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seiwas · 9 months

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₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love.

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it.

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can.

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to.

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly.

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away.

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking.

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how.

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit.

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5.

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie.

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it.

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately.

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him.

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze.

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.”

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else.

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon).

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term).

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back?

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky.

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him.

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his.

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge.

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today.

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.”

You hum in response. He does make a point.

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?”

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace.

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder.

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki.

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same.

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to.

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning.

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of.

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you.

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue.

“Are you okay?”

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed.

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes.

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely.

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little.

“Well, maybe I can suggest—”

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.”

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading.

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?”

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you.

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care.

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint.

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god?

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way.

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide.

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.”

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own.

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it.

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning.

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way.

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room.

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you.

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.”

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you.

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all.

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books.

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake.

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why.

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs.

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk.

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in.

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table.

You break the silence.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly.

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way.

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame?

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets.

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively.

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken.

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache.

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway.

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.”

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not.

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast.

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now.

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart.

“I can’t.” he speaks softly.

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky.

You think you want to cry.

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair.

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees.

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway.

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence.

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor.

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail.

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him.

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile.

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love.

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are.

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips.

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others.

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.”

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have.

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time.

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more.

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink.

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely.

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace.

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day).

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee.

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry.

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?”

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk.

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already.

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar.

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous.

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you.

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be.

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise.

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then.

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open.

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat.

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think.

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug.

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing.

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his.

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever.

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you.

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response.

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly.

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand.

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick.

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket).

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles.

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite.

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful.

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows.

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?”

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it.

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right?

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee.

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.”

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long.

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching.

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips.

So you wait.

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there.

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can.

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more).

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch.

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is.

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed?

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how.

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle.

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru.

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different.

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move.

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone.

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork).

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends.

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head.

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours.

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still.

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it.

But it doesn’t come.

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office.

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little.

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this.

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again.

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday.

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself.

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does?

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away.

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again.

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always.

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours.

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose.

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true.

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips.

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same.

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red.

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door.

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really.

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #oh my god i cant believe i finished this !!!!!!!#its a big one ... jhbfhsdbfja woops #shoutout to niku for being so supportive !!!#col

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delulustateofmind · 26 days

Text

Marriage-Life (One-shot)

A/n: Thank you all for all the love on the Between Worlds series! I promise an update next week. This is just something I thought about while on my walk with my dog :) SUPER FLUFFY!

**Also, it is unedited so fair warning, like a rough draft!**

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Collections of domestic life with Azriel, married/mated for fifty years.

Warnings: Fluff & crack at times, drinking, some intimate moments. Pet names (Sweetness, My Love, Baby)

Azriel the spymaster was your mate, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Balancing life with a spymaster was no easy feat. Azriel’s frequent absence on risky missions tested the boundaries of your marriage at times. Yet, amidst the challenges, you found solace in the ways he made up for his prolonged departures.

Like sleepless nights in bed after a long mission…

As you settled in settled into bed, with Azriel lying on your chest, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes were closing. A question tugged at your lips. “Would you…’ you began, hesitating for a moment. ‘Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,’ Azriel hummed, his warm breath grazing your skin.

“Love me if I was a snail” You finished, feeling Azriel’s smirk form against your chest. He gave a soft nip on your breast. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to look up at you. The hazel eyes looked up at you with amusement you could see his smirk turn smug.

“Oh sweetness, that changes things” he drawled as he sat up a little, pushing himself up to see your face. You bit your lip trying not to giggle as he continued.

“I mean, are you a normal snail? Like could I tell you apart from all of the other little snails?” Azriel began, his deep voice filled with a teasing tone. His hand roaming your bonds, fingers caressing your curves.

You stifle a laugh as his fingers find ticklish spots, “I would be a cute snail, one that you could distinguish from the others”

“A very cute snail…but the fact remains. You would still be a snail” Azriel hummed as he ran his fingers across your curves again. His gaze goes down to your body and back to your lips and then your eyes with a playful grin. A grin that only you ever saw. “I would feel so guilty if I stepped on you by mistake. Can’t have that, can we?”

Giving him a playful pout, you look at him innocently. “Are you saying…that you wouldn’t love me if I was a snail?” you whisper to him in a soft gaze, as you notice his movements. Azriel grinned again, pushing himself onto his elbows against you as he moved closer to you. His wings continued to drape across the both of you.

“What I’m saying is I would always have to worry about stepping on you if you were a snail. Which would make being married to you quite the headache.” His hand once rested on the curve of your waist, moved its way to your collarbone then your jawline, and finally to your chin. Tilting your head as he brings himself closer to whisper on your lips. “How about you stay fae my love, maybe in another universe we could be snails together. But this one, I would love to be fae with you.” A gentle kiss was planted on your lips, which led to you both having a very sleepless night.

****

Azriel never really had much of a sweet tooth, in fact, he typically stayed away from sweets until he met you. When you both got married, you would try out a new cafe once a month, sometimes going to the same one if their seasonal menu changed.

“Let’s get ice cream today, it’s starting to get so warm out.” You whined as you slipped on a sundress. Azriel in the middle of brushing his teeth as he shrugged and gave the confirming nod.

One of the best things about Azriel was that he always tried to match your outfits. If you wore a blue ribbon in your hair, he would wear a blue button-up shirt. If you wore a floral sundress, he would find a shirt that matched one of the colors. Today wearing a blue floral sundress, he opted for a light blue button-down and khaki slacks. One of which, he never owned any colorful clothing or anything other than his leathers and a few formal outfits until you two met.

Once you were both ready, Azriel took you on a flight down to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. A district is known for its food. Once landed, you both walked hand in hand. Shadows trailing the both of you as you walked. Azriel’s huge hand compared to yours as he guided you to a cafe.

“Feyre mentioned this place the other day” he began as he guided you through the busy streets. His wings were tightly tucked in. “I guess they make the ice cream look cute, like little bears and pigs” he gave you a warm smile as you trailed next to him, giving him a confirming squeeze with your hand.

The streets were packed today, the market was selling spices, the smell of delicious food filled the air, and merchants trying to gather attention as people walked past. It wasn't until after a few blocks away, that you noticed a cute pastel pink building that had “Ice Cream” written in a beautiful cursive font on the window. You moved your hand from his, moving it towards his bicep as you both walked to the front doors. When you grasped his muscle, he flexed. The pastel-pink building exuded a quaint charm, its exterior adorned with delicate floral motifs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Inside, the decor was equally inviting, with plush cushions and paintings on flowers on the walls. Along with cute stuffed animals on shelves around the parlor. A beautiful fae girl led you both to a table and placed a menu in front of you both. Azreil looked at you. “Order anything you want. I will just share with you”

The menu was filled with a tempting array of ice cream parfaits, each more enticing than the last. Ranging from little animal-themed ones to flower ones You ended up ordering the panda, and right when you ordered you noticed there was a drink menu that showed an adorable foam cat latte. You order it as well obviously. Azriel smirks as he looks at you with a smile. People in the ice cream parlor glanced over. A smile from the threatening looks of the spymaster was quite rare.

You both talked about what other errands you both needed to run, a market trip was due. Luckily Azriel won’t have a mission for a while but will be training with the Valkyrie and having to go to Hewn City soon. As you both talked, you very impatiently waited for the dessert, Azriel held your hand across the table. He was rubbing his finger across the top of your hand.

“I appreciate you” He whispered so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You give him a warm smile “I appreciate you too and everything you do.”

After what seemed like forever!

The ice cream and latte finally arrived, you looked at the ice cream with a pout and looked at him.

“I don’t think I can eat it, it’s too cute” you pout as you look down at the panda ice cream staring up at you. Azriel had already taken the latte and was about to sip it. As he raised a brow.

“Shall I eat it for you” he teased, flashing a playful grin as he took a sip of the cute cat latte. Something about this intimidating creature sipping a cute cat latte caused your heart to flutter. A blush made its way across your face, even after fifty years of marriage, he still makes you have butterflies in your tummy. You reluctantly used your tiny spoon that was given to you, to poke the face of the little panda ice cream ball on top. Tasting the ice cream, it was a cookies and cream flavor. So cute and so delicious. Azriel teased you by claiming you’re murdering him. You would flash him a playful glare which would cause him to laugh. It was moments like these, that you enjoyed being married to him.

***

Drunken nights, meant drunken mates.

Azriel arrived at Rita’s to find his mate giggling drunk next to Feyre who was being led away by Rhysand. Azriel’s mate however was still sipping on her drink as he walked over.

“Sorry, I have a mate,” you slurred, raising a hand to Azriel’s face as he approached.

“Oh, do you? Is he handsome?” He teased in a low voice, taking a seat next to you. His wing brushing against your shoulder.

“The most handsome man in the whole world, let me tell you if he caught you right now, you would be catching his hands” You drawled with a drunken grin as you sipped the rest of your cocktail.

Azriel covered his mouth covering a laugh, “Is that so? So he’s like super powerful.” He teased, his tone holding amusement. One of his shadows trailing around your arm.

You notice it and giggle, “Yeah, my mate has these little shadow things too” You point at the shadow and show it to him. He laughs a bit harder and leans closer to you. You almost immediately recognize him.

“Hello! My mate!” You giggle as you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist. “When did you get here, there was such a strange man here” you giggle as he holds you close, placing his chin on top of your head.

“Just now, how about we head home? Hm?” He hums as he plays with a strand of your hair, leaning back a little to slide a hand under your chin to tilt your face to his to see your drunken smile with a red flush on your cheeks.

“Can we walk a little?” You smile up at him as you slur a little.

“Can you even walk?” He teases in a low tone, “If you can then sure”

He pays the tab and walks with you out. A hand firmly on your waist to stop you from stumbling when you both walk the streets of Velaris. If anyone even looks at you stumble they’re met with the glare of the spymaster. You notice a pigeon leaving his arms and make your toward it.

Tears stream down your face.

Oh fuc- Azriel almost thought you were about to throw up but here you are giving the pigeons coins while crying.

“Baby please, he’s homeless” You give Azriel a longing look as big alligator tears stream down your face.

“The pigeon?” Azreil covers his mouth from laughing, there’s no way his mate is crying about a bird on the street. This is one of her more normal moments.

“Yes, and he’s so poor. I mean he had no pockets!” you slurred as your voice cracked feeling so bad for the poor pigeon.

“I’m sure he’s fine love, please leave the pigeon alone,” he says quietly as he pulls you up. Perhaps, winnowing home would be for the best.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar azriel #shadowsinger #pls I need this man

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fanaticsnail · 4 months

Text

"I Can't Do This Without You"

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,939 (why am I like this)

Warnings: Pollen!Buggy x afab!reader, swearing, smut, mdni, p n v, chase, thrill, fluff, semi-public, mutual pining, has plot - I swear, whimpering, pleading, groaning, use of pet names: baby, sugar, sugarplum, hun, captain, Buggy is a switch.

I said I'd get it done in 48h, and I am a snail true to my word. Crispy leaf, dangle dangle.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings, @feral-artistry, @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity

Minors, this is not for you.

You groaned as the exhaustion overtook you, lulling your head backwards and releasing a deep sigh from the chasms of your throat. Feeling the fabric of the partially dampened tea-towel grind uncomfortably against your water-swollen fingertips had you release a hiss from your clenched teeth.

It was your turn to remain awake, plagued by the domestic duties that came with serving alongside the Buggy pirates. Although your allocations were rotational, you loathed being the only pirate awake during the cryptid hours aboard the vessel. Everything was silenced, aside from the rambunctious snores produced in the crew-quarters: roars, snores and heavy-laden breathing calling you to both run to and away from them as your eyelids grew heavy.

The echo of: “Nobody can do this like you can,” relayed on loop, the soft breath of your captain dancing atop your neck from behind. He knew exactly what his verbal praise did to you, the confident and arrogant asshole that he was. You adored your captain, loved serving him with your peers and sailing the East Blue with him guiding you through the currants and riding through the waves.

The only issue that you had serving your captain was this one, small, unspoken thing that had him sweetly pouring your name from his painted lips in a sticky-sweet drawl. His molasses-tone purring for you, coaxing you into doing his bidding by just the utterance of your name. It had your knees aching, spine tingling and heartstrings caught in the firm vice of his gloved fist. Perhaps he truly had no idea what he was doing to you. The way the small rasp in his voice pulled against his tonsils, the sweetness in his cadence truly revealed who he was to you alone.

You shook your head, plunging your hands back into the suds and muck of the dishwater. The texture of undiscarded food scraps brushing your fingertips caused your lips to pull back, revealing your pearled teeth in a disgusted snarl. Savages: the lot of them. A shudder crept up your back as you pulled the plug from the basin and ran the cool water from the tap. You anchored the nozzle of the tap over the basin, aiming for the bile-like gunk stuck to the steel container and coaxing them down the sink.

Heavy footfalls of buckled boots broke you away from your disgust, alert and ready to meet with whomever tore you from your thoughts. You rinsed your rubber gloves before removing them, casting them aside to the corner of the sink beside the amassment of freshly cleansed dishes, and turned to greet your crewman. You were shocked to see it was not just a simple comrade sneaking in to collect a glass of water, but your captain clad in nothing but his tight leather pants and unbuckled boots. His long blue hair lay carelessly from his head, waterfalling from the crown of his head down his shoulders and tickling his chiseled abdomen. Whispers of the partially curled hair, untamed and unbridled without his striped red and white bandana, stuck to his forehead in stringy clusters.

“H-Hey, Love,” his voice rasped. His eyes were panicked, wide behind the lengthy blue eyelashes. The small stuttered quiver in his ungloved hands had your brow furrowing into a dip in the middle of your face. Although not unaccustomed to pet-names from him; the tone in his voice held you captive and unwavering.

“Captain?” you asked after him, watching as your voice caused his head to twitch to the side and eyes clamp tightly shut, “Captain? Are you okay? You look poorly.” You removed your apron and hastily cast it down to the side as you approached him. As quickly as you approached, he stuttered his feet backwards and fisted the doorframe within his firm grip.

Immediately halting your steps, your heart beat harder within your chest. Panicked. Your Captain was panicked and frantic. He steadied himself, cowering away from your and physically holding himself to the frame as if it was the last thing anchoring him to the earth.

“Captain-?” you began, only for your words to be halted by your captain speaking through gritted teeth. His jaw was clenched so tightly closed, you were afraid he’d break his pearly teeth.

“-J-Just-....hnngh-... I n-need you to do something-... f-for me,” his voice faltered as the last syllable left his painted lips. His brows furrowed, eyes clamped tightly shut; his blue triangular patterns adorning his cheeks bled into the creases he created with the tightness. Sweat was pooling from his brow, down his temple to his stubbled chin.

“Captain!” you called after him, prompting him to shake his head from side to side violently to halt you from approaching him further.

“This was a m-mistake. I c-can’t-... fuck-... I-,” He pulled himself closer to the doorframe; his hips falling flush against the wall from behind. Your eyes searched his closed lids, following the trail of sweat down his chin to the bob of his Adams apple and down the scruff of his tufts of blue chest-hair.

“Captain,” you spoke in a warning tone. He shook his head from side to side once more, frantic and wild behind his clenched shut eyes. You took a tentative step towards him, his eyes snapping open at the small creak of your foot atop the floorboards.

“Baby,” he whimpered through a pained groan. His pupils were blown wide and frantic. His saliva drew the red tint away from its designated position against his lips and down his chin. There was something rabid in the air. To what extent, you truly had no idea.

“What do you need, sir?” Your professional response was to fall back into your ship-savvy training. You stood alert, your hands laced behind your back and awaiting orders from your pirate captain. He winced at your cadence, his voice unleashing a feral groan from his throat. It was deep, desperate and needy - heavy in the growl that laid against its raspy undertone.

“Baby, I need you to take my head. Take my head, and run.”

At that final command, he tossed his head at you and you began your sprint towards the upper deck of the Big-Top. You held your captain’s head within the hook of your elbow, cradling him into your chest as your feet picked up a sprint.

“Where am I going, sir?” you asked him, looking down at the painted clown you had chosen as your captain.

“Away f-from my body,” he winced. You noticed the tone in his voice, picking up his immediate distress and almost halting your steps to go back to collect his torso-.

“-DON’T!” He barked at you. You stiffened, picking up the pace once again as you fled away from the kitchen’s scullery and to the woven ropes beside the top mast.

Why did he have to collect that substance? Why did he have to find a way to siphon it into his latest ‘Buggy Ball’? Why did he have to spill it over his gloved wrist, immediately inhaling it and sneezing through the chalky pollen?

Because Captain Buggy D Clown was, among all other things, a fucking idiot.

He cursed at himself, feeling the tightness in the crotch of his leather pants as he braced his body against the doorframe, hoping you had ran far enough away from him to not cage you against the wall and rut into you like an ill-tempered, ill-mannered staffordshire bull terrier.

It was no secret that he gave you preferential treatment among the crew. He attempted to balance this out by giving you the poor jobs he wouldn’t dream of designating to the others because “nobody does it like you can.” He mentally slapped himself in the face at thinking of that, as he was cradled so protectively against the side of your chest. He wanted you, he wanted you. He wanted you.

But not like this.

He continued to verbally berate himself as your feet carried you further atop the deck and up the ropes. Your feet looped effortlessly against the woven ladder, hoisting both yourself and him to the crows nest and cowering into the side: hidden and out of sight. The stars illuminated your skin, the rise and fall of your pants holding him in a hypnotic stance as he watched your breasts swell with oxygen. Desire fell from his lips in a feral growl, prompting you to look down and search his face with panic written all over it.

Even in his afflicted state, he could truly see how desperately you cared for him. The way your hands reached to collect his chin and coax his pollen-blown pupils to meet with your own held him bewitched by your compassion.

“Captain?” You asked after him, breaking him from his trance momentarily as he panted out incoherent curses and ramblings, “Buggy. You need to tell me what’s going on. How can I fix this? What can I do?”

“You gotta stay away from my body, Hun,” he winced, left eye closing as his right attempted to hold firm to your gaze, “h-he-...f-fuck-... He w-wants-.....hha-ah-... He wants you, Sugar.”

You stay stationary, holding firm and perplexed as your captain continues swearing, cursing and groaning into the wee hours of the morning. You had no idea what had come over him, his affliction pulling at your heart as you watched more sweat produce at his temple.

“Why do I need to keep away from your body, Captain?” you asked him, placing his head down beside your own and lying down against the floorboards of the crows nest. He panted, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he winced through his next words.

“I fucking told you already, Baby. He wants you.” You cocked your head to the side as you watched your captain huff and suck his bottom lip in and out of his lips. His pants and groans caused caution to tug at your mind as you continued to study him.

His pained face almost looked as a lover would writhe beneath their other half. Lustful and insatiable being the balance of his growling and pleading expression, his brows knitting together in concentration as he continued to pant like an animal. Surely your captain would not behave as irrationally as a teenager in search of their next crevice to gyrate against.

Until it dawned on you.

That was exactly what you were dealing with.

“Captain?” you cautiously asked down at him, “Did you-... D-Did you toy with that flower? The one you said you wouldn’t touch?” After several clenched inhales and exhales, Buggy managed to hiss out a simple word that would change your reaction from concerned to appalled.

“Yes.”

You immediately began to grumble and chastise the captain, who whimpered away like a puppy caught behaving in a manner undesired by their owners. After a few minutes of berating and chastising, you halted your words as you witnessed the tremble in the bottom lip of your captain. You shook your head and huffed out a simple angry puff of breath.

“You were warned that it was a powerful aphrodisiac, yes?” you snarled at him, top lip pulling upwards to reveal your canines.

“Yes,” He managed to hiss out once again.

“And you chose to fuck with it anyway? Knowing there is no known antidote, yes?” You reprimanded him again, prompting a small winced whimper from your captain as he cried another simple: “Yes.”

You groaned, feeling the frustration and pain of a thousand subordinates taking directions from an idiot captain, and turned on your side, collecting the clown’s whimpering head into your hands and hoisting him over to you.

“Buggy,” your voice held the reprimanding tone of a superior as you cautioned a warning at your captain, “You are an idiot.”

“I know, Baby,” he managed to wince out through clenched teeth, “b-but I-...hnngh-... I c-couldn’t n-not. It was-... shit–t-... It was right there.”

You sucked in a long and exasperated breath through your nose, filling your chest with the rage of a begrudging superior and began to collect enough rage within you to bring down your frustration onto him-... Only to halt as your eyes met his.

He was a wreck. His pupils blown, his lips quivering and his teeth chattering behind his whimpering mouth. He was awaiting your beration: dreading it, but prepared for it. He wanted you to be angry with him. He wanted you to be upset that he did something stupid. He wanted you to be-... you. He wanted you.

“Why did you seek me out, Captain?” you asked him while removing your overcoat and placing it to the side.

“I-I-... I don’t kn-know,” he whimpered, his eyes wide and beginning to brim with desperate tears.

“Oh? You don’t know?” you asked him, kicking off your boots beneath you and unbuckling your belt, “You didn’t think I’d desire to relieve you of this predicament?” You unbuttoned your blouse, springing forth your breasts into the air and shimmying the cotton material from your shoulders, “You are my Captain.”

“What-... W-What are you doing?” he panted at you. His jaw was slackened, unblinking eyes never once pulling away from you as you continued to undress yourself. You rolled your eyes at him as you continued shimmying yourself from your clothes; presenting your nudity beneath the dusted starlight. Your captain’s blush darkened beneath his painted face, eyes bulging as his jaw began involuntarily salivating.

“Captain,” you huffed out, rolling back onto your side and meeting his gaze with your reprimanding gaze. Your eyes softened as they met with his, your eyebrows arching upwards at the center and a small smile drew itself to your lips. “You sought me out in the middle of the night,” you smirked, reaching for his cheek but halting before touching him.

You witnessed his pained and conflicting expression, his grimace straining against his cheeks as his eyes continued to yearn for you. You apprehensively sighed, placing your palm down in front of the clown-captain and bore your eyes into his own. Always encouraging, supporting and cheering for him in your expression.

“I joined your crew to serve you, Buggy,” you confessed to him, “You. You, sir.” You scooted your body closer to him, opting to not make the initial contact with him and holding firm to your position perpendicular to him. He grimaced, wincing in pain but his eyes were full and blown with lust and yearning.

“D-Don’t, Love,” his tone held the undertones of warning, his teeth pulling back and painfully gritting together in his jaw, “don’t say that. Y-You’re too g-good for the crew-... sssff-... too good f-for me-e.”

You scoffed at him, inching ever closer to him and almost brushing your nose against his beautiful, rotund circle of a nose.

“I chose to serve you, Captain,” you bore down your intense gaze into his own, “In whatever capacity you deem me worthy.” He groaned, his face involuntarily seeking out your own as you continued your confession, “What is it you always say? Nobody can do this like I can?”

His jaw fell slack, his eyes completely tint-less as they became eclipsed by desire. The cool teal of his irises were all but lost beneath his gaze. You smiled at him, turning over to lay on your back: eyes looking upwards at the stars as you unleashed a small sigh into the air.

“What a-are you doing?” he stuttered, slowly inching his decapitated head towards your face. Your eyes held a softness, the smile on your face as hypnotic as the day he first laid eyes on you.

“Oh, Captain,” you cooed at him, refusing to look at his face as you continued to stare upwards into the cloudless sky, “I’m just waiting for your body to catch up to where your head is.”

Buggy’s thoughts, swirling as the cesspool of a thousand bogs, was rattled by your words. Had he wanted you? Yes. He yearned for you, he pined for you. He had always imagined how beautiful you looked, split over his cock as he inched you downwards to take in his impressive length. He had always imagined you mewling and pleading for him to have you cum against his painted lips, coaxing the eruption of bliss from your core with his tongue as you rode his face. He had fisted his cock in solitude thinking of you, only you, as he spilt himself over his thumb and into a long forgotten sock while he whispered your name as gentle as a prayer between his lips.

He wanted you. He wanted you so badly. But he wanted you to want him. He didn’t want you to just be his crewman in servitude to their captain. He wanted you to need him exactly as much as he needed you. Even while his senses became overpowered by the aphrodisiac, he wanted you to want him in return.

“Captain?” your voice called to him, your apprehensive and almost shy tone breaking him from his thoughts. He nodded, knowing you could see him from the corner of your eyes. Even in his afflicted state, he attempted to keep his desperate eyes hyper focussed on your face as he noticed you gulp back a dry mouthful of saliva. “Do-... Do you think you could-... Talk to me a little?”

“What d-you m-mean, Sugarplum?” he winced, feeling the proximity of his body rapidly approaching towards the two of you in the crows nest. You huffed out your embarrassment, already naked in body beside him but yet to bare your soul.

“Buggy,” you warned him, your eyes now becoming haunted with your own quiet longing and desperation, “You know what your voice does to me, sir. I-... If we’re going to do this, I need you to talk to me.”

He was long gone from the part of feigning innocence to the matter. He was fully aware you were interested in his flirtations: reciprocating them in turn, but always shying away first to his crude and unwithheld shamelessness.

“You want me-... to get you in the mood? F-For me to… fuck you senseless?” He asked, his brow again releasing a new bead of frustrated and lustful sweat down his temple to his lip. He noticed the visible quiver in your body at the word ‘fuck’, prompting his body to quicken its haste at climbing the ropes from below. His pants were long discarded, his boots pooling at the floor beneath them as he continued to climb as a wild and ferocious beast up the ropes.

“O-Oh,” his whimpered question fled his lips more as a statement, a growl anchoring the end of his expression downwards as he watched your body continue to respond to him. Without warning, his head rocked into your shoulder, placing his lips on every inch of your skin he could find and wiggling his way upwards to trail long and desperate kisses to your jaw and neck.

“Oh, baby,” he began, licking and kissing at the pulse of your neck, “I have thought of nothing but y-you… -hnghh, fuck-...” he confessed as his feet fell; his cock brushing slightly against the rope and providing the smallest amount of stimuli against the throbbing shaft, “I-I wanted you, hun. I wanted you s-so badly. I wanted t-to know what you looked like caged in my arms as I fucked you beneath me-,” his feet began to pick up the pace, sprinting up the ropes to draw his throbbing closer to you.

“Hun, I don’t th-think you’re aware of how much I want you,” He licked a long stripe up your collar bone, his teeth grazing your skin as he whimpered against you, “baby, I-I-... I c-couldn’t-...” His words halted in his throat, truly not desiring to release his confession into the air for fear of never reclaiming the words back.

“What, Cap?” you gasped, finally turning to him with your eyes half-lidded and glazed with lust, “what couldn’t you do? Tell me. Tell me, please?” He growled, launching his decapitated head towards you and placing trails of creeping open-mouthed kisses against your cheek, nose and jaw - never claiming your lips beneath his for fear of breaking the spell and having you sprint from him.

“I-I-...” he whined, feeling his feet beginning to tingle in his approach. He was so close to you, so close to your glistening opening: ready and waiting for him to dive into your supple flesh and chase his release, “-I only think of you. I-I-... I can’t-... I can’t cum without thinking of you. I need you. I only think of you, the way you’d fuck. Baby, the way you’d taste.”

You gasped, finally claiming his cheek within your palm and watching the tearful expression of the clown within your hands and chasing his fleeting gaze with your eyes.

“Captain?” you cooed down at him, desperately trying to conceal your enthusiasm and excitement with your tone, “Captain, do-... do you picture me? When you touch yourself? When you-... when you masterbate?” Before the clown could halt his pathetic words from falling from his lips, his mind began to spiral as he continued his unholy confession.

“Baby, I-I tried to cum s-so badly without you. I was right there. I even found your old wanted poster and thought of making you scream as I stretched you out. I-I tried to cum while thinking of you. I kept chasing it, hun. I-I-... I can’t do it without you. I was right there twelve times before I went to find you in the kitchens. I t-tried. It’s-... I can’t do this without you,” he desperately cried, his eyes open and honest as he spilt nothing but truths from his lips. Your heart broke for him, and the shame of his confession began to glisten your aching entrance and swollen clit with his pathetic whines and calls for you.

At that, you felt the dangerous presence of his body begging to be reunified. The thrill held you quivering in anticipation, desperate to help your captain in whichever manner he deemed appropriate to chase his relief. You closed your eyes tightly shut, feeling his body fall downwards onto you and cage you beneath it.

“Baby, s-say something,” Buggy’s voice whispered at your jaw, his lips collecting the skin beneath it, “I-I can’t control myself f-for much longer. Baby I n-need to know this is o-okay.” His plea had your eyes snap open, meeting his teal gaze as he desperately sought out your own.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, feeling the inches of heat grazing against your thigh in his shaft’s approach towards your shamefully aroused entrance.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered into you. You felt the graze of his swollen tip prodding against your oozing entrance, flicking its shined tip against your clit as he rejoined his head firmly atop his shoulders, “I never wanted it to be like this.” He reached down, grasping his abused shaft and almost screaming as he did. His senses were overwhelmed, so desperate for stimuli but conflicted because he wanted so desperately to be good for you.

“It’s okay, Captain,” you reassured him, turning away from his face to shy from his feral expression. You held your eyes closed in shame at how truly intoxicated this made you. You were both blessing the horrible pollen for having him finally make a move, while guilty at the fact that this was the only reason you were feeling his knob rake slowly between your silken abdominal lips.

“L-Look at me,” he whispered down at you, “p-please, baby. Please look at me.” As you slowly turned to face him, he achingly withheld the urge to slam his cock fully within your entrance and pushing to the hilt of his shaft in one swift movement. He was physically shaking with the inability to control himself further than allowing this one moment to pass between you.

As your eyes slowly and coyly met, he glanced deep and unblinkingly into your eyes as he slowly inched the tip of his cock into you. You watched that subtle quiver in his eyes; the way his lip trembled at the friction as his leaking tip arched its way beyond the first point of contact. He muffled a scream, finally feeling relief at the contact of your walls sucking his cock within them. He fought back another urge to break away his eye contact and have his eyes roll back into his skull in bliss of the feeling - opting to continue staring deeply into your eyes as he slicked another few inches within your walls.

Your breath hitched, staring deeply into his eyes as your lips parted at how truly beautiful you found him. He clenched his teeth together, angling his hips forward and slowly pressing down into you while wincing back his pleasured cries of bliss. He wanted so desperately for this to feel as good for you as it did for him, but the way the pollen enhanced his every sense had his limbs on fire. As he inched his cock down to the base of his shaft, he sucked his cheeks into his teeth alongside his tongue and bit down exceptionally hard to keep his cum from spilling over immediately.

As you became accustomed to his width, you couldn’t help but sigh out a small mewl of pleasure at being filled by your captain into his ear. At that small hitched pitch of your voice, he began to rock his entire length within you as he groaned out a desperate cry of satisfaction.

Don’t you dare cum, you idiot. You’ve finally got what you wanted. You wanted this. Don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t you dare cum-.

“-You c-can cum, Captain,” you whispered into his ear, placing a small kiss on the corner of his jaw, “You’ve waited so long, Bugs. I’m so proud of you. You can cum, baby. Cum for me.”

His breath hitched in his throat, his cock immediately responding to your guidance by snapping the tension within his stomach. His balls were pressed so tightly within his abdomen, almost swallowed within his stomach by how tight and desperate everything became. At that small whisper of praise from you, his orgasm crashed over him like a bolt of calculated lightning seeking him out as a conductor to direct the currant. Ribbons and ropes of hot and desperate strings of sticky cum shot from his tip to coat your walls with their lustful lubrication.

“O-Oh fuck. Fuck! F-FucK!-.. Nghh-... I’m cumming. I-I’m cumming! F-Fuck, baby. I-I’m-.. Hhah-...” He cried into your shoulder, his lips and teeth collecting your neck beneath his mouth and clenching down onto your flesh. You hissed at the contact, feeling the waves of pleasure he was experiencing coat your walls as you soothed over his shoulders with a gentle, but firm touch.

His slow thrusts came to a halt, completely sheathed within you as he rode through his high. The collection of arousal pooling at your thighs and coated his groin was surprising to the both of you at the culmination of the fluids. As his eyes drew downwards to the contact between your bodies, he gasped at how beautifully your body had taken him in. He was in awe that you would allow him to join with your body in this way, but guilty in the fact that he was the only one to claim pleasure from this encounter.

He quirked his head to the side, remaining fully sheathed within you and began rocking his hips a little. You gasped, feeling his lingering firmness within your core and brush with the underlayer of your clit while the top brushed with his pubic hair. He laughed with an almost sickening amount of glee.

“Would you look at that?” He managed to stutter out between the snapping of hips. He leant down towards you, hovering his lips just above your own, “I’m still hard.” He hummed thoughtfully, looking first to where your bodies were connected before darting his eyes back up to yours.

Looking up at him with partially shocked eyes, you felt the lubrication of his prior release grinding against his cock sheathed within your core. His soft and deep gyrations had an involuntary cry fall from your parted lips at the friction. Buggy’s eyes smiled as his lips broke into a crooked smile.

“Ohh,” he cooed down at you, “Ooh, you thought we were done, didn’t you?” He reached down to collect your thighs, hooking them over his hips and joining them at the ankles, “oh, sweetheart. You thought you could get away with ordering your captain to cum in you without consequence?”

He shifted his cock deeper within you, raking his hands at your thighs upwards to collect your ass beneath his wide fingers. You bit your bottom lip to halt a sound from leaving your lips, prompting Buggy’s teal eyes to look down at you and frown. He snapped his hips harder against you, slow and deliberate thrusts dragging at your walls with his cock and prying another muffled moan of desire from you.

He frowned further, drawing his face closer into you and almost brushing his lips with yours.

“Don’t you dare stop those pretty sounds from comin’ out,” he commanded you, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with desire. His throbbing cock was twitching within your fluttering walls, his groans of pleasure serenading you with his raspy tone gracing your ears, “Oh, Baby. Let me hear you. C’mon, now.”

You screamed at your eyes to remain fixed on the man above you; his own half-lidded expression being mirrored in your irises as your lips almost brushed. He continued slowly anchoring his hips in and out of your glistening entrance with your walls fluttering around him. You gasped as he wove his arms beneath you and hoisted you upwards. He rocked back to sit atop his calves, pulling you with him to sit atop his lap and braced himself fully flush with you.

With his arms hooked beneath you, he found the backs of your shoulders and braced you against his torso, breaking away his eye contact as his lips sucked on your neck. He gyrated his hips up into you, keeping you completely still and caged atop his lap as he rocked you. The new angle had your jaw slack and gasping silent cries and mewls of pleasure down into his ear.

“You were so chatty, baby,” he grunted against your neck, trailing his lips against your neck to your jaw, “Where did that go, huh?”

At that final taunt, you wove your hands into the back of his scalp and forced his neck back to look up at you. He gasped out a sighed groan, jaw clenching at your manhandling of his sensitive body. Grinning up at you with a grimaced lop-sided smile, he again taunted you: “Too embarrassed by me? Don’t want to have the infamous Clown-Captain make you cum?”

He picked up the pace, almost disregarding your hands within his hair as his thrusts became more desperate and unbridled. His playful eyes never broke away from your face, only leaving to glace at your breasts bouncing at eye level and shamelessly ogling them before finding your eyes once more. His hips began to stutter more, almost rhythmically in tune with your body as he felt your walls suck him in with their flutters.

“Not embarrassed, Cap,” you managed to gasp out, grinding down onto his cock. He squirmed beneath you, matching your circling and gyrating rhythm as he bucked up into you. “I’m just enjoying your voice.” You tugged back his hair tighter, his lips releasing a hissed sigh as you brought your lips down to suck on his neck. He continued rolling his hips upwards, allowing you to chase your release by circling and gyrating against him.

“P-Please,” He called in a voice above a whisper, “Please cum on my cock. I need you to cum on my cock, baby. I want you to use me like a toy. Your toy.” You whimpered against his neck, feeling the tightness in your abdomen increase to the center of your stomach. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he continued rocking you atop his lap.

“No,” He shook his head out of your grasp and bore his teal eyes into your own. He uncircled his arms from beneath your shoulders to his right wrapping around your stomach while the other cradled your jaw, “No I want to see it. I want to see you cum. I want to see the lights dance in your eyes as I rock you on my lap. I want to see your pleasure as you chase it, sliding your slick cunt over my cock. Please, please baby. Please cum for me.”

As his eyes locked on yours, you felt the twirl within the pit of your stomach finally release the band of pleasure within you. Every inch of your body burst with the tingles of your orgasm: the tips of your toes shivering within the vibrations of warmth and static up to your legs, thighs, abdomen, torso, neck and face. You were suffocated by the cry you released of his name pouring from your lips as you raked your hips over his lap, whimpering and moaning for him as you rode your high into blissful overstimulation.

Buggy had no idea when he began cumming, but he could feel you sucking every inch of his second release deep within you by the sturdy thumps of your glistening walls squeezing each drop from his quivering shaft. He cried for you, the sting of overstimulation balanced with ensuring you had truly finished allowing the waves of bliss to wash over you. He felt tethered to you, the only thing anchoring him down to this world as he serenaded your praises with the angels.

He released your jaw, circling his hand to the back of your head and pulling you down to touch your forehead with his. Your movements stilled, the only sounds resonating were the crashes of waves against the hull and the distant roars, snores and heavy-laden breathing of your crew sleeping and remaining blissfully unaware of what just occurred within the crows nest. Sighs and breaths between you passed as you greeted one another with warm, coy smiles.

“Did you learn your lesson, Captain?” you asked him with a small, sleepy giggle.

“I think so, Hun,” he replied with the same tone, the creases of his eyes holding both his charm and his playfulness within it, “‘You’ll always look after me when I do something stupid’ was the lesson, right?” You pursed your lips at him, no longer having the energy to fight with him and opting to place a small chaste kiss atop his round nose. He winced at the caress, but opted not to pull away once he saw your sleep-deprived expression.

“I’m just playing, Love,” he sighed into your face, still ghosting his lips over your own without fully committing to the kiss.

“I know, Cap,” you mumbled sleepily, pressing a soft and deep caress of your lips against his. He groaned against your lips as they finally met, holding firm against you as you angled your head to deepen the kiss. Breaking the dance of your lips intertwining, you leant back and smiled warmly at him, “But I will always look after you when you do something stupid.”

“Oh good,” he sighed in relief, a broad and brilliant smile drawing itself against his lips as he hardened his resolve, “Because all I've learnt is nobody can do this like you can.”

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #captain buggy #buggy fic #buggy pollen #pollen fic #buggy #buggy x reader #afab reader #buggy smut #buggy pollen smut #buggy the clown x reader #op smut #buggy x you

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sixstepsaway · 6 months

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so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

#ofmd critical #i hate that i'm using this tag now :c #edward teach #ed teach #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #i guess #izzy hands #stede bonnet

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slvttyplum · 5 months

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tumblr is the only place where we all collectively agree that suguru loves face riding.

every story i read why is reader riding sugurus nose like their trying to get to a late appointment? i fucking love it.

at this point it’s canon. he doesn’t eat you out while he’s on his stomach, nope.

instead he’s on his back, hands gripped to your thighs and your pussy is right over him hanging over his face waiting to be devoured.

i love that for you, honestly.

get you a man that’s going to eat you like his last meal.

your knees are trembling, shaking, while he’s nose deep in your wet puffy pussy, you have him addicted.

he can’t get enough of your taste and the fluid dripping down from the bottom of his lip to your chin.

matter of fact it doesn’t even have to be on the bed, you’re on his face on the couch, in the car, in the bathroom, anywhere and he’s beneath you.

maybe it’s a hierarchy thing, who fucking knows. all i know and all suguru knows is he loves having you on his face.

he’s going to make sure your pussy is slurped, licked, and ate off the bone by the end of the session. no spot is left untouched.

and you know for a fact he’s going to throw in his two finger double slide twisty in the mix.

the double stimulation sends you over the edge in 0.9 seconds every fucking time. you’re never not overstimulated when he’s eating that pussy.

there’s no sex with him without face sitting, i need you to remember that. if you want to fuck suguru make sure you place that pussy right on his mouth, where it belongs.

matter of fact just drag your pussy over his face like a snail, i feel like he’ll deeply appreciate that more.

“come up.”

“rest your ass.”

“slide up.”

“mhm just like that.”

“you taste so fucking good.”

“ride my face.”

“move your hips.”

he knows what he wants, he’s a man with needs. he’s going to tell you how to have your pussy on his face correctly.

his eyes are going to be looking up at you the ENTIRE time he’s down there, your expressions make his dick shoot up.

him eating your pussy IS the foreplay. kissing? nah, just sit on his fucking face.

y’all aren’t hearing me. this man is an addict to your taste, he needs it.

if he could have a jar filled with your cream and squirt, best believe he would have that in seconds.

you’re a delicacy. you should be on the menu at every fancy restaurant.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #getou suguru x you #suguru geto smut #geto x you #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x y/n #getou suguru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto x reader

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sunshinescribes · 7 months

Text

Between Your Name and A Prayer

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: There are few who can say they elude Dracule Mihawk, and even fewer who have held his heart. You’ve done both, and it only serves to complicate things when Mihawk seeks to collect your bounty…or so he tells himself.

Warnings: SMUT! Ex!Mihawk, Angst, Yearning, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Rough Sex (PinV), Reader is a little petty/bratty

Mihawk knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.

He shouldn’t be slipping through a sleepy port town in search of you.

He tries to blame it on your wanted poster, a reminder that you continue to evade the world government—evade him, but the lie is hardly convincing.

Not when he had spent more time than necessary staring down at your new wanted poster, his sharp eyes following the curve of your playful smile and catching on to your eyes, as bewitching as he remembers, and with that familiar glint of mischief shining in them. The look you give is reminiscent of the one you used to grace him with, just before you stole a kiss, or persuaded him back to bed—what feels like a lifetime ago now.

Mihawk tries to shake the aching feeling that blossoms in his chest. Your bounty has gone up significantly. Vice Admirals hiss your name over snail responders; wonder why you haven’t been caught yet. Mihawk is quick to retort sharply that he isn’t at their beck and call, despite what the Admirals might think, and that they can send someone else to catch you, or better yet, find her yourself.

He knows they won’t. It’s as difficult for them to track you down as it is for him, maybe even more so. Besides, they have an…inkling of an idea of what you two once shared. Feelings once held that they think he can use to draw you from the shadows. If only they knew how wrong their assumptions were.

He may be a hunter of sorts, but you are no prey. Mihawk has come to realize that he only finds you when you let him. You leave little clues—hints dripping with nostalgia. You tease him, dare the world’s greatest swordsmen to come and find you, and he accepts the challenge every time with the eagerness of an undisciplined child.

He has only found you twice, and on both occasions, you looked far too pleased, not surprised in the slightest to see his dark figure slipping from the shadows. You had smiled and teased him in a way only you (and a certain red-haired pirate) would be brave enough to.

You finally showed up, Hawk Eye.

Mihawk despises the epithet from you—the distance it creates, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? It makes it easier to fall into a night of ravenous bliss without considering that you two once shared a home and your hearts.

Mihawk continues to shift through the lifeless town, the chilly midnight air working like a balm to his tortured soul, allowing him a moment of respite as his eyes flit between dimly lit shops. This venture started nearly a week ago with Mihawk idly flipping through the newspaper, curious to see what troubles were brewing in the Grand Line. Little caught his interest as he read, but when he turned to the last page, his eyes lingered on a single photo. An unexpected offering.

You, disguised well and hidden in a crowd, your face was obscured by the hat you wore, similar to the ones donned by those beside you. To anyone else, you were nothing more than another spectator, but the necklace that rested against your collar screamed your identity—the same one Mihawk had placed around your neck a year prior.

What fun you must have finding new ways to reel him in.

The first time Mihawk sought you out, he had been certain of catching you. His objective left him the second your warm eyes fell on him, and your mouth ventured where his body had missed you most. The second time, he had sworn he would not be tempted, but his will had shattered easily. Mihawk lost himself as he pressed you up against the wall of a cramped room in a seedy hostel, your nails digging into the flesh of his bare back while he took you apart as he had done so many times before.

What would he do this time? Mihawk had tried to reason that he would not be so weak-willed—so foolish as to let you reduce him to a man incapable of thinking beyond the flesh—but the certainty he once held was steadily slipping out of reach with each encounter.

A frustrated sigh escapes Mihawk’s parted lips as he stops in front of a shabby tavern. His eyes follow the curves of the poorly painted sign, faded and scuffed from lack of proper upkeep. It’s lifeless. No music pouring out the doors or cheery carols of drunken men. No heady scent of rum or grog. The tavern is completely devoid of life, save for the soft, flickering candlelight that paints the windows in a warm orange hue, and a single slippery patron Mihawk knows is inside.

He ignores the warring voices in his head as he pushes the door open, and there you are.

You sit perched on the counter, legs crossed, and head tilted slightly as you cradle a bottle in your hand. You hum a soft tune, your eyes downcast and far off in thought. Mihawk thinks perhaps your thoughts might be of him, because he recognizes the melody. It’s the same one he used to whisper against your skin in the dead of night, ushering you into a peaceful sleep—just as it had been used for him, back when he was young and hopeless in the arms of a tender-hearted nun.

Your hushed singing halts when the floorboard creaks under the weight of his boots. Your eyes lift, and the somber expression on your face is gone so fast that Mihawk thinks he might have imagined it.

An impish smile graces your features, and your eyes lower as you take in the sight of his lean body, shameless and hungry.

“And here I thought you’d stood me up.”

You’re always quick to crack a joke, dispelling some of the uncertain tension that always brews at the beginning. You want this to be as uncomplicated as possible.

And Mihawk realizes suddenly that he complies, says little beyond your name, and takes what you offer, lying to himself that it is enough—that he will hunger no more afterwards…but his appetite is endless, vicious in how much it craves something it can never have again.

Mihawk takes a step forward, and you uncross your legs instinctively, spreading them in a way that would make the nuns he grew up with faint. Ramera, they would whisper harshly, before slipping into prayer. They would surely have some choice words for him as well.

Your smile slips when he settles on the stool beside you, instead of between your parted legs.

You want this to be uncomplicated, and Mihawk can oblige, as he always does—he can steel his unruly heart and silence the voice that reminds him of better days, sweet and silent moments in a drab castle that seemed to burst with life with you in it. He can do all this, but why should he give you what you want right away?

You sigh disapprovingly, before taking a swig from your bottle.

“So, you’re here to collect my bounty, then?”

Your voice is flat and unamused. Mihawk can’t tell if it’s a display of false bravado or if you believe he wouldn’t be able to manage it.

“I haven’t decided,” he lies.

Of course he has. He always decides. Before he even sets off to find you—before the clues bare themselves before him—deep down, he knows he’ll never raise Yoru against you. Never bring you to the admirals who have hunted you for as long as he can remember. He can play the part of the heartless hunter, but he never truly fulfills the role.

Your sly smile returns. You lean towards him, positioned in a way that makes your collarless shirt dip, exposing the soft flesh of your breasts. Mihawk is quick to look away, but you’re just as perceptive as him. Your eyes catch everything, no matter how minuscule.

You reach for his hat, placing it on your own head.

“How can I convince you to spare me?” You ask sweetly, setting your drink aside.

Stop running away.

The words catch in Mihawk’s throat. He knows why you’re running, why you won’t come back to him, not even if he swallows his pride and asks. The moment the words pass his lips, you’ll pull away. Stop being a warlord, would be your quick reply, and it would spiral into the same argument that had created the impossible distance between you two.

Neither of you would let up. You both would tear open tender scars. It would complicate something already too fucking complicated—shatter the delicate peace you both allow in moments like this.

It will do no good to start a fight he can’t win.

Instead, Mihawk lifts from the stool, reaching to unsheathe Yoru. Your eyes go soft for the briefest of seconds when they fall on the decorated black sword—such a stark contrast to others who have seen him wield it. There’s always fear, sometimes envy, but never fondness. Then again, only you know his sword as intimately as he does.

“You don’t need to convince me,” Mihawk starts, leaning Yoru against the counter, far enough so that it doesn’t become a nuisance. “You only need to take what I give you.”

You raise a curious brow. You’re used to leading these little liaisons, quick to chase pleasure you’ve been deprived of, but this time Mihawk needs something different. He needs you to want just as badly as he does, to see you as helpless as you make him feel.

“And if it’s not enough?” You taunt, always so eager for a reaction.

Mihawk doesn’t humor you with a response. Instead, he positions himself between your spread legs. A myriad of images flash in his mind—delicious ways to break you apart that almost make him shudder in anticipation.

He notices your pert nipples through your collarless shirt, untended. Desire takes him hostage, makes his hands almost shake as he works quickly to unclasp the delicate buttons that keep your skin hidden from him.

“Someone’s excited.”

Mihawk rolls his eyes when you chuckle, low and lovely. You think you have him in the palm of your hand, and you’re not exactly wrong for believing so. Though you’ll learn soon enough how easily he can turn your smart remarks into desperate pleas.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel Mihawk’s warm mouth kiss your collar, slowly trailing down while his rough hands cup your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh. He whispers your name against your skin—perhaps a warning or a promise—before he takes your sensitive nipple in his mouth. A pretty moan rips from your throat when he adds the soft pressure of his talented tongue.

You try not to picture Mihawk between your legs, lapping at your needy cunt with fervor. If the wetness between your thighs is anything to go off of, you’re doing a piss-poor job.

Mihawk breaks away from your tit, a string of saliva following him as he tends to the other. It’s a lovely sensation, but you want more.

You snake your hands downward, attempting to unbutton your pants and slip your fingers where you need them most, but Mihawk denies you. His hands catch your wrist the second you finish with the buttons. Your breast falls from his mouth, and he fixes back to his full height, peering down at you with those piercing eyes of his.

“Hard of hearing, are we?” Mihawk arches a sharp brow, ignoring the murderous expression you wear. He can feel the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What I give you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glare up at him like a petulant child…such a shift from the confident, easy smile you displayed only minutes before.

Mihawk revels in it for a moment longer before choosing to be altruistic.

He leans close, his soft lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “If you want my fingers inside of you, you’ll take off those pants. Quickly.”

He practically purrs in your ear, his voice richer and deeper than you remember it being. You want so desperately to defy him. His words drip with arrogance that makes you want to bare your teeth at him, regain a modicum of control, but you also burn with such torturous lust—and maybe something sweeter.

You school your emotions, look as irritated as you can manage when you slide down from the counter, quickly pushing your pants down the length of your legs. Mihawk mirrors you, peeling his black coat off, before neatly placing it near Yoru.

Damn him and his stupid, perfect body.

You kick your pants to the side, tossing his hat along with it for added measure—just in case he thinks you’re happy to do as he says.

Your faux frustration dissipates the second you’re back on the counter, and Mihawk’s fingers glide across your cunt, coating his digits with your slick. You hear the words he doesn’t speak when he pushes a finger into your hungry hole—who’s excited now?

You shake, eagerly watching the way his finger disappears inside of you.

“Mihawk—”

He shushes you before adding another digit. You hiss—oh god—andhe pushes a little deeper, fucks you a little faster, desperately seeking that soft spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

Mihawk curls his fingers suddenly and knows he found it, because you make the most wrecked noise he thinks he’s ever heard.

Your lashes flutter, sharp curses spill from your plump lips, incoherent and crude. Magnificent…Mihawk muses, transfixed on your micro-expressions—the way your brows pinch together, the subtle tremble of your bottom lip after each pretty sound.

You clench around his fingers, teetering on the edge of your release. Mihawk’s free hand moves as if it has a mind of its own, finding your neglected clit.

Your fingers weave into his hair, pulling him closer. "Fuckfuckfuuuck," you practically cry into his shoulder. You shudder beneath him while a pool of pleasure builds in your core, so dangerously close to bursting.

“More,” you choke out.

The tortuous circles that he rubs against your aching clit are divine, but it isn’t enough. You want to feel full—fuller than his fingers alone can provide.

“Wanna c—hmmmng—c-come on your dick.”

You’re thankful you catch the plea that tries to crawl up your throat.

Mihawk swears under his breath, pulling his fingers out of your sopping pussy. His eyes are heavy, his expression is like that of a drunken man as he glances downward. He groans, watching the way you clench around nothing.

Mihawk doesn’t make you wait long. He’s quick to undo his dark trousers, works with speed even he might not know he possesses to free his aching cock—it’s so lovely, pale with the prettiest shade of pink dusting his thick head. Evidence of his own arousal pours from the slit, mixing with your own slick when he wraps his fingers around the base.

You watch him pump into his hand, getting his dick nice and wet for you. It’s such a beautiful sight, so fucking obscene. You can’t stop the desperate moan that pours from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from calling his name with a hint of urgency in your tone.

“Impatient—” Mihawk hisses, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He gives no warning as he buries himself in your soaking heat. You all but shriek as you feel the brush of his wet fingers against your clit again. “You have what you want. Now come.”

You try to hold out—you don't want him to think that he can make you shatter with a simple command, but your body betrays you. Pleasure rips through you before you can even consider a snide remark, making you cry out loud and cling to his lean frame. You shudder through your orgasm, curse between gasps, and Mihawk can’t look away—can’t stop the way his hips jerk reflexively when your walls flutter around him.

It feels so good, it almost makes him lose what little self-control he has left. Mihawk stills, grits his teeth painfully until his desire becomes just a little manageable. He won’t let this be another quick, meaningless fuck.

Mihawk lifts you with his dick still buried deep inside you. It almost takes you by surprise until you remember just how strong he is. He wields Yoru as effortlessly as one wields a dagger. He has taken down entire fleets with a single attack. Maneuvering from the bar counter to a booth is hardly work.

And you’re thankful for the change, feeling the cushion beneath you. It’s not the softest you've ever felt, but it’s certainly more comfortable than the damn counter.

Though it hardly matters, you don’t get much time to relish it once Mihawk cages you in with his powerful body.

“Missed me—” He thrusts into your heat, his pace downright brutal as his hips slam into yours. “Oh—OH, can’t you feel how much you missed me?”

God, you hate how right he is. Despise the way your cunt sucks him in and clings to his length. You feel the sweet spasms that wrack through you with each vicious thrust—how your walls pulse with a need to be filled in more ways than one.

It feels so fucking good—always does with him—and you’re past trying to deny it. Would you even believe yourself if you tried?

You blink up at him, watching the way Mihawk’s face contorts with pain and pleasure. How his long, dark lashes flutter. The way his delicate lips part and a sound that goes straight to your core escapes. He’s so beautiful—it almost drives you mad thinking about how effortless it is for him, as if he is something divine and otherworldly.

Is this the same way he sees you? When his eyes linger and he looks a little dazed?

His golden eyes lift suddenly, finding yours. Your breath catches at the expression you see hidden in their depths—the unguarded adoration. It’s so different from how he looks at anyone else—a gift only ever meant for you.

Mihawk slows the roll of his hips, moving his hand from where it’s positioned near your head. You can’t anticipate what he’s planning—can’t think beyond the tender look in his eyes.

And then you feel it.

The warmth of his palm as his fingers laces with yours.

The act is intimate, full of loving intent.

Your heart bursts as you blink up at him. Countless emotions flood through you—unceasing affection that you try to bury, the pain that still lingers, loneliness, frustration, desire—it’s overwhelming in its intensity, chases away the unrelenting conviction you’ve nurtured for months.

“Mihawk,” you call out desperately, “kiss me.”

Mihawk stills, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. He considers it for a moment, leans in ever so slightly before pulling away, cursing in his mother tongue.

He tries to focus on the feeling of you beneath him. Your warm skin, the rhythm of your erratic heart—but your request snags his like a twisted vine. It takes every ounce of defiance to deny you this.

Not unless you tell me you still love me.

Not unless you come back home.

“Mihaawk…”

You hate how your voice comes out in a low whine, but the need to feel his lips against yours is paramount. One final request to satisfy your heartsick soul.

“Too much.” His voice is tight, pained. “You want too much.”

His golden eyes find yours again. You expect his notorious glare, maybe even a sneer for good measure, but you receive neither. His eyes are soft…and a little sad, as if he wishes he could give you everything you desire, but to what end?

Hot, frustrated tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You try so hard to blink them away, but they fall without your permission, running down your cheeks all while Mihawk watches, his sharp brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no venom in your voice, no spite. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate yo—”

You taste his lips before you feel them—ripe plum from a silver chalice, salt from the sea.

Mihawk melds his mouth with yours, reminding you both of just how perfectly you always fit together. You melt into him, feel lightheaded when he pries your mouth open with his tongue, desperate and hungry, as if he’s trying to siphon the air from your lungs.

Your nails scrape against his scalp, tufts of his dark hair curl around your fingers, and Mihawk breaks.

He rocks his hips suddenly, harshly fucking into you with renewed fervor.

“I hate you,” you say again when he finally breaks away, a string of glistening saliva still connecting you two. The sight alone rips a breathy moan from his throat, and he nods.

“I know,” he dips down, pressing phantom kisses to your lips.

Mihawk knows what you really mean. What you won’t allow yourself to say aloud.

You still love him. You never stopped loving him.

He tries to show you how much he still loves you, pushes himself as deep as he possibly can. Mihawk nearly collapses from the way your velvety walls hug him—so tight and snug that it almost hurts. He knows he’s hitting something delightful inside of you—something that makes you convulse and sob beneath him.

“Please, please—” he hears your voiceless plea.

Mihawk groans, resting his forehead on yours as he pounds into you. He hits so deep that the head of his cock collides with a gummy cluster of nerves, and you tip over the edge with a sharp cry.

Mihawk captures your lips again, swallowing your moans. You tremble, fresh tears slipping from your eyes, while your second orgasm rips through you, so violent and demanding that it feels like it wants to take your soul along with it.

“My heart—” Mihawk grits as your walls massage his tortured cock, take him hostage until he’s pushing impossibly deep. “fuckI’m—"

Mihawk doesn’t finish his sentence—barely even starts it before he’s flooding you. He comes hard, pumping your sweet cunt full of his seed, filling it like it deserves. Your walls squeeze him, milking him for all he’s worth. It’s too fucking much. He shakes through it, euphoria splitting through his body until every ounce of strength is drained from him.

Mihawk collapses, as boneless as you, though he does his best to refrain from resting his full weight on you. He offers you sweet praise. A soft kiss on the corners of your lips, your cheeks, your chin.

“I love you,” Mihawk murmurs against your skin, so low you nearly miss it.

You’re too spent to react, though you’re uncertain of what you would do even if you could. You want the warmth of his touch, his kisses, and honeyed words. You want that fond look in his eyes and the tender care he offers only to you.

But are you willing to forgive? To forget how you two ended up here?

You ignore your mind’s inquiry. You allow yourself to crave, to fall deeper into this pleasant mirage as your eyes grow heavy.

When the sun rises, you will have to face this, but for now, you let yourself slip into a fantasy where you can love him without consequence.

PART 2

divider credit @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x y/n #mihawk x y/n #x reader

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 6 months

Text

Imagine the red hair pirates helping you with your depression

Unfortunately, it's that time of year when seasonal depression, and regular depression team up and beat my ass. So new content will come slower than usual, and I'm sorry about that, but appreciate your patience and understanding.

Shanks: *enters your room* are you gonna get up anytime soon.

You: *in a cocoon of blankets* I don't want to.

Shanks: *stares at you for a minute* are you okay?

You: no

Shanks: should I get Hongo?

You: there's nothing he can do for me.

Shanks: *thinks back to Roger's illness* ... What sort of illness do you have exactly?

You: depression,

Shanks: oh... Well staying in bed isn't going to help

You: I don't have the energy to get out of bed

Shanks: then let me do it for you, *scoops up your cocoon and carries you outside* sun light ought to do you a lotta good.

Hongo: what's going on?

Shank: they're depressed.

Hongo: oh, I have just the thing for that *goes into his office*

Benn: hmm, I suffered from depression as a young man.

You: back in the Stone Age?

Benn: *playfully rolls his eyes* yes, back in the Stone Age. My life kind of fell apart because I couldn't care for myself. I could not wash my clothes, or bath, or brush my teeth.

Shanks: that explains the state of their room then.

Benn: elaborate

Shanks: their laundry bin was overflowing, trash on the floor, and the whole room was dark and smelt bad.

Benn: ... Cleaning it would probably help them recover.

Shanks: would you go evaluate the room and see what needs to be done.

Benn: we're probably gonna have to clean it top to bottom, I will go get some volunteers.

Hongo: *comes back* no I need you to eat these supplements, and this mushroom.

Benn: how come they get to have some of your hallucinogens.

Hongo: multiple studies have shown they're very effective at treating depression long term and because they're mine, and I get to decide who to give them to.

Shanks: *pulls open your cocoon, and hands you a cup of water.*

While you are tripping

The crew: * cleans your room, does your laundry, and puts said laundry away*

Hongo: I think the main cause is seasonal depression, they were fine a month ago when the light was at its fullest.

Shanks: hmm, would installing another window in their room help?

Hongo: probably.

Shanks: okay, while the shipwright does that, (y/n) can stay in my room.

Benn: you just wanna fuck them.

Shanks: A few orgasms would probably do them some good. Plus I can help them better if they're close to me.

Hongo: he's right, but you need to make sure you're not taking advantage of them.

Lucky Roux: we also need to make sure they're eating, I noticed a while ago that they're only having one meal a day.

You: eating is inconvenient, and having a corporeal body is like being stuck with a pet you don't want.

Shanks: *pulls your head into his lap and strokes your hair and shushes you* sh sh sh, I know darling, I know.

Hongo: we should also make sure they exercise more, in fact we all should.

Benn: we can take up daily training practice.

Shanks: totally

You: I dun wanna

Benn: well I expect you to at least try it out for a week, if it doesn't help then you can quit.

You: really?

Benn: no

You: aww

Benn: we'll find a nice activity you like, or don't mind.

You: ugh fine

Shanks: thank you

You: ... You have pretty eyes, kinda like storm clouds

Shanks: we should get you high more often.

You: do we have any music snails?

Shanks: *pulls out his collection of Uta's music* Yes we do.

List of Up-and-coming works || Masterlist || Twitter

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#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #red hair pirates #benn beckman #lucky roux #hongo #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #11/15/23 #no beta we die like men

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theshinazugawaslut · 4 months

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"Are you trying to piss me off?" comes your husband's voice and you snicker from the bathroom where you can see Sanemi grumpily sitting on your marital bed, hugging a pillow to himself. "Who the fuck needs a self-care routine for a whole solid hour?"

"Me," you answer with a giggle, trying not to let out another gentle laugh at the immediate scowl on your husband's face.

It was a known fact to you that Sanemi simply cannot sleep with you, tossing and turning if you weren't in bed with him; usually staying awake till you came home for work just to throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed; but most popular was glowering at you as he waited you to finish your hair and skincare.

"Woman, 'm gonna..." He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with his best threat. "I'm gonna curl up into a ball and start crying."

"'Nemi! Do you want your wife to be pretty or not?" you say absentmindedly from the bathroom as you cleanse your face, splashing cold water on your face.

"I think you're the prettiest," he whines, standing up and coming into the kitchen, looking like a very upset man-child as he pouts at your reflection in the mirror.

"What the fuck are you- Oooh," he says, easily distracted as you pass him a tea tree oil serum to put on his face. His lilac eyes go wide as he looks at collection of skincare you have and he starts picking up random bottles. "Why the fuck are you putting snail remains on your face- There's bee pollen in this moisturiser by the way, you're scared of bees, ain't ya?"

"'Nemi... Just put it on your face."

He's shrieking as if you're going to murder him as you bring your hands to pat some serum onto his face but the minute it touches, he's immediately dunking the whole bottle onto his face much to your horror and dramatic screams.

"This shit feels good."

And so, it becomes a routine every night where Sanemi hogs most of your skin care and hair oils. Most of the time, you'll be chatting with him, sheet masks on both your faces.

#sanemi #anime and manga #kny sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #kny #husband sanemi #sanemi headcanons

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wonusite · 1 year

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(Not) A Gentleman

❝ Your boyfriend is the sweetest man alive—a perfect gentleman. However, you’re determined to show him that he doesn’t always have to be a gentleman. ❞

pairing: lee seokmin x female reader

genre: established relationship au, smut

word count: 4.2k

warnings: seokmin literally invented the word simp, big dick!seokmin, daddy kink, slight breeding kink, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, begging, overstimulation

a/n: this is for brookie and tulip nonny! thank you for making this happen! love you both <3 based on this and this. minors dni!

“Okay, you have to be lying.”

You purse your lips, swiveling the wine glass in your hand to avoid eye contact. “I’m not.”

Embarrassing as it was to admit (even to your best friends), it was true that you hadn’t had sex since you and your boyfriend officially got together. Technically it hadn’t even been that long. It wasn’t unheard of for people to take things slow. But even you had to admit Seokmin had the pace of a snail.

Seungkwan looked completely appalled while Jihoon and Jeonghan could only gawk at you like you’d grown another head. You awkwardly clear your throat and take a large drink of the wine you’d been nursing all night. It’s not like you meant to say anything, but when the conversation of sex lives came up, you were left with no choice.

“Seokmin is literally obsessed with you.” Jeonghan scoffed. “How can you two not have done anything yet?”

“Maybe he’s shy.” Jihoon says with a gentle shrug of his shoulders, eyebrows still twitching with confusion.

“The same guy who told Vernon he was engaged to Y/N so he would stop flirting with her is shy?”

You all laugh at the memory. It happened only a little over a year ago. Seokmin still hadn’t asked you out at the time, but there was something there. He had invited you a party where you met a lot of his friends from back home. The night had gone smoothly until he saw that his old friend was getting a little too comfortable with you.

“What if…” you swallow thickly, the wine forcing out your biggest insecurities. “What if he’s not attracted to me?”

For a moment it’s silent, then your friends let out collective cackles that have you scowling at them. You allow them to act like the drunken fools before demanding to know why they found your insecurities so funny.

“It’s just that—” Seungkwan cuts himself off with an amused wheeze. “There’s no way Seokmin doesn’t find you attractive.”

“He gets hard any time you wear something that shows off your legs.” Jeonghan pointed out as he went to grab the wine bottle on your coffee table.

“It’s true. I’ve seen it.” Jihoon confirms with a drunken giggle.

You furrow your eyebrows. If attraction wasn’t the problem, then what was?

“Okay, so how do I get him to fuck me?”

Jeonghan chokes on his wine while Jihoon lets out another round of giggles. Seungkwan is the only one calm enough to answer you. “I’ll help you, but he can’t know I told you what I’m about to say.”

After making you swear on everything you hold dear, your friend finally tells you the secret to making the gentleman you call your boyfriend snap.

“So, here’s what you do…”

You’ve been out on dates with Seokmin plenty of times, but somehow you still got butterflies as if it was the first time. Everything about dating him feels like new and exciting. You even spend what seems like hours picking out the perfect outfit and getting ready to look just right for him despite knowing that your lovely boyfriend doesn’t care what you wear. He’s just happy to be with you.

The overnight bag you packed rests on your bed, and just the sight of it leaves you feeling giddy. Again, it’s not the first time you’re spending the weekend with Seokmin, but you still feel a jittery excitement whenever you do. It’s packed neatly with all the things you needed. Including some more enticing pajamas.

Part of the reason you also feel these unwavering butterflies is because tonight you were determined to fuck your hot boyfriend. Your lovely friends had helped plan it all out, and they were adamant that you had to keep your cool. It was harder than expected because all you wanted was to get your hands on Seokmin’s cock.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts. You swallow nervously, hands smoothing over your outfit. The new lingerie set you bought is snugly resting against your skin underneath the pretty dress you chose. Psyching yourself up, you grabbed your things and headed to the door.

Don’t make it obvious like you always do!

Seungkwan's words kept echoing in your head, and you have to force yourself to stay calm as you opened the door. You suck in a breath when you saw Seokmin dressed in a white button down shirt that accentuated how big his upper body was and black fitted dress pants. In that moment, all you could think about was how insanely lucky you are.

“Wow.”

You blink back into reality only for your heart to lurch when you see Seokmin staring at you like you’re some goddess. Which, to be fair, to him you pretty much are.

“You look so gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re all mine.” Seokmin’s voice is so full of awe and affection that your knees nearly buckle.

Seokmin grins when you bashfully touch the underside of your jaw. “I should be saying that to you. You’re so handsome that I just—” Just want to give you the suck of your life. “Just can’t handle it.”

His pretty laugh fills your ears as you suddenly feel your duffel bag being taken out of your hands. You furrow your eyebrows as you boyfriend slings it over his shoulder. “Babe, I can carry my own things—”

“I know, but as long as I’m around you won’t have to.”

You can’t really argue with his sweet words, especially since you know you won’t win. Seokmin has a strange way of getting you to back down with his placating actions, and you still can’t understand how you give in so easily every time.

Seokmin smiles fondly when he sees a pout forming on your face. “If you really want to hold something then here.”

It’s so stupid and corny how he holds out his beefy arm at you, but you’re so disgustingly endeared by him that you grab his arm anyway and follow him out the door. His triumphant grin makes a smile of your own form on his face.

When you get outside, Seokmin stops you before you can open the passenger door. He pulls the door open before unexpectedly lifting you and placing you on the seat. You feel your face burning as he gentle sets you down as if you’re made of glass.

“There’s a puddle.” He explains as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “I know those are your favorite heels.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he closes the door and gets into the driver side. Seokmin places your bag in the backseat before turning on the car and driving off. Your friends had insisted that you act calmly, but they didn’t know what it was like to date the sweetest guy alive. Every one of his sincere actions made you feel like your heart was going to burst.

This feeling hadn’t gone away with time, and you’re pretty sure it never would.

You feel like you’re floating on air by the time you get back to Seokmin’s apartment. He always takes you to these amazing restaurants that you always end up loving and never lets you pay. Every time you two go out you feel like you’re being swept off your feet all over again. It’s a feeling that hasn’t dulled over the course of these past few months, and you hope it never does.

The nerves you felt from the beginning of the night resurface when you enter his bedroom with your bag. You have a plan set out, but now that it’s time to execute it, you feel more nervous than ever.

You only become distracted when you go into the bathroom and see that Seokmin has a whole array of new products on the counter. “Baby?” You call as you inspect the very familiar skin care bottles. “When did you get these?”

Seokmin walks into the bathroom, a subtle blush suffusing his face when he sees what you’re holding. “I… I know you sometimes forget to bring all your products when you stay over or when we don’t plan for you to stay, and I just– I wanted you to always have them.”

The shy look he has on his face is so adorable, and at that moment you think that you won’t ever love anyone as much as you love Lee Seokmin.

You practically pounce on him, lips messily connecting with his own. Seokmin is quick to melt into you as you domineeringly back him onto the bed. He falls on his back with you on top of him. The movements of your lips become rougher and needier by the second. It’s dizzying the way you kiss him like you’re addicted to his taste. Like you won’t ever be able to get enough of him.

The heat in his gut expands up in his chest and spreads through his whole body the second you start to grind down on his hardening cock. As much as it pains him, he has to pull away. “Babe—”

You recognize his tone. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to say something particularly disappointing. But you won’t let him do what he’s been doing since you two became a couple. You’re going to get him to fuck you no matter what.

“I want you.” You say as boldly and confidently as you can. “So stop being a gentleman and fuck me already.”

Seokmin is looking up at you with wide eyes. You can see and feel how much he wants you, but you can also see that he’s hesitating. So you do something you really hope works because if not then it’s going to be super fucking embarrassing.

“Please, daddy?”

Your boyfriend freezes, eyes becoming dark and filled with an unmistakable heat that makes you clench. The way his cock seems to grow even bigger under you makes you want to buy your idiot friends a gift in thanks because in the next second you’re being flipped over on your back with Seokmin’s tongue back in your mouth, his hard cock grinding against you.

He pulls back, swiftly taking his shirt off before he pauses to look at you. Your boyfriend’s eyes seem to shine as he drinks the sight of you laid out for him so prettily. Seokmin licks his lips as his hands gently caress your upper thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

You suck in a breath because his voice is soft and sincere. The way he’s staring at you makes your heart warm with affection. You’ve never felt so exposed, but you’ve also never felt so desired and wanted. Instead of feeling insecure you feel safe—loved.

“Take my dress off.”

And he does, slowly and carefully. Seokmin feels his heart jump up into his throat when he sees what you’re wearing beneath your dress. The lingerie makes you look like his very own present, and Seokmin is pretty sure he’s on the verge of coming in his pants.

“Angel…” He breathes, pressing his clothed cock against your core.

You bite your lip, feeling like you’re about to burst. “I guess you like it?”

“Fucking love it.” Seokmin groans as he starts to trail his lips down your body, kissing and licking at your exposed skin.

The way he’s taking his time to fully get you naked is making your mind turn into mush. You feel so hot and turned on that you’re pretty sure all Seokmin would need to do is grind down on your cunt and you would come.

Vaguely, you feel him tugging off the lacy bra you were wearing. He wastes no time in swooping down to capture one of the hardened buds in his mouth. You moan his name as he licks and sucks your nipple while his giant hand pinches and pulls the other one. His teeth slightly graze your hardened peak before he soothes over it with his flattened tongue.

Your head is swimming and all you can do is buck you hips up to his covered dick. “Fuck!”

Again, that carnal look appears in his eyes. He gently nips at your nipple before he continues to kiss his way down your body. It feels like forever until he gets to the part where you need him the most. Your aching cunt feels like it’s pulsing with need as Seokmin gently grips the edges of your underwear and slides it off.

Your hot pussy is finally exposed to the cool air, and for a moment Seokmin only stares at you with his smoldering eyes. You lick your lips and spread your legs wider. “Don’t you want a taste, daddy?”

Seokmin groans and places a gentle kiss on your clit before his tongue is splitting through your wet folds, lapping up all your sweet juices. Your boyfriend lets out another deep groan as he indulges himself in your taste, the reverberations sending a burning heat up your body.

“I knew you’d taste good.” Seokmin moans against your cunt, long nose bumping against your clit. “So sweet.”

Another gush of your slick coats his chin and mouth. You feel your eyes roll to the back as his tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth to taste more of you. Seokmin is lapping at you with an ardent hunger that has you digging your hands into his hair. You arch up into his mouth as you let out a loud moan. “Daddy!”

The way you’re tugging his locks paired with the sweet sounds falling from your lips have him grinding his aching cock down on to the mattress. Seokmin fucks his tongue into you until you’re screaming his name and coating his mouth with your orgasm.

You’re breathing heavily by the time Seokmin sits up to look at you. The sight of you completely fucked out and sated is something he’ll engrave in his mind forever. At that moment he knows he’ll never get enough of how you look post orgasm.

Seokmin runs his thumb along his wet lips and sucks the remnants of your essence off his finger. Your cunt clenches at the erotic sight. He’s so hot and you can’t wait until he’s inside of you.

Admittedly, you’ve known Seokmin has a big dick. You’ve seen the imprint of it when he wears sweatpants, not to mention that you can even feel it’s massive size through his pants. Still, nothing can prepare you for how big it actually is when he takes the remainder of his clothes off. Your jaw drops, mouth instinctually salivating at the sight of his literal monster cock.

“Will it fit?” You can’t help but ask because right now as you’re looking at it, fitting all of him seems like it’s next to impossible.

Seokmin laughs as he aims his fat tip at your entrance. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be gentle.”

Is it bad that part of you doesn’t want him to be?

You let out a soft mewl of pleasure when the fat head of his cock catches along your puffy lips, gently nudging against your swollen clit. His slit is oozing with beads of his arousal, evidence of just how much he wants you. Seokmin’s long fingers circle your clit, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watches you writhe in pleasure.

Slowly, Seokmin eases into you, groaning lowly when your cunt clamps down on him like it doesn’t ever want to let go.

By the time he fits half of his cock inside you, you’re already a moaning mess. The stretch stings a little, but ultimately feels so fucking good. You feel entirely full despite him not bottoming out yet. All at the same time, your heart is fluttering as much as your cunt is with the sweet encouragements Seokmin is whispering into your ear as he keeps forcing his cock into your pussy.

Impatient as ever, you wrap your legs around your boyfriend’s waist to shove the rest of him inside you. The loud groan he lets out mixes with your scream of pleasure. Seokmin’s cock throbs where you two are connected, plugging you full of your wetness and his own precum that’s dripping from the fat head of his cock.

“Fuck me, daddy!” You moan as you start to grind up into him.

That’s all the encouragement Seokmin needs to start fucking into you deep and hard. His thrusts knock the air out of your lungs, the thick girth of his cock splitting you open deliciously with every passionate thrust. The amount of pleasure you feel as Seokmin’s large hand spreads your legs so he can fuck you deeper is astronomical. The action stretches you out more, and your boyfriend can’t help but moan loudly as your sweet cunt clamps down on him.

“You’re so damn tight, baby.” Seokmin moans, throwing his head back in pleasure as he continues rolling his hips against you.

He’s already drunk on the feeling of your tight walls suffocating his cock. Your hot cunt is massaging his the entirely of his cock in delicious pleasure that licks up his pelvis and pools in his abdomen. Seokmin’s pace becomes rougher when your loud moans turn into nonsensical babbling.

There’s just something so hot about the sight of you spread out under him, your pretty little cunt barely taking his big cock as you whine for him with those fucked out eyes of yours. His hips are snapping into you without losing pace even as he gently caresses your cheek, practically melting into you. “You’re taking this cock so well, baby. This sweet cunt was made for me.”

It’s insane how his voice can still sound so sweet while he’s balls deep inside you. The loud squelch from your cunt is filling the room, and it just turns you on even more. Seokmin moans when he feels your fluttering cunt clench down on him again.

“You close, angel?” He asks through his groans as he looks down where his cock is sliding in and out of you. “Fuck yeah you are. I can feel you squeezing me real tight.”

“Fuh-Fuck! Make me come, daddy!”

You can’t keep your mouth shut, moaning and whining almost incoherently. It feels like you’re on the verge of coming any second, cunt so sensitive and stretched to the max. The pressure in your lower abdomen builds when Seokmin stars to thumb at your lips.

“Come for me, baby. Cream all over daddy’s cock.” He groans, so fond of you that he feels like his heart might implode.

His coaxing makes the coil in your stomach snap. The intensity of your orgasm is prolonged as Seokmin continues to fuck you through it, never once stopping those snapping hips of his.

Seokmin’s mouth falls open with a loud moan when he looks at your pretty pussy filled with his thick cock, your cream coating his veiny dick. You let out a moan of your own when he hooks his hands underneath your knees and pushes your legs against your chest.

“Pl-Please!” You cry out as he pounds his cock into your hot cunt. “Give me your cum! Fill me up!”

Your aroused pleas trigger something primal in him, and he goes wild at the thought of breeding you. “You want daddy’s cum, angel?”

His heavy balls slap your ass as pathetic mewls tumble from your lips. The way you desperately arch into him as your body trembles has his cock twitching inside your cunt.

“Want it so bad, daddy!” You moan, not caring that you sound needy and pathetic.

Seokmin abruptly releases his cum inside you, orgasm triggered by your neediness. His warm seed fills you as he slowly grinds his dick into you to make sure all his cum stays inside you. “That’s right, baby. Take daddy’s cum like a good girl.”

He goes still for a moment to allow you to gather your senses before he reluctantly pulls out of you. The sight of his cum dripping out of you makes his still hard cock twitch in need. Seokmin is too busy looking at your swollen pussy to see that you’re eyeing his cock hungrily.

You smirk a bit, knowing that the monster between his legs couldn’t possibly satiated with one orgasm. Luckily, you were the same way.

“Daddy.” You whine, fluttering your eyelashes slowly. “Want more.”

It’s so cute the way Seokmin goes red. This was the same man who had fucked your brains out not seconds ago, and you absolutely love it. You bite your lip before coyly speaking again. “Can I be on top this time?”

“Look at my pretty angel.” Seokmin coos, voice dripping with honey as you whimper in his tight hold.

Your boyfriend dragged you along the length of his thick cock, soaking it in your essence. Slick dripped down to his heavy balls before it fell to the sheets between his parted thighs. Seokmin can’t help but to smirk at your needy, fucked out expression as he swirls his wet tongue around your tits. His large hand is pressed flat between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer to him to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“Daddy, please! Want to ride you!”

His lips gently suckled at your taut bud, slurping around it before he pulled back without releasing you. The wet disconnect and hot pressure from your breasts shot through your body until it was making your pussy clench around nothing but frustrating air.

“Beg me properly, baby. If you want my cock," he shifted his hips to allow the blunt tip of his pulsing cock to catch against your clit. “then say it clearly.”

Your hips rutted with a pathetic mewl. “Please fuck me, daddy. I want your cock so bad!”

Seokmin, ever weak to your desires, slams into you in a toe-curling thrust, forcing your walls apart with an guttural groan. “That’s it, baby. So fucking needy for daddy’s cock, huh?”

Your face is hot against his neck, still trying to get used to his big dick splitting you open. Apparently, your boyfriend is the impatient type.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock, angel.”

That’s all it takes for you to start bouncing on his massive cock, lost to a rhythm that was forced upon you. There was no slow up and down, not when your man was in the mood to fuck you completely dumb. Not that you were complaining. This was what you wanted all along.

“So good, daddy.” You moan as you toss your head back.

Seokmin has never felt better than now with your sweet cunt gripping his dick. He thinks he’ll never get enough of you now that he’s had you. That primal thought has him smacking your ass with such force that you rocked forward and fell across his brawny chest. He grips your hips and starte to fuck you up and down on his dick like an animal in heat. The delicious drag of his cock hits directly against your sweet spot that has you seeing stars.

"Daddy, please," you beg in a broken moan.

“What, baby? You wanna come?”

“I, no—yes.” You stutter through your moans and gasps. “But I want daddy’s cum more!”

Seokmin practically growls and starts to fuck his cock up into you at a savage pace. Every clap of his heavy balls on your ass jolts you, forcing you to brace on his strong chest and endure this roughness.

A gentle hand pulled you to his lips where Seokmin devoured you in a lust-fuelled kiss. He swallowed your squeal as his thumb found your aching clit, rubbing at it in precise and fast circles. The wet gush of your orgasm forced past his bullying cock was so intense that the world seemed to spin off its axis as you dived into free fall. You were only dimly aware of the hissed praise from the man still fucking into you.

Sensitive nipples graze across his hard chest, eliciting keening noises as you rutted every time your hips meet Seokmin’s thrusts. Your dripping arousal made the sound of skin slapping utterly carnal in a room that smelled of nothing but sex.

“Daddy’s not done yet, baby.” Seokmin grunts against your lips. “I still have to fill you up.”

You let out a loud moan even though your pussy is fluttering and aching from the overstimulation. You can’t help but buck your hips to meet his thrusts because all you really wanted was him to fuck his cum into you again.

“O-Oh, fuck.” Seokmin moans as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, so lost in the feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around him that his mind started to go hazy. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. My sweet, perfect angel.”

The grip Seokmin has on your hips is tight as he continues to piston his cock into your hot cunt at a an animalistic speed, relishing in every single centimeter of you. He give you one final harsh thrust before he spills his sticky cum inside you. You two moan together, both loving the feeling of his seed painting your walls white.

“Stay inside me, daddy.” You mewl, clenching down on him when you feel him trying to pull out of you.

He moans when you smash your lips against his in a passionate kiss. You two lay together like that for a moment before Seokmin looks at you with those puppy like eyes of his.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You snuggle into his chest while shaking your head. “No. You were the perfect gentleman.”

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maerinhearts · 1 year

Text

Anything For You

Your boyfriend gets some wild advice from his closest friend and decides to bring it to fruition. Only it's incredibly embarrassing and not at all what you're into... Or so you thought...

Warnings: dom!bokuto, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, fem!bodied reader

Minors DNI.

All characters are 18+.

2100+ words.

Smut is below the cut as always.

A/N: I've never written for Bokuto before, so I'm a little nervous putting this out there. Please let me know if y'all like it!

“I want to watch.”

Your hands stop their ministrations in his hair, eyes peeling away from the movie you were watching together to glance down at the man between your legs, his eyes wide and curious. You must have had a funny look on your face at his statement because he turns around, kneeling before you and sliding his hands up your outer thighs, resting his cheek against your right knee.

“Watch me what?” you ask, genuinely confused and curious as to what the actual hell he was asking for. Watch you cook? He did that already. And you were already watching a movie together. What could he possibly want?

He inhales deeply, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I want to watch you,” he answers.

You feel yourself getting annoyed with how vague he is being. You narrow your eyes at him. “Why are you being so weird about telling me the answer? Just tell me what you want to watch me do.”

He sits back on his knees, hands leaving your body briefly before he’s grabbing your knees and shoving your legs apart. You yelp in surprise, heat rushing primarily to your core at his roughness, but a touch of pink dusts your cheeks.

“I want to watch you touch yourself,” he says softly. He peeks up at you through his eyelashes. “Can I?”

You stare at him blankly, cogs turning rapidly in your mind. Watch you? Touch? Yourself? He… wants that? But why? Where is this even coming from? Now that you think about it, him and Kuroo had gone to dinner the other night to catch up while they had the time. Were they talking about their girlfriends? Did this come up during dinner? Only Kuroo would tell your boyfriend how hot something like this was. And he would soak up every single word that bastard spewed at him. Kuroo and his girlfriend were notoriously kinky. You knew this because his girlfriend was a close friend of yours and you heard all about it every time the two of you got together.

Anyway, there was no possible way you were going to let him watch you touch yourself. No way in hell. How embarrassing…

Is what you thought…

So why…

Why are you sitting against the arm of the couch with your legs spread wide, your bare pussy on display for him? He sits across the couch from you, leaning back against his own armrest as he watches your fingers dance across your clit.

“Slowly, Y/N,” he says softly.

You lean your head back to stare at the ceiling, tears fogging your vision. You slow your fingers to a snail pace, groaning in frustration as your body starts to calm down from a steady build up. This bastard… He isn’t even touching himself! Even though he is clearly hard as a rock. You lift your head back up to glare at him, fingers stopping altogether.

“Don’t stop,” he snaps, making direct eye contact.

You bite your lips, a tear making its way down your face as your fingers begin circling your clit again. You moan as you make eye contact with him, fingers dipping down to collect the essence that was leaking out and rubbing it back into your swollen clit.

“One finger,” he says now. “Put one finger inside of you.”

You listen so well, he thinks, as he watches you slowly slide your middle finger into your hole. You whimper as your finger disappears completely inside you and your head falls back. He wants to fuck you so bad right now, but watching you obey his every command while you touch yourself is so hot, he wants to drag this out for as long as possible.

You stay still, walls fluttering around your finger as you try to dial your orgasm back.

“If you come without permission, don’t expect me to fuck you,” he had said when you started.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you attempt to calm yourself.

“Finger yourself,” he instructs you. His voice is firm.

You meet his gaze again, eyes pleading to just either let you come or to come fuck you already. Nevertheless, you slowly begin thrusting your finger into your pussy, moaning freely now as you feel your finger enter and leave your body. Every time you pull your finger out, you can feel your walls suck it right back in. As you pick up your pace, you begin to hear just how wet you are.

“Ko, please,” you beg, voice breathless.

“Slow down,” he says simply.

You whine as you still your finger inside of you, orgasm floating away from your grasp once again. You nearly cry as your body starts shaking.

“Please,” you beg again. “Ko, please come fuck me.” Your face is covered in your tears with more threatening to spill out.

He wishes he could take a picture of you just like this. Your finger buried knuckle deep inside your own pussy, your face wet with tears, it’s so sexy.

He smirks at you. “Add another finger,” he says, ignoring your pleas.

You nearly begin sobbing as you pull your finger out and shove your ring finger back in with it. Your brain is pure mush as you begin fucking yourself with two fingers now. You can’t think straight as squelching noises fill your ears. It feels so good, body shaking as your orgasm begins building up once again. You cry out, head falling back once again.

“Please, let me come,” you try again, words barely leaving your lips.

“No,” he replies sternly and like the good girl he knows you are, you pull your fingers free from your sex to stop yourself from coming.

You ball your hands up into fists, chest heaving as your orgasm gets further and further from your grasp.

“Y/N,” he calls out to you softly.

You lift your head up, nearly jumping out of your skin when you see how close he is to you. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, breathing so heavy, that you didn’t hear him move closer to you.

He cups your face in his hands, thumb pulling at your chin to open your mouth as he leans in to devour you. His tongue dives quickly into your mouth, stroking against your own. You sob into him, fingers tangling into his hair to hold him against you. Not that it did any good, the beefy asshole. He pulls away from you easily.

“Fuck me, please,” you beg as he looms over you. Without thinking, you shove your hand into the waistband of his sweats, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock. He stiffens above you. “Kotaro, I’m begging you, please. Fuck me.”

He presses his forehead into yours as you slowly stroke his cock. “How bad do you want it?” he asks. He was really dragging this out.

“So bad,” you tell him. Your mouth was moving of its own accord. You were saying anything just to get his dick inside you. “Please.”

He pulls away to yank his shirt off and pull his dick out. He doesn’t even bother taking off his pants.

“Since my baby has been so good, I better give her what she wants,” he says simply before he fully sheathes himself inside you.

You gasp out in surprise as an orgasm rakes through your body just from him entering you. You cry out, hands wrapping around his wrists as more tears fall from your eyes. He grunts from above you, closing his eyes as he feels your pussy convulse around him.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He stays still until he’s sure you’re done coming, not wanting to overstimulate you so early. As you calm down, the smirk returns to his face and you know the teasing is about to come full force. You cover your face with your hands. “All that just from me shoving my dick into you? What do you have to say for yourself, angel?”

He grabs you by your waist and pulls your body down so your back is flush with the couch cushions. He pries your hands away from your face and pins them to the couch.

“Hmm?” he hums, kissing the underside of your jaw.

You don’t answer, opting to turn your face away from his gaze. In response, he pulls all the way out and slams himself back into you. You cry out as the head of his cock grazes your cervix.

“Too deep,” you gasp out.

“Answer me,” he demands as he begins thrusting his cock into you.

You moan out as he thrusts repeatedly into the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the immense pleasure he was giving you. You aren’t sure what kind of answer he is looking for and you aren’t sure how you should even answer his question. Especially when he is fucking you so relentlessly like this.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, Y/N,” he groans. “Feels so good.”

You moan out in response, pussy involuntarily clenching around him at his words and he sucks in a breath at the feeling.

His hands find their way underneath your knees, pressing them into your chest. In this position, he reaches a new depth inside of you and you throw your head back in pleasure, mouth wide open in a silent scream as he continues to relentlessly fuck you.

“You take me so damn well,” he praises. “Your pussy keeps sucking me right back in.”

His thrusts turn sloppy, moans picking up as his orgasm quickly approaches.

“Look at you,” he grounds out. “So fucking sexy.”

“Come,” you squeak out in warning, hands pushing at his shoulders as pleasure overwhelms you.

“You gonna come again?” he asks. “Come for me. Open your eyes and look at me, I want to watch you come.”

You pry your eyes open to find his heated gaze. As your eyes meet, your orgasm washes over you again, body shaking as he continues to fuck you. His moans pick up before he follows with his own orgasm, spilling his seed right into you.

You both try to catch your breaths as he lets go of your legs. Your body feels like jell-o, you’re not even sure how you’re going to move from this very couch.

Kotaro leans down to kiss your forehead before pulling away from your body. You feel his come start to slip out of you and you hurriedly cover yourself with your hands to try to catch it before it hits your couch. That would be a hard stain to remove, and an embarrassing one for someone to see.

He comes back with a warm cloth and gently moves your hands out of the way to clean you up. You smile tiredly as he takes care of you, gently wiping your sex and taking the utmost care to thoroughly clean you.

Then he’s hoisting you up into his arms and carrying you to bed. He disappears to dispose of the rag before silently climbing in beside you and pulling you to his chest.

You sigh contentedly before he breaks the silence. “We should do that again,” he comments.

“What?!” you exclaim, sitting up to look at him. “Did you like it that much?! It was so embarrassing!”

He grins at you. “You seemed to be into it,” he says as he brushes your hair out of your face. “Am I wrong?”

You feel your face heat up and avert your gaze.

“That damn Kuroo,” you mutter as you lay back down and turn away from him.

“What about him?” Kotaro asks as his arms snake around your body.

You glare at the wall. “I know he told you about doing that with his girlfriend and that’s what gave you the idea.”

He’s silent behind you.

“Look at you, can’t even deny it,” you mumble.

“Well, he was damn right about it being the sexiest thing ever,” he admits with a shrug.

“How was that even remotely sexy?!”

He hums from behind you, lips pressing into the back of your neck. “You were so wet, I could hear it just from your fingers,” he murmurs into your ear. “And the look on your face? The way your eyes begged me to just fuck you, your little eyebrows furrowing in pleasure. Your body tense as you waited for my next command.” His hands begin fondling your breasts, fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. You begin panting. “The way your pussy glistened in the light. Fuck.” He presses his hips firmly into you and you can feel he’s hard again. “It was so hard not to touch myself.”

Your brain is reduced to mush once again, face hot as you ask him to fuck you again. He chuckles from behind you as he pulls himself from his sweats and enters you from behind in one thrust.

“Anything for you.”

#bokuto smut #bokuto kotaro smut #haikyuu smut #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #please be nice to me about this #i'm so afraid i didn't capture him correctly lol

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theysaidhush · 11 months

Text

I love.

-> Husband!Virgin!Yang Jungwon x Wife!Virgin!Reader

-> Things could have happened differently, but at the end of the day, no matter how, you're both meant to be.

-> Smut (p in v, non-graphic depiction of blood loss, graphic depiction of virginity loss, it's messy, body fluids, Jungwon creams his pants cuz you're too pretty, hands holding and yes it's a warning cuz it's sickeningly sweet, tits play ?, overall not what I usually do, this one is really sweet and not THAT kinky), angst depending on the point of view and that's why I'm so good at writing, misunderstandings but happy end ig ?

A silence that should have been heavy, but was nonetheless comforting, filled the beautifully decorated room. The subdued lights reflected on the glasses of wine the hotel had served you earlier, still full. What was there to celebrate ? Under different circumstances, on another day, perhaps even in another life, you would have gazed at your surroundings in wonder. The crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the walls lined with paintings far too expensive and precious to be displayed like this, the huge four-poster bed that didn't even occupy a quarter of the room and whose mere sight made you sleepy as it looked so comfortable. All this for you. For you and your husband.

"My husband…" you murmured half-heartedly, imperceptibly, as you contemplated the room you'd be living in for the next two weeks. Every young married couple's dream.

With a slow, hesitant, heavy step, you moved towards the patio door, your gaze lingering for a moment on the crescent moon already high in the sky. Stopping just in front of it, you raised your hand to the handle but hesitated. You hesitated again. Like all those times you'd hesitated. Hesitating to speak out, to let your loved ones know what you thought of the idea of marriage. But this hesitation had cost you your future. Your free will.

With a hand trembling with emotion, you grasped the door handle and opened it gently, trying hard not to disturb your husband. It was strange to think of this 19-year-old boy, with whom you'd grown up and been good friends, as your husband.

The sound of the door sliding open snapped Jungwon out of his thoughts, and he almost jumped back into his deckchair seat. He had laid back to contemplate his next move. What had been taken from him, what was left. And it was as Jungwon watched the clouds glide deftly across the sky, floating along without a care in the world and continuing their tireless cycle, that he realized how quickly time passed. It seems like only yesterday, when he was having fun collecting snails with you, you were only 8 years old. And yet, yesterday, he was in this very place, in this very spot, refusing to face you just hours after your wedding. How could he, he felt selfish for loving you when you'd been forced into this marriage. He felt miserable and opportunistic.

The minute you joined him on that beach, in your bathrobe, your pretty face lit up by the moonbeams, his gaze locked onto you. He could not help but find you beautiful, cherishing and appreciating every detail of your body, every imperfection, every difference. And your personality ? Oh, Jungwon had never met anyone like you. Every person is unique, but he fell for your uniqueness. He liked the way you smiled when you saw something cute, the way you always ordered the same thing at your favorite ramen restaurant, unwilling to change the dish for fear of not liking it; he liked the way you were honest with him, the way you always refused to share your bowl of popcorn when you were lying on the couch making fun of movie scripts and actors far too old to be considered attractive by young people of your generation. He loved every one of those things, he loved you. But how could you love him when you were now forced to spend the years to come by his side ? Jungwon felt like your own pair of handcuffs, pretty but constricting.

Your feet sank into the cool sand of your very own private beach, your gaze lost for a moment on the water-lined horizon, where the sky touched the sea, where the world seemed limitless. You could not help but frown at the magnificent landscape before you. You could not bring yourself to accept that behind this ring, which seemed to grip your finger like a vise, there was a whole other world. A world where people were not forced to marry their best friend. An infinity of possibilities that suddenly seemed far too attractive, but also far too stifling. The sea provided you with a lovely lullaby, the sound of the waves crashing on the sand, retreating each time, retreating into the sea, into their home, a little further away, always further away. The constant sound of the salty water reassured you, helping you to think rationally. It was your first time here, and it certainly would not be your last. Now you understood why yesterday, when you were waiting for him in your bed, primed and apprehensive, Jungwon had not come inside. He'd found a much better view here.

The latter, your husband, had turned around, looking at you with those beautiful eyes you loved so much. The dark night hid many things from you, but certainly not the almost ethereal beauty he graced you with. His straight nose, against which, when you were younger, you'd rub yours; his lips, which, at 15, had stolen your first kiss on the basis of a common agreement that, if you kissed someone, your best friend would be the best first person; his shiny, smooth, dark hair, like silk threads, which you'd always envied, where you loved to slide your fingers. Everything about Jungwon was overwhelming, how could a human being be so beautiful ? Maybe your opinion was biased, but it did not matter, he was your Jungwon, in your eyes he was the number 1. So what could have changed in the space of a few days ? No, you knew. It was yesterday that everything had changed. When, after two hours of waiting, you had clumsily slipped on a pair of pyjamas over your prettiest underwear, your eyes glistening with tears, a feeling of humiliation and guilt gnawing at your stomach and lulling you to sleep. Everything had changed when you realized that your best friend was in the same boat as you but that he was not interested in you.

Lying down on the sand, right next to his chair, you tried hard to keep your eyes from turning in his direction. He could see all your doubts, all your weaknesses, that fragility and humility you'd carefully hidden the night before after falling asleep in a cold, empty, loveless bed, cuddling and curling up on yourself. And yet, if you'd looked at him for even a second, your heart would have started beating fast and hard, filling with love at the mere sight of Jungwon's gaze. His narrowed and cat-like eyes looking at you with so much love, so much respect, that even an idiot would have realized the nature of his feelings for you. You would have seen the way his lips parted as he could not close his mouth at the sight of your beauty, your make-up-free face, your hair awkwardly tied back. Maybe you'd even have seen the way he bit his lip as his gaze traced your curves, lingering for a second too long on the cleavage provided by your bathrobe, or your bare legs stretching out in a way that was far too sensual for his eyes on the sand. If you'd concentrated, you'd have heard the way his breath had stopped for a moment when he'd had a whiff of your perfume, the way his breathing had been slightly erratic when you'd sat so close to him, giving him a perfect view of your upper chest

"Jungwon…?" you called his name in a whisper, fearing that this dreamscape would shatter like a picture frame if you spoke too loudly. Fearing that the wind would carry that name to someone's ears, even though you were alone for miles around..

He stopped himself from jumping and hastily turned his gaze to the sea before discreetly clearing his throat and answering, "Hum ? Yes ?"

"Are you in love with someone..?" The phrase had escaped you. You felt as if your ears and heart were closing, dreading his answer, your breath catching in your throat as you sharply inhaled the suddenly far too salty sea air. Jungwon was talented, handsome, kind, considerate. Undoubtedly someone worth his time and attention had fallen for him, someone Jungwon loved in return but whom he would now be unable to see because of you.

Jungwon seemed to short-circuit, his brain hastily searching for an answer. One that would suit you both. Should he tell you the truth ? Or lie to you ? How would you react, how would you look at him in the years to come, if he told you that he, your best friend, someone you were supposed to trust, loved you ? had betrayed you ? He would not be able to look you in the eye for fear of the look you'd give him.

The silence was heavy. For an instant, a fraction of a second, the only thing you heard was the huff Jungwon not so discreetly let out. One that indicated that he did not know what to say, how to say it, but that you had interpreted differently. You must have been annoying, asking him questions about his private life, right ?

"I love."

His confession made no sense. But, at this point, nothing made sense. The whole fiasco, that white dress and suit, those guests who did not care why or how you got there. This masquerade made no sense, so you might as well have made no sense at all. Your words could be empty words, your promises just words, and your actions just means to an end. Just because the world went round did not mean you had to do the same. You had the right to make mistakes, to hesitate, to hate each other, but certainly not to love each other, if your jet-haired friend's response was any indicator.

"Oh-" Your voice cracked and tears filled your eyes. You could blame him for the situation you were in, he was not to know that he'd just destroyed the wall you'd spent the previous night carefully constructing, stolen what little hope you'd hidden there and crushed it under the weight of those two words. You had to be quiet as your tears rolled down your cheeks, red with embarrassment. You lowered your head, choosing to watch and play with the fine sand beneath your fingers.

Jungwon knew you well. Maybe even too well. He knew your every manner and habit. How you liked your coffee, your morning and night routines, the specific ways you interacted with each of your friends. Sometimes he found it frightening, found himself frightening. But he had to know your likes and dislikes to keep a smile on your face every day. Unfortunately, Jungwon was also familiar with the sound of your voice when you were in emotional distress. He had a kind of radar programmed just for you, telling him when you were feeling sad, when you were crying.

He rushed to your side, almost knocking over the deckchair in his haste, and knelt down in front of you. He had no shame in putting himself in front of you like that. So vulnerable. He'd get down on his knees and kiss your hand every morning when you woke up, if you wanted him to. His hands flew over your face, not knowing where to rest or how to comfort you, since he had no idea why his words had affected you so much. He'd spent a whole day avoiding you, and before that a whole month before the wedding, just so he would not see that look on your face. But it seemed he'd failed, because when he put his hands on your cheeks and lifted your face to get a better look at it, the sight of your swollen red eyes greeted him, beads of water still dripping from your beautiful eyes. "Please, don't cry." he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as his eyes sought yours, hoping to see that familiar glint of mischief that was usually in your gaze, "Please…"

It had been years since you'd heard Jungwon sound so vulnerable. You felt as if his fingers were touching you as if you were made of the most fragile precious stone, affectionately caressing your cheeks as he caught your tears with his thumbs, wiping them away again and again, tirelessly, until there were none left at all. He held out his heart to you, presented it to you, entrusted it to you and did not even ask you to take care of it, because he knew there was no need to. Jungwon was vulnerable in front of you, just as you were. Awkwardly, yes, but without shame or embarrassment. Just two friends who found comfort in each other's presence.

"I love-" you let out a strangled sob and grabbed his sleeves, clutching them tightly in your hands, afraid he'd leave you and only come back in the wee hours. The simple sensation of his shirt beneath your fingers was reassuring, anchoring you in this reality that sometimes teetered between nightmare and dream. It was comforting, but you could not help thinking that it was all you'd ever get from him. Comforting words whispered that night on this beach, under the gaze of the moon and the sea, fingertip caresses that would haunt you until maybe one day you found love. Until you loved someone who was not Jungwon, your best friend, your husband. "I'm sorry, I- this isn't what I wanted…" you breathed in deeply, whispering the last two words with a sorrow that brought tears to Jungwon's eyes "…for us."

"Why are you apologizing ? I'm not blaming you, nor do I blame myself. It's not our fault." he said, sitting down beside you and engulfing you in a comforting, warm embrace. He tried to ignore the feel of your body on his, the feel of your chest pressed against his ribcage, the sight of your legs folded up right in front of him, so close, so tempting as your robe parted, teasing him with a glimpse of your upper-thigh. He swallowed, choosing instead to look at your face. You were looking at him, contemplating him, with such admiration and adoration that Jungwon felt his heart topple in his chest. Perhaps you could hear his erratic beating, the song he was playing just for you.

"But you love."

"Yeah, I love."

You stayed like that for at least five minutes, staring into each other's eyes, trying to convey through your gaze what you could not put into words yourself. Intimate words that refused to leave the hollow of your throat, that hung on the tip of your tongue. Words of love you were too afraid to say out loud, the only thing your eyes could not communicate, that you did not grasp.

Jungwon cups your cheek, resting his forehead on yours and closing his eyes as his arm wraps around your waist. He wanted to tell you so many things, but above all, he wanted to kiss you madly. Just a taste, a flavor of you, of what your lips could taste, he wanted just one bite, just one. Then he'd live with himself and leave you alone. He could make that selfish choice, just once, couldn't he ?

His hand left your cheek and rested on the back of your neck, that familiar warmth bringing you a little comfort in the middle of the nowhere you'd been sent. You watched him frown, approaching and then moving away from your face, in conflict with himself, with what his heart wanted and what his head dictated. The rest of his actions, you knew, you'd known him since you were in diapers, he was your best friend. But you refused to take him away from this person he loved, you wanted to kiss someone whose heart belonged to you.

But suddenly, you rested your hand on his chest, and you did not need to speak anymore. You knew. You recognized that familiar rhythm his heart was playing, it was the same as yours, the same chords, the same notes, the same intensity.

"I waited for you yesterday…" you revealed, trying to pull away from him in a vain attempt to hide your embarrassment at your confession. But Jungwon could never get enough of your flushed cheeks, your shifty gaze as you confessed something you thought you'd never tell him. Thus, you could only move your face a few centimeters away, just enough for him to admire you as if you were the most beautiful work of art.

He giggled, like the 19-year-old young adult he really was, a boy just out of his teen years, and his eyes formed a crescent, crinkling adorably as his lips stretched into that smile you loved so much. "Ah, I'm a little ashamed to admit it…"

You tilted your head, a small smile stretching your lips at the sight of his embarrassment. There he was, the Jungwon you loved. Although much of the unspoken still loomed large in the atmosphere, something had changed. A mutual understanding had put aside your evasive glances and awkward touches. You were no able to look at each other, your eyes still glistening with the tears you'd shed.

"I was scared. I was so nervous…"

"Oh." you laughed awkwardly, trying to move further away from him. But he only followed you, rising from his cross-legged position and bending over his knees, towering over you by a few inches as he looked down on you, the shadow of his hair preventing you from seeing that dangerous gleam that had lit up in his eyes. Each time, you took a step backwards, trying to crawl a little further away from him - not because you were afraid or uncomfortable, but because you liked this game you were playing. And each time, he rose a little higher, leaning on his knees and following you, his hand on the back of your neck in a firm but loving grip, his other hand always settling on yours even as you pulled away. Soon enough, he was on top of you, tilting your head as he towered over you. You could not help laughing at the striking resemblance with a cat. The mischievous look, the stance, you could easily imagine a tail wagging behind him, so much so that you felt you were the prey he was toying with.

"But…" He brought his face close to yours, his face amused, and his lips brushed yours. Against them, he whispered, "I love."

Hesitantly, almost shyly, he placed a soft kiss on the corner of your lips, then on yours. Once, twice, before he grew confident and crushed his mouth to yours, supporting his weight with one hand and pressing down on your head to get you closer to him, to encourage you to do as he did, to lose yourself in the pleasure. As he grew more confident, his kisses gained in intensity. He tilted his head to one side, encouraging you to do the same, before pushing his tongue against your lips. But all of a sudden, he drew back, panting, his eyes round. He was surprising himself. He wasn't educated like that. Maybe he was forcing you to do something you did not want to do. He regained his breath and opened his eyes, gauging your reaction to his actions.

And God, he was a virgin but he felt like he could have cum on the spot. You were a sight. Your barely opened eyes looked up at him, a mist swimming in your irises, and Jungwon knew just by looking at you that your brain was struggling to process what had just happened. His gaze continued to run over your cheeks, as red as the sweetest apple, whether by effort, embarrassment or excitement, he could not tell, before continuing on to your lips. Lips he could have tasted and could now never have enough of. At last his gaze slid over and lingered on your chest, which kept rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, the swelling of your breasts and a glimpse of your bra visible as the bathrobe had slipped over your shoulders as you moved backwards. Jungwon felt like a pre-pubescent teenager as he felt his erection swell in his beach shorts, making him move uncomfortably on top of you. Just looking at you had turned him on, would you let him touch you ?

"Jungwon…" you gasped, moving your face forward in a desperate attempt to capture his lips once more. He looked at you with what seemed like wonder and you whined like a child, clutching his shirt with one hand as you held yourself up with the other, "Wonnie…"

"Ah~." He crushed his lips to yours in a kiss that made you blush like a teenager before once again sliding his tongue over your lips, asking permission to go further even though he had only one desire which was to grab your jaw and force his tongue into your mouth. There was something so exciting about the idea of urging you to accept him body and soul, to mold you while cherishing and respecting you, in the sole hope of seeing that expression again and again. Between kisses, when he needed to catch his breath, he'd repeat over and over again, "I love… So much."

"Me too, I love- Wonnie, please…" you begged, you complained, you whined. At this point, you no longer knew what you wanted. You felt like you were floating, on a boat, alone, on the open sea, while the waves were steady, rocking you under a sun that made you feel warm. But you did not need to know what you wanted, Jungwon would know for you, he'd give you what you wanted and more than that, you could surrender yourself to him, offer him your body. All you had to do was look at him with those pretty eyes of yours. This whole marriage thing seemed like a shadow of the past. This story that had definitely changed something in your dynamic with Jungwon, that had caused you so much pain. That made you love each other in a different way than if it had never happened. For one night, you could forget that you'd been forcibly married to your best friend.

"Can I..?"

"Yeah..."

Panting, he pressed his mouth against yours, leaning on his forearms so he could feel you up close. He wanted to press his body against yours, to feel you underneath him, to know that you were real, that it was really you underneath him. He wanted to feel your skin against his, feel your limbs tremble as his hand caressed them, never lingering too long, wandering all over your arms and neck. He wanted to feel your heart beating in unison against his, feel your curves against his, the swell of your chest against his, that chest he'd often stared at when he was just a hormonal teenager watching his best friend's body change.

This time, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, hesitant at first. His moist pink muscle felt like an intruder, yet you could not help but think that this was the place where it had always belonged. The dance your tongues were doing wasn't a masquerade or a ball, it was more like a nightclub, hot, awkward, needy. Your muscles intertwined, touched and teased each other, giving each other no respite. You felt things you'd never felt before, your body, your emotions, the sensation of his fingers sliding down your neck, tracing a necklace you weren't wearing, everything was overwhelming, but in a good way. So underneath him, you could only gasp and sigh as he made you feel so good just with his mouth. Maybe saliva was running down your chin, maybe you were both out of breath, but none of that mattered, you could not care less. Your eyes closed as he tilted his head, almost pushing his tongue down your throat, devouring you whole in a way that would have seemed disgusting to anyone who saw you, but you could not help but blush, feeling complete, at home.

Your hands grabbed handfuls of the fine sand you were lying in and you clenched your fists, trying to ground yourself in reality. Jungwon drew back for just a few seconds, moved away from you and admired you, his gaze gliding over your hands. Delicately, he placed his free hand on yours, and you looked at him in wonder as he smiled at you, as if you were worth more than all the gold in the world. Ever so delicately, his fingers caressed your wrist and then your palm, timidly, as if he were still a four-year-old who only wanted to hold his crush's hand. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, once again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening. You felt so loved. Gradually, your grip loosened, the sand slipped through your fingers, dripping onto the beach, as Jungwon intertwined his hand with yours, the sound of your cold rings touching each other resonating imperceptibly in the air.

"I don't really wanna talk about this whole situation." Jungwon said before kissing your closed eyes, pursuing "But- It hurts. I just don't know how we ended up like this." He kissed your cheeks. "But I don't want you to feel like you're stuck in this." He kissed your lips and you parted your mouth, letting him in. He conveyed his feelings through a loving kiss and then pulled away, breathless, stars in his pretty eyes. "I don't know if it's the right time, the right place, but I know that you're the right person. I love." You opened your eyes and tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried to muffle a sob. Carefully, lovingly, he kissed it away. One by one, each one, while caressing your hand with his thumb, squeezing it, letting you know that he was here. Here for you, here with you. "All this time, those years. I've always loved you, appreciated you, looked up to you. You seemed so far and yet so close…" He pressed his forehead on yours, kissing you from time to time, capturing your sobs. "I love you. So much."

Your gaze was lost. Your eyes, fixed on the sky, reflected thousands of stars. You were so afraid, so afraid of the feelings you were experiencing, of how powerful they were, of Jungwon's influence on you. You felt like a doll, a puppet that would act according to its owner's wishes. But as you looked up at the stars tonight, the day after your wedding, you realized that maybe you wouldn't like it any other way. If it was Jungwon, you could afford not to be your own master. You brought his hand to your heart, still not looking at him as you gently slid your entwined hands under your robe, letting him feel your lingerie with his fingertips.

"You were my first kiss." you said breathlessly, letting out a small laugh with your voice knotted with emotion.

"You were mine too." he whispered smiling, not moving his hand an inch.

"The first person I ever held hands with."

"You were mine too."

"The first person I ever hugged."

"You were mine too."

"And now you're my first and last husband."

"I hope so."

"I want you to be my first everything. Jungwon, please-" you exhaled a breath you were holding, bringing his hand to your mouth and kissing delicately his fingers, "Make love to me. Love me."

"I'll be your first and your last."

With all the love he had for you, he kissed your jaw and gradually moved down to your neck, whimpering every time his lips were kissing your skin. He was so happy to be there with you. Maybe it wasn't the first time the two of you had hoped, Jungwon even thought he was in a nightmare. But he'd be all right if he shared that nightmare with you, wouldn't he ? His kisses traveled down to your chest, stopping at the piece of cloth that hid you from him. He looked at you and did not even need to ask if you were sure of this choice, your gaze told him everything. Your eyes looking at him, a galaxy swimming in your irises, reflecting his image, the love you felt for him.

He straightened up and straddled your hips, careful not to hurt you. His hand moved to your cleavage and gently opened the piece of fabric, revealing your breasts covered in your modest lingerie, which, while not sexy, seemed to be the most sensual thing in his eyes. The previous him, the awkward, cute, hormonal teenager had already dreamed of seeing you in so few clothes, had dreamed of his best friend in ways that would surely have made you run away. But now, here you were, lying in all your splendor, just beneath him under the attention of his loving hands and mouth. His dick twitched in his shorts and Jungwon inhaled sharply, unused to feeling this strange feeling so strongly. He wanted to love and respect you, but he could not stop thinking about things, what he could do with you, how he could please you and vice versa. You were beautiful, the curve of your breasts excited him, making him want to grab them and never let go. He wanted to leave thousands of kisses on your stomach until he reached that part of you you'd never shown to anyone.

"It's- I'm so sorry, so many thoughts racing in my head right now, I really wanna make you feel good. I wish that I'd be better."

"I love it. I love you the way you are, I love the fact that I'll be your first. I want us to experiment, to make mistakes, to learn, together."

He frowned. You were so nice to him. He looked at your breasts once more and felt he'd never be able to take his eyes off them when he saw your two nipples poking through the fabric of your bra. Both his hands rested on the roundness of your breasts while his thumbs rested on your nipples, pressing on it, testing the water.

"Ah~, it feels…weird? I like it, Wonnie."

He nodded, never taking his eyes off your breasts, and finally decided to remove the fabric that prevented him from feeling your curves in the palm of his hands. One by one, he removed your straps, and you arched your back so that he could unfasten the ties of your bra. He tried hard to concentrate on the task in hand, but the sight of your breasts pushed up was far too distracting. It took him at least two minutes before he finally succeeded, which made you let out a little laugh. He looked at you and frowned, pinching your tummy, making you laugh even more. He smiled, then turned his attention back to your now exposed breasts. For him to see.

Just like a person having sex for the first time, he was unable to restrain his desire and haste as he almost rushed to your chest. Attaching his mouth to one of your nipples, as he'd seen a man do in a porno he'd watched, he sucked on it and pulled away, licking at the flesh like a kitten lapping up its milk. He glanced at you, trying to see if you liked what he was doing, and was granted with the sight of your face puckered from the raw pleasure you were feeling. Your head thrown back, your eyes closed, your breath short, a blush making its way to your face and neck. He occupied his other hand kneading and teasing your other nipple with his fingertips, tugging on it, rolling between his fingers, trying to ignore how painfully hard he was, his penis stretching in his shorts and pressing uncomfortably against the tissue. He really wanted to touch himself, he knew that just by looking at you he would cum on the spot. But he had to make you feel good first.

"Wonnie, I want you there." you whimpered, trying to rub your thighs together in the hope of soothing the throbbing between your legs. He failed to hear you, too lost in the sensation of your flesh in his mouth, your nipples rolling on his warm tongue, so you tried to push his head away from your chest, grabbing strands of his hair and trying to pull on them. "Wonnie~!" A high-pitched moan left his mouth and he stepped back at last, his gaze lost, as if he were the one being pleasured. But for Jungwon it was just the same. Worshipping you and your body was apparently a big turn on. It was an interesting discovery, but not surprising to him.

"What-?" he asked, completely lost, his hands still groping your tits as if he was afraid they would disappear.

"I'm- It's so wet, please ? Wonnie pretty please ?"

His big almond eyes widened as he lowered his eyes to where he was sitting. Did you really want him ? Him, and nobody else ?

Your gaze, almost covered in mist, oblivious to your surroundings except for the stars above you, lingered on the form peeking out of Jungwon's shorts and you almost choked. He was hard. The outline of his length was visible through his shorts, and if he sat and leaned into you, you could feel it on your stomach. You could feel his dick on you. You let out an almost pornographic moan, the mere idea of his bulge touching you turning you on wildly.

Jungwon twisted his upper body, lowered your legs, which were crossed behind him, and stepped back until you could sit up and untie the belt of your bathrobe. He looked away respectfully as you removed the last of your modesty, tossing it somewhere in the sand. Once you shyly called his name he turned and darted toward you again, threading a hand through your hair as he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

"Wanna go in the bedroom ?"

"Nothing about us- about this is normal, I don't want my first time to be normal either."

He nodded and held the back of your head as he led you back on the sand, smooching your lips before parting your legs. He made sure your bathrobe was stretched below your waist to avoid any mishap and got a brief glimpse of your glistening pussy. He swallowed nervously and quickly looked away, well aware that he was torturing himself by looking at you, his dick reminding him all too well.

"Plus, the sky is beautiful tonight."

He looked at you in awe, telling himself that you were so much more beautiful than the sky, that he only wanted to look at you as he made love to you. He took your hand and placed a kiss on your fingertips.

"I don't know how this is supposed to work I just want you, right now, inside."

"I don't want to hurt you." he said doubtfully as he took off his shirt, leaving you drooling at the sight of his magnificent torso, his smooth, milky beautiful skin.

You were at a loss for words for a few seconds, your brain refusing to process the words he'd just told you, so engrossed were you in the man in front of you. Eventually, you whimpered, a frown present on your face, disgruntled and embarrassed as you avoided his gaze, murmuring in a barely audible way, "It's already…ready. I'm ready for you…"

"Are you sure?"

"Hum." you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his shorts, sometime tugging at it with how desperate and needy you were becoming as the second were going by. He glanced at you before focusing on your private part, sliding his hands down your belly, his hand stopping just inches from your cunt. He gave you another look before moving his fingers timidly to your pussy, stroking it delicately, gathering a significant amount of moisture on his fingers. You arched your back with a moan, then thrust your hips towards his hand, demanding more. You felt like all your senses were on alert, you were so sensitive.

He moaned at the sight but suddenly froze, his gaze locked on your pussy as his face contorted into an expression of pure pleasure. You were too lost in the pleasure you'd just felt with the caress of his fingers to notice the growing stain on Jungwon's shorts, the mortified and ashamed expression on his face and his rapid breathing.

Jungwon gradually got off his high, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. His gaze turned to his shorts and he restrained himself from hiding his face in his hands at the realization that he'd just cum just by touching your pussy. He hastily discarded all evidence and yeeted his shorts away from you, standing in all his naked glory in front of you, his length already hard again. How could he not when you were in front of him in all your naked glory ?

"I'm ready too."

Your eyes opened wide as they landed on his glans dripping with a liquid you assumed was pre-cum. You bit your lower lip and held back a moan, your hips pushing toward his, your hole pulsing uncomfortably, craving to be filled as another wave of clear liquid coated your walls, preparing you to be penetrated.

Jungwon could not hold his smirk at your expression of neediness and decided not to make you wait any longer. He grabbed your hand again and placed a kiss in its palm, intertwining your fingers before pinning it next to your head, leaning over you, looking into your eyes and kissing you lovingly. "I love you."

Experimentally, he pressed his cock against your cunt, inhaling sharply at the feeling of your wetness on his length, trying hard to control his breathing so as not to cum again. You sighed with contentment at the pressure his member exerted on your clitoris, then gave a stroke with your pelvis, urging him to continue. He buried his head in the hollow of your neck, squeezing your hand as he began to move back and forth, wetting his dick in an effort not to hurt you when he finally put it in. With each stroke you felt his tip rubbing deliciously against your ball of nerves, giving you the impression that someone was boiling hot water in your lower belly. You could not help alternating your gaze between the sky and the magnificent boy towering over you. You were both a whining mess, holding and clutching each other's hand, stopping some time to catch your breath as you were so focused, that you forgot to breathe.

"A-Ah, I'll put it in." he stuttered, looking down in order to grab his dick and put it in the right hole. Despite what he saw in pornos, apparently first time were clumsy and messy, he did not wanted to ridicule himself in front of you. The simple sensation of his hand on his hard-on felt like thousands of needles tingling his skin in a delicious way, so he tried to hurry. He searched with the tip of his dick for your warm, welcoming entrance and then found it and positioned himself. From where you were, both literally and metaphorically, you could not see his hand shaking nervously or the way he was biting his lip, clenching his jaw so hard that veins were visible along his neck.

Finally, he penetrated you, but very gently. Just the tip. Your vagina stretched and a strange feeling took hold of your guts, it was the first time something had entered that part of your body, it was strange. But you were not in pain yet, your slick had prepared you for his ministrations, and he had wet his dick. Jungwon suddenly closed his eyes and buried his head in your neck, breathing heavily, his hand gripping yours in an almost deliciously painful way.

"Ah, wait, 's too much-" he whimpered, staying still.

And so were you. It was scary to lose your virginity after all the stories you'd read. Some women felt pain, others did not, you were afraid of the sensation of his member in you. Were you going to feel good ? Or were you going to be in pain ? You tried to get rid of the pressure you were feeling and cracked a joke, "You're not even halfway in.", but it backfired.

As he gently pushed a little more of his length inside you, he chuckled, breathless, "Yeah and you already make me feel this good- What are you doing to me..?"

Jungwon's moan reached your ears before you knew what had happened. You'd felt your vagina clench at the sound of his words, a sense of pride and adoration fueling this feeling in your body, and the next second you felt a warm liquid flowing inside you, dripping on your inter-thighs and onto the bath robe.

"D-Did you just-"

"Shh. Don't say a word, I literally wanna bury myself in the sand right now."

You chuckled lightly, using your free hand to get his hair out of his face as you kissed his sweaty forehead. Your cute husband was trying really hard. You tried to get a better look at his face and fidgeted on the spot, only to stop, a cry stuck in your throat at the sensation of his dick pushing against your hymen. You felt like something inside you was being torn apart, the same burning sensation you felt when you cut your fingertip on a sheet of paper.

"Ah~! Don't move, it's still hard !" Jungwon moaned in your ear, worried, nibbling at your ear lobe as tears were streaming down your face. "Do you want me to stop ?"

"No, I- I'll like it, please, Wonnie, please give me more !" you whined grabbing the hair on the back of his head.

He pulled away from you and watched your face tense and tears flowing, then kissed them one by one. Just as gently as the way he pushed his penis inside of your tight and virgin hole. "I love you, I really d-do, thank you so much."

Suddenly he stopped and exhaled heavily, a strain smile on his face as he was looking at you.

"Is it-"

"It's all in."

You nodded and inhaled deeply, clutching his left hand that was still holding yours as you rubbed your head against it, as if for comfort. Jungwon blushed at the sight and you felt his member twitch inside you, making you look at him with round eyes. You did not know it could move.

"I can't help it, you're too beautiful… Can I ?"

"Mm-hmm."

Gently, as if testing the waters, he drew back his pelvis and moved it forward again, just as slowly. The sensation of your gummy walls enveloping him like this made him feel as if he'd just consumed the strongest drug. Except that you were his drug, his heroin, he definitely could not let you go after seeing you like this underneath him. No.

You, on the other hand, could not bring yourself to enjoy the sensation of the tip of his dick dragging across your walls, the feel of his veins rubbing all the right places in your body. The lacerating sensation from earlier remained, like the smell of bread in front of a bakery, it was faint, but present all the same. But just as the smell fade as you move away, so did the pain as he moved languidly in and out of you, whispering sweet nothings and gathering every saline pearl in the hollow of his lips. His other hand caressed your body from side to side, sometimes stopping on your chest, sometimes caressing your ribs, sliding through your hair. You never knew where it was going or when it would stop, but it served as a good distraction when Jungwon's urges made him buck his hips a lite bit too hard unwillingly.

While Jungwon was having a blast from the start, bathing in the sensations he was feeling through his dick, swearing a few times that your vagina seemed to suck him in every time he pulled out a bit too far, you, on the other hand, were slowly but surely starting to feel good. Just as your pitch and whimpers were becoming higher and louder, Jungwon pace was fastening. Maladroitement, at some point, you tried to have more of what he was giving you by pushing your hips forward, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each other echoing in the empty night, the only witness being nature itself. Jungwon held himself above you, looking into your eyes every time he pushed his hips a little harder or a little faster, trying to find out if you liked it, if you liked him, if he made you feel good. But also in order to see the expressions you'd make, especially loving the way you'd close your eyes and frown when he hit a particularly erogenous spot. Panting, feeling your walls tighten around him if possible, he lowered his gaze to the place that linked you. His cock was covered in a mix of your juices, sperm coating it or splashing onto his pelvis each time he desperately pushed his dick deep inside you again and again. Added to this mix of fluids was the evidence of your loss of virginity, but Jungwon was way too far gone to even notice, way too desperate to make you feel good.

"Ah~ Wonnie, it's…weird. I think something's gonna explode. It-It feels so good !" you moaned, tightening your grip on his hand, turning your head so you could see your intertwined fingers, the light of the flames reflecting off your silver rings.

"It's good then."

He pushed his hips forward, finally not able to control himself, and almost slammed his lower body into yours, Resting his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes as you were falling apart beneath him, your mouth agape, your other hand gripping the sand as if it was your lifeline in a middle of a sea of pleasure, your back arching, pressing your boobs on his fit torso. Jungwon swore he'd never seen anything so beautiful.

Your pussy clenched around his member and he felt like he was suffocating, he felt like he'd rip off a piece of you if he moved as he felt every bit of flesh inside you. And he was only a young man, so the suction exerted by your cunt on his dick made him cum for the third time that evening.

He allowed himself to fall on you as you were milking him from the last drop of his cum, your right hand tangled in his hair as you were both trying to catch your breath.

You stared at the shining stars above the two of you, stroking his hair affectionately, your legs still shaking from your orgasm and your wet cheeks reddened by the overflowing emotions.

He pecked your lips and suddenly stood up, hastily slipping on his boxers and cringing at the feeling of his wet and soft dick on the fabric. Jungwon then stared at you, your body, and smiled. Not in a sexy way, he was not smirking, he was genuinely smiling out of pure love and adoration. You watched him do it, curious, before shyly covering yourself at his insistence, your gaze evasive but a smile on your lips.

He shook his head and let out a cute little laugh, the one you loved so much. He leaned over and grabbed your shoulders, sitting you up, then pulled his shirt on you before taking you in his arms to carry you inside. He set you down gently beside the huge bathtub in your far too large bathroom. He turned on the tap under your watchful eyes and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts, the burning pain between your legs and the realization of the situation. You'd just slept with your best friend, or rather your husband ? Despite your feelings for him, what happened, the word left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Jungwon returned, a bunch of clothes in his hands, your clothes, and threw them in the laundry basket. He bent down and tested the temperature of the water before nodding and turning to you, carrying you in his arms again.

"Tell me if it's not to your liking…" he whispered, lowering you into the water as you nodded.

"It's perfect." you exhaled, your tenses muscles relaxing thanks to the warm water engulfing your body. "You don't have to do all of this, you know…" you said hesitantly, fiddling with your fingers, too afraid or shy to look at him.

He took a cup of plastic and gently poured water on your hair, wetting your hair as he chuckled, as if you made the funniest joke ever. "I know, but I want to. I'm your husband now."

"My husband…"

He took the bottle of shampoo, poured some into his hands and began to massage your head gently, spreading the shampoo over your hair. "I would have done the same thing even if I weren't your husband. All this mess was just a good excuse, I guess. I've always loved you and even if it were in ten or twenty years we would have been in the same situation, because you are the love of my life and I would have married you anyway."

These words were like an arrow through your heart. When you thought you'd smile, the words were said with such honesty and nonchalance that the only thing you could do was hide your face in your hands as you began to cry with joy, comforted and lulled by the sweet music your heart was playing, soon joined by Jungwon's humming as he took care of you as he would have done in the future. With love. Him being your husband was not that bad apparently.

"I love you too, Jungwon."

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jungwon hard hours #jungwon smut #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #enhypen hard thoughts #jungwon hard thoughts #took too long #-> N (like Pokemon yes) <-

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