harder now, and his hips can't help but to grind against you, and even though his movements are gentle at first, you let out a desperate moan that let's him know to keep going.
Both your bodies were heating up like crazy now as Minho's hand slowly crept under the soft cotton of your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach.
His breath was just as hot against your lips as his tongue danced with yours, making you shiver with anticipation as you both explored and claimed every inch of each other's mouths.
Foul wet sounds were filling the space now as his pelvis kept bumping into yours, rolling against you in fluid waves as if he was doing the sweetest dance of lust with you.
Minho's hands found their way under your shirt again, but this time he reached for the clasp of your bra, unhooking the latch with deft fingers and freeing your aching breasts from the confines.
You whined into his mouth as his hands cupped the weight of your tits, letting his thumbs teasing your nipples to hardness as your hands got equally busy, clinging at his shirt as you fought to get it off of him.
As your palms made contact with his warm flesh, you dug your nails into his back, urging him closer to you as a shaky grunt slipped past his own lips now, glaring at you with darkened eyes as the pain you caused mixed with pleasure.
Breaking from the kiss, Minho left a trail of wet kisses along your jaw before stopping at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.
He sucked and nibbled, marking you as his, and your eye rolled to the back of your head at the tantalizing feeling of his rough bulge humping against your clothed cunt.
It wasn't long before you two decided to change positions, though, straddling Minho's lap so that his rock-hard erection was trapped between your two bodies, allowing you to rock your hips at the perfect angle to draw him over the edge.
And you both were cursing under your breath at this point, practically drooling at the sensation of you rubbing your heat against his hardening length through your clothes.
Forcing you down and against his body, Minho captured your mouth in his again, claiming it with urgency as his tongue mimicked the rhythm of your hips.
You felt your arousal start to seep through your panties, and that was likely the last straw Minho needed to let himself go, whining beneath you as your hips bucked against his erratically.
“Oh, fuckkk!” You cried out, feeling your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Minho, with one final thrust, felt himself cumming in his pants, a warm and sticky stain rising to the surface of his pants now as you cried out each others names, waves of pleasure consuming you both...
Panting and covered in the evidence of your mutual pleasure, you let your spent body collapse against him, hearing his heart race against your head as you laid on his chest.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, a satisfied yet tired smile on his face, “that went by so fast, but it felt so good,” he went on, “so... fucking... good...”
You laughed at his words, feeling how his warm breath tickling the top of your head.
“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,” you added, just as one of his hands moved up to stroke your hair slightly...
Snuggling impossibly closer to him, you hear him let out a sigh, one that started in agreement and ended in painful realization...
“I should probably get cleaned up now so you can finish revising that company proposal before the morning comes,” Minho says, but his words make you cling to him even harder, making it obvious to him that you had no intention of leaving him alone again anytime soon...
⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this highly belated birthday fic, which actually concludes DAY 5 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!
⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:
@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash
@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl
@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr
⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:
@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs
@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij
@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess
@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier
@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408
@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg
@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh
#stray kids#skz#skz smut#Lee Minho#lee know smut#lee know x reader#lee minho smut#lee minho x reader#minho smut#skz imagines#Lee know#stray kids hard hours#Lee know smut#lee know scenarios#skz x reader#skz hard hours#stray kids x you#fanfic#stray kids x reader#skz scenarios#bang chan x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiiii
I just got done reading your masterpiece with the Austrian bread and got an idea.
What about the making of Aussie kids? Reader would have a baby fever and Toto would immediately be like ‘let’s make one’ and reader would cry out ‘ but I’m on birth control’
Pure chaos and smut
Sending positive vibes
𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨
summary: don’t bake a man’s favorite bread unless you want to have his kids. it’s a good thing you’re desperate to do exactly that. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. kitchen sex. pregnancy kink. baby fever. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. creampie. implied masturbation. implied age gap. reader and toto are married. breeding kink (i guess)? birth control. actual pregnancy. beta read by @biancathecool pairing: toto wolff x fem!black!reader genre: written fic (1.8k words).
from serene: here’s the part two to toasty, i hope it satisfies the requests i got for this! i personally don’t understand the thirst some of you have for toto but, i do respect it. maybe one day i’ll see what y’all do or somebody can educate me on it but, i do hope y’all are pleased with this one xxx




⌕ prev | join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻
A switch has been flipped in your brain—you’ve become more than insatiable for your husband. After he railed you on the counter for making his favorite bread, baking has become your entire personality. The way Toto looked at you after he tried your first attempt at an authentic pumpernickel bread changed how your brain fires. The mix of love and lust that filled his gaze had awoken an innate instinct within you: you need to have this man’s babies.
You’ve always claimed to be an independent woman, your dream was never to become a man’s accessory, or housewife, or tradwife. But, for Toto? For the way he looked at you as he had his first taste of your pastry? You’d set feminism back for a hundred years to keep getting fucked like that for the rest of your life. You spent an ungodly amount of money (Toto’s money) on baking utensils and you’ve pretty much been running a bakery out of your kitchen. Every few hours you’re shoving a pastry down your husband’s throat, eagerly awaiting his praise for each creation you seem to bake perfectly.
Off-handedly around a mouthful of cinnamon sugar knots you baked, Toto moaned at the dessert melting on his tongue, seemingly in a daze when he murmured, “I’m going to get you pregnant if you keep baking like this.”
You laughed at his unexpected outburst, brushing it off as Toto hyperbolizing how great the dessert was. However, it was like the words infected your brain–every waking hour, you constantly thought about having his kids. And it didn’t help that once Toto heard you set a timer for the oven, he’d be tearing your clothes off and fucking you on the nearest surface. The kitchen island is a favorite, but there was an instance where he took you on the floor. Afterward, he claimed to be too old for sex on tiled floors, but you were too busy imagining growing a baby in your belly to care.
The severity of your baby fever is only realized when you reach into your nightstand to take your birth control and...you hesitate. You’re on the last week of pills, you should message your clinic to get a refill. Imagine a child, a mixture of you and Toto. And, you’re aware that pregnancy can be rough but you’d finally be able to decorate that spare room into a nursery instead of letting it collect dust. A baby; a combination of your best halves. Would they have your deeper skin tone, or Toto’s height, or your curls, or his nose, or your eyes? You could have your baby cradled to your chest as you bake for your husband, their father—
“Schatz?” Toto calls in question from his side of the bed, eyes concerned through the lens of his glasses, “You froze, are you okay?”
You shake the thoughts from your head, the smile you give him is slightly strained. You complete the monotonous motion of swallowing tonight’s allocated contraception with a sip of water. Tossing the packet back in the drawer, you speak, “Yes, I’m fine. I just realized that I need to order more birth control.”
His eyes examine your expression for a moment before he nods and offers a simple, “Hm.” in response. Toto fixed his eyes back on the book in front of him, and you ignore the disappointment that burns in your chest. Sighing mutely, you grab your phone and request a refill in your clinic’s online portal.
The next morning you’re awoken by Toto sweetly petting you awake, his thumb tracing lightly along your cheekbone. He murmurs an apology as he reveals that he’s going to be trapped in the home office today with back-to-back meetings concerning the looming Formula One season. You pouted even while you nodded your understanding, pleading for a kiss before you lost his attention for the day, which Toto happily divulged.
You busy yourself, prepping Toto’s favorite pastry and setting it to bake in the oven as early as possible. As a caring wife, you prepare meals for him and slip into his room to deliver them knowing he would forget to eat if you didn't remind him. You make sure his coffee never runs low, even if you switched to decaf after the second mug—he shouldn’t have too much caffeine at his age, you’d like to grow old with him eventually. To your dismay, Toto did not lie about being locked in the office. He was sequestered within those four walls well past sunset and as a result, you’ve produced enough baked goods in your free time to power the entire Mercedes factory for a week.
“I think we are going to have to discuss a limit for how many things you can bake in a day, schatz,” your husband sounds from the kitchen entryway, an awe-filled look on his face as he sees the bakery you’ve created.
“The pumpernickel bread is still baking—would you like a cinnamon roll instead? Or a chocolate chip cookie? Or could I interest you in a slice of apple pie?”
You’re well aware that your curls are a mess in the loosely fastened bun dangling low on your head, you probably have streaks of flour and other various baking ingredients on your face mirroring the dirty surface of your apron. The unhinged baker aesthetic you’ve suddenly adopted is pulled together by the wide grin splayed across your lips.
“I could eat all three,” Toto hums, his eyes darkening as he approaches you in the kitchen, fingers rushing to untie your apron, “—If you can help me work up an appetite.”
Various baked goods are shoved out of the way to make space for you to be bent over the island. Your flushed brown skin is cooled by the marble surface, nipples hardening quickly at the temperature but, it doesn’t stop you from spreading your legs and helping Toto tug your panties to the side underneath your skirt. He’s quick to press a finger within your entrance and pauses when the slide is too easy.
You squirm desperately, whining when Toto halts your hips from rocking backward on his hand.
“Schatz,” Toto murmurs, his free hand palming at your ass, “Did you—”
“Yes!” You cut him off, stomping at the delay, “I got bored waiting for things to bake—I’m ready, just fuck me.”
Thankfully, Toto is quick to listen to you and substitute his finger for his cock, his slacks unzipped enough to pull himself out. At the stretch, your eyes roll back and you lose the strength to hold your head up, letting it fall to press against the cool marble. You feel your husband still his hips but you reach your hand backward to grasp at his pressed dress shirt, using your grip to tug him forward, a non-verbal cue for him to keep sinking into you. He curses lowly and leans downward to rest his head on the back of your neck, pressing the remaining few inches inside.
Twin moans of pleasure are exhaled into the kitchen, Toto’s hands move to hold your waist, his clasp on your skin tight, reflecting the force he’s mustering to refrain from fucking into you without your approval. The burn from his girth fades quickly replaced by the feeling of fullness you’ve become addicted to. You roll your hips softly, moaning shakily at the drag of his length within you and Toto meets your rhythm smoothly.
He fucks into you deeply, grunting on every other thrust in, you feel the breath of his chuckle ghost across your back when you fall limp in his hands; he’s well aware that you enjoy sitting pretty and taking what he gives you. Your cunt clings to his cock, the plush heat trying its hardest to disallow Toto from exiting, urging him to stay buried inside of you as he scrapes directly over your most sensitive points.
Your husband straightens himself upright, pressing you firmly down on the counter with a hand in the middle of your back, his other hand slipping around to rest on your navel while keeping your hips angled upward for a better angle.
His thrusts become rougher and you can only scramble to hold on to the island, hands slipping from the sweat accumulated on your palms and skin. Your mouth is parted, drooling from the corner of your lip, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe through his thrusts, moans and gasps punched out of your chest, his cock hardened and pulsing within you, and your curls bouncing out of your bun and sticking to your back and forehead from the heat.
Toto’s hand presses into your belly, and he pants lowly, “You feel me right in here—I’m going to put a baby in you, schatz.”
You shudder in his arms, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to reply, and you swear you feel yourself become wetter at the image your husband planted in your mind.
“You can’t,” you whine out roughly, whimpering as the force of his thrusts rocks you up across the island, the ledge digging into your hips, “ah—’m on birth control!”
He grunts dismissively, patting his hand on your belly as his rough thrusts are exchanged for deep grinds, hitting places that send tantalizing rushes of pain along with pleasure up your spine, “Okay,” Toto huffs, “Stop taking it.”
You mean to ask clarifying questions, but he doesn’t let you get a word in as he continues to ramble about getting you pregnant.
“Fuck, I’m going to give you a baby, yes?” “—Going to be so pretty carrying our child.” “You’ll be such a good mum.”
The last one pushes you over the edge harshly, your nerves burning at the white-hot flash of pleasure, the sounds of Toto following you muffled to your ears as your orgasm floods your senses. You feel a dampness on your cheeks and it takes Toto wiping it away to realize you’re crying. His hips continue to slowly grind deeply within you, his cum painting your walls, and he pulls you upwards to press your lips together.
“You were serious,” your voice cracks embarrassingly as you moan the words into Toto’s lips, “About the birth control?”
“Yes,” your husband answers confidently, his words supported by a firm thrust of his cock that makes your eyes roll and body shiver, “If that’s what you want, of course.”
You hum, pleased at his response, “You need to remind me to call the clinic tomorrow to cancel my refill order.”
Toto grumbles incoherently, more concerned with toying with your nipples and kissing along your collarbone, “Yes, schatz—can you go again? I want to put a baby in you as quickly as possible. You would look so beautiful with a bump, no?”
5 weeks later you run out of the bathroom and leap into your husband's arms, brandishing a positive pregnancy test wildly.
You laugh gleefully, tears of joy forming in your waterline, “I guess both of us are bakers now!”
���What?” Toto offers confused, trying to still your arm to grab the test.
“Both of us are bakers now! You put a bun in my oven!”
© httpsserene2024
#f1 x reader#f1 smut#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff x black!reader#f1 x black!reader#toto wolff smut#toto wolff x you#toto wolff x y/n#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff fanfic#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#formula 1 smut#formula 1 x black!reader#serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚。⋆. series special: formula 1#♡ ༘*.゚ love interest: tw.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Good Vibes Only
Summary: The one where Yoongi finds his girlfriend’s stash of special toys and wants to play.
Word Count: 6,917
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader
Warnings: smut - absolute filth. y’all this is raunchy hahaha::: FaceTime sex/masturbation, overstim, cum play, a lot bit of pleasure-dom!Yoongi, degradation, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, mentions of a sub drop
——
Most people’s nightmares are filled with monsters or tragic events; ghosts and goblins or getting abducted by aliens or being trapped in horrible storms. But not for Y/N. No, her nightmares were filled with gawking crowds and hecklers as she stood on a stage in only her underwear. Sometimes it even involved her puking her guts up as the crowd roared with laughter. The horrid dream had plagued her since high school and no matter what she tried, she couldn’t shake it. Even now, years later, the mere thought of giving a presentation at work had nerves bubbling in her belly.
Giving actual presentations had her a nervous wreck for weeks in advance. The pure dread she felt as she stood in front of her colleagues, people who were technically her friends (except Bethany from accounting - Bethany could choke on a dick as far as Y/N was concerned), was insurmountable. Her hands would get clammy and her knees would be knocking against each other, a steady mantra of ‘I love my job’ looping through her head as everyone patiently sat and waited for her to begin.
Anxiety was gnawing at Y/N’s stomach as she sat at the desk in the corner of her living room, pouring over the notes for the presentation she had at work the following morning. It was a big one and if she nailed this pitch it meant she landed the new account. And that, in turn, could mean big things for her career-wise. Really big things. Like that corner office and pay raise she’d had her eye on for the past year. Honestly, those stakes made it all the more nerve-wracking.
With a frustrated groan she leaned back in her chair and scrubbed her hands over her face. She needed to talk to Yoongi. He always knew exactly what to say to get her out of her own head.
Unfortunately, he was in the middle of promotions in Japan. In the ten days he’d been gone, they had barely gotten a chance to speak to one another. Either she had a meeting or he was at an interview. Or she had an important business lunch or he was about to walk on stage. Their precious few spare moments just weren’t lining up in their favor.
It seemed that even their texting had been slow all day seeing as though she’d been pouring over her notes and he in a fanmeet with the other members.
When everyone finally called it a day and headed back to the hotel, Yoongi decided to take the opportunity to call Y/N. As disgustingly sappy as it was, he really missed the sound of her voice. Her smile. Her laugh. Just…her. She just had this way of soothing his nerves. Putting him completely at ease.
Being gone this long without having a chance to talk to her always caused his anxiety to ratchet up a couple of notches. It was starting to cause an actual physical tightness in his chest and he knew his friends were getting tired of his snappiness. He even swore he heard Jin grumble something about ‘a dose of bitch-be-gone’ under his breath the day before. Whatever that was.
Several hundred miles away, Y/N was pulled from her studying when her phone vibrated on the desk beside her. She snatched up the buzzing device, grateful for any excuse to take a break, and smiled at her boyfriend’s contact that appeared on the screen.
🥰yooyoo🥰
Are you free to FaceTime? We just got back to the hotel and I want to see you xx
sunshine☀️❤️
Yes! Give me just a sec get my laptop ready!
Absolute glee radiated through her at the thought of not only getting to speak to him but to be able to see his face. In her excitement, she swung around in her chair so quickly she nearly toppled out of it as she reached for the laptop tucked away in her work tote. Quickly regaining her balance, Y/N opened up her computer and just as it connected to the wifi, Yoongi’s FaceTime request came through. She couldn’t help the cheerful giggle that bubbled up in her throat at the sight of him.
“Hey, angel,” he greeted her. It was more of a yawn really, and she frowned at the deep purple smudges beneath his eyes. Before she could even open her mouth, he was laughing. “I know, I know. ‘I’ve got to get some rest.’ You don’t have to tell me.”
“Well, you look like you haven’t slept in a week.” She was pouting as she said it, concern dripping from her words.
Yoongi snorted. He hadn’t been sleeping. He felt like he was running off cigarettes and anxiety at this point. Even when he was able to catch even a few minutes of sleep here or there, they were fitful and often left him feeling more exhausted than before. “I sleep better when I’m with you.” He gave her a sleepy smile, his whole face going soft and warm as he looked her over. “How’s the presentation prep going?”
She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose before launching into all her worries of how it could go wrong. His intention was to make her feel better, even offer to listen to her rehearse if she wanted. But as she continued to talk, his eyes started to lazily wander over her. She was wearing a t-shirt and one of his baggier cardigans. And the with way she had her leg propped up in the desk chair allowed for her skimpy choice of panties to be on full display.
It was wrong, not to mention rude, to be getting so turned on while his girlfriend was clearly upset but damn she just looked so pretty and he hadn’t seen her in so long.He knew he’d never hear the end of it but he just couldn’t help himself as his hand drifted down out of view of the camera. And as discretely as he could, he began to slowly palm himself over his sweats, his teeth biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning out at the friction.
But then she had to go and lean back to stretch over the back of her chair. Pebbled nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her shirt and Yoongi didn’t even realize he had moaned out a soft ‘fuck’ until she abruptly stopped talking. A hot blush crept up Yoongi’s neck and onto his cheeks once he saw that he’d been caught.
Busted.
Her eyebrows shot up damn near to her hairline, eyes wide as she realized what exactly her boyfriend was doing on the other end of the call. “Min Yoongi, are you jerking off while I’m talking to you about work?” she laughed as she questioned him, not daring to admit that just maybe the thought had turned her on a little bit.
‘Well, we might as well fully commit now’ he thought to himself as he sat up a little straighter against the headboard and smirked. “Not yet. Maybe you could help me out, hm?”
Always so straightforward, her boyfriend.
Blinking at his bluntness, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth as his hand slipped out of view again. It always surprised her just how quickly his temperament could change when it came to bedroom matters.
To the outside world he was quiet and reserved, even somewhat standoffish. But behind closed doors, Min Yoongi was as freaky as they came. A little FaceTime sex was mild in comparison to some of their other escapades.
“Take your shirt off for me?” Yoongi asked her, the flush on his cheeks darkening and his voice growing even huskier than usual. “But leave my cardigan on.”
Always one to please, a sly grin pulled at the corner of her lips as she sat up straighter and did as she was asked. She leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through her hair. Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her bare chest, her nipples taunt from the air conditioning he knew she had blasting in her apartment. Goddamn he loved her tits.
He told her as much and she offered only a small smirk in reply as she slowly brought her hands up to cup her breasts, squeezing and pushing them together to emphasize her cleavage for his viewing pleasure. With her left hand she slowly began to pinch her nipple between her thumb and forefinger as her right slid down her stomach towards the waistband of her panties.
“You gonna touch yourself for me baby?” Yoongi said, an arrogant smirk plastered onto his flushed face. Cocky bastard.
The filthy words spurring her on, Y/N let her fingers drift over the silk crotch of her underwear, pausing to press against her clit. Her head lolled to the side as she dipped her hand into her panties, a breathy moan of Yoongi’s name spilling past her lips. A dark, damp spot was forming against the pink fabric, turning it almost translucent as her fingers worked slow circles against her clit. Yoongi’s pupils blew wide as he watched her, fumbling to shove his sweats down just enough. Once his cock was free he wrapped his hand around himself, his hips jerking upward into his fist.
“T-Take your panties off and show me that pretty pussy, baby,” he grunted as he tightened the grip he had on his cock.
Just as she stood from the chair to wiggle out of her underwear, there was a series of short, sharp knocks at Yoongi’s hotel room door. Eyes wide at the sudden disturbance, he cursed and fumbled with his phone as he tried to get his pants pulled back up. “Be right back,” he huffed as he hopped off the bed and went to answer the door.
All hope of continuing with their sexcapades vanished as Hobi’s muffled voice floated through the room.
Something about how they were about to have an impromptu team meeting about tomorrow’s schedules. Seconds later, Yoongi’s flushed face popped back up on screen.
“I have to go but I’ll call you back as soon as I get a chance.”
Annoyance was pulling his features tight, even as his bottom lip jutted out in a petulant pout. Even though the mood had effectively been ruined, she smiled and blew him a kiss. Cheesy as ever, Yoongi reached up to catch it and smacked his palm to his cheek.
She laughed again, the sound warm and breathy and sounding like home. “I love you! Talk to you later.”
A goofy grin broke out across his face as she said it. The words filling him with a soothing warmth from his toes all the way to the tips of his ears. “I love you too. And good luck with your pitch in the morning. You’re going to kill it, baby.”
Before she could reply there was more knocking at Yoongi’s door, his head snapping up towards it as it creaked open. She was quick to wrap the cardigan around herself as Jungkook stepped into view over Yoongi’s shoulder, telling him that he was going to be waiting for him in one of the manager’s rooms down the fall. “Shit, I have to go. Love you.”
The call disconnected and Y/N was left alone again. Her mind was too far away from her notes now to even consider going back to studying. She huffed out a breath, blowing the hair out of her face as she pushed back from her desk, the chair swiveling around in a lazy circle. Still in just her boyfriend’s cardigan and her underwear, she kept spinning around in the chair until a rather brilliant idea popped into her head.
She hopped up from her seat and made a mad dash for her bedroom, dropping to her knees on her preferred side of the bed to flip up the bed skirt. Hunched down on the ground, she blindly started patting around for the black photo box she kept tucked just past the edge of the bed frame.
——
sunshine☀️❤️
Yooyoo!!
sunshine☀️❤️
Oh my god I NAILED my presentation!!
sunshine☀️❤️
My manager even said the raise looked really promising!
🥰yooyoo🥰
I knew you could do it, baby. I’m so, so proud of you. We’re going out to celebrate as soon as I get home xx
——
Two torturously long weeks later, Yoongi was finally on his way home to her. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he boarded the private jet with the rest of his members and staff. He was used to being gone for long stretches of time but there was something about this particular trip that was making him extra antsy.
Yoongi just wanted to be home. In his own bed. With his girl in his arms. And maybe his cock buried in her warm, wet, goddamn perfect cunt -
Jungkook plopping down in the seat next to him startled Yoongi out of his thoughts, the former sighing loudly as he settled into the plush seat. He lulled his head to the side, throwing Yoongi a bright grin. “You and Y/N got plans when we get home? I know you’ve been dying to get back to her.”
Yoongi couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. “I can survive a couple weeks without seeing my girlfriend.”
There was a bright peel of laughter from the seat behind them, Hoseok’s voice
causing them to turn back to look at him. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You’ve been extra mopey ever since we left Seoul.”
He let out a little hmph and reached for his headphones. “You guys are just jealous you aren’t getting laid regularly.”
——
When they touched down on the tarmac later that day, the first thing he did was call her. Hearing her delighted squeal had him practically sprinting through the airport to the waiting SUV that would take him to Y/N’s apartment, completely ignoring the waiting fans and paparazzi that crowded the space.
The drive to her place was relatively short but Yoongi felt like he was about to come out of his skin. Every nerve felt like a fucking live wire. When the car finally pulled up to her building, his door was open, and he was stepping out before the vehicle had even come to a full stop.
Yoongi jogged up to the front door of her building and threw it open, beelining towards the bank of elevators at the rear of the lobby. He jabbed at the buttons, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for the lift to take him up to her floor. It was so fucking slow. The damn thing always was but he swore today it was taking even longer just to piss him off.
The stainless steel doors finally slid open and he felt like he could breathe easier now. He was so close to her. He was almost -
Just as he reached her door, it flung open revealing her beaming face. “Yoongi!!”
Y/n threw her arms around his neck, crushing him to her so tight he thought she might strangle him. But honestly… what a way to go.
She pulled back just enough to start smothering his face in kisses, not stopping until he was giggling and swatting her away.
“Cmon,” he took her hands and drug her back inside her apartment, “let’s get inside before that mean old lady down the hall calls the front desk on us again.”
They spent the next several hours wrapped up in each other. Arms and legs tangled together as they sprawled across her sofa, as they poured over every detail the other had missed in the weeks he’d been gone.
Eventually, they found their way to her bedroom, moving through their nighttime routines with effortless ease as he told her about the sights they were able to visit on the last couple of days in Japan.
“We had a few extra minutes the other day so we decided to walk through this park next to the venue, right? And I saw the cutest dog, Y/N; seriously, I was trying to think of a way to bring him home. Hold on, I made Hoseok take a picture of me petting it so I could show you.” In his excitement to show her the photo, he fumbled his phone, and the device was suddenly flying through the air.
She couldn’t even begin to describe how it happened. One second his phone was firmly in his hand and the next it was being tossed around like a damn hacky sack, bouncing between his hands before finally clattering to the floor. The distinct ‘swoosh’ of it sliding under the bed and ‘thunk’ as it hit the wall had Y/N snorting out a bellyaching laugh.
Yoongi looked nothing short of flustered, his cheeks and ears going bright red, as he mumbled a soft ‘fuck’ and crouched down to look for his phone. The slippery little fucker had made its way all the way to Y/N’s side of the bed. She was still giggling as he came around the bed and he shot her a playful sneer as he bent down again.
Flipping up the white cotton bed skirt, Yoongi started aimlessly patting around for his phone. But instead of the small metal and glass device, he found what felt like… a box, perhaps? Brows crinkled, he reached for it and sat back on his heels with his new discovery tucked in his grasp.
He looked up at her to find her nose stuck back in the book she had been reading earlier, a grin still on her face from all that laughter minutes before. “What’s this?”
Not looking up from her book, she waited on him to elaborate, “What’s what?”
Yoongi held the box up for her to see, eyes widening when its contents started to rattle around with the slight movement. He had an inkling what it was but he wanted to hear what she had to say about it. The look of pure horror she was wearing when she looked up was met with Yoongi’s shit-eating grin. Well that told him exactly what he wanted to know. With a swift, graceful movement, he jumped up and took a big step backward as she shot out of bed, making grabby hands in his direction.
“Min Yoongi, give that back. Now,” she said, her eyes wide and hands shaking as she reached out for it again, fully expecting him to be his gentlemanly self and just hand it over.
But she was wrong. Very wrong.
Absolutely delighted by his little game, Yoongi smirked down at her as he pulled the box to his chest and wrapped his arms around it, effectively locking it in place. “What’s in the box, Y/N?”
“Nothinggg.” The word was a drawn-out whine as she tried to lunge for it, only for him to dance away from her hands just as they brushed the sleeve of his t-shirt.
Yoongi was giggling at her like a little boy and held the box above his head as she pathetically attempted to get it back. “Oh, judging by this reaction, I think it is most definitely something.”
A wave of absolute mortification washed over her as she accepted her defeat. Groaning, she turned back toward the bed and flopped down face first to bury her head in the pillows. This must be how she died, she decided. From complete and total embarrassment.
Though she expected his pity, all she got was a sinful smirk as he dropped his arm back down to open the mystery box.
Bingo.
He riffled through the various toys and lubes, his smirk widening to a full-on grin as he pulled out a purple rabbit vibrator. He turned it on, testing out the different speeds and pulsing patterns.
The familiar buzzing sound had Y/N groaning again. In a desperate attempt to disappear completely, she pulled a pillow over her head praying the mattress would suddenly open up and swallow her whole. “Dear god, Yoongi, please put it back in the box. I’m literally begging you.”
A sardonic chuckle replaced the humming of the vibrator as he switched it off. The torturous embarrassment was finally coming to an end. Or so she thought.
“When was the last time you used that one, baby?”
She peeked out from under the pillow, biting down hard on her bottom lip as heat rushed up her neck and cheeks. There was no way in hell she was playing into this.
At her silence, he looked up at her and gave her little smirk. “Awe, sweet girl,” he cooed, his voice dripping with condescending mirth, “no need to be shy.”
“A few days ago. When you had to get off the FaceTime,” her admission was muffled by the pillow she had returned to her face to. But Yoongi heard it clear as day.
He was quiet long enough that she started to wonder if he was angry. Jealous even of the rather impressive collection she had amassed over her adult years. She knew from first-hand experience that most men would be.
But then she felt the bed dip and she shyly peeked over her shoulder to find Yoongi sitting at the foot of the bed. That damned vibrator back in his hands.
He was cooking something up in that beautiful head of his. And Y/N didn’t know if she should be excited or scared.
Rolling onto her back, she leaned forward on her elbows and watched with wide eyes as he turned the vibrator on its lowest setting. The look on his face was positively feral as he inched up the bed a bit, pushing her legs further apart to accommodate him. He put a hand on her chest and pushed her back down before he took the very tip of the vibrator and ran it up over the crotch of her panties, pressing it lightly right above her clit. She gasped, her hand shooting down to wrap around his wrist.
“What were you thinking about when you were fucking yourself?” The gravely tone of his voice had her moaning out and canting her hips upward, desperate for him to move the vibrator downward just a little.
“Your hands. And mouth. And cock.” Her admission was nothing more than breathless pants he rewarded her honesty by rotating his wrist, pressing the buzzing tip of the toy directly against her clit.
“Did you cum, baby?” The only response she could manage was a mumbled “mhm” as a delicious pressure started to build low in her belly. “How many times?”
Yoongi turned the speed of the vibrator up to the next setting, earning him a mewling moan but not an answer to his question. Well, that just wouldn’t do.
He pulled the vibrator away and before she could register the loss of stimulation, he brought his opposite hand down hard against her still clothed pussy. A shocked yelp tore from her throat as he growled, “I asked you a question, Y/N.”
“O-Once! I could only do it once,” her voice was shaky, practically a sob as he brought the vibrator back to the swollen bundle of nerves.
“Oh,” his deep chuckle had a shiver running down her spine. It carried a dark promise that the night was going to be filled with absolute torment at his hands. But it was a torment that she would gladly accept. “We can do better than that. Don’t you think?”
Applying just the slightest bit more pressure to her clit had Y/N writhing on the bed. Head tossed back into the pillows as her vision started to go fuzzy at the edges, the building pressure in her belly finally bubbled over into her release. A wanton moan ripped from her as she came, her back arching and eyes screwing shut as the pleasure washed over her.
He removed the vibrator from her just long enough to maneuver her panties down her legs. He tossed them over his shoulder and reached for the still buzzing toy beside him. Turning the speed up a few more notches, fully planning on using it for its intended purpose this time. He ran the toy up her slit, tapping it on her clit and grinning as she whined and tried to move away from his touch.
A firm grip on her hip forced her to still again, the warm weight of his hand pressing her harshly down into the mattress. Positioning the larger head at her entrance and the smaller coming to rest directly on her clit, Y/N forgot how to breathe as he slowly pushed it into her. Her hips bucking upward when he angled it just right to press against that perfect spot that instantly had her seeing stars.
He gave her no time to adjust to the new intrusion and started fucking the toy in and out of her in quick, shallow movements, always careful to make sure the bulbous tip brushed against her front wall.
Her eyes rolled back in her head as he fucked her stupid, her chest heaving with ragged, shallow breaths. It took hardly any time at all for that warmth to come back to her, pooling in her lower belly again like it had never even left in the first place.
This climax took her by surprise. It snuck up on her and ripped through her body in wave after wave of toe-curling euphoria. Her entire body was trembling with the force of it. And Yoongi only kept fucking her through it all.
Her knuckles were turning white as she fisted the sheets so tightly in her hands she had a vague thought that she might rip them. She couldn’t bring herself to care in the slightest though. Not when she felt like her world was rocking underneath her. Not when she felt like she was being devoured whole by the pure, undiluted ecstasy coursing through her veins.
Y/N crashed back down to earth just as quickly as she ascended to the heavens, her very soul seeming to slam back down into her body with enough force that she couldn’t tell up from down anymore. She was nothing more than mewling whimpers and twitching limbs as the pleasure quickly started becoming too much. And at the same time, not enough.
Yoongi was quick to lie down on his belly between her thighs, throwing an arm across her middle in an effort to keep her still. All the thoughts drained from her head as he pressed the button on the vibrator one more time, taking it to the highest possible speed, and tilting it upwards to rest right against her sweet spot.
A scream of his name tore from her throat, the shrill sound echoing off the walls as she arched so far off the mattress she might as well have been sitting up. With the intense vibrations sending her body into overdrive, it felt like it took mere seconds to have her cumming for the third time.
She started to cry as he finally withdrew the vibrator from her aching core, tears streaking down her cheeks as she babbled incoherent nonsense. The tears and slurred words only served to amuse him though. He sneered at her as he crawled up her body. He loved it when she cried.
“Awe my poor little crybaby,” he cooed as he brought a hand up to squeeze her cheeks together, fingers settling on her cheeks between her teeth and smirking down at the forced pout she now wore. He could tell she was having a hard time focusing on his face, her eyes were glassy and fat tears still rolling from the corners. “Your little pussy can’t handle it? I thought you were a big girl, hm?”
Grip tightening on her face, he snapped her head to the side so he could lick up the column of her neck before whispering in her ear. “If you can’t handle a little toy, how the fuck do you expect to take my cock?”
She could only whimper in reply as he angled his head to lick her tears away. Just as her labored breaths started to even out again, Yoongi reached for the box on her nightstand and pulled out a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.
Y/N was still dazed, her body still felt like it was floating. So she took no notice of what he was doing until the soft click of one of the cuffs around her wrist rang throughout the room. She could only blink up at him as he hauled her hand up to the headboard and looped the handcuffs around a piece of framework before reaching for her other hand.
A broken sob of his name only brought another sadistic smile to his face as he reached for the box again and pulled out a small bullet vibrator. Yoongi twisted the base of the toy, turning it on to one of the higher settings it offered. Her legs snapped shut at the sound and he glared down at her, his eyes hard and sinfully dark. Strong hands were on her thighs instantly, squeezing so tight she knew there would be finger-shaped bruises left in their wake, prying them apart before he settled on his belly between them again.
She trembled as he brought the bullet to her clit and pressed down lightly. Fresh tears started to pool at the corners of her eyes as her hips jerked away from the overwhelming sensation. “I can’t. I can’t!”
Eye level with her weeping cunt, Yoongi only ‘tutted’ at her cries and slowly started to swirl the small toy on her clit, her highs tensing on either side of his head as she barreled towards another orgasm.
“C’mon, pretty girl. You know what I want.” His words fell on deaf ears, though, her blood pounded so fiercely in her ears that she couldn’t hear anything else. Hungry eyes stayed glued to her pussy as her hole continued to clench around nothing.
Yoongi couldn’t help but groan at the sight. She was leaking all over the bed, her slick puddling right under her ass as he continued his assault.
“Yoo-yoongi,” she moaned, voice broken and stuttering. “G-onna… gonna make a m-mess.”
Fuck yes.
He lowered his mouth to her entrance, tongue licking into her. He wanted to drink her down, swallow every drop she could give him.
And make a mess she did. Her orgasm washed over her in a tidal wave, crashing into her with enough force to have her vision whiting out completely.
Everything was soft and fuzzy around the edges when she came back to herself. Yoongi was mumbling soft praises and words of affirmation to her as he went about unlocking the handcuffs. He brought her wrists up to his mouth and pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to the skin where the cuffs had started to dig in despite their padding.
“You did so good, baby. I’m so proud of you. You took it all so well.” His words were soft and gentle; his demeanor completely changed now as he doted on her.
He settled down next to her, one hand rubbing slow circles on her belly and the other sliding under her shoulders as she worked to catch her breath. With a groan she rolled over to face him and started pressing lazy kisses to his jaw, her hands sliding up his arms to wrap around his neck.
Yoongi turned his head and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to earn a small whimper from her. “What do you want, baby? Use your words for me.”
He threaded his hand in her hair and gripped it tightly at the roots, pulling her back so she could look him in the eye as she whined, “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. Please. Need it so bad.”
“Yeah? Need my cock, angel? Want me to fill you up?” He was already sliding out of her arms, not waiting for her to reply before he stripped off his sweats and t-shirt. He had been ready to just hold her for the rest of the night, satisfied enough knowing that he had taken such good care of her. He could have found his own release in his hand after Y/N had fallen asleep.
But if she wanted his cock he’d fucking give it to her.
Yoongi settled into the cradle of her thighs, rutting against her and hissing as his aching cock slid through the slickness there. All of his toughness dissipated as he finally sunk into her, biting down on his tongue to hold back the whimper at the feeling of her clamping down on him.
“Fuckkk.” One hand had a white knuckle grip on the headboard, the cool metal biting into his palm helping to somewhat ground him to reality. Yoongi was panting, eyes squeezed tightly shut. If he opened his eyes and looked down at her like this, he knew he’d blow his load.
Y/N was mewling under him, whining his name in the sweetest song he’d ever heard, begging him to move. It took every shred of willpower he possessed to open his eyes, looking down and burning the image of her fucked out face into the backs of his eyelids. “Yeah. Yeah, gonna give you what you need, baby. You’ve been so good for me.”
The slow, heavy drag of his cock as he pulled out of her just to slam right back in had her head spinning, breath hitching in her throat with every brutal thrust of his hips into hers. Yoongi leaned back, releasing his death grip on the headboard to grab her thighs instead, calloused fingers pressing bruises into the plush flesh.
He positioned her the way he wanted her, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips and damn near combusting when he was able to push just a little deeper, the tip of his cock nudging against her cervix. “Goddamn, this pussy. So fucking perfect. It was made for me, huh?”
“Y-yes! God, yes, Yoongi, please.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she started blubbering and begging, her words starting to run together in a mess of incoherence. Nails clawed at his biceps and shoulders, leaving angry red welts in their wake.
A particularly deep thrust had her screaming for him, arching into him and clamping down on his cock in a vice grip. His eyes screwed shut, jaw straining under the force of his grinding teeth. “Get your toy. The little one.”
She flailed and fumbled for it, blindly swatting around the mattress until her hand found the small toy and clicked it on. Her opposite hand slid between them, mimicking his earlier movements and letting her fingers slide on either side of her clit as she brought the buzzing toy down to it.
It sent shock waves through her, and Yoongi pushed in so deep she swore she could taste him.
The moan that clawed its way from his chest was deep and primal, the vibrations against the base of his cock nearly doing him in.
Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream and she arched up against him as she came, the vibrator falling from her slack hand. The fluttering of her wet heat around him sent him tumbling after her. He pulled out of her, hand flying to his cock to give himself a few furious tugs before spilling all over her pussy and lower belly in thick white ropes.
Watery eyes fluttered open to look at him, his flushed face cast up to the ceiling, jaw slack and chest heaving. He was always beautiful but like this… god he was a work of art.
Slowly, he eased himself down on top of her, resting his weight on his forearms so as not to crush her. Yoongi peppered kisses along her face, both cheeks and forehead and chin, not stopping until he was rewarded with a weak little giggle.
He hummed and moved to nuzzle his face into her neck, mumbling sweet praises into her skin. They’re still for a heartbeat, two, three, until their breathing has started to even out. Y/N vaguely registered him untangling himself from her and slip from the bed entirely.
Sleep claimed her quickly, and by the time Yoongi came back into the room with a warm washcloth, Y/N was softly snoring. Starting with the mess on her stomach, he gently set to work cleaning her up and made sure to save her surely sensitive core for last.
She whined when he tried to part her legs, and he decided that letting her soak in a warm bath might ease some of her soreness. He padded back into the bathroom and set the tap running, the steam billowing off the water and filling the small space.
While the tub slowly filled, Yoongi rummaged around under the sink for the homemade milk bath mix he knew she kept on hand. He pulled out the container and poured a hearty scoop into the tub, using his hand to gently mix it all together.
When the water had taken on a milky white hue, he rose to his feet and went to rouse Y/N.
She had curled onto her side, clutching the pillow he had lain on to her chest. Yoongi leaned down and brushed his lips over her cheek in a soft kiss.
“C’mon baby. I ran you a bath and you need to go pee.”
Y/N groaned and tried to roll away from him, but he slipped an arm under her and hoisted her up into a sitting position. “‘M fine, Yooyoo,” she mumbled, her head lolling onto his shoulder as he scooped her up and set her on her feet.
“I know you don’t want to get up but we both know that a UTI isn’t worth it,” he murmured into her ear as he helped her walk on unsteady legs to the bathroom. “I’ll step out and give you a little privacy, okay?.”
She didn’t reply as she practically collapsed on the toilet. The door clicked shut behind him, and she absently wondered why he was suddenly concerned with her privacy. He had just fucked her five ways from Sunday, but he thought she cared if he saw her pee. He was too sweet sometimes.
It took her longer than she cared to admit to get off the toilet and ease herself down into the warm, cloudy water. She moaned as the warmth seeped through her skin and into her bones.
“Yoongi,” she called out softly. He poked his head back in almost instantly, prepared to get her whatever she asked for.
“You can go to bed. I’m just going to soak for a while.”
He came fully into the room then and perched on the lip of the tub. She leaned her head against his hip and he turned just enough to be able to gently comb his fingers through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp. “You did so good for me tonight, sweet girl.”
She hummed at his praise, her eyes slipping shut as she brought her knees to her chest and rested her head against them. Yoongi stood and pushed his sweats down his hips before stepping in behind her. It only took them a moment to get settled, her back to his chest as he rested against the back of the tub.
They were quiet for several minutes and he thought she might have dozed off against him as he started to bathe her. With her favorite soap lathered on her loofa, he ran it up and down her arms, over her chest and neck, between her breasts. He set it on the edge of the tub before cupping some water in his hands to pour over her shoulders and neck to rinse away the suds. He took the clean washcloth on the corner of the tub next. She flinched when he brought it up between her legs, running it gently up her slit.
Soft words of praise were mumbled into her hair as he continued to bathe her. “I know you’re sore baby. But you did wonderfully. I’m so proud of you.”
It was so intimate, so tender, that it made her heart ache in her chest, and she teared up as he started to wash her hair, gently massaging the shampoo into her scalp.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she choked on her words as the tears started to freely fall down her cheeks.
He stilled instantly and reached out to cup her face in his palm, turning her face towards his in fear she might be mid sub-drop.
“I’m not dropping,” she assured him, a soft smile pulling at her mouth as she choked on a weak laugh. “I’m alright, I promise. I just love you, s’all.”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tighter into his chest. She nuzzled her head into his neck as he dropped scattered kisses to the crown of her head. “I will always take care of you, Y/N.”
#yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x you#min yoongi smut#yoongi au#bts yoongi#bts min yoongi#min yoongi#suga bts#suga#bts suga#suga bangtan#bts smut#bts x you#bts x reader#yoongi#suga x reader#suga x y/n#suga x you#agust d
575 notes
·
View notes