#this should be called the just doing whatever the fuck draft
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What. The. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck?
#toy story#toy story 3#pixar#this was a complete mindfuck to listen to#this shouldn't be called the blended family draft#this should be called the just doing whatever the fuck draft#HAVING SOME RANDOM DUDE MARRY ANDY'S MOM COMPLETELY MISSES THE POINT OF WOODY AND BUZZ'S RELATIONSHIP TO ANDY!#and it feels like we're just trying to write the toys more like humans than toys#this gives fanfiction vibes#or ice age sequel vibes#the real toy story 3 is better than this because it ACTUALLY CONTINUES THE STORY FROM THE LAST MOVIE#AND CONTINUES CHARACTER ARCS THAT ARE INTEGRAL TO TOY STORY'S FUCKING STORY!#I'm sorry i got mad#i just hate people coming in saying this feels like a better plot than the actual Toy Story 3!#no#this is mindfuck
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as usual i am up late into the night planning my future when i should be: getting a good nights sleep so that i even have a future!!
#i have work in seven and a half hours. so i should really be getting to bed#BUT i officially made my final definitive degree plan!!!! i mean not the actual classes but all the requirements i have to meet and how!!#(in order to earn: history and information science double major. with certificates in material culture and classics)#and i’m genuinely excited for every single class i have to take except for human-computer interaction#just cause i know it’s gonna get overly technical in ways that won’t quite apply to my future#anyway every single other thing i’m gonna do is very cool and exciting. so everything is good really#but i should be sleeping. and i’m not. as usual 🤧#idk wish me luck!!!! i’m so hyped about my degree plan though#i’ll go into more detail another time. i’m very excited#ANYWAY goodnight!!!! can’t be so busy planning my future in library science that i DONT GO TO MY SHELVING JOB#kind of important to actually go to work for the library that employs me….#and then i might go see a first-printing roget’s thesaurus!!!! or i’ll sleep. we’ll see#followed by lunch with GUY WHO IS THE WORST KILL HIM WITH HAMMERS#(there is nothing really wrong with me he just keeps kind of being mean to me and also expecting me to fall in love with him. but like#extremely passively and not manipulatively it’s just like. hey buddy you’re doing this friendship wrong….)#anyway then i have a class and after that i have an hour to rest. and then a phone call and then a lot of homework#(ten page paper draft due in a week and a half!! so it’s time to start writing the actual body of it)#and then i sleep for a LONG time and then work again on saturday. and then sleepover with somebody i have a crush on??#and then be normal all day on sunday and do a little more paper writing. and programming homework. and whatever else#and then keep up with the slog for three weeks!!!! and all of a sudden it’s summer!!!!#projects left this year: material culture paper (entirely unstarted. but may research the thesaurus and just win!!!!)#history project (draft due the monday after next and real paper due a week after classes end)#one more programming assignment where i adapt my recipe doubler project (probably. it’s getting stupid at this point but it’s what i got!!)#and a programming test in two weeks and then the final a week after that. then no more programming#and then i just have my weekly latin tests and a latin final on may 5th. and then EVERYTHING IS DONE#ok i got this. sorry for walking through my schedule in the tags it’s how i remember what’s real#can’t believe my fucking partner just kind of walked out on me there hello???? like. we should be powering through finals together#but i’m genuinely better off without him so i guess it’s just whatever. trash took itself out or something??#anyway. i’m so regular. and i have work in the morning. and i’m going to sleep#thank you world. goodnight
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watched elemental . pixar treads water ‼
#cherryz txt#i watched one a them camrips with the slots ads plastered on them which was funny#disney aint gettin a penny outta me .#anyhow its like funny as fuck how elemental is just zootopia if zootopia wished it could be turning red.#does this make sense. JNGFKJSNGDF#when they aint doin sequels theyre just ripping themselves off#its not like a Bad Film that u should Never Watch its just like . whatever#ohhh its a kids movie...... sure but like idk . kids deserve more variety i think#also that bit near the end where waterguy calls firegirl a coward is like . wat lol .#absolutely dissonant with everything about waterguy up to that point . itd make more sense for him to be like#'ive been trying to do everything i can to show u how u can be free and honest to urself but u have to take that initiative too'#or something to that affect instead of like . some boring generic schlock dialogue u know??#but then again i feel like most of the movie was generic schlock dialogue JHFKJDSNGDSLG#also the character designs were whatever . yadda yadda i hate u hyperrealism being expected of 3d animation etc etc#BUT i feel like even outside of that aspect the designs of the main 2 are just like. so first draft yk ?#i think a lot of secondary and incedental designs were more interesting but even then its like#again . treading water . someone said hey draw some fire people and water people and stuff#took the first color drafts and ran with em yk ?#i think a unique visual style wouldve helped to a degree but like . really coulda used moer time in the oven overall#ALSO. disneys first nonbinary character? on screen for 1 scene . and i swear to g-d i heard them get called her????#(obvs ppl can use any pronouns they want forever irl but like . make a big show of nonbinary character and then????)#(couldve just been camrip quality take this w a grain of salt)#(either way disney vaguely gesturing at queerness to sell rainbow pins for 20 dollars grrrrrrrrr)#capitalism kills creativity <3
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why is it that every new writer doesn't know that the first draft is never supposed to be the version you publish
#i keep seeing reddit posts that are like. people lamenting their ''finished'' novel being shit#but it's literally the first draft of their first ever novel?? like dude what???#i'm not going to call myself a veteran writer (i haven't had a huge desire to publish & i mostly write fanfic though i have my originals)#but like. i have been writing since i was little. more so lately than ever. quite a few years. over a decade of experience here#so i can say i know some stuff ya know?#it just really fucks me up seeing people being like ''i should just quit since my first try sucked''#like DUDE YOUR FIRST TRY IS YOUR WORST TRY!! DO NOT BASE YOUR SKILL LEVEL CAP ON THAT#LOOK ME IN THE EYES!!!!!! YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!! WORSE WRITERS HAVE PUBLISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#WORSE WRITERS HAVE MADE ME WEEP & STARE AT A WALL & DEDICATE HOURS OF THOUGHT TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#YOU ARE ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING ACT LIKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#okay sorry i'm normal again lol#point is this: practice doesn't make perfect. but art isn't SUPPOSED to be perfect it's SUPPOSED to be YOU
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mmmmmm been thinkin abt photographer!san right nd he is know for his boudoir photography but his latest client’s got him in a chokehold like god how is she so fuckin sexy nd he can’t focus at all bc fuck all he wants to do is fuck her senseless— HELP
Your wish is my command Angel! Thank you for being patient 😘
As always, enjoy 🩷
snap.
<Choi san x fem!reader>
Synopsis: encouraged by your friend, you give boudoir photography a try after recovering from a break up, you find yourself doing more than just be a model.
Genres/warnings: smut, boudoir photographer!San x model!reader, sexual tension, unprotected sex, cream pies, mention of oral
Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies
“Boudoir photography?” You reiterate. Your friend nods.
“A friend of a friend of a friend tried it recently and apparently she’s been full of confidence. Her boyfriend adores it too!” Your friend squeals.
You scrunch your eyebrows, wondering how semi-nude photos taken by a professional photographer in this niche would boost one’s confidence.
Your friend’s eyes dart to you again, and then your phone pings. You look at the link your friend sent you. It’s a referral code for a promotion. You turn to her, gaze still dripping with skepticism.
“Come on, just try it. You’re a lovely person and you deserve to see it for yourself! Boudoir photography might really help at not being constantly self critical.”
You weren’t an entirely insecure person, and you were sure of that. It’s just that, after the rough break up with your ex, and seeing them move on instantly (like two fuckin weeks) with a new partner, undoubtedly was a gut punch to your self esteem, while you were still stuck grieving over the lost relationship and wasted time.
You’ve heard of boudoir photography, but you’ve never actually understood the concept of it, considering that it was niche, and that you don’t really know the point of it. You glance down at the referral link before deciding to just fuck it and sign up.
San is working overtime again, meticulously editing and touching up the photos. It’s become a natural part of him to almost be a perfectionist, whether when on the ground taking photos of the model or the post editing process. But he never loses the sight of letting the women shine naturally through their photos. After all, in such a niche market, they picked him. Definitely, he has his mix of male boudoir models, but the women evidently take up a higher ratio. He understands that one of the most important aspects of boudoir photography is trust and comfort with his models, which has them coming back for more sessions, sometimes even with their partners.
Setting up his own business in such a niche market was difficult of course, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to make a name for himself. But sometimes he’s grateful that his good looks are an added bonus to drawing in his clients.
His email pings and it makes him pause his work. Maybe he should finish it tomorrow. San glances at the fresh email that sits in his inbox.
An appointment via referral.
He opens it, and looks through the client’s information. At the bottom box for comments, sits a short question.
[Just wondering, what should I expect for my appointment? Is there anything I should prepare?]
He takes a moment before he drafts a reply.
[Hey there! Nice to meet you. I’m Choi San, boudoir photographer of Woodie’s Studios. First of all, thank you for choosing our studio for your boudoir experience!
Regarding your question, come in with an open mind. For what to wear, you may bring a set of clothes/lingerie of whatever you feel confident in.
I don’t bite, I promise!]
He reads the reply a second time before he hits send. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s gotten questions like these anyway. His train of concentration is broken, so he decides to call it a night.
You reach the opaque door of a clean-looking studio apartment. The sign has San’s studio name and logo imprinted on it, so you’re sure that you are at the right location.
You press the door bell and it chimes a lovely tune. There is a quiet pause, before the door handle clicks and the door itself pulls back. Before you stood a really, no, an insanely good looking, tall male. His glasses rest loosely on the bridge of his nose as his small eyes meet yours. His brunette hair is slightly messy. He wears an expression of confusion at first, but it turns into something unreadable. You think for a spilt second that he may have gotten the wrong client, but your rationale reminds you that you did send him photos of yourself so he’s able to recognise you. You blink once, then twice because you were starting to get lost at how handsome your photographer was.
“Choi San..?” you say, with a small tilt of your head.
Then it’s his turn to blink, and he snaps out of that small trance he seemed to be caught in for a few seconds. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he greets you.
“Hey! Y/n right? Sorry, was tryna recognise you. I promise I don’t usually take that long to process”, he chuckles, pulling the door wider as he ushers you in, reminding you to switch out your shoes for the apartment slippers.
The hallway San brings you down is brightly lit and spilt into a couple of sections which you assumed one of them would be the photo studio itself. A couple of posters of pin up girls hang on the walls, all of them beautiful and stunning.
He then stops at a glass door and pushes it, to what you assumed to be his office.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Any preferences?”, he gestures. You shake your head as you let yourself sink into the velvet couch, gingerly leaving your bag of clothing beside you. San gives a polite nod and excuses himself to the pantry.
And the moment the door shuts behind him, he tears his glasses off the bridge of his nose and hooks the branch onto his collar.
His hand is placed over his heart.
San has photographed many different women over the course of his career, some breathtakingly beautiful. But none has ever made his heart skip a beat and caused his words to be stuck at the back of his throat, not like you did. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you looked like—the pictures you sent served that purpose. Maybe it was the fact that he never expected you to look like that in real life, and for once, he almost doesn’t know how to react. His thoughts are all over the place as he paces into the pantry to prepare your tea. As he’s dipping the tea bag into the piping hot water, he begins feeling self conscious—was his hair too shrivelled? Did he smell bad? Was there something on his face? He tightens his grip on the mug and hastily makes his way back to his office.
San returns, with a smile on his face as he settles the cup onto the coffee table before you, and he joins you, seated on a velvet armchair across you.
“Take your time”, he reassures. “We can start after this, if you’re feeling comfortable, or we can just talk a little to ease your nerves.” It doesn’t take you much to think—you opt for the latter of course.
San laughs and nods. “I get that a lot, especially from first time female clients. It’s valid of course, having a male being your photographer for boudoir can sound off-putting. Perhaps looking at my portfolio might put you slightly at ease?” He reaches out for a large and thick leather-bound photo album. You let it rest on your lap as you receive it with a soft “thank you”, and flip the album open, and you’re instantly awestruck—San’s work spoke for himself. The models were diverse, both in nationalities and body shapes, all equally stunning and sensual in their own expressive ways. The only common denominator was the glint of genuine emotion and confidence reflected in their eyes.
You wonder to yourself—could you look and feel as confident as them? As you skim through the pictures, you feel yourself falling in love with the models as well—their genuine smiles when they do and the gazes they give.
When San catches himself staring at you being absorbed in admiring his portfolios, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down, wondering what you think of it all.
“I see why you have so many clients. The pictures are gorgeous”, you say, shutting the photo album and handing it back to him. San flashes a sheepish smile and mutters a “thank you” loud enough for you to hear. The silence in the room remains a for awhile as you sip the tea, letting it calm your nerves. You don’t even know it but the person with actual jittery nerves was San himself, a feeling that he never expected to feel since the last time he did was when he started out this business three years ago.
“So… what’s the goal of being a boudoir model, if you don’t mind me asking? Like was it a long time thing you wanted to try or was it something spontaneous?” He asks to break the silence.
“I broke up with my ex recently”, you respond curtly, before taking another sip of the tea. Damn, this is some good ass tea. San blinks at your reply, unsure of what to make out of the bluntness. Before he attempts to reply, you continue, “and my friend sent me a referral to your studio, and I thought to myself, why not? I want to feel confident in my own skin. Also, I think it’s an interesting way of self exploration.” Your gaze meets his, and it’s his turn to look awestruck. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest when he laughs softly, when his smile reaches his eyes. It’s the way that he’s confident of his craft, and it’s making you warm up to him even more.
Your fingertips tap on the mug softly. Your gaze lands on the photobook once more.
“Does taking such risqué pictures affect you when you first started out?” You ask before taking another sip. San ponders about the question for awhile. He has people asking him that before, but for some reason, he wants to be slightly more transparent with you.
“I don’t see about my clients in a sexual way, even if they physically look appealing to me. In the end, self confidence and comfort always comes first, and I think that’s what I enjoy seeing in my clients when they become more comfortable in their own skin. People don’t understand how difficult it is to fully love yourself”, he replies.
That’s when you understand why San’s photography studio had so many recurring clients.
“Why boudoir? I think sensuality and intimacy is a form of art. It’s beautiful—watching people discover parts of themselves they never knew existed and falling in love. You don’t have to be conventionally attractive to be a boudoir model.
The money’s good, of course, but the satisfaction of watching my clients giving me feedback of them realising they deserve to love themselves more, or discovering other sides of themselves is nothing short of rewarding.”
By the time he’s done explaining, you feel a rush of confidence in yourself. It’s only been about ten minutes since the both of you just sat and talked, but you see that he definitely prioritises your comfort before he even begins the sessions. You ball your fingers into a fist, meeting San’s gaze with determination, telling him, “I think I’m ready.”
San’s eyes brighten up. “Great! You can use the bathroom to the left, and I’ll meet you at the photo studio just opposite the office.” He stands up, opening the door for you, and you bow slightly in courtesy as you head to the washroom to change. San’s heart beats faster, wondering what you’re gonna wear for the shoot.
San is fixing the sheets of the bed, then the studio lights at the perfect angle he wants it to be. His heart is still racing as he walks over to the tripod, glancing over at the door from time to time, awaiting for your arrival.
He perks up when he sees you walk in with a bathrobe on and he greets you cheerfully again, trying to hide his excitement.
You wave back with a smile, letting the environment of the photo studio sink in. The basic package for first timers consisted of a bed shoot, so it’s no surprise you see a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white. The bed looks comfy and you giggle to yourself, wondering if you’d end up falling asleep mid-shoot from how nice the bed looks.
“Anytime you’re ready”, San reminds you, carrying the tripod in one hand, his biceps flexing as he does, and it makes you blush slightly, which was ridiculous. Why are you swooning over your handsome photographer carrying the tripod with one arm? Suddenly you’re self conscious again, your fingers clutching against the black bathrobe. It was frustrating that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making you nervous, but you weren’t about to back out.
San continues to adjust his camera on the tripod, and his gaze absentmindedly shifts towards you, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, watching you undress from the bathrobe, revealing a white button up over black lace lingerie. It’s not anything new, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes off you—the way the panties hugs your hips and the bra cups your breasts, the garter belt hugging your waist and the straps hanging past your panties. He watches you climb onto the bed, eyes shutting briefly as you sink into the mattress with a soft smile.
He’s not confident that he’s able to last through the shoot, not when you’re looking like that.
“Is it too cold here?” San asks, trying to divert his attention from his perverse thoughts. You pop up from the sheets, the collars of the shirt slipping past your shoulders, obviously too big for you. That does nothing to help him with his thoughts.
“No, I think the temperature’s okay. Shall we get started?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt, the white material pathetically sheer that San is able to see the black bra peeking through.
The sight of you in an oversized shirt on, with no pants, just your underwear on is like a meal for San’s eyes. He hides behind the camera to hide his flushing cheeks, only to face your body through the viewfinder, watching you preparing to pose as you position yourself at the end of the bed, turning your body slightly to the side with one leg up, your thighs in full view, with the sleeves of the shirt covering most of your fingers, and your gaze right into the camera lens.
San takes a deep breath. Forty five minutes. He can do this.
“Sure. Ready whenever you are, y/n.”
It turns out to be a very agonising forty five minutes. While the both of you were cracking jokes during the shoot, San finds himself getting more distracted when you gradually remove your shirt, and when your poses grow ever more risqué—at one point you remove your bra and fit your shirt over again, which definitely made San grow very restless when he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your bare chest.
Midway through the shoot, all that swarms his mind is wondering how your body would feel against his, how your bare skin would feel under his hands, what kind of faces you would make when you’re under him.
What kind of noises you would make for him when he fits his cock right into you. He wants to fuck you so hard that your mind goes blank—so good that you’ll never remember your ex.
San blinks, his finger still on the shutter button. He doesn’t know what washed over him, but what he does know is the taut feeling in his pants, and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he decided to wear cargo pants. Nonetheless, he hopes that it isn’t obvious. Well, it shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t ask for close up shots.
“San! Could you come closer for my close ups?” You call out, letting the collar of your shirt fall off your shoulder once more, revealing your bare shoulders, and reminding him that you were still braless underneath the loose clothing article.
Fuck.
San forces a smile, unlatching his camera and trying to walk normally without letting his erection steal your attention.
He reaches to where you are, reminding himself to stay professional, but when he meets your playful gaze, all he wants to do is pin you down. Your eyes twinkle with allure as you prepare your next pose. You get it now—the confidence that slowly trickles into you after every photo taken. You’ve never realised that you had this side of yourself, not until now, and you love it.
The close up shots only spell another layer of doom for San—he adores the budding confidence that you exude, but it makes it even harder for him to hold back, watching you make sultry expressions and poses close up. Through the viewfinder, his eyes try to focus on taking the photo but he finds himself being entranced by your stare. He counts down, then taking a few shots, not missing the growing smile you had.
San puts his camera away, reaching forward to your face to remove a stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, and his touch is warm on your face. It’s then you realise how physically close San is to you—you smell his cologne and it leaves your mind blank for a spilt second. He’s absorbed in fixing your hair, combing the strays off your face, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing you hear. You look away, wondering if your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear, and you hope it isn’t. San gives you a soft smile when his eyes finally meet yours.
He pulls back, preparing to take his camera for the next shot, but his leg gets tangled in the sheets.
Everything happens in a spilt second—his knee that shifts forward at first, pressing against the sheet that has unknowingly tangled around his other leg, then San trying to get up quickly with the tangled leg, realising a little too late by the time he falls right onto the bed.
Right onto you.
He almost squishes you. Almost. But he lands above you, supported by his elbows just in time before his body is in contact with yours.
Your heart races, way too quick for you to even process what just occurred. All knew you was:
One; San is right above you,
Two; his lips are hovering over yours,
Three; you feel something pressing against your pelvis.
And San stares down at you, his heart beating in his ears. He takes in the sight of you below him—eyes looking up at him through fluttered lashes, your heat radiating against his skin, your lips slightly parted in surprise.
As well as the strain in his pants when his eyes instinctively lower to your bare chest, your nipples peeking through your shirt, and that his little problem is just resting right on you.
“I’m sorry”, San whispers, breaking the silence that had hung between the both of you. “This usually doesn’t happen…”
You crack an amused smile. “Usually?”you reiterate teasingly. A tint of red flushes San’s cheeks and his clothed erection presses harder against your bare skin, and it makes you bite your lip.
“Fuck. I mean, this never happens. It’s just.. I’ve never felt this way about my boudoir models…”, he trails off. “I think you’re fucking stunning since you entered the studio, and I think you’re even more stunning now.”
Your heart flutters at his confession and this time, you feel yourself blush. A soft laugh escapes from the male above you when he sees you avoid eye contact from the shyness. His strings of rationale—yelling at him to stay professional—is snapping. He’s not lying. He’s never felt so attracted to any of his models before, until you, and now that he has you trapped under him, he doesn’t want to lose that chance.
“Should we end the session here?” San asks, with a quick glance at your pretty red lips.
Your fingers are playing with the dangling silver chain that he wears. He lets you, waiting for your response before he catches your gaze dances back to meet his again. Your hands shift to caress San’s jaw, and he takes it as a sign to make his move. You inhale softly as you feel his lips press onto yours, and it makes your head spin with glee. He tastes so heavenly, and your legs clench at the feeling that flutters between your thighs.
San slightly presses his body weight onto you, his erection only growing harder against your thigh. But it looks like he’s taking his time.
His fingertips warm your skin, and he lets them slip up your body, until he’s at your chest, barely covered by the sheer cotton material. His thumbs grazes against your nipples, and you gasp in between open mouthed kisses. You feel him smile, and he applies pressure, and the sensation goes right to your pussy.
He pulls back, watching your lip stick smudged, and your eyes dilate. You can’t help but feel entranced by San, and now you’re wondering how his face would look like when he falls apart.
And it makes you excited.
San lulls you back from your thoughts when you feel his lips suck softly against your neck, and now your fingers are playing with his soft locks of hair.
He’s slightly embarrassed at the way he’s growing even harder when he gingerly peels the white shirt away. His hands cup your bare tits, and he lowers himself to your left tit, giving it a couple of hungry licks and sucks, leaving your back arching and your mouth agape from how ticklish his tongue feels as he flicks your nipple. He doesn’t neglect the other nipple, giving it the same attention as he relishes in the way you fall apart for him. When he has his fun of sucking and making sure your nipples swell while you moan and tug his hair, he pulls away.
He sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and you’re left drooling at how chiseled his body looks. San unbuttons his pants and yanks it off, alongside his boxers, and you watch with awe as his cock springs out—hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your panties are tugged off you in no time, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when his eyes land on your slick covered cunt.
“You’re gonna be the death of me”, you hear him mutter before he collides his lips against yours once more. You squeal when you feel his fingers press onto your clit, giving it small rubs, watching and soaking your reactions—your whines and whimpers. There is a dull buzz in your mind every time your bundle of nerves get stimulated, and it builds up in your tummy.
“Oh god, you’re getting even wetter”, he sighs, his fingers completely soaked.
“It feels good. So good. Keep doing that”, you whisper, your fingers pressing against his arm. Your moans only grow louder as San picks up the speed on rubbing your clit, and it’s sending you over the edge way quicker than you wanted to.
San lowers himself to your head, and his husky voice vibrates in your ears.
“That’s it, keep coming undone. Let your mind shut off. You look so fucking beautiful like that.”
“San, San, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck-“
Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, your body tensing as pleasure becomes the only thing you know. You barely catch onto the dirty things San is telling you, but you know he’s encouraging you to cum on his fingers like a good girl.
He makes sure he has your orgasm drawn out as long as possible, your mind completely blown out at that point. San sucks off your arousal on his fingers, before giving his cock a few pumps.
“You taste like heaven, babe. I’ll get a taste of that cunt soon, but right now, I really can’t wait”, San huffs, trying to keep himself composed as he slowly fucks his hand.
“San, hurry up, please. I need you, so fucking bad”, you whine, your fingers pulling your wet folds open for him.
His breathing goes heavy at your words. “Damn, the shoot really got you heated,” San teases.
“I can’t help it if my photographer makes me wet”, you reply with a playful smile.
Something seems to snap in San when he hears that—all he’s thinking about is wanting to drive his cock so deep into you that your mind completely blanks out.
So that’s what he does.
San lines up his cock to your entrance and pushes and inch in. His eyes dart to your face, licking the bottom of his lip when he watches your face contort into pleasure. His hands stroke your thighs as he pushes in a couple more inches, soaking in your broken moans as he stretches you out. He forces himself to stay composed despite the fact that you’re squeezing him with your warm and soft walls.
He manages to bury himself right to the hilt and he gasps at how perfectly fitted his cock is in you, an uncontrollable moan escaping his lips when he feels you convulse around his cock.
“San, you’re so big. I’m so filled”, you whimper through glazed eyes, his cock completely cutting off other senses as your thighs tremble. A smile tugs at his lips.
“I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty”, San tells you. Despite that, he waits for your green signal before he pulls out and drives his cock right into you.
Your mind switches off the moment his cock is fucking your pussy, because that’s all that matters. It’s so good. So fucking good.
His hands slither to your wrists, and has them pinned over your head as his cock pistons into you. You swear he’s driving you to be cock dumb by the end of this, but not like you fucking minded anyway.
“Look at you. Growing stupid over my cock already. So fucking adorable.”
You only nod in reply, biting your lip as his cock continues to render you speechless. Now San has completely flooded into the smallest crooks of your mind. San has his mind blank, his eyes darting from your fucked out expression to your bouncing tits.
Your cunt flutters once again and tears are pooling at the corner of eyes. The sounds of wet skin slapping echo around the studio.
“…wanna touch you”, you mutter. Despite the face that you loved that he was holding you down, you are feeling desperate to feel his skin as you dance on the fence of your orgasm. San releases your wrists, and he props himself better as he continues to pound into you, hitting the soft, spongy spot over and over again when he has your legs folded. When his pulls out, his cock is covered in a creamy mess. His head spins and his ego inflates at the thought him being the one who drove you to this point of mind blanking pleasure.
“No, no, I’m gonna cum again. So good. San!” His name leaving your lips as a whine. Your hands are gripping onto the loose unbuttoned sleeves of your shirt. His hands take yours and places them on his on his sides, and he groans at the way you’re clawing him.
“Shit. Fuck!” San curses when you cream on his cock even more on top of your walls hugging him tightly. You let go on his cock with a pleasured sob, legs twitching.
It’s not long before a long drawn out moan San releases as his warm cum completely floods your tight hole. He swears he wants to keep his cock tucked in your pussy because it feels that fucking good.
His face—oh, his fucking face when he orgasms. You barely recover from your second orgasm to watch San fall apart while he empties in your pussy, and it almost drives you to your third orgasm. Almost.
The both of you remain still for a moment, only breathing filling in the silence. Then, San slowly pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks out of your abused hole.
San pulls back, and he realises that he’s never seen a more beautiful sight—you, splayed out in nude, only covered by a measly white shirt that inevitably drives him crazy, with cum leaking out of your pretty hole while your body twitches against the white sheets.
He thinks that it’s a pity that his camera is out of reach, because it’s such a beautiful shot.
You glance at San with a shy smile as he hands you your panties. He hooks the your legs into the panties and pulls it up to your hips. You feel another load stain your panties while your thighs twitch.
San dresses himself quickly and extends his arm for you to take as he leads you off the bed. He knows he’s got extra work to wash the sheets but that’s the least of his worries.
What throws you off is when he pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple.
“I promise I’ve never done to any of my clients”, he reiterates.
“Unprofessional”, you tease, your hands sneaking up his shirt.
“Can’t fucking help it. I never knew fucking an Angel in my studio would be this exhilarating. It makes the thought of washing the bedsheets bearable”, he teases back, letting his fingers tangle in your hair.
Your mind goes completely blank when he tells you to wash out the loads in you, so he’ll fill you up once more when he brings you home, which earns him a slap on the chest. He gestures you to go change up, watching the way you remove your shirt to reveal your bare back, and he makes a mental note to start fucking you from behind.
And back at his place, he does. His eyes are hyper focused on the way your ass bounces on his cock. A loud slap reverberates in his room followed by a whimper.
He stills in you, spilling his load once more into your abused cunt as you cream all over him once again.
Then he has you wrapped up in his arms, peppering you with kisses as you’re teetering off your high.
“Stay over, won’t you?”, San requests, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears. You’re beginning to feel completely enamoured by the male. You nod as you melt into his arms.
San thinks it’s ridiculous how hard and fast he fell for you, but he’s confident that you’re his favourite model, ever.
#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez smut#smut#ateez fic#kpop smut#choi san smut#Choi san#San ateez#ateez san#choi san ateez#ateez choi san#choi san x reader#cultofdionysusnet
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Honey, Oh Sugar, Sugar
JJK men as your sugar daddies and what happens when you tell them you're breaking things off cause you've secretly fallen for them and "breached" the contract. Or me just being hung up on the whole concept of sugar daddies cause I don’t wanna work anymore and I need Nanami in my life.
Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo x you/afab reader
TW/CW: angst | smut/implied smut | sorta dubcon | age gaps | aged up characters | kind fluffy | mentions of alcohol/drugs | some mafia stuff | mdni
Word Count: 8.1k
MASTERLIST
NANAMI
'I can't see you right now.'
Those words glared at you, sharp black slashes that marred the white backdrop of your screen. They may not carry much weight without context, but they broke you a thousand times weighed on you like the sky had fallen over, crushing you as you heard the voice behind the words, making you regret every other choice you've made so far.
They blurred out as tears started to flood your eyes, falling on the device in your hand, but the pain they caused didn't fade in the least. If anything, you felt exponentially worse, enough to make you wish for death. It was more for the fact that you knew it was your fault, a result of your weakness and lack of prudence, your over-estimation of yourself and biting off more than you can chew.
Still, how were you to know back then? How the fuck were you supposed to know that things would end up making you feel as miserable as you did? How the fuck could you have been able to tell that you'd be wishing to tear yourself away from the only thing that seemed to make your life make sense?
If you were told that gods existed and walked in Prussian blue button-downs and khaki shorts as they surveyed their domain from the balcony of their private beach houses, you wouldn't have believed it. But Nanami Kento came into your life in that same exact form, a stoic, tall blonde, ten years your senior, successful in all his endeavors but always too busy for anything.
Nanami Kento was your best friend's neighbor – at least at their beach-front rest house. It was funny how he was supposed to be this well-known yet aloof individual in the community. And yet, the moment you were introduced to him, he purposefully made a way to be around you where you fell into easy conversation with him. Your friend told you their neighbor hardly ever stayed at his summer retreat for longer than two days, popping out one day only to be replaced by the caretakers who would then tell them that "Nanami-san had an emergency business trip." On top of that, he never really showed up when your friend's parents would invite him for whatever, consistently declining politely, but because of you, he finally honored one of their invitations.
However, it made you wonder what he found so interesting in a university student like you when his life was so much more exciting, being the founder of his own company. He was a bachelor at thirty two, and he's got everything figured out while you were in the final year of your higher education, and you still didn't know what to do with your life.
The reason became evident when you met him again after insisting that you should before you parted that evening at the beach, even leaving you his calling card.
How your conversation went from how his work was going and how your studies were to his proposition for you to be basically his sugar baby was something you couldn't fathom at that time. He just went on about coming clean and expressing his real intentions, then later asked you to think about it before dishing out a conversation about how the two of you should meet again to draft the parameters of your arrangement. Nanami later apologized, smiling apologetically for startling you – the biggest understatement of the century – adding that he wasn't one to beat around the bush.
"I hope I didn't scare you away," he said when dropping you off to campus.
A week later, you signed a contract with him, and then he kissed you, taking your breath away instead of shaking your hand to seal your pact. Everything went smoothly. It seemed a good idea back then. Boy you wished there was a time when you could have been more mistaken in your life.
You let out a mirthless laugh as you realized you were at the end of the rope regarding Nanami. You cannot handle it anymore when, for the past half year, you've been putting off talking to him about the state of matters from your end. You know you're breaching your agreement, which is a testament to the reality of your liaisons. You failed at keeping it emotionless, evidently, and every single time you think about coming clean and facing rejection, you felt like cowering in fear.
You already know how binding those agreements were. Nanami had been clear about what he wanted, and you also agreed because you thought you wanted precisely that – an arrangement without commitment, one you can easily get out of without issues. He would not want you if he knew the truth, and although it took far too much strength and courage to accept it, you managed. But now that you have finally decided to speak to him, he tells you he can't be there. Then again, you didn't even have the right to demand his time.
It came in a cocktail of emotions when you realized you didn't want his money or anything else he had to offer. You only wanted one thing: his heart. Too bad it was off the table. It's not something he offered to ever be in your contract.
You hated yourself for being weak, for opening up when you should have remained frozen even towards him. But you couldn't help it when your heart started confusing his caring side for actual feelings over his usual acts of reminding you that he was still the older one between you and actually had the responsibility to take care of you whether you've got an arrangement or not.
You sure as hell didn't regret the perks that came with it – trips to any place you could name, things you get with just one word, and the amazing love-making that came with it. Nanami was a great lover. It never just felt like sex in a transactional manner. It always showed how much of a sensitive soul he is, how much he cared for you. But it's not exactly in the way you wanted it.
"I like you, and I enjoy your company, but being me, this is all I can offer at the moment."
Those were his words, and though it's not explicitly written in the contract, you knew it was over when you started perceiving him as the center of your universe. That was no good, and maybe he knew, considering how he had been "too preoccupied" when you said you wanted to talk. Suddenly, he didn't have time for you, but you wanted to tell him of your decision to end matters in person. He deserved that, at least. Nanami was just too good, and you didn't want him to do the guesswork.
That same night, you walked out of the luxury flat he rented for you, packing a bottle of wine, which you ended up drinking at your best friend's house.
You woke up the next day, still groggy from all the alcohol you drank, to the sound of your best friend speaking angrily to someone in hushed tones. She was telling someone off and threatening them about answering if something ends badly, but then you hear your name.
"Y/N's a really sensitive person underneath regardless of what she says," she tells whoever she is talking to. You don't hear the response to her statement, but there was a long pause, and then you hear the front door open and close with her declaration to give this person their space.
It wasn't long before the guest room door opened, and you found yourself face-to-face with Nanami. You motioned to get up, but he shook his head and sat beside you on the bed.
"Why did you leave?" he asked, straight to the point as always. You didn't expect anything less, but you couldn't look him in the eye as you said, "I can't do this anymore."
Much to his surprise, you started crying the moment you spoke. It was so atypical of you to show him any kind of weakness, always so independent in your actions and words that he felt useless at times, so he found the need to reach out and hold you.
You flinched. "Please don't."
Nanami sighed, running his fingers through his usually perfect hair. For the first time, you notice how it's not fixed the way it should be and how he has dark rings under his eyes, his cheeks a bit sunken. He looked at you, expressions unfathomable, but you saw how he clenched and unclenched his fists.
"Why not?"
His question angered you, that much he could tell, and it was obvious how you were trying your very best to calm down. You sat up and he felt the need to brace himself for whatever you will say.
"I'm ending this...this..."
"Arrangement," he supplied for you, to which you nodded, the sting of that word evident on your face. "Yes, that."
He nodded in understanding, but he stared you down with a pensive look on his handsome face, and you wanted just to run before you fell even harder. "May I at least know why?"
You bit your lower lip, looking elsewhere but him as your eyes filled with fresh tears. You didn't know how on earth you were going to explain it to him in detail, but as he gave it to you straight and simple, you thought it best to do the same. It would be self-explanatory anyway.
Wringing your fingers, you all but whispered, "Kento, I'm in love with you." When he didn't speak, you started rambling on about how you knew things wouldn't change if you said it and that he's got more important things to deal with over your "childish feelings" but that you can't help it.
"Say that again," he told you.
"What?" You didn't realize he had moved closer, his face merely inches from yours and his other arm caging you on your spot.
"The first thing you said. Say it again." He sounded commanding as he was used to, but then he let his forehead rest on your shoulder, feeling defeated. "Please?" he said, sounding small, unsure.
You wiped the tears off your face, sniffling. You've resigned yourself to the bad outcomes of your actions. "I'm in love with you."
"If that's the case, wouldn't you want to be with me?"
"Because you said you could only offer me this arrangement."
At that, he looked up at you, cupping your face with his hands and staring you straight in the eyes, eyes you couldn't lie to. You were somewhat surprised that he didn't have a single clue as to what had been ailing you as perceptive as he was. Then again, maybe you were just too good at hiding it until you weren't, everything hidden behind the smokescreen of your physical intimacy and the pretty smiles you would offer his way.
"Be honest with me. Did it ever feel like it's just that?" he asked cautiously, groping for words.
This time, you couldn't hold back and began tearing up again, your anger finally rearing itself on the surface. "That's exactly the problem!" You pried his hands off of you and stood up. "I can't figure you out, and I don't want to be confused anymore. We had an agreement, I know that, and I'm sorry, but it hurts too much knowing you can give me anything I ask for but not what I want the most."
He also stood up, invading your space and pulling you towards him. He wasn't about to just lose you, not without a fight. Nanami made you look at him, his arm around your waist tight as he commanded your attention but still gentle and giving you your leeway to run if you wanted. You, on the other hand, didn't need much restraining nor convincing as you found yourself looking into his eyes and wanting nothing but to be close and be able to hold him, own him and all that he is, love him, and love him hard, love him over and over again, surrender your heart and let him have you even if you knew he could never give it back.
But all your notions were dispelled with a few choice words. "You never asked."
"I – what?"
"The thing you want the most that you claimed I can't give you. You never asked for it."
Ah. You chuckled without humor. Of course, it's on you for not asking. "Because I can't! That's not how it works. It's not my place to ask. I've no place of that nature in your life."
"Really now, Y/N?" Nanami looked stung, annoyed even, when typically, he wouldn't even show you a disapproving look at your worst behavior around him.
"It's okay. This is on me." You stepped back from him, resigning yourself to the idea of not seeing him again and saying goodbye. "And I know you're busy, so don't worry about me. I just really wanted to tell you personally, at least. I'll be fine."
"I won't be..."
"Stop it! You said so yourself –"
"I said 'at the moment' back then if I remember it correctly?"
You shrugged. "Kento, you don't have to hyper-analyze what you said back then. Don't stress –"
At that, his expressions changed, and he appeared manic, so different from his calm and composed demeanor. "This is stressing me out."
"I'm sorry."
"I love you."
You shook your head. Pity was the last thing you needed, and hearing those words in such a context, even less so. "No, you don't."
"Yes, I do. You can't just assume things like that. And though I detest confrontations like this, I'm prepared to be in conflict with you for it if it means you stay with me."
You smiled ruefully at him, coming closer to hug him, holding onto whatever you could while you still had time, taking in the way he smelled, the way his hair felt against your palms. "You're really too nice. Don't say things like that even if you feel bad for me. You don't have to."
Nanami sighed again, looking absolutely tired, but had it in him to smile despite your words. "Y/N, I just got the shovel talk with your best friend after I told her I love you – rather graphic, too – and you're telling me you don't have a place in my life? I would not even be here if you didn't matter to me. You, of all people, should know that I don't waste my time on things I don't find worthwhile, but I am here, am I not?"
You felt your heart thundering in your chest as you minced his words, unable to process everything at the moment, but you found yourself overwhelmed with joy that your feelings weren't one-sided. "You are."
"But you're right, so let's end this arrangement."
Swallowing hard, you nodded.
"Let's make this the real thing without agreements and roles. What do you say about that?" He tilted his head to have a closer look at you.
Everything be damned, but you were taking your chances. "Okay," you whispered.
"I love you. I'm in love with you, too. If it's my heart you want, you can have it. It's yours. All yours, my sweet."
You bit your lower lip, fighting a smile as you glanced at him from under your lashes, not trusting yourself to speak.
Nanami leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he held you closer. "I love you," he repeated.
"I know."
He chuckled. "Now you know. But that's not what I want to hear, Y/N. I said, I love you."
Instead of a response, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close as you stood on your toes to claim his lips with yours, your toes curling as he reciprocated in kind. This one felt different, not like some sort of transaction or a thank you for the things he provides for you. It felt like the real thing...like love.
"Then I love you, too."
TOJI
"She's an associate, Y/N. Stop being such a brat," Toji tells you the moment he arrived at the penthouse where he was housing you a good hour after you stormed out of the party he was hosting. You looked over your shoulder to find his tall, broad form leaning against the doorpost, arms crossed and...smirking.
"Or are you doing this on purpose 'cause you want daddy to punish you, hmm?"
You scoffed as you angrily wiped your tears, entering the walk-in wardrobe and slamming the door shut. You just wanted to be away from him, be able to think without him influencing your thoughts. If Fushiguro Toji was a drug, he'd most certainly be heroin – absolutely addictive with slim chances to none in terms of recovery, but you still wanted more, more, and some more. And you fell right into that trap, very much aware of it all.
You were a budding freelance journalist who got into a tangle with his organization after a wrong lead. He had been nice to you on the get-go, the understanding and very accommodating kumicho letting Miss Nosey off the hook. You kept running into him after that until one drunken evening at one of his clubs, where he had to rescue you from a guy who couldn't take no for an answer.
He drove you home, and instead of getting out of his car, the two of you got talking, and he started showing you pictures of his adorable son. And after fucking you senseless in that same car, he offered you an arrangement you thought you couldn't refuse at that time.
Slowly, you found yourself weaving into Toji's complicated life and seeing beyond just the ruthless gang leader who showered you with everything and anything he could give. The sky is the limit where Toji was concerned, and he was outrageous about the presents he would give you. But that always came with a catch. He took as much as he gave, probably more, and he was possessive of you. It wasn't healthy how he could do whatever the fuck he wanted while your rewards came with limitations attached to them.
Still, you stayed and got lost in the maze that was the workings of his mind and his personal life, which was just about his little boy. You instantly fell in love with Megumi and, in the process, with Toji himself. You know that now without a doubt, and it scared the living daylights out of you.
That realization came gradually. At first, you chalked it up to just a physical response, inducing chemicals in your head that gave you the illusion and delusion of emotional affection. What's love got to do with it, right? At first, it was little things like wanting to see him at the most random times of the day, missing him, and such. Then it escalated into incremental degrees of possessiveness, which you thought was fair given his inclination to call you his, be that in words while he's balls-deep in you or the way he would suddenly hold onto you with those large hands in the presence of others.
And quite frankly, you seemed to have picked up on that habit the wrong way, learning to reciprocate in the same way. It was messy business at best, but then again, it started just as messy.
The thought and reality of it hadn't felt as real as it did when you saw another woman clutching just as possessively at his arm. It seemed innocent, but seeing those blood-red nails brushing on his muscled arms as if their owner had any right to do it or had probably staked their claim made your blood boil, and your heart break. All the while, in your head, you were repetitively saying, "He's mine. I had him first."
You're in love with him, and that's a fact. Because why else would you be having such intense emotional outbursts over the fact that he was dangling another woman in his arms? It's a fact you didn't want to face anyway. He's supposed to be your sugar daddy, nothing else. It came with its perks, but you're human, and Toji is irresistible in more ways than one and never limited to just how he satisfies you physically. You loved him, his son and everything that he is included.
And you thought it had to stop. He didn't see you that way.
You emerged from the wardrobe, pulling a suitcase behind you, and suddenly, tension filled the air as Toji straightened to his full height, sapphire eyes shifting between you and the luggage.
"What are you doing?" he asked. Gone was his playful mood from earlier, replaced by something darker. He wasn't expressive, almost always looking bored out of his wits, and his facial muscles only rearranging in minute details to convey change, but it was enough to tell you to be on guard.
You walked towards him, mustering all your courage as you said, "I think we should end this."
"Because you're jealous?" He arched a brow at you. "I already told you –"
You shook your head, reaching up to touch his cheek, smiling as you traced downward before running your thumb against the scar at the side of his lips. While it made him look like a hooligan, you always thought it was a part of his charm. "That's hardly the issue here. As cliché as it is, it's not you; it's me. Thank you for everything, Toji. Give my love to Megumi."
At that, he chuckled. "And you expect me to just sit back with that sorry excuse? What do you take me for?"
Your eyes flashed in anger at the way he was undermining the circumstances. "Toji, I'm serious. It may be a sorry excuse for you, but it's not the same for me."
He stepped closer, looming over you. "So, speak up. Do I look like I'm playing here, sweetheart?"
"I...I can't..."
"What now?" He smirked, but you saw hurt cross his features, making you hesitate. It was too late when you realized you were stuck between a hard place and Toji, literally and figuratively. Your back hit the wall, and a second after, he slammed a palm just beside your head, staring you down. "I'm just a lowlife so I don't even deserve any proper explanation, is that it?"
"What? No! That's the last thing on my mind!" you retorted.
"So what? You're done writing your little reveal-all piece on me, so you're cutting me loose?"
How dare he, you thought. You were faithful to your agreement with him, and not once did you ever think of betraying him like that. Again, you were overwhelmed by the intensity of how you felt for him. You shook your head, trying to hold it in when your feelings were close to slipping out of your lips from the tip of your tongue. You didn't like the way he was looking at you as if you murdered his son and only family, but why were you making him angrier?
"If that's what you want to think, then fine."
"So fucking tell me, woman!"
"You should know by now that your intimidation tactic doesn't work on me," you told him dryly.
"You really are my woman," he says proudly, almost love-struck, but you weren't about to buy it.
"Let me go."
"And if I don't?"
"You wouldn't like what I will do, Toji."
"Oh, is that so?" Toji wasn't a patient man, but he always took his time with you, and that trait of his was proven to you for the first time when, in the next moment, you found yourself upside down after he hauled you onto his shoulder and easily carried you to the bed.
Before you knew it, you were on the mattress, but upon realizing what he was about to do, you started beating him on the chest with your fists, tears spilling out of your eyes. It was futile, you knew that, but you still wanted to get away from him. He easily pinned your hands down, silencing your protests with his lips as he took possession of yours. And just like that, you were docile as a kitten under his mercy and the heat of his touch.
"Do you still wanna leave me?" You just glared at him, your lack of response making him grit his teeth and tear the dress you were wearing off of you.
"Toji, what the – mmph!"
Again, he swallowed your words, his hands roaming over your now naked body. He pulled back only to say, "I'm giving you a chance to talk now, darling. Don't waste it." He then started kissing your neck, going lower and lower, the sounds he was making distracting you. "I'm listening, Y/N. And don't give me another bullshit excuse."
Your misery mingled with the carnal pleasure he was pulling out of you, coming in rivulets of tears as you half-sobbed, half-moaned at the way he was touching everything his hands could reach while he ground his crotch against yours.
"Toji, please stop," you pleaded, and he did, flashing you a pained look. For the first time, it seems that he was showing you the real person behind all the facade, the version of Fushiguro Toji exclusively reserved for Megumi.
He sat on his haunches, looking down at your vulnerable form as you covered your face with your arms and continued to sob. "I-I'm sorry..."
"No. I'm sorry," you answered between deep draws of breath. You weren't crying because of what he was doing. It was more for the fact that you were hurting him as much as your arrangement was hurting you. "But what the hell can I do?"
He hovered over you, prying your hands away from your face as gently as he could and peppering your face with kisses. "What is it, darling? Come on, tell me."
"I broke our agreement..." You looked away from him.
He eyed you quizzically. "And how did you do that?"
"By falling in love with you." You finally met his gaze. "I know you said our liaisons will not go beyond just what we really are to each other, but I couldn't help it. I care for you and Megumi, so much so that I want to be a genuine part of your lives. And it's not my place to ask, so I'm sorry."
To your surprise, he laughed, like really laughed, and you haven't felt so embarrassed in your life after pouring your heart out to him. You wanted the whole place to crumble into a pit and take you with it.
When he was calm enough, he said, "Fucking finally!"
"What?"
He sighed, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "Do you know how long I've waited for you to say that to me?"
You paled but at the same time, you felt your face getting hot, realizing what he meant. "You knew?"
"From the moment it happened, yes. You think you can just walk out on me like that?" He shook his head. "Don't act like you don't know me at all."
"Y-you –" You didn't know what to say, getting up halfway only to be met with a scorching kiss that left you breathless.
Toji undid his pants, letting his cock spring free, and then lifted you onto his lap, holding you close. "I knew you were made for me the moment Megumi's eyes lit up the first time he asked if you were gonna be his new mommy."
"He did?" you asked in muffled tones against the crook of his neck.
"So what do you say? 'Cause I was dying to say yes." He kissed your temple, and underneath, you could feel him preparing to align himself with you.
You pulled away, holding his head between your hands as you looked at him in disbelief. "You were?"
He rolled his eyes. He really wasn't good at this. "Yes, darling. Now, are you still gonna leave me? Us?"
You pouted. "You're not just using Megumi to make me stay, right?" You gasped when he nudged your entrance, knowing he's got you in the bag. "I won't even let you near my son if I didn't want you as much as I do. But I got the best wingman, no?"
You just stared at him in disbelief but he prompted you by thrusting upward and breaking you away from your reverie, a high-pitched moan ripping out of your throat.
"Come on, Y/N. Decide so I can love you as much as you want me to." He grinned deviously at you. "Not that I plan to do otherwise if you decide to go."
"And if I go anyway?"
He smirked. "I don't know, love. I'm yakuza after all."
"Is that a threat?!" You smacked him on the chest, earning you a chuckle and a kiss to your forehead. "Yes. Can I love you now?" he asked and you swore he looked just like Megumi when he would beg you for goodies. So, how can you say no to that?
~*~
GOJO
"Where have you been?"
The silence you expected to arrive to at the penthouse was broken the moment you walked by the vast living room. You almost dropped the red heels you held when you heard that familiar voice echo through the room, quiet yet deadly.
You visibly froze before turning around to see the owner of the voice. He looked upset, those usually bright orbs of aquamarine having turned into cold, hard gems as they regarded you. The darkness of the room that surrounded him like a miasma didn't help in quelling the tension in the room. If there was one thing Gojo Satoru hated, it's when he is disobeyed, and you flouting his orders and going out to party wasn't an exception. Sure, he doted on you and always showered you with gifts and affection, but being part of his world meant you needed to follow strict rules in exchange for the lavish life he provided for you.
You knew you should not have gone anywhere apart from your university and the place you called home. You knew you should not have given his men trouble by thinking you were at home after you snuck out, but you thought, why not? Gojo wasn't supposed to be back until the following day anyway, "Negotiations," he called them. You didn't want to feel alone in such an empty space, which was becoming more frequent as of late. You understood where he was coming from, but at the same time, you refused to and you wanted to act out.
Choosing to aggravate his foul mood further, you shrugged and attempted to walk past without saying anything, but you effectively stopped when he said, "Stop right there. We're not done talking."
Veering to look at him with the coldest expression you could muster, you retorted, "I went out with my friends. What's the big deal?"
He stood up from his seat, evidently pissed off at your attitude. "I thought I told you. It's dangerous, Y/N. I'm just trying to protect you. What if something happened to you?"
"They're your enemies, Satoru, not mine."
"It doesn't change the fact that they will hurt you if they can!" He had such a menacing look on his face when he was angry which you thought never belonged with those easy smiles and generally perfect visage of his. Someone so beautiful being shrouded in darkness was a violation to nature, and Gojo was just so.
"Well then, maybe I shouldn't have gotten together with you!" you shouted back, throwing your expensive shoes on the floor, imagining it was an extension of him you wished to hurt. "I could be in danger; I understand that. I'm not stupid, but I never cared for any of that as long as I have you, but you're never there! Why should I stay put when you tell me to?"
Gojo was evidently taken aback at your outburst, not believing that this was the welcome he gets after being away. At the same time, he felt guilty and deserving of your harsh treatment of him, feeling his heart sinking at your words. "You'll be safer that way," was all he could say.
You smirked at him, shaking your head. "And lonely. You forgot lonely." You shrugged, walking away from him. "I'm tired."
Having ended up in the bathroom where you found solace from Gojo, you leaned your arms and propped your chin on the rim of the huge tub, staring at the city lights through the glass walls. It seemed like a good idea to get tangled up with an older male who wanted to take care of you at your darkest moments, having been fired from your job and thrown out of your apartment which made you resort to sleeping in your car.
That's how you met in the first place, making the mistake of parking around the outskirts of the city, hugging a can of pepper spray in your sleep when Gojo and his men decided to make an exchange at the empty parking lot of the warehouse nearby. Safe to say, it went awry when men started to pull out guns.
He took you home after his right-hand man spotted you in the car when your phone lit up at the wrong time. At first, he was suspicious of you, thinking you were an asset for an enemy clan. You were probably traumatized or in utter shock when your first reaction to him after seeing him break someone's neck a few yards from your car was to tell him he was beautiful while also shivering at the thought of how easily those gloved hands could murder you.
Gojo had been straightforward from the get-go, never hiding his intentions the moment he thumbed at your chin, forcing you to behold his beauty in all its glory which was just a bonus with how gentle, kind and caring he was towards you. And you clung to the dark angel who offered you a comfortable life away from the dangers of the streets, even offering to pay for your studies when he found out just how well you did in them. It seemed you were embroiled in more danger than you anticipated, however.
To say that you didn't know what kind of life you have entangled yourself in would be a lie. You knew just what kind of person Gojo Satoru is, his pretty hands and his very name stained in blood. The tattoos that adorned his beautiful alabaster skin were a dead ringer of just what kind of clan he belonged to, and it didn't help that he was surrounded by ruffians like a lone rose in a sea of thorns all the time.
They called him The Prince, even his enemies, and what a fitting name, at least to you with whom he showed his better side and true self underneath the emotionally constipated yakuza overlord that he is. But that was the very thing that broke your heart.
You had an agreement. Blatantly put, you are his pet, and he is your owner who poured money on trinkets he thought would make you happy in exchange for favors. That's it. You give him your body, and you get to have him for all those moments he is available. You wouldn't deny that it was an economically good proposition and beggars probably can never be choosers as was the case for you, but you never anticipated just what a lonely existence it would be on top of it being dangerous when you were deemed his weakness.
What a laugh. You weren't his weakness, not even remotely close. It was all for naught when your life is being put in line because of stupid assumptions his enemies resorted to. You will die if you don't toe the line according to Gojo's standards, and for what? They'd probably think they hurt him, but really, they're just giving him an excuse to go on a rampage, which will be for reasons vastly different from their thoughts.
But more than anything, the most significant matter at stake was your heart, if not your sanity. Letting that information out during your outburst was a faux pas on your part, and you emotionally prepared yourself to leave the kind of life Gojo granted you in the first place. You've fallen for him, and that wasn't a good thing when he made it clear just what purpose you served for him.
The sound of water droplets from the faucet was suddenly interrupted by the glass doors sliding open to accommodate Gojo, who had already changed into a fluffy, white robe, shedding it off as he approached you. You didn't acknowledge his presence and merely watched his reflection through the wall. That didn't deter him from coming into the bathtub behind you and pulling you close.
"Would you please look at me, sweetheart?" he asked, his melodious voice making every fiber of your being tense. He wrapped an arm around you, his breath ghosting over your nape. "Did I make you that upset while I was away? I'm sorry, my pet."
His apology always came with a catch. You didn't have to enumerate them when you're only supposed to understand.
"Still mad at me? What does my Y/N want, hmm?" Gojo started placing kisses on your shoulder, moving upwards to your neck, but before it could cloud your judgment, you moved forward, gently taking his arm off of you, much to his dissatisfaction. He sighed, letting you have your space. "What's the problem?"
You hugged your knees to yourself, feeling the coldness of the air when you lost contact with him. "It's not something you could fix by kissing me." As if on cue, you absently scooped some soapy water and rubbed it over the areas he touched.
Being the brat used to having his way, Gojo scoffed. "Are you literally washing away my kisses?" It's just like him to ask about the trivial things when he feels like it. He reached out to touch you when you didn't answer but stopped when you flinched. He immediately turned serious, the air around you becoming charged with tension. "Y/N, will you please tell me what's bothering you?"
"You are."
"What?"
You leaned your forehead on your knees, feeling vulnerable to the whole world as you calmed your inner turmoil and tried to put in words how you felt, how things would end by your hand before he casts you away.
"I breached our contract."
Silence followed your words, and those mere seconds of pause felt like an eternity as you feared the worst. But then he said, "Will you elaborate on that?"
You lifted your head, throwing it back as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. "I know I don't have any right to be demanding things from you, least of all hold it against you when I miss you in your absence."
"You miss me?"
"But I have no control over how I started feeling the way I do, becoming more pronounced whenever you're not with me. We had an agreement, I know that, but because I broke it, I guess I'll have to take it upon myself to end this."
"End what?" He straightened up, his blue eyes filling with dread. "What – what are you talking about?" He sounded angry this time but like that of an animal cornered as opposed to being the hunter.
You looked at him from over your shoulder. "I'm leaving you, Satoru."
A mix of emotions started to take shape with every nuance in his expression, as if he could not make up his mind about how he would feel about what you just said. For a split second, he looked at you as if you had obliterated his whole being, but then he calmed down, massaging the point between his blue eyes.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore. I know my role, and I should just walk away before it gets out of hand."
"What role?"
You laughed without humor. "I am, in essence, just your sugar baby, Satoru. You give me things that you see fit. I don't get to demand anything from you."
"Is that how you see yourself?" His tone was scathing but calming at the same time. It makes things easier for you.
"Let's not pretend anymore, okay?"
"So what exactly are you telling me?"
"Do I have to spell everything out for you?" you asked in exasperation, your tears finally dripping from your eyes.
He let up on the harsh expression on his face upon seeing them. "Y/N, baby, don't cry. Please. I just need you to explain. I deserve at least that when you're telling me you want to –"
"I love you, Satoru." You smiled at him through your tears, the most sincere one you gave his way since you realized how you felt.
"You do?"
"I don't regret it regardless of the consequences."
"Y/N, I'm confused."
You didn't address that. Gojo was probably one of the most brilliant people you knew, but it was always easy to feign ignorance, regardless of that. Without addressing it, you motioned to get out of the tub, wondering where you'll start with packing, but then almost everything you owned was technically Gojo's. It would be easy, you thought.
"Anyway, you know now. I should go."
Gojo wasn't having any of it. He stopped you, pulling you towards him. "You just told me you love me, and you're leaving me behind?"
You blinked. "Am I...not supposed to?"
Gojo smirked at you. "What makes you think you can just walk away now that I know?"
You sank into the water, creating splashes in your wake. You didn't know how to feel about that. It was a choice between succumbing to that false sense of security you learned to accept during the three years you've been with him or relief over the possibility that he reciprocated your feelings. However, before you could even decide, Gojo chose to addle your brain by leaning in and taking possession of your lips, giving you no choice but to melt and submit to his touches.
It was passionate as usual, setting every ounce of your existence aflame while his hands roamed around every inch of your skin, marking his territory. You appreciated that about him, not holding back and giving you what you wanted without inhibitions, but you've always accepted that what you wanted the most, he could never ever give. You've resigned yourself to that fact, and yet, whenever he touches you, you are convinced otherwise because his actions always contrast his words. You hated how hope started to grow in your chest, and although he quickly turned you on, you fought against it and pulled away from him.
"N-no. Stop."
"Why?" He looked at you, kiss-drunk and dazed.
"I can't do this anymore. I'm not going to force you to be beholden to me." You inched backward. "Just let me go."
Gojo clucked his tongue, sighing profoundly and covering his face with his hands in utter frustration. "What have I done?"
You shook your head. "It's not your fault."
"No..."
It was your turn to reach out to him, forcing his hands off of his face as you kneeled before him. "Satoru, you can hardly be blamed for how I feel. It's okay. I am not mad at you."
"Yeah, but I sure as hell am mad at myself." He let you take his hands but immediately reversed roles and held your hand in his. "Oh, Y/N. My sweet, sweet Y/N." His broad shoulders drooped down. "It's my fault why you're doing this right now for making you feel like you had to toe boundaries with me where your emotions are concerned."
"We signed a contract..."
He lifted his hand to tenderly graze your cheek, his icy blue eyes showing that misplaced warmth you've become familiar with even when he made someone beg for mercy. Gojo Satoru always shone brilliantly amid the darkness that surrounded him. You gravitated towards that light no matter how twisted it was.
"This is my doing."
"No –"
"But it's true." He smiled sadly at you. "I know what I am, and I am so deep in it that nothing could right the wrongs I've done. That contract was supposed to be a shield for you against me, Y/N, not the other way around."
"What?" Now you're confused.
"The moment you called me beautiful despite seeing what you did all those years ago, I knew I had to have you with me to have someone to see past the fear I instill in anyone who crosses paths with me." He shrugged. "I didn't want you to feel like you had to feel for me, nor did I want you to feel responsible for anything that involves me. I'm not so cruel that I'll subject you to that, but it's too late, no? I put you in danger, and you don't owe it to me that I am protecting you or giving you everything I thought you would want while keeping a safe distance. Turns out I've hurt you more."
You were taken aback, to say the least.
"But I do care for you more than I can admit or fathom." He beamed disarmingly as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I am in too deep, and maybe I should just accept that I do love you."
"Satoru..."
"I love you, Y/N. Words are cheap, and it may be too late, but I really do." He placed his head on your shoulder as he embraced you, holding you tight, skin on skin. "But if you want to leave, I will let you. I will not be selfish and ask you to stay with me. I want you to do whatever you think is best for you without thinking of me."
Laughter wanted to escape from your throat, not because of mirth but from relief. But with that came the realization that you weren't free anymore, not where Gojo was concerned. He's setting you free, but the lock to your prison wasn't his to hold in the first place. You held yourself captive to him in the first place, locked yourself in, and threw the key away. Knowing he reciprocated your affection towards him just sealed you in a reinforced vault, dunked into the deepest trenches of the ocean that was his warmth. How the hell were you supposed to leave him now when you mistakenly thought you were grasping at straws when he was shackled to you all along?
Shrugging, you wrapped your arms around him, shaking your head at your foolishness. At this point, saying you didn't know what you were getting yourself into is a big, fat lie, and it was probably one you will never make the mistake of doing anyway, unable to deny yourself of what you wanted...what you needed.
"You really are a piece of work," you muttered.
"What did I do?" he whined like a child. In such moments, you almost always forget he was shy of a year to a decade older than you.
You chuckled, returning his words to him. "What makes you think you can just walk away now that I know?"
Gojo's head snapped up, now wearing a cheeky grin as he regarded you, his hands climbing up the back of your thighs before cupping your bare ass. "Is that so? I'm letting you do what you want, Y/N."
You scoffed. He's back to his usual self, toying with you, but you see the subtle difference in how he deals with you. "I am doing what I want right now."
"Going once..."
You relaxed in his hold.
"Twice?"
"No."
His expression turned dark, eyes hazy with lust as he drew you closer, making you sit directly on his half-hard cock. "You can't complain after this, you are aware, my love?"
Ah, the sound of that endearment rolling out of his tongue was music to your ears. Winding your arms around his neck, you leaned forward and ground your hips against his, relishing the soft groan that escaped his lips at the pressure. "Where do I sign?"
He pointed at his lips. "It's a lifetime agreement, mind you."
You wasted no time sealing your new pact, crashing your lips against his, a kiss that was sloppy at best, excitement and a mix of love and lust heavy on your tongue as you sought his, reveling in the taste of him which felt like the first time. Gojo was almost always dominant, but he didn't seem to mind that you were taking the lead this time, asserting your claim over him, unable to resist now that you've both gotten what you wanted from each other.
"Lucky for you, I don't want out."
~*~
I had fun with these. Wonder if I should do Geto, Sukuna and Choso as well... A little treat to quell the time I'm taking off of writing my ongoing Gojo smau cause I lost all my fucking files. Yay, me!
© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20231019]
PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x you#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#toji x you#toji x reader#toji x y/n#nanami x you#nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#gojo smut#nanami smut#toji smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen headcanons
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— ✧ crazy stupid love
pairing. kwon soonyoung x reader
description. your best friend, turned fuck buddy, seems a little too upset about your latest instagram post ...
tags. smut (18+), fwb to lovers, some angst, fluff, confessions, mean dom → switch hoshi, jealousy, arguments (dw there is resolution), angry sex, biting, dacryphilia, degrading (+ discussion of degradation), use of safeword, slightly inspired by crazy stupid love
w/c. 3.6k
a/n. happy birthday hoshi! ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 months but i figured i should wrap it up and post it today :3
"who's this?" soonyoung asks, holding his phone up to your face. on the screen is a picture that you posted on your story last night, your friend with an arm around your shoulder.
"huh, that's dongwoo," you say, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows. the back of your head is leaning against his shoulder as your legs are propped up on the other end of the sofa. soonyoung came over to watch the harry potter marathon with you a few hours ago, but with the showing break going on right now, you're both taking some time to catch up on your phones.
"who's that?" soonyoung says flatly, not looking at your face as he pulls his phone back, squinting at the photo. his gaze feels oddly scrutinizing, but you don't say anything about it just yet.
sitting up from your position, soonyoung frowns as you lift yourself off of him to sit across from him on the couch. "you don't remember dongwoo? he went to high school with us?" soonyoung gives you a blank stare. "jeong dongwoo? doesn't the name ring a bell?"
the name does ring a bell, but soonyoung only shrugs and replies, "uh, no i can't say it does."
"no way! we had chem with him! he was really nice and good at labs too," you go on, reminiscing about your memories from your teen years.
"that's weird, i don't remember him." that's a lie—soonyoung definitely remembers dongwoo, but he doesn't remember him ever being as smitten with you as he looks on your post.
"well whatever," you brush off, leaning back onto soonyoung's arm. "he was in town and dmed me asking if i wanted to catch up over dinner."
"a date?" soonyoung asks shamelessly.
you scoff. "no. not a date. just two friends meeting up for dinner."
"a guy and a girl don't meet up for dinner and not call it a date," your friend argues, and then you lift yourself off of him again. soonyoung is slightly annoyed you aren't curled up by his side anymore, but he's even more annoyed by dongwoo's stupid smile on his stupid face with his stupid arm around you.
"what are you talking about? we go out for dinner all the time! those aren't dates," you tell him as a matter of factly, frowning slightly as you do.
"yeah," soonyoung murmurs with a humorless laugh. "and we usually fuck afterwards, so our case is obviously different."
heat courses through your body as the words leave his lips. it's not like he's wrong, but the shamelessness of it all is a little more than you're used to. you're used to the deafening silence and the unspoken words that fill the gaps every time soonyoung leaves you breathless, every time he leaves your brain empty, every time he fucks you.
after he says that, there's that thick, ugly silence wedging itself between you and soonyoung again. you don't like it, not one bit.
"whatever," you finally huff out, not sure if you should lay back down on him or continue sitting up, sensing that soonyoung might want to make a bigger deal out of this than is good for him. "it wasn't a date, i don't know what else to tell you."
neither of you know why you're trying to convince him of this. it shouldn't matter if it was a date or if it wasn't, if dongwoo had an arm around your shoulder, if his touch lingered more, fingers ghosting down your body, up your thigh—
that's what soonyoung tries to tell himself—that it doesn't matter, that none of it matters, that you don't matter to him—at least not like that. too bad he can't control himself. soonyoung can never control himself when it comes to you, and he's starting to wonder if that's a blessing or a curse.
he scoffs, "you're being a real brat right now."
your eyes narrow at him and while this would usually put you in one of those moods—the mood where you want to yank your pants off, have soonyoung's hand in your panties—you're slightly annoyed right now. "what's that supposed to mean?" you ask accusingly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.
it's a thoughtless gesture but your tits bunch up together and the curve peeks over the collar of your loose shirt. soonyoung stares for a moment and then thinks about if dongwoo looked at you like this. like he wanted to grab your tits, tweak your pretty nipples between his fingers, drink in your moans while he licks into your mouth.
the thought has red flashing through his vision and before you can even think, there's a pair of hot, wet lips on yours and soonyoung is kissing you like he'll die if he doesn't. teeth gnashing against each other as one of his hands wraps around your torso, the other goes up to grab one of your tits, massaging the flesh with his palm.
yeah, you said you were annoyed, but yeah soonyoung is a great kisser and your mind is throttling, going back and forth as you try to decide if you should give in or attempt to hold your own. "soonyoung," you pant as you break away to take a breath, but his lips are on yours again too quickly for you to form a reply.
you find your resolve running thin as you thread your finger into his hair, bringing his face closer as he shifts on the couch above you, knees on either side of you, caging you in. his mouth his pressing kisses to the side of your lips now, peppering your cheeks, and then he's on your neck.
your lips aren't occupied but any words of protest have effectively died in your throat as you squirm under soonyoung when he sinks his teeth into your skin, whining out his name. your hips buck into his for some much needed tension and you can feel soonyoung chuckled against your skin as he licks over the reddening mark.
you feel dizzy when he pulls away and admires the way he's quite literally marked his territory on you. scoffing out loud, soonyoung gives you mean look. "wonder what dongwoo will think about this ..." your mind races at the words—what soonyoung means by that is still a bit of a mystery to you, but the fact that he's so hell bent on keeping you to himself is ... it's turning you on like crazy.
and soonyoung doesn't stop there as he pulls off his shirt and you try to shimmy out of your pants. "what'll he think, huh? his cute little crush ..." he murmurs, looking down at you after your pants are off and thrown to the side, leaving you in just your soiled panties. "his dream high school sweetheart with her legs open, pussy dripping, for a guy who isn't even her fuckin' boyfriend ... like a fuckin' slut."
you gasp when he brings up a thumb to toy with your clit through the fabric, hips jerking up at the contact. "w-what are you—" you're cut off by your own moan when soonyoung pushes the cloth to the side, slipping one finger into your aching cunt without warning. you really want to ask soonyoung what he means by all this, but it just feels so good—too good, and you can't help it at all—your body seems to always give into him.
his finger is already hitting that one spot that he knows has you seeing stars, and your jaw goes slack at how quickly the pleasure is all hitting you. usually, soonyoung likes to work you up to it; starts by playing with your clit for a few hot minutes 'til you're begging for just some fingers inside and then he toys with you for another good while before he finally gives you his cock and fucks you dumb. something tells you today is a bit different.
today is very different, but you have a strong feeling that you won't mind. because all it takes is a few more quick flicks of his wrist and you're crying out his name, saying, "'m gonna cum—soon-soonyoung, 'm cumming!"
you thrash around on the cushions as your orgasm hits you, and soonyoung buries his head into your neck and biting down even harder than before. the slight sting has your senses heightening and your cunt throbs around his fat fingers as he fucks you through the high, not relenting until your neck is littered with hot red marks and you're quivering beneath him.
a content sigh escapes your lips when he slips out of you, allowing yourself a moment to breathe as you start to sit up when soonyoung narrows his eyes at you, unbuckling his jeans in the process.
"don't move," he warns and although you furrow your brows, you comply nonetheless, letting your head fall back against the couch as you watch him shove down his pants and boxers in one go. soonyoung's fat length springs out, hitting against his abdomen as he shuffles his way in between your legs.
pressing his lips together, he asks, "color?" and when the word green is slipping softly from his mouth, he finds it hard to hold back. "fuck, how are you this needy already," he groans when he catches the look on your face—your bottom lip jutted out as you look up at him with shining eyes.
soonyoung grabs your cheek with one hand roughly, shoving a thumb into your mouth as he positions his cock between your folds. you're quick to wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking hard and swirling your tongue in hopes that it'll egg him on to just stick it in already, but instead he just slides his length up and down your folds.
you pout around his thumb but don't stop sucking, letting the drool run down your chin as tears well up in your waterline, and soonyoung chuckles at the look. "go on baby, go on. know you want it," he coos mockingly, continuing to cover his length in your slick but not actually giving you what you want.
"soonyoungie," you whimper when you can't take it anymore, trying to lift your hips yourself so he'll get the message but then he's pressing down on your stomach and holding you in your place.
"be patient slut," he demands, and your eyes press closed when he does, walls clenching around nothing as the word slips from his mouth. "you just came—are you really that insatiable?"
you nod dumbly as he slips his thumb out of your mouth, using the same, wet hand to tightly squish your cheeks together. soonyoung thinks you look so cute like this—puffy lips and lashes thick with tears—and he doesn't give you even a moment's warning when he snaps his cock inside of you in one go.
his balls are pressed against your ass, and soonyoung holds himself there for just a moment before he's pulling back and thrusting back into you. "god fuck—perfect pussy," he groans, thrust after thrust as you throttle against the couch with the increasing force.
you can feel your ass and thighs burn from the way his skin slaps against yours every single time, the sensation only adding fuel to the fire as you cry out his name.
"bet dongwoo thought about this," soonyoung moans as he starts jamming his cock into you less methodically and more sloppy, more hard, more fierce. "thought 'bout having you moaning his name like the pretty whore you are."
you try to mewl something along the lines of, "we're just friends," but it comes out as nothing but a high pitched moan as your second orgasm creeps up on you.
and it's fucking mind-numbing, and you don't think you've ever cum so hard and so fast but soonyoung is grinning down at you as you arch your back and squeeze around his cock so tight it almost pushes him off the edge but no—he's determined to keep going until you can't take it anymore.
"keep goin' baby, i know you can take it." he hardly gives you a second to rest, thrusts slowing only for a few moments as he watches you cream his cock before letting his hands roam all over you.
in your overstimulated haze, you hardly realize when soonyoung flips you over, cock still buried deep inside your hot cunt as you try to stabilize yourself on your knees. his hand is on the back of your neck, pressing your face into the cushions so hard it muffles your moans as his cock batters your buzzing pussy.
he's ramming into you so hard now and all you can feel is white hot pleasure ripping through your body, soonyoung whispering about how you're his filthy little slut, taking everything he's giving you. gripping onto the side of the couch, you try to hold yourself together, you really, really do, but it's too much all at the same time and the word slips from your lips before you even have to think about using it.
"r-red." it's so quiet and hoarse the first time that you aren't even sure if he can hear you so you cry out again, "red, s-soonyoung, red."
it's all a haze when soonyoung slips out of you slowly, giving you both a few moment to adjust as you finally catch your breath over the hiccups of your soft whimpers.
now soonyoung likes seeing you cry, but not when it's like this. he likes seeing you whine and tear up when you're under him and writhing from pleasure, but what he doesn't like is the way your eyebrows are furrowed like this. 'cause when he looks at you now, he sobers up and the anger that fogged his mind just moments ago is clearing up.
"s-shit, i'm sorry," he says quickly as you curl up against the cushions, limbs still quivering from all the pleasure and stimulation. soonyoung wants to reach out, wants to touch you—hold you—and ask you what wen wrong, promise you that he didn't meant to go too far, promise you that he didn't even realize it, but he's not sure if he should.
because right now you won't meet his gaze and he's wondering if he's somehow royally fucked up what's likely the best thing he's got going on his life.
soonyoung's lost for a few moments before senses are snapping into him and he thinks he should get you some water, a towel—do anything except sit here dumbly like he is right now. but when he shuffles away from you and is about to step of the couch he feels a familiar touch around his wrist and he gapes down at you.
"wait," you mumble, finally looked up at him once the tears have stopped flowing. soonyoung stills for a moment, and he's not sure if he should take that as in invitation to move closer or just stay put, but then you're tugging him softly and he can't help but cave. "can y-you lay on top of me?" you ask timidly, and soonyoung gives you a weird look as if to ask, are you sure? "i, uh, i think it'd help me. please?"
that's all takes for him to drape his whole body over you, arms pressed against your side and hands stroke your shoulders. your bare chests are pressed against you and soonyoung swears your rapid heartbeats sync up on the spot as you breaths start to relax.
when all finally feels calm, soonyoung takes a moment to finally ask you the question that's been bothering him this whole time. lifting his head, he finds you looking right back at him. "are you okay? what went wrong?"
"i—yes, i'm okay."
"a-are you sure? you can tell me anything you know—i won't judge, i won't care—i mean obviously i'll care but you know what i mean and—" he starts to ramble, and your lips almost twitch up into a smile, "—and i'm sorry this isn't about me but i'm worried i did something and might have majorly fucked things up and—"
"soonyoung," you say, voice all breathy and light. "slow down, i'm okay."
"are you?" he asks, and his voice is so shaky you frown.
"yes, i promise. i'm, well, i think i just got overwhelmed. it was a lot and happened really quickly and it was a bit more intense than i'm used to," you admit. "not that i didn't like it ... i just wasn't expecting it."
soonyoung watches you carefully as you speak, sitting up and pulling you up in the process too. "i'm sorry—i didn't realize," he confesses.
"i was—" he inhales sharply wondering if he should admit his jealousy, "— a bit lost in my own head. i shouldn't have taken it out on you like that. do you want me to get you water?"
you nod and he stands up, heading to the kitchen to grab you a glass. when he sits back down, next to you, soonyoung is relieved when you curl up by his side, gulping down the drink before questioning him. "um, can i ask what you mean by, uh, lost in your head? wait actually—before you answer that—" you pause, "—do you really think i'm a slut?"
soonyoung's eyes widen. "no—fuck, god no. i just—you know, we usually—you know—degrade. if you don't like it i'll stop and—"
"no no, soonyoung, like, i meant outside of sex. do you think i was—i dunno—messing around with dongwoo?"
dongwoo? "no—i don't think you're a slut for that. shit, i'm sorry—i don't even know what the fuck got into me. i just—i don't even know. okay fuck. fuck. okay. i was jealous."
"of dongwoo? we didn't even fu—"
"i know. i know—it shouldn't even matter because we're not exclusively fucking or whatever but i got jealous okay? i don't know—i fucking love you so i saw him with his stupid hand around you and i wanted to punch him in the fuckin' face."
your eyes snap wide at that. "what? you—fuck—what?"
soonyoung hardly even realizes he's confessed until you're looking up at him with those wide eyes and he wonders how he's managed to dig himself deeper into this hole. shit, there's really no getting out of this now. he might as well crawl down further and sit there for the rest of his life and—
"i, uh—i didn't know you felt the same way."
"what? what do you mean the same way—"
"are you stupid, soonyoung?"
"um, kind of."
you laugh and kiss him hard for a second. suddenly you're pressing his shoulders and swinging a leg over his thighs so you can straddle his laps.
"wait hold on," he murmurs, but continues to wrap his arms around your waist as you lift your hips to align yourself over his still hard cock. "a-are you sure? are you okay?"
"yeah," you mutter, kissing him again as you wrap your arms around his neck. "can we take it a little easier from here though?"
soonyoung doesn't hesitate to say, "yes, of course—" but the last word gets cut off by a hitch of his breath when you sink down on him, the two of you moaning in unison at the feeling. his hands are gripping your waist and holding you down as he relaxes, leaning back into the seat as he casually says, "i am never calling you a slut again. or anything degrading for that matter." it's half a joke, half not, and you can tell he's still on edge.
"i like it," you admit as you adjust yourself on his lap, not really moving yet though. "just—i was a bit worried today. i thought you— i dunno. didn't know you liked me too and i didn't know what to think."
soonyoung furrows his brows but can't find the right words to say, so he kisses you instead, pulling you up so his cock drags out of halfway before gently letting you fall back down, tip hitting your walls slowly but deep.
"fuck," you moan into his mouth, holding his head closer to yours. absentmindedly, you lift your hips up again and then grind down methodically, causing both of you to break away from the kiss and look down at the sloppy wet mess where you connect.
and as you both get lost in the moment, fingers grappling at each other's burning skin, letting your bodies melt together, it dawns on you that you and soonyoung have fucked a countless amount of times but this is the first (of many) that you two have made love.
it's an entirely new experience, dreamy eyes and wet, passionate kisses with whispers of love confessions under your breaths and the smooth and damn good thrusts that slowly but surely bring you to the edge.
"feels so good," soonyoung moans, thrusting up into you gently to meet your bounces as you steady him with your arms around his shoulders.
"g'na cum, soonyoungie?" you try to coo, but it comes out as a whimper of your own as you feel that knot in your belly threaten to snap. and when he's nodding into your neck and sucking on the skin, you both fall apart in each other's arms.
cries and grunts mix together in a beautiful song and when you and soonyoung look at each other, sweating, flushed, teary eyed, and so fucking in love, you know that whatever happens with the two of you after this, it will work.
a/n. hope u enjoyed it!
tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji (strikethrough could not be tagged)
#hoshi scenarios#hoshi#hoshi imagines#hoshi x reader#hoshi smut#soonyoung scenarios#soonyoung imagines#soonyoung smut#soonyoung x reader#kwon soonyoung#svt smut#svt reactions#svt fanfic#svt scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#📝 writing
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yeah, you might want me to drop dead (but i don't even care)
summary: Atsumu x F!Reader. atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: he thinks you're hot when you're angry. you would categorize your relationship with atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane.
word count: 2k
cw: miya atsumu's degradation kink (it's still sfw he's just not subtle), suggestive at the end
a/n: another resurrected fic from the drafts. walk him like a dog, bitch, walk him like a dog
Miya Atsumu was a player known for his thirst for blood. Like his brother, who termed the all-consuming need to dominate their opponent hunger, he relished in complete fucking annihilation. He was hardly soft off the court, too: few of his peers could withstand his cutting humor, his teammates couldn’t understand how he hadn’t scared off his fan club, and he had crushed a few hearts beneath his heel in his time.
He’d met his match in the natural enemy of heartbreakers: his university’s resident maneater.
“Hey!” Atsumu calls your name, lengthening his stride to catch up to you. You grimace—he can barely see your side profile now, but oh, you’re slowing down so he can catch up. Unusually considerate.
Oh, no, there’s just a clog in the artery of the crowded hallway, halting your escape.
“Hi,” he sing-songs, stretching the word out several extra syllables.
“Good morning, Atsumu,” you say tightly, drawing up your shoulders so your arm won’t brush his bicep in the limited space. “I was hoping you’d died, since you weren’t in lecture this morning. Better yet, maybe someone buried you alive last night and you hadn’t dug your way out yet.”
“You went with the option that doesn’t kill me! You care,” he says happily, and takes a moment to bask in it. “I was actually at a volleyball game, you should come to one sometime, I’m pretty good at it—”
“I’d rather walk in traffic, ‘Tsumu,” you shoot him a wide smile that makes his knees feel weak and wobbly and shove your way straight through the crowd of people, leaving only an uncaring ‘Scuse me! in your wake.
A lot of people would categorize your relationship with Atsumu as complicated. Atsumu is not one of those people.
Atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: many moons ago, you and he had been in a few of the same classes and shared some mutual friends—mere acquaintances. He hadn’t known you very well. In fact, he’d thought you were cute, which he now knows you aren’t. A few minor catastrophes he wasn’t privy to later, you had come to verbal blows with some loser in the middle of the quad. You’d later found it rather embarrassing. Watching you eviscerate him, though, Atsumu had experienced a fear like never before. If he was bloodthirsty, you bathed in ichor.
He would always remember the look on your face as you dealt the final blow and turned away, walking with a straight back right toward him.
Atsumu, who had never seen anything quite like the look of controlled rage on your face as you took that man apart. Who wasn’t sure why the sound of you doing your damnedest to instigate a fight made him shiver despite being all too warm inside. Who was looking up at you from his seat like a puppy, desperate to see you don your war paint again.
You walked past him, because of course you did. You weren’t pulled by the same magnetic force he was, focused on him like he was suddenly fixated on you. You were barely acquainted with him and obviously going to your friends for moral support and ice cream and whatever it was people did after one of them basically tarred and feathered someone in the town square. He was merely a bystander along the path you strode.
Of course, the very action of totally ignoring his existence cinched it: he was hooked.
You would categorize your relationship with Atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane.
You’d tried to ignore him. He was persistent, though, and he just pushed and pushed and pushed until he crossed the line. It was exhausting.
Except that you kind of loved fighting with him.
You couldn’t help the adrenaline rush it gave you, the way he seemed to light a fire inside you no one else could and keep it burning hot. It was almost like a release to debate him, the way some people boxed or listened to heavy metal to destress. The feeling of victory never failed to put a sparkle in your eye and a cocky smirk on your lips; sometimes, you felt like he was stepping back and letting you win.
This continued in perfectly pleasant vicious and sometimes bloody antagonism for the course of forever until a few months ago, when Atsumu had begun the new and inimitable torture of flirting with you. It was horrible and it was weird and you had no idea what kind of mind game he was playing, but you certainly intended to find out.
Atsumu, for his part, had recently realized that he likes it when you smile so much more than when you scowl. He likes it when you flutter your lashes instead of staring flatly into his soul, hoping to yank it out and set it aflame. He likes it when you say nice things to him, which has only happened once, but was very nearly a second sexual awakening and thus monumental.
He does not like it when other men flirt with you.
“Your pencil is broken,” Osamu notes, glancing down at his brother’s clenched fist. “You’ll get splinters.”
“What? Oh,” says Atsumu distractedly. “Yeah, I’ll do it later.”
Your laugh rings across the library, the warm glow of a fireplace instead of the burning fires of hell you share with Atsumu. His grip slackens, and his twin takes the opportunity to prise the pulverized writing utensil out of his hand. This kindness goes unnoticed as the guy, that’s how Atsumu’s thinking the word in his mind, low and mocking, guy, says something to you that makes him instinctively kick Osamu in the shin.
“Ow! Douchebag!”
“Sorry, reflex,” Atsumu apologizes.
“Do you want to go with me?” Asks the dickhead you’re talking to.
“To ice cream? Sure,” you reply, and you don’t even sound like you’re being sarcastic. What the fuck? There’s a long pause while the jagoff scuffs his shoe against the floor, a red flush coming over his face while you stare slightly past him with your trademark stare. But your lips are slightly turned up.
The expression haunts Atsumu on his walk back. Your smile was so pretty, sweet and soft. You never smile at him except mockingly.
“At the risk of sounding like I care,” Suna says. “Are you okay?”
“If I killed someone, would you help me get rid of the body?” Atsumu says, staring straight ahead.
“No,” Osamu says, “he’s finding out about human emotions and he’s coping very badly.”
Atsumu is ignoring you. As quickly as his interest (his desire to piss you off) had flared up, it had disappeared seemingly overnight, which was fine for you. It was great! You had booted the most annoying man in the world out of your life and replaced him with a perfectly nice guy. Your life was coming up roses.
Except it was driving you insane. You had your phone out, held an inch below your desk, leaving the perfectly nice guy (what was his name? You hadn’t saved it in your contacts and you weren’t sure why) on read as you stared across the room at the faux-blond.
He was chattering to another boy who looked bemused and patient; probably another volleyball player. You were half-convinced this was part two of his ploy to get under your skin; he was playing the unpredictable game.
As you try to bore a hole in his brain with your eyes, you see him glance back at you for a second, just a second, and that’s it. You slam your palms down on the desk, shooting up from your seat, trying not to make eye contact when a few other students turn and look at you because of the noise. He still won’t look directly at you as you make your way to his seat.
“I just remembered I have to leave,” says Atsumu’s friend—Aran, not that you care what his friends are called—picking up his bag. “I have to go be anywhere else right now.”
“What,” Atsumu whines as he books it away from the two of you. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Yeah,” you snap, folding your arms in front of your chest. You’re not sure why you’re so angry, just at the look of his melting chocolate eyes and hunched shoulders and pouty lips. Ugh. He’s the worst. “You’re avoiding me. Why.” The question sounds more like a sentence or maybe a threat.
“I’m not doing that,” he defends weakly. “Maybe I just got tired of looking at your face.”
“My face is fucking precious, okay,” you argue, “you should want to look at it all the time. Idiot. What’s wrong with you?”
“I do—I mean, what? What’s wrong with you?” He returns, and there’s the familiar snap and sting that you like so much. “You don’t even like it when I talk to you—”
“I don’t!”
“So why are you mad now that I’m not?”
“Because—” You struggle for reasoning. You can’t find it. Something strange and huge is crawling its way up your throat.
“Because, uh, um,” he mocks you, and you almost sock him. “Make up your mind! I was trying to be nice to you, even though it’s fucking boring!”
“I don’t want you to be nice to me!” You shout, and then curl over, your face nearly in his lap as almost everyone else in the room turns to look at you. One of the library workers shushes you loudly. “It’s—you’re right, it is boring. Everything else is fucking boring. I like it when you bother me, ‘Tsumu, okay?”
“Okay,” Atsumu says, eyes widening, leaning away from you as you seem nearly on the verge of manic combustion in front of you. “Then—I’ll keep doing it?”
“Will you?” You sit up straight and look him squarely in the eye. He gulps, unsure what he’s being asked. Something is fluttering in his stomach, but he’s hesitant to trust it.
“Yeah,” he breathes, and it feels like so much more than a confession.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” you say, in the same deceptively soft tone. “Can I kiss you?”
“Not if I kiss you—” You grab his face before he can finish talking and smash your lips onto his, first hard and like you’re trying to bully your way into his mouth, then a little sweeter, a little more tender. “First?”
“I win,” you say smugly as he tries to remember how to breathe.
“Please leave,” says the librarian.
You live alone, which is amazing, because if Atsumu were to see his brother or teammates right now he might commit felony battery. In your apartment, which is full of trinkets Atsumu wants to examine but can’t because he’s very busy staring at you, you shove him onto the couch and sit on him. Sort of like you’re wrestling, but not at all.
“If we’re goin’ out,” he says, “we are going out, right?”
“Yes, ‘Tsumu,” you say, and your smile is as bright as the stars. He clears his throat and prays his voice doesn’t crack.
“Good. Uh, if we’re goin’ out, does that mean you have to start bein’ nice to me?”
“I’ll be nicer to you,” you promise.
“Oh.” His tone is almost disappointed.
“Or,” you lean down, and he almost chokes on his own inhale. “I can date you and be mean to you at the same time,” you say into his reddening ear, your breath hot and your smiling lips barely, just barely brushing his skin. Atsumu makes a squeaking noise that can barely be understood. “What was that?”
“Yes, please,” he says fervently.
You bite his earlobe teasingly, and he finds that really nice, actually. The nicest.
#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq!! x reader#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader fluff#haikyuu!! fluff#hq!! fluff#hq fluff#haikyuu fluff#miya atsumu x reader fluff
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https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/drudyslut/739556685075611648
Rafe dating pogue reader and she and her (maybe she still lived with her family too) are moving houses/apartments and she’s like “rafe will you help me/us move?” And he’s like “sure?” And after moving boxes and furniture all day he’s like “I’m never letting you move stuff again. I’ll just pay someone. This was too much work” and then one of the first things they do once she makes her bed with sheets and blankets is fuck...
he’s such a cutie, willing to help then later on saying “yeah fuck this next time i’m paying someone”
CW: smut! 18+ established relationship, rafe’s a lil sweetie but also whiny bc manual labor, unprotected sex, praise.
note: this has been in the drafts since January (LMAO) and idk if i even like it but here ya go. likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3
You’d been waiting on this day for so long. Finally getting to move out of your parent’s house, and live on your own. You wouldn’t lie and say you weren’t going to miss them, of course you were, but living on your own meant getting to do whatever, whenever. It also meant you could have your boyfriend over whenever you wanted without the fear of your parents coming home and interrupting whatever it was you and Rafe were doing.
Your parents weren’t too fond of the idea of you dating a Kook. The Kook prince at that. But they didn’t know Rafe like you did, no one did. Not even your friends understood your infatuation with the eldest Cameron child. But not even the snide remarks and insults your friends and family made about Rafe made you leave. You loved him. And he loved you.
You’re sitting on your bed, swinging your feet back and forth as your eyes scan the length of your childhood bedroom. Boxes are scattered all around the room, the walls bare from removing all of your pictures and posters. You finally had everything packed, and now, all you needed to do was get moved into your new apartment.
Pulling your phone from the back pocket of your shorts, you pull up Rafe’s contact, pressing call and placing the phone between your shoulder and face. It rings once. Twice. And finally, he answers.
“Hey baby, what’s up?”
You smile. “Hi, Rafe. I was wondering if you could come help me? I have all my shit packed, but no way to get it moved into my new apartment.”
There’s a long pause. His silence making you wonder why it’s taking him so long to make up his mind. You are his girlfriend after all, he should want to help you.
He finally speaks after a beat of silence. “Sure, princess. I’ll be over in thirty.”
Your smile widens. “Okay, I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too, princess.”
You hang up the phone, deciding you could use a quick snack before he arrives, and making your way into the kitchen.
-
Thirty minutes later you’re lying in your bed, scrolling through TikTok when you hear a knock on the front door. Smiling to yourself at Rafe’s arrival, you hop out of bed and make your way to the door and swing it open.
“Hi, princess.” Rafe says, the smile you love so much gracing his face.
You step into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Hi, handsome. Thank you for coming to help me.”
His hands grip at your hips, pushing you back so his blue eyes are on yours. His eyes scan the length of your face for a minute before he speaks. “Of course. I’d do anything for you, baby.”
You can’t contain the wide smile that spreads across your face, butterflies explode in your stomach at how sweet Rafe was with you. Letting out a content sigh, you grab his right hand and begin pulling him into the house and to your bedroom where all of your stuff was.
“Okay, so I really just need help with my bed, dresser, and desk. I can fit most everything else in my car, and your backseats…”
Rafe exhales deeply, his eyes slightly widened when he looks over the expanse of your room. He brings his left hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Fuck. I should have just hired someone to do this.” He says admittedly.
You frown. “Baby, if you don’t wanna help I can always call JJ and John-”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’m going to help you baby, you just have… A lot more than I remembered. I guess it looks like more while packed all up and not placed in its respective places throughout the room..”
You smile up at him. “Yeah I guess so. I really don’t have all that much..”
Rafe dips his head down toward yours, placing his lips on yours softly. “I love you. Let’s get you moved.”
You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “Oh, and never say you’ll call those fucking pogues to help you out again. As long as you have me, you have my help, and I don’t want you hanging around them more than you already do..”
-
Three hours, and many boxes and pieces of furniture later, you and Rafe had finally gotten all of your stuff moved into your new apartment. The two of you are laid in your bed, his right arm tucked under your waist while his left is draped over the top of your waist. His left hand rubs slowly up and down your side, his face buried in your neck as he whispers softly against your skin. “I love you, but never again. Next time you move, I’m hiring people to do that shit.”
You giggle, turning onto your side so you’re face to face with him. “I’m sorry, you didn’t have to help baby, but I’m happy you did.”
He tightens both of his arms around your waist and rolls onto his back, bringing your body with him so you’re laid on top of him. You place both of your palms on his chest, pushing yourself up so you’re straddling his hips.
His hands rest on your hips, his fingertips lightly scraping at the exposed skin of your sides, a trail of goosebumps rising. “Will you stop that?”
You frown. “Stop what?”
“Acting like I hate helping you. I don’t.”
Sighing, you say. “I know you don’t hate helping me, Rafe. But I know you didn’t enjoy that.”
He smirks. “I didn’t. But you know what I will enjoy?”
The feel of his cock hardening beneath you has you gasping. You playfully smack his chest. “Rafe Cameron. You’re such a horny bastard.”
His darkened over eyes find yours as his smirk widens. His fingers dig into your hips, pressing your clothed pussy into his now hard cock. “Only for you, princess.”
A squeal comes from your lips when he lifts his body, tossing your back onto the freshly made bed. He grabs at the hem of his black T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head and tossing it to your bedroom floor. Your hands fly to his defined abdomen, running your nails down the soft, yet hard skin.
“You wanna play, baby?” He asks, his voice is low and raspy, making arousal pool into your panties.
You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding your head as your eyes find his.
He smiles widely, quickly popping the button of your denim shorts before working the zipper and sliding the fabric down your legs. He moves to your shirt next, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor with his shirt and your shorts.
You’re left in nothing but a red, lace set. Rafe’s eyes take in your entire body, making you squirm underneath his stare. “Rafe.” You breathe out. “Please, touch me.”
He smiles widely, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties and sliding the lace fabric down your legs. His fingers dance across the skin of your lower belly, making a shiver run through your body and your breath hitch in your throat.
He runs his fingers down the expanse of your stomach and down to your inner thighs. His fingers brush across your aching clit and your hips buck upward. He begins sliding his fingers slowly through your wet folds, gathering your arousal on his fingers before he removes them and brings them to his lips. You watch in awe as he sucks on his index and middle fingers.
He hums in appreciation. “So wet, so sweet… And all mine.”
You watch as he quickly strips himself of his khaki shorts, leaving him in a pair of black boxers. Your right hand goes to palm his hard-on through his boxers, pulling a low groan from his throat.
“So fuckin’ needy, baby.”
He slides his boxers down his legs and his hard cock springs free, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. Your mouth waters at the sight of his long and thick cock.
Rafe firmly grips the base of his cock, stroking it softly before he lines himself with your entrance. He slides his swollen tip through your soaked folds and you whimper, hips bucking wildly with need for him to be inside you.
He slowly pushes the head in, pulling a soft moan from your lips. He grins, pushing more of himself inside your wet cunt. He groans when he finally pushes all the way inside, your warm inner walls clenching around him tightly. “Feels so fuckin’ good baby, fuck! I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy.”
You whine when he slowly pulls himself back. His right hand grabs at your left leg, lifting it and placing it over his shoulder, allowing him better access to thrust himself in side you. A sharp gasp falls from your lips when he slams himself back inside you, his head hitting that sweet spot inside you.
Finding a good, quick pace, Rafe slams himself in and out of your soaked pussy, the squelching sounds of your cunt and skin slapping skin bounce off the walls of your small bedroom.
You wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him further into your body as he continues his assault on you. “Ffffuck, Rafe! Please! Harder!” You cry out.
A low growl rumbles through his chest, his hips picking up in speed. He harshly slams in and out of you, hitting at your g-spot with each thrust.
“Fuck, baby! ‘M gonna fucking cum all inside this pussy, you want that? Want me to fill your greedy hole up with my cum?”
You whimper, chest rising and falling rapidly as a warmth spreads in your lower belly. Your pussy tightens around his cock, squeezing at him tightly as your release nears.
“Yes! I want all your cum, Rafe! Please!”
You shout out a string of curse words followed by his name, legs shaking uncontrollably as you come undone around him.
He harshly thrusts one more time, his dick twitching inside you as he comes undone right behind you, filling your pussy with his cum.
“Fuck! Such a good fucking girl. My fucking girl” He coos as he thrusts two more times, fucking his cum deep inside you.
He drops your left leg onto the mattress and collapses on top of you, his breathing uneven. He rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms tightly around your body and pulling you into him, leaving a kiss at the top of your head. “I love you, princess.”
You smile, your heavy eyes fluttering. “I love you too, Rafe.”
RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r
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#rafe cameron#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron request#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron brainrot#rafe smut#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader
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How do you rank the prosecutors on order of homophobia
forgot about this in my drafts for literally months oops. Anyway. Finished now!!!!
So I made this post a while ago that has some of the prosecutors and antagonists, but if you want a ranking of EVERY prosecutor (not including DGS bc i haven't finished yet) huzzah!!
Simon Blackquill: Not actually homophobic but he gets points docked for siccing Taka (known homophobe) at Klavier (known bisexual) for stealing his pretzels from the office pantry that one time. 3/10
Blaise Debeste: I think he's gay but he made me look at that ugly ass beard for far too long and I consider that disrespectful. out of principle? 8/10
Sebastian Debeste: Just look at him. 0/10
Miles Edgeworth: Bratworth was simultaneously gay, homophobic, and a misogynist, and eventually develops into a man who is only like 1.5 of those things. he's getting better. 5/10
Byrne Faraday: I don't really think he cares much about gay people he's busy being a single father and stealing shit. For the apathy? 2/10
Klavier Gavin: He's extremely gay and does a lot of work for the gay community but making Ema Skye deal with him is explicitly lesbophobic so 4/10
Godot: He has a lovely wife but whatever he was doing with Ron DeLite was probably not osha-compliant. I don't know what that means for his sexuality or stance on gay people and neither does he. ?/10
Ga'ran: I think she has a lot of other problems she should deal with first but considered she's bigoted to defense attorneys I don't think her being homophobic would be that out of pocket. Not sure I want to find out. 7/10
Neil Marshall: Have you ever been a gay bar? This guy would do NUMBERS. Also, real cowboys support gay rights. 0/10
Gaspen Payne: Being homophobic is actually why he got fired by the prosecutor's office and Winston is really fucking embarrassed about it. 10/10
Winston Payne: You'd think he'd be homophobic but you can't work for the Japanifornia Prosecutor's Office and hate gay people or you would actually go insane. He's like that one suburban guy who uses terms from the 60s but has the spirit. However, his ally lapel pin is really ugly so 3/10
Jaques Portman: He was calling Edgeworth slurs even before realizing he was gay. 9/10
Lana Skye: Dated Mia in college but refused to explain that to Ema because she has a lot of internalized homophobia and other weird issues of self. Repressed yuri personified. 1/10
Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: He supports gay people but gets all his talking points from the internet so even though he's supportive he's also incredibly fucking annoying about it and no one wants to invite him to brunch because of it. Stop using twitter for fact-checking you jackass. 2/10
Franziska Von Karma: Despite the fact that her lesbianism is so strong it borders on misandry, I think she has a lot of internalized homophobia so she spends the first 25 years of her life being a judgmental little shit. She'll get better dw about it. I believe she can bring that number down with time. 6/10
Manfred Von Karma: I think when he finds out Edgeworth is gay he starts going to gay bars and picking up dudes just to show Edgeworth he has way more rizz than him. Considering how people in my notes have told me on numerous occasions how much they want him carnally, I think he could actually pull it off. In that respect I think he's done a lot for the gay community. It ends up cancelling out somewhat because I think he'd be kind of an ass about it. 4/10
#ace attorney#simon blackquill#blaise debeste#sebastian debeste#franziska von karma#manfred von karma#nahyuta sadhmadhi#godot#garan#lana skye#winston payne#gaspen payne#neil marshall#miles edgeworth#byrne faraday#klavier gavin#jaques portsman#ask#mod vex#headcanons
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— WHY HIM?
SYNOPSIS: armed and ready at 4am, you approach your locked front door to confront the group of loud strangers trying to break into your apartment
PAIRING: fiancé!lsm x reader
GENRE: fluff, humor
TAGS: food mention, inebriated characters, post-bachelor party, brother!hvc
WC: 1.75k
MESSAGE FROM NU: hii long time no see :3 posting a dk oneshot to let you know i'm procrastinating on my final paper draft by drafting a hefty dk soulmate au i've been thinking about writing for a while. also dedicating this fic to @wongyuseokie the la to my ma
A perfectly peaceful Friday night goes to waste when you shoot up from your bed in a panicked state. It’s not the usual cat wanting to leave your room at five in the morning kind of scratching sound that lures you to open your bedroom door in a half-awake state. Instead, shuffling sounds out front and an insistent metal-to-metal sound, which you can only infer as someone trying to break into your apartment, cause you to become extremely vigilant.
Seokmin isn’t picking up his phone, but you keep his line ringing just in case he does. Doubtful that a pair of scissors can do as much damage to the head as a giant wok can, you head into the kitchen to pick up that giant carbon steel wok that you can never seem to fit into any of your kitchen drawers as a form of physical backup before you quietly approach your front door.
However, the fear that once overwhelms your body soon turns into a sigh of exasperation before you can even position yourself to look through the tiny peephole. You can clearly hear the familiar voices on the other side of the door and match each voice to its respective owner. Feeling relieved, you drop the wok on the cubby by the door and hang up the phone.
“Look, I opened it,” the man who was trying to open your door slurs with a dopey smile on his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s talking to anybody in particular. “I’m a fucking genius.”
Almost immediately after that statement, he falls forward and faceplants a couple centimeters away from your indoor slippers. Slumped to the side of his face is his hand that holds a small metal keychain between the thumb and index fingers. It’s a souvenir nameplate keychain from a family trip to another country a few years back whose design reads “Vernon” in all caps. You realize that the man near your feet didn’t even try opening the door with the key.
The actual owner of the set of keys lies on his left side while his entire body is propped against the bushes in front of your place. His legs are still surprisingly in a crisscross position, but you think it’s because his jeans restrict him from being able to unravel from the position. And when you see earbuds plugged up your brother’s nose while his mouth acts as some sort of impromptu speaker for whatever song he has playing through his earbuds, you consider the option of leaving him outside for the rest of the night. What’s even worse is that Joshua, although a little out of it, sits next to his younger friend and bobs his head to the music while lethargically reaching into his brown paper bag on his lap to grab some greasy fries. You think your brother is asleep, but you don’t know if him becoming a speaker happened pre-knocking out or post-knocking out.
“Do I want to ask why you guys are trying to break into my place at 4 a.m. in the morning or should I be concerned that only half of you guys are here?”
“Actually.” the man underneath you groans while he slowly gathers enough strength to sit upright. There is a nasty red mark on the side of his face that he doesn’t seem to know of and mind. “Saying ‘4 a.m. in the morning’ is redundant.” He points at nobody in particular with the same hand holding your brother’s set of keys and stares past your calves.
“Since you’re sober enough to be smart with me, I need your help dragging Vern and Shua into my place before the neighbors wake up and call neighborhood watch,” you gruff before stepping out of your house slippers into the sandals you keep near the door.
It turns out that there are more people scattered about the front of your place.
There is a car parallel parked against the sidewalk with what looks like two people in the car. Someone picks themself off the small grassy lawn on the other side of the bushes and trudges towards the car while pinching their temple.
Wonwoo nods at you when he passes by looking completely sober. Yet, for somebody who usually looks well-put-together, his hair is a mess while the top few buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned…no, missing. What remains are the threads that once attached the buttons to the dress shirt. You notice that he grips three different neckties in his hand but still his loose around his neck. Nevertheless, Wonwoo kicks off his dress shoes, steps over Jeonghan, enters your front door without saying a word, and knocks out on your sofa before his legs can make it onto the cushions.
You turn back to your brother. Joshua wipes his fingers on his pants before he squats on the other side of Vernon to help him up.
“Up,” you tell the both of them.
“I can’t breathe,” Vernon whines while allowing the both of you to help him stand. “My nose isn’t working.”
You sigh and yank the wired earbuds by their cords and out of his nostrils and let them drop before the older man helps his friend into your place. Bending down to grab the bag of fries that Joshua forgot, you see a disturbing amount of hair poking through the crevices of the leafy bush. Someone was dumb enough to black out in the bushes and you can’t tell who it is even after peering over the bush to look at the other half of the body.
“Jeonghan,” you hiss at the man who is trying to discreetly walk back to the car.
He looks back at you and mouths “what” while shrugging his shoulders.
You point at the head in the bush.
“It's Jihoon,” he snorts. He takes the paper bag from your hand and walks back to drop it in the wok that you put to the side before walking back to you. “I think he was supposed to give Vernon his keys but tripped and never got back up. Come to the car with me.”
“Why are you guys here?” you whispered. “I thought that you guys had the entire night planned out.”
“We had the entire night planned out. But then DK started crying and we had to end it early because he wouldn’t stop crying. And then all of us sobered up to try to help him but then it just worsened, so we drove here to get you to get him to stop crying. Some of us couldn’t deal with not being able to solve his problem and just started drinking again.”
“Is that why Jihoon is in the bushes?”
“Well, he never was the patient type,” he hums.
A quick look into the car immediately gets you to understand why someone like Jihoon would end up so drunk that he would dive headfirst into some bushes.
There are dozens of used tissues balled up and overflowing in the tiny hanging trashcan attached to the back of the passenger seat in Wonwoo’s car. There are a few in the laps of the two men sobbing next to each other in the backseats, and you make a mental note to help Wonwoo sanitize the inside of his car before he drives away in the afternoon. Seungcheol releases Seokmin’s seatbelt and looks at you with an apologetic smile on his face.
In all of the years you’ve come to know Seokmin, you have never seen his eyes this puffy.
“Sorry for showing up at your place unannounced. That must have scared you. There was a lot going on,” Seungcheol murmurs to you while giving you a quick hug. “We were making toasts to his future during the party until Vernon made a comment.”
“What did he say?” you asked him, shocked that your brother could even make a comment that would bring your fiancé to such a state.
“It wasn’t bad.” Seungcheol stepped aside from the open car door to let you squat next to your lover. “He just congratulated you on getting married but this dumbass took it the wrong way because he didn't mention Donkey Kong over here in the sentence and thinks you’re getting married to someone else.”
“Someone else!” Seokmin chokes out in a sob while slumped over on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Why him? Why not me?”
You grab a tissue from the tissue box on the center console and dab at your future husband’s face. The traces of his tears wet the thin paper, and you can feel the heat of his skin through the tissue. With the same hand, you push the bangs stuck to his forehead and his eyelids to the side. You don’t mind that he doesn’t seem to know that you’re there taking care of him.
“Aww baby,” you coo. “I’ll get married to you, don’t worry.”
The familiarity of your comfort seems to lure your fiancé to sleep. A little further from you, Soonyoung continues to sniffle while his eyes are closed. You turn to Seungcheol and Jeonghan with your mouth open and eyebrows scrunched together.
“He’s a drunk crier…” Jeonghan’s words doesn’t leave you guessing anything. “And also Minghao opened his mouth during the bachelor party.” He scratches the back of his head as a sign of stress and embarrassment before looking at Seungcheol and cocking his head at the two knocked out in the car.
Jeonghan has the easier job of coaxing Soonyoung awake to walk him into your place. Seungcheol, on the other hand, takes it upon himself to swing the entire weight of your limp boyfriend like a large sack of rice over his shoulder.
“Do you need me to help with anything?” you ask him.
You don’t know what time it is anymore. The sky is getting brighter, and the temperature is warming up. Your partner looks finally peaceful in his sleep.
“Nah.” Seungcheol softly brushes your request aside. “We’ve already caused enough trouble for you.”
“I feel like I should be the one apologizing,” you joke while trailing behind Seungcheol just in case he needed any help readjusting the body.
“You don’t have to apologize for him.” His words are sincere. “He loves you, you know. He cried his heart out just because he loves you. There’s nothing to apologize for. To be loved is to be cared for. Go back to bed, we’ll probably wake up around dinner time.”
“Do you think anybody grabbed Jihoon?”
#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#seokmin imagines#seokmin fluff#svthub#seokmin x reader#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#dk imagines#dk fluff#dk x reader#wondernus imagines
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🕯️♱🕯️~ 𝔦'𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔳𝔦𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫
GETO すぐる x fem reader
he's a cult leader. you're a virgin. and he's gotta "sacrifice" you. but not for the purpose of purifying something else... no, it's to purify you. 'cause you're a "filthy monkey", whatever that means...?
1.6k = 5 - 10 min. read
note : wellwellwell! first kinda spooky post for october. i hope i delivered. this is the very anticipated cult leader geto suguru post... but HAH!! there's actually... more in the drafts that i'm working on 😈💗 oh also... requests are open!! lmk if you want more cult leader geto or anything else :)
content : smut, cult leader Geto Suguru, virginity loss, collegeboy Sugu (but yk... he's secretly a cult leader lol)
warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact, cult themes, dripping hot wax on body (brief), sex on an altar, light corruption kink, some praise, slightly toxic dynamic, mean!Geto + soft!geto, dom!Geto, sub!reader, virginity loss, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, names (good girl, baby, angel), begging, playing with your breasts, +++
🎃 ~ more from jay : geto content // jjk content // library
hot wax drips onto your bare skin. there's symmetrically aligned candles dimly lighting around you in a circle, it's oddly symbolic of how geto suguru has entrapped you in this moment.
he'd laid you down on a stone-cold altar, right underneath a glowering statue, with an odd gentleness and carefulness; as if he were a lover laying his woman in bed.
how the hell did you get into this situation? being some cult leader's sacrificial virgin? that's some crazy shit. real fucked up shit. even more so because you consented to it.
he said;
"you know, baby, i could love you if you were ...pure.."
with a sensual, sadistic smile, mind you.
so you replied;
"i'll be your sacrificial virgin, so purify me."
with dumb, lovesick hearts in your eyes and a humorous tone of voice.
he loved how you could joke like that. maybe it was because you didn't wholly believe he was a cult leader.
after all, you'd known him as the heart throb mystery boy at college for a long time now. he used to eye you out, a beady eye staring at you with a bang curtaining it, with a fascination he thought was strange for him to have.
you were a monkey, after all, and why should you catch his eye? as if you were deserving of his love... you were filthy.
and he said;
"alright, i'll purify you."
with a deep voice. deep. very deep. it chilled you, with just how damn deep and erotic those words were. they teased a hidden meaning.
what meaning?
he just wanted to fuck your brains out. that was what he meant.
the ritual makes your stomach knotty. he smirks down at you.
he comments;
"you're shaking."
you let out a raspy moan as his cold hands trace up your forearm.
"you always secretly knew, didn't you?"
he looks you in the eyes, hand continuing to slowly caress your body.
you squeaked when he suddenly squeezed your breast. his eyes became lidded with infatuation at the sight and sensation of your plush flesh molding under his big manly hands
did he mean... that he knows you always knew he was a cult leader? no. damn his enigmatic words, you thought.
he continued;
"... you always knew that i wanted to touch you like this... and have your body all to myself. right?"
he's watching your body tense up with your growing arousal. it delights him. he's hovering over your body — then he's disrobing himself and letting his kimono sloppily slip off his shoulders not bothering to fully take it off. he wants you to see just a teasing strip of his toned physique, a glimpse of his muscular torso, a hint of his subtly curving dipping abs and...
he smirks;
"it's rude to stare."
"...sorry, suguru."
he clutches your jaw.
"what did you call me?"
he asks with a sweet tone that sends shivers down your spine.
"...i-i said i'm sorry, suguru."
"using my first name as if we're in college, huh? that won't do. that won't do at all, sweet baby. when we're in this sacred place of mine, you will refer to me as geto."
you're staying still, and that pleases him. but he knows when he slips his cock inside you, then you'll start squirming.
his hands squeeze and knead your breasts harder, rougher, he pinches and plays with your nipples and then lowers his lips on them to suckle and nip his teeth at the sensitive nub. he smirks when he feels your goosebumps on his warm lips.
one hand slides down your body, grazing your shivering skin so lightly that it makes you shiver even worse, and he dips a finger into your pussy's entrance.
he smirks and lowers his face to yours, noses touching, abyssal black eyes searing you.
he taunts;
"you're so wet... you really are a virgin, huh? i'll change that. now... angel baby... look at me... yes, look at me like that, cute little lamb expression i like that. let me hear you give me permission again. let me hear it."
and it's besides the obvious reason he's asking you for consent; he just wants to hear it from you. hear your voice say it. hear that permission come out of your mouth and no one else's. not ever.
"t-touch me, please, geto."
"mmm...?"
he hums to encourage you to say more. so you scramble your brain.
"...pleasure me, geto."
that makes his heart beat harder, makes his blood rush around his body at higher pressure.
"that's what i wanted to hear..."
he says before sliding his fingers past your entrance.
your ring of muscle contracts around him tight, but there's hardly resistance to his fingers entering you because you're dripping with juices.
he teases;
"so fucking wet... but i bet you'll still have difficulty taking my cock, huh? you're just a pretty tight little virgin, after all."
he's murmuring, lips hovering over your lips and just daring to kiss you. but he refrains. because you're still impure.
his fingers pump quick, hard. they hit your sweet spots, deep spots, gummy spots. he's mapping out your body with his hand, absorbing its reactions to his touch. he smiles when you moan for the first time. it sounds so purely erotic.
"enjoying this? need me to go faster, don't you? oh... beg for it."
"please! pleasepleaseplease! g-go faster..."
"not good enough. come on, you're not that innocent, are you?"
"i-i don't know what you want me to say..."
he hums in mock contemplation. then he orders;
"tell me you want me to fucking ruin you... corrupt you... can you be that dirty for me?"
"i-i-i — ahhh~ i want you to ruin me, geto. c-corrupt me."
you repeat back for him.
he can feel his pulse in his dick at your pathetic dirty talk.
"you want my cock, don't you? say it."
"i want your cock, geto!"
"yeah? you want me to fuck you good, right here on a fucking altar? say it, say it. be a slutty little virgin for me."
"i-i want you to fuck me right here, geto!"
he's fingering faster and faster each time you obediently speak back, the base of his palm rubs up against your clit and his big hand engulfs your tiny pussy.
"now that's a good fuckin' girl... obedient, just how i like."
he pulls his fingers out with a languid drag, making sure you miss the friction when it's gone. he looks at how his fingers are glistening with your juices as he brings them to his lips. and he begins sucking your slick right off his fingers, because he wants to. it's dirty. you're dirty. but his care slips for a second.
he takes himself so seriously, fulfilling the cult leader role to his best ability, but it's funny how when he sinks his cock inside you he becomes a typical sex-thirsted college boy for a moment. he groans. loses his composition. throws his head back, rolls it to the side. he feels your pussy choking his dick.
"fuck that's... good. don't squirm, baby, don't squirm... does it hurt?"
"a little bit..."
you whimper cutely, innocent eyes batting at him.
"i'm sorry... i'm a little big. don't worry. it'll feel better soon... just trust me. hold my hand. and trust me."
so you hold his hand — or more like he pins your hand in a romantic clutch. nasty squelching sounds come from the place you two connect, and a pungent scent of yours and his arousal wafts up. he inhales deeply.
you moan. and he speaks again.
"oh, there we go... now it feels good, doesn't it?"
you nod and close your thighs around him tightly.
"that's a good girl... just give into pleasure... let me purify you. isn't that what you want?"
you nod again, moaning.
"my girl's so good for me... you really are different, aren't you? i could tell ever since we first met... i'm so glad — you — ahhh fuck — you're letting me purify you. now we can be together forever after this. you won't be all filthy like those other monkeys anymore. my cock's gonna purify that lil' pussy... don't worry."
you've never heard him use the term monkey before, and by now you're too blissed out on his dick to notice its usage. your head's so full, there's just pure electric pleasure running through your body as he pounds into you.
"gonna cum? that's okay. cum all you need. moan all you need. let it out."
he purposefully angles his cock so that it beats into a better sweet spot, and he relishes in your reaction.
"there... cum, cum for me just like that."
he rubs at your clit, helping you cum. watching your body shake and freak out makes him let out a low chuckle.
feeling your contractions and pulsations around his cock brings him closer.
"fuck... 'm gonna cum."
and that's his idea of "purifying" you; cumming inside your tiny pussy.
so he lets out a long, chesty groan and cums deep inside, there's a primal shift in his demeanor when he orgasms and it just makes you cum again.
"oh... that's it... hah, look at you... you're glowing. you did so good for me, angel."
his voice is so saccharine, his eyes sparkle with more affection for you.
"took it all like a goddess..."
he admires your body for a moment, observing the glistening sweat. his eyes trail down between your thighs, where his cock is nuzzled deep inside and his shaft is messy with his cream and your cream.
and he kisses you for the first time, because now you're "pure" enough to deserve his lips.
© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
#mdni#smut#geto smut#geto suguru smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto x reader smut#geto suguru x reader smut#geto x fem reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto suguru#geto#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#geto fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x fem!reader#geto x reader#jjk geto#jujutsu geto#tw: smut
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Mug w/ Jung Wooyoung
this has been in my drafts for months and i’ve always wondered whether or not i should release it since the material could be triggering to some people. i guess i’ve finally settled on putting it out there, so please heed the warnings before reading it. i don’t want this to affect anyone negatively.
warnings: mentions of past abusive relationships, self doubt, slight dissociation, panic attacks, blood, self harm in the form of skin picking. i think that’s it but please let me know if it’s there’s anything i forgot to mention
——————————————————————————
“I’m not mad,” Wooyoung said, as if that made anything better. The tension was still there, eating you alive from the inside out. So was the guilt.
“But you’re disappointed, right?” You countered, knowing how this sort of thing goes. They tell you they’re not mad, but you have to face the consequences anyway. And there were always consequences.
Wooyoung just stared at you with unreadable eyes. They looked almost pitiful in a way, but why would he pity you for what you’d done? He should be screaming at you, throwing things around just to prove his point. Just to make you submit to him once more. That’s how it normally went for you.
But Wooyoung had been kind up until now. He was a gentle soul who preferred to steer you in the right direction if you ever misstepped. There was never any shouting within the four walls of your relationship, nor was there any placing the blame on you being ‘useless’ or any other such word. He was just… nice.
But there had to be a day when that ended, right? You’d fucked up big time this time and he must’ve realised that his kindness isn’t working by now. He had to know that the only way to get you to learn was by putting you in your place.
“Baby, what’s going on?” You were desperate to answer, fumbling over your words trying to find a suitable answer that would reduce your punishment. Perhaps you could tell him you were sick! That always worked when your last partner was mad at you. It would at least postpone whatever was going to happen for a few days. Wooyoung, just frowned. “Calm down, sweetheart.”
But you couldn’t. You knew this was the breaking point so how could you be calm about such a thing? No matter how gentle Wooyoung had been up until this point, you knew it wouldn’t always stay that way. If you’d been taught anything it’s that you were a bad girlfriend, and the only way to make you good was to hurt you. Fear was a powerful teacher, afterall. Fear wouldn’t let you be so careless about your actions.
It would hurt to say goodbye to this version of Wooyoung, you had to admit, but you always knew it was coming. He couldn’t stay his annoyingly loving self forever because you couldn’t stay well behaved forever. You only had yourself to blame for what was to come, really. Did you even have the right for it to hurt?
No, you decided rather quickly.
Wooyoung stared at you, unsure of what to do as you seemed to completely depart from reality. Your eyes were glazed over as you stared off into the distance, and your fingers picked at one another so bad that it fetched blood. You didn’t flinch as the crimson liquid beaded up on your fingers, though, almost as if it didn’t hurt you at all.
Your breathing was heavy and ragged and Wooyoung could tell you were barely staving off a panic attack. He’d done it often enough himself to know exactly how to recognise it, but for some reason, he didn’t know how to help. Something told him you didn’t want to be touched, but he wasn’t sure of how else to get your attention. He’d been calling your name with no success, but the last thing he wanted was to raise his voice. If he was in the slightest bit angry with you, perhaps he would’ve, but he wasn’t. Not at all.
He spared a quick glance towards the trash can, his favourite mug resting at the top in shards. It was really the only one he used, the weight of it just feeling… right. You’d bought it for him when you first started dating a few months ago and although the saying on it made him cringe a little, he’d learnt to love it. Of course, he was sad to see it go, but it was only a mug. He could always get another one. It wouldn’t be the same, but then again, was anything ever the same as the thing it replaced? And you never know, maybe he’d end up preferring whatever mug he got to replace it.
With a sigh, he turned back to you. There were bigger issues to deal with than a mug. You were still barely keeping away a panic attack and your blood from your fingers starting to smear grotesquely across your hands. He briefly wondered where he kept his first aid kit before realising that too was a problem for later.
“Sweetheart,” he mumbled as he walked closer. He didn’t lay a hand on you but instead spread his arms as if he were herding a scared animal. He felt stupid doing it, but you started to back up and eventually landed upon his sofa. He tried to ignore the pang of pain that shot through his chest when he thought too deep about the implications of the situation, but it was hard when you were backing away from him like he was going to hurt you.
Oh.
His stomach lurched and for a moment he was sure he was going to throw up. He begged for it not to be true, but it fit way too perfectly not to be.
Someone had hurt his baby.
Wooyoung couldn’t help the rage that filled him from head to toe.
He wanted to scream, and throw things, just to get his rage out, but he couldn’t. To risk scaring you even more would be a cruel thing for him to do. Even if he were sure it would make him feel just a little more calm, he couldn’t bear to think of doing anything that would make you afraid of him. He simply had to hope that his anger would eventually peter out, and he wouldn’t be reminded of it every time he looked at you.
Deep breaths, he told himself as he took himself over to the sofa to sit beside you. One in, he shuffled closer so he was almost pressed up against you. You shuddered and Wooyoung frowned, but he didn’t move away. He couldn’t move away.
One out, he said your name in the softest voice he could muster, finally bringing you out of the trance you’d found yourself trapped in. He wondered why this time it worked when all of the other times you ignored him. Perhaps it was his proximity. It was a long shot, but perhaps you felt a little safer with him so close.
One in, he asked if you could hold you in his arms.
One out, you gave him a shaky nod and crawled into his lap. He hated to think that you were only doing it because you thought he’d be mad otherwise, so he let you know that you didn’t have to.
You did it anyway.
“Sweetheart, I need you to tell me that you understand that I’m not angry,” he whispered into your ear, wrapping his arms around you tightly. When he was fresh out of a panic attack, he always liked pressure. With the way you seemed to go limp, he assumed you felt the same. “Not disappointed either. It’s a mug, baby.”
“Your mug,” you replied as if that made your reaction seem any more normal, “I broke your favourite mug.”
Wooyoung sighed. Whilst it was the truth, it was nothing to be angry over. He wondered how many times he’d have to clarify that to you before you understood? Whatever. It didn't matter. He’d tell you as many times as you needed to hear it, just as long as you knew you were safe.
“We’ll it’s only my favourite because my favourite person got it for me,” not a complete lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. For some reason, though, he felt as though ‘it was a nice weight in my hands’ wouldn’t have been so effective in trying to get you to calm down.
“But I bought you that mug?” His heart broke a little, but he couldn't let that show. He refused to give you another reason to throw mental punches at yourself.
“Well then, I guess that makes you my favourite person.”
There was silence for a few seconds as you considered his words. There was no trace of a lie in his voice, but you still found it hard to believe that he was telling the truth. He was surrounded by so many wonderful people who didn’t fuck up nearly as often as you did, and yet he still chose you to be his favourite? You doubted it, but you would never call Wooyoung a liar.
“And I want my favourite person to know that I would never do anything to hurt them,” he continued, voice suddenly a little more solemn, “because why would I ever want to hurt someone as lovely and precious as you?”
“I’m not lovely,” you hid your face in his neck, partially to cover the blush, partially because you were afraid of what may come at the inadvertent accusation. He merely chuckled, bringing a hand to cup the back of your head.
“Yes you are, you little liar,” a kiss, warm and chaste, was placed to your temple, “and I don’t know how anyone could ever tell you you’re anything less than the most wonderful person to ever walk this planet. You’re so kind and thoughtful and even if you do mess up sometimes, that’s okay because you’re human.”
You just nodded into his neck, no longer wanting to deny his compliments. Even if they were just being used to butter you up, you let them sink in. As long as they came from Wooyoung’s mouth, you told yourself you would believe them, for his sake. He’d yet to prove himself to be anything but a good boyfriend, the least you could do was believe him.
“I love you,” he mumbled into your hair, “so incredibly much.”
“I love you too, Woo.”
“Will you let me patch you up?” He asked, pointing at your fingers but placing his hand over your chest where your heart was beating deep within. You couldn’t know for certain that this relationship would be different, but the look in Wooyoung’s eyes made you feel like you could trust him. It would be a long process, you knew that, but you knew he would put in the work.
You knew that he could make you feel safe.
#ateez x reader#ateez fic#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#wooyoung fluff#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung angst
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FINE.
The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.
Ugh.
I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).
All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.
With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.
I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.
He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.
...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.
Ugh, ugh, ugh.
So.
The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.
For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.
And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.
He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.
It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.
He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.
I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.
I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.
He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.
I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.
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hii!! i love your writing skills !! could you maybe do jealous!ot8 x 9th member? you can make it any scenario youd like! im literally so inlove with how you wright your stories you're such a good wright!! you're fr one of my favs ‼️ (its okay if you dont wanna write about it, i understand)
HII TYSM FOR SUPPORTING MY WORK!! sorry I couldn't respond early I had no access to internet 💀 but omg skz would get so jealous and possessive so easily, I'm foaming at the mouth 🤤
☆ pairing: ot8!skz x 9thmem!reader
☆ t/w: mentions of soobin from txt, degradation kink (calling reader a slut), reader gets slapped :( (hyune kisses it all better dw <3), reader is kinda a brat, manhandling, spanking, pussy slapping, implied anal, implied gangbang, oral sex (m!receiving)
☆ note: I feel so bad for writing this after the incident 😭 wishing them a speedy recovery! I accidentally pressed queue on this draft so I had to quickly finish this up 😭😭
nsfw under the cut!
jealous!skz who'd get so so mad when they see you chatting with soobin during musicbank. why are you talking to other men when they're right there? laughing and giggling like whatever he's saying is that funny. they all knew you were doing it on purpose to get them all riled up and it worked.
jealous!channie who would respectfully pull you away from soobin, smiling kindly at him as if he wasn't coming up with different ways to punish you when you get time alone.
jealous!leeknow who tells soobin that they have to go fix your outfit because there were "some wardrobe malfunctions." even though you could clearly tell that your outfit was perfectly intact.
jealous!changbin who would manhandle you into an empty dressing room with the boys even though you're squirming and throwing a tantrum because why can't you talk to other men?
jealous!seungmin who would degrade you instantly the moment your bratty side comes out. "are 8 cocks not enough for your slutty pussy?" he'd glare at you, slapping your ass harshly as changbin forces you down onto the couch, laying you on your tummy over his lap. "have we not been fucking you enough?" he'll be the first one flipping your miniskirt over, slapping your ass again as he watches the fat of your ass ripple.
jealous!hyunjin who'd grab you by your chin to pull you into an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth to claim you as his or theirs. he'd pull away from you, a string of saliva connecting your mouths before slapping you across your face. "don't do that again," he presses his lips all over the now reddened handprint on your cheek, covering your face in kisses.
jealous!hannie, who'd be pulling your panties down, scoffing when he sees how wet your cunt is. "fuckin' slut, getting all turned on by getting slapped huh? you like that?" his hand comes slamming down onto your wet cunt as you let out a loud yelp. "tell me, does your pussy even deserve our cum?"
jealous!felix who'd be pushing hyunjin away from your face, his pants already unzipped and cock already out as he presses his cock against your lips, "open up, slut. you need something in your mouth to keep you quiet," he growled as he watches your lips fall open obediently, pushing his cock down your throat in one go.
jealous!jeongin who'd press his fingers against your asshole, smiling at you, "I think we should just use this useless hole of yours, yeah? leave your pussy empty because sluts like you don't deserve anything in her pussy~"
#skz hard hours#skz smut#han smut#jisung smut#bangchan smut#felix smut#hyunjin smut#jeongin smut#lee know smut#seungmin smut#changbin smut#skz x reader#chan smut#chan x reader#leeknow x reader#minho x reader#bangchan x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han x reader#jisung x reader#felix x reader#yongbok x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader
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Sharing is Not Caring - N.R.
Word Count: 3145
Warnings: being tied up to a chair, degradation, aftercare, spanking, paddle use, restraints, sub!nat, dom!reader
Pairings: Natsha Romanoff x Reader
A/N: This has been rotting in my wattpad drafts fr. It's been I think a year since I wrote this, and I have posted it. I'm trying to clear our my drafts, so you should be expecting a lot of activity from me. Also this is pure smut so....
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A loud slap echoed in the spacious room where Natasha sat tied to a chair in nothing but her undergarments. The woman standing in front of Natasha at the moment is you.
Y/N Y/L/N. Her beloved.
"Y/N, don't you think you're overreacting a little here?"
"Oh, I'm not overreacting." You grinned at her, looking her right in the eye. "You see, this is what happens when you go around town with another woman and act like a fucking prostitute."
You gently reached forward and grabbed a tight hold of Natasha's hair in the back of her head. "You have anything to say for yourself, honey?"
"Y/N, please. This is all just a misunderstanding. Besides, I'm allowed to have fun with my friends and you doing all this stuff just because of it is making you look selfish."
Within the snap of a finger, you smacked Natasha across the face repeatedly, the force of it all strong enough to make you almost lose the grip you had on her hair. Her cheek was heating up rather quickly with the blood rushing to the spot you would repeatedly hit her which, in this case, was on both sides of her beautiful face. Natasha was panting when you stopped hitting her, so she rushed to speak before you got the chance to continue, but you just had to be a quick little shit and beat her to it.
"Don't call me selfish. I hate sharing, and you know that yet you proceeded to whore yourself out to Maria Hill in front of the world. So now, what we're going to do here is punish you. For all the horrible things you've done to my tattered heart."
You walked away from Natasha, moving to a drawer at the far end of the room. You reached inside the drawer and plucked out a variety of instruments you planned to use on your girlfriend. You could have sworn you heard Natasha whimper. You turned back to Natasha, a faint evil grin present on your face. Natasha was squirming in her seat at the vibrator in your hands.
You were now standing in front of her, a wide smirk settled on your face, thus scaring the shit out of Natasha a hell lot more, which caused her to begin her pleading. "Maria's just a friend, please, you don't have to do this."
"You're pathetic." You pulled her hips towards you and placed the vibrator on her wet core, moving up and down her cunt, the woman panting out heavily in surprise.
"Are you sorry, Natasha?" You turned the vibrator up a higher to a higher setting and stopped moving it, now keeping it still on her clit. Natasha could not speak, then you heard the loudest moan slip past her lips when you pressed the vibrator harder on her clit just right. It was always like this when the two of you had sex. Whatever kind of sex you were having, the infamous Black Widow would be dumbed down into nothing all because of you. Natasha can and would swear that you had godly powers with the way you always fucked her dumb.
"You realize this is all your fault, don't you? You could have avoided all of this if you had just acted normally and not the slut you're only allowed to be when you're with me."
When you harshly pulled her hair back to husk in her ear, Natasha's eyes were mid-rolling to the back of her head, thus making the woman gasp aloud. "You're such a stupid whore, Natasha." You knew your words were falling on deaf ears, but you still proceeded to talk just to be able to reprimand the redhead later. "This feels so good for you, doesn't it? Or are you just not as bright as you were earlier, and that's why you're not talking back now?"
All Natasha could do was breathily moan in your face, too high on pleasure to respond to you with even a single nod. Natasha could barely even catch her breath, so the fact that you were expecting so much of her right now was so unfair to her. I mean, how do you even expect her to respond when you know how your words alone affect her?
"You're being very disrespectful, Natasha. I've asked you three questions, yet you haven't answered at least one of them. You don't want me to prolong your punishment, do you?" That caused the woman you loved's eyes to widen, the fear of you going through with your threats shining through her blown-out green eyes.
"No, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" Natasha rushed to speak, albiet sounding drunk, finally getting the least bit of control over her muddled mind.
You grinned, "That's what I thought, little girl, but if you really are sorry, you would answer all my questions." As you spoke, you were very rudely interrupted by the woman of your dreams warning you of the coil in her stomach nearly snapping.
"I'm so close."
"No." You pulled the vibrator away from Natasha's core and listened to her loudly whimper out a 'No' at the loss of pleasure. "If I were to let you cum, who would you be cumming for? Are you cumming for Maria Hill," You pressed the vibrator back onto Natasha's cunt only to pull it away again upon continuing, "Or me?"
Natasha was whining, panting, and moaning like a bitch in her seat whilst you repeated the action of putting the vibrator directly on her clit and then taking it all away. Your eyes focused on her face, watching as it went through shock, pleasure, then frustration. In your focus and intense eye contact with Natasha, the woman was not able to form a single thought in her head, her mind being clouded by all three of the results your actions gave her.
You would watch her face contort for the 10 seconds where you held the vibrator against her, then listen to her huff angrily at you and your ministrations - but mostly you. You were mesmerized by the beauty of your lover, so much so that you rewarded her beauty by pressing the vibrator on her clit once more, this time not intending to take it all away at the last second. You watched as she gasped, her eyes fluttering close but fighting herself to keep them open, although somewhat futile. "God, you're so pretty, Natty."
Your soft gaze made her melt, and your faint smirk at it told her you were enjoying her little reactions. "Answer my last question, baby. Would you be cumming for me or your beloved Maria Hill?"
"Only you, Y/N. Only you- Oh, please let me cum, Daddy!" Natasha continued to babble out her pleas, not noticing how you had let go of her hair and was now kneeling in between her smooth thighs. Natasha jerked back and moaned, throwing her head back in the process when you started licking at her tasty cunt all whilst still holding the vibrator against her.
Natasha stuttered in her moans, her fists bleeding white from being clenched so hard behind her back. Her eyes were tightly closed, and her teeth were firmly pressed together, trying her hardest to spit out a warning before she exploded on your face. But through all her hard work, she still could not get a single word out of her mouth, only breathy stuttered moans, gasps, and pathetic whimpered pleas.
Natasha could hardly breathe, and when your tongue wiggled around that rough spot within her, her tether broke, her juices spilling all over your mouth and your nose, and even the vibrator that was still firmly pressed against her sensitive core. Natasha was breathing heavily, trying to regain control of her senses, only for you to take her breath away again with a bruising kiss.
Everything was going well during the kiss, excluding the burning feeling Natasha felt in her chest at the lack of much-needed oxygen. It was only when the redhead felt a harsh slap come in contact with her face, thus breaking the kiss, did she suddenly yelped out. "I haven't allowed you to cum yet, have I?"
Natasha was near sobbing when you started undoing her restraints, already preparing to lose her dignity just to beg for your forgiveness, but then you pulled her up suddenly, carrying her nearly limp form over your shoulder, and guided her to lay down on the perfectly made bed you shared with her. Again, Natasha was going to speak up, but just like the last time, you'd interrupted her again with a ball gag in her mouth, and that was the moment she deemed you to be her worst enemy.
"Oh, Natasha. You really should know better." You walked around the bed just for dramatic purposes and collected a few more items to use on your gorgeous lover. "I thought you would be brighter than this, being a trained super spy and all." You were fastening the harness of your large strap around your hips, keeping your eyes locked onto Natasha, watching as she whimpered around her ball gag with tears cascading down her pretty face.
You truly were in awe of her. The beauty she possessed was, in your opinion, unmatched by every single person you'd ever come across. You collected a variety of restraints and tightly tied her to the bed like the letter 'A'. You secured a lengthy leg spreader around Natasha's ankles and grabbed both of her hands to tie them above her head on the velvety headboard.
Natasha's eyes watched you move around the room, watching on as you thought over what you planned to do to her. The possibilities were endless, and so she feared she would not make it out of this alive. I mean her pussy sure isn't. What Natasha feared the most about you doing to her was edging her. She loved it when you edged her, but only to an extent. The thought of you building her up to where she was about to bust only for you to take it all away terrified her even more than your harsh slaps ever had.
To say Natasha was shocked at your statement would be a huge understatement. Your soft tone threw her off even more, and when you smiled at her gently, her brows couldn't help but come together and form a crease as they met. "I'm allowing you to cum, Natasha. You can cum whenever you feel like it just remember your safe word."
That couldn't be just it, there had to be a catch, but all her thoughts went back to being mush when you ran the tip of your silicone cock through her slit, collecting the juices that had pooled there. Then when you pushed yourself into her soaking cunt, her mind was further melted into a puddle sloshing around in her skull. Your pace was tough, causing her legs to tighten around you- well, as much as the leg spreader allowed.
Natasha was moaning wildly beneath you, writhing and nearly trembling at the speed of your hard thrusts. Her hands were sore, but not sore enough for her attention to be on it. Natasha tried speaking, but all that was heard were the jumbled pronunciation of her words
Good thing you were equipped with the skill to translate her muffled words. "You gonna cum, baby? You gonna give me all that this slutty pussy can?"
Natasha nodded furiously, her hips rising from the bed with much restraint. She could barely move, but the high she was chasing was enough of an inspiration for her to try gyrating her hips up to yours.
"Cum whenever you like, my whore. If it gets too much, you can always use your safe words."
If your dirty words were any indication that you were planning something epic, Natasha wouldn't have known thanks to the blinding white light that flooded her field of vision when she came. By god, you could swear that her face when she came was that of goddesses'.
"Oh, my darling, you're so beautiful." Your soft words were very stark contrasts to the continuation of your harsh pounding. Natasha didn't even have a minute to come down from her previous high before you were pushing her over another edge.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck!" You don't understand how that sounded very clear, but you were not complaining whatsoever. You could even say that you were impressed.
You stared into Natasha's shining eyes while you plowed her into the mattress. "You're such a fucking whore, Natasha. No wonder Hill was all over you when you decided to go out with her. You're disgusting. I mean, Look at you, the infamous Black Widow dumbed down to nothing by her meager partner."
Your words were enough to tip her over the edge of sweet release. Her legs shook around you while her moans sounded more stuttered and broken, nearing the kind of moans that sounded like sobbing. You stilled your hips, much to Natasha's relief, and pulled the ball gag out of her mouth.
Natasha gasped and heaved in the air. The woman barely even noticed when you pulled out of her, her brain being a little too fogged up to register anything.
Picking up the discarded vibrator from earlier, you pressed it firmly on Natasha's pussy, sliding it up and down her slit. The sound of her sticky arousal echoed around the room along with the incessant vibrator unleashing hell upon your precious woman's sweet cunt.
"Oh, god, Y/N, that feels so good!" Natasha had her eyes tightly shut with her mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Her next words were whispered pleas before she exploded all over the vibrator you held along with your forearm.
"You're doing so good, my princess." You coo'ed climbing off of Natasha just enough to reach the leg spreader attached to her ankles. You freed her feet, grabbing your woman by the back of her thighs only to flip her over onto her stomach.
"We aren't done yet?" You could've cackled at her question if not for the way her gaping cunt was distracting you. Instead of rudely mocking Natasha, you lightly chuckled through your nose, caressing her plump ass whilst also licking and biting at it.
"No, my darling, I'm not done with you yet." You smirked as you pulled away, moving to grab two paddles of the same size, placing them on top of Natasha's ass, using them to caress her skin. "You ready, baby?"
Natasha was panting into the pillow, writhing against the paddles on her bottom as she furrowed her eyebrows, "For what?"
You lifted one of the paddles and brought it back down harshly, making your lover yelp in surprise, watching how Natasha's ass rippled at the impact. "Oh, Daddy!"
You wanted her to be loud in any way possible. If you weren't known to get everything you wanted before, now you are. You brought the other paddle up and then down again much harder than the last. Then you lifted both paddles, bringing them back down with a force that made Natasha scream louder than she ever had before.
Your onslaught upon Natasha's ass was unrelenting, hitting her ass to sadistically watch her skin ripple at the force you were dealing with. You relished in the screams and moans she released, each one bringing waves of arousal to pool in your underwear. the woman is now full-on sobbing, the pain and the pleasure blending in with each other deliciously within her. She was enjoying this just as much as you were, if not more. She loved it when you got all sadistic about her. It made her feel like she was living on the edge, and she was enjoying the breeze there.
At the last strike you gave to Natasha's plump ass, her orgasm embarrassingly tore through her, getting past her holds and slipping through her sex. You could have laughed if you didn't have any self-control, but alas, the goodness in your tattered heart pounded through, causing you to feel the need to protect her.
Now, with the heat of the moment subsiding, your goal shifted from punishing Natasha by making her feel what you felt when you saw her with Maria to shower her with the softest kisses known to man. You hushed your wailing lover, careful with your hands as you pulled the restraint from her reddened wrists.
"Hush, my darling. It's all over now." You planted a small kiss on the top of her head before moving off of your shared bed. "Let me grab a soothing cream for your butt, baby, don't move."
As you gathered what you needed from the bathroom, Natasha used that small bit of alone time to actually think of what she'd done. She reprimanded herself for completely leaving you alone at the party you came to together and ditching you for some other girl.
Truly, her interaction with Maria was nothing more than friendly. They shared talks of their respective life partners and what they've been up to recently, nothing scandalous at all. But now that she'd been punished, she could see how that may have looked from a non-participant-of-the-conversation's point of view. Now that she'd been punished, she felt bad for what she may have made you feel.
Safe to say, she learned her lesson.
A gasp tore through her throat at the cold sensation that rippled across the bruised skin of her bum. "It's okay, hun, it's just a bit of cream." And as you continued to work on her, wiping her down and all that, you spoke, "You took your punishment so well, baby. Have you learned your lesson? Do you understand why you were punished?"
"Yes, Daddy." Natasha responded.
"Tell me why I punished you." It was a soft command, but natasha shivered at it either way, and she shamed herself for it.
"Because I hurt you at the party. I wasn't paying attention to you." You hummed as she listed what she thought could be part of the reason you punished her, then she followed up with, "I'm sorry."
"Ah, it's okay, honey. It's a lesson learned." With a kiss to her now exposed collarbone, you finished up with cleaning and getting Natasha ready for bed. "You're all done now. Get some rest, Natty, we can talk about this more in the morning over some breakfast."
With a content smile and a warm feeling spreading through her chest, Natasha laid her head on your shoulder right as you settled in next to her. She seemed your warmth just as you did hers, wrapping each other up in comfortable embraces and even stealing a few kisses here and there.
#mcu#marvel#avengers#natasha romanoff#lgbtq#a load of smut#natasha x reader#black widow#natasha x you#natasha x yn#natasha smut#scarlett johansson
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