#i naturally have an angry face too
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I like to think that Pavitr has naturally glaring eyes, so he has to conciously open his eyes wider and be more expressive with his eyebrows to not look like a psycho and also to match with his personality (I have first hand expreience of that) and after doing this for a long time it's an unconcious habit so when he gets too concentrated or tired people go "omg Pav are you okay?" "What happened??" And when he unconciously adjusts his expressions again they let out a sigh of relief.
#this is based off of the Pavitr model i've seen#he naturally has an angry face im crying#i naturally have an angry face too#and i was told i look scary to talk to now it's an uncincous (BUT REALLY HELPFUL) habit of adjusting my eyes and eyebrows#if i don't i look like im going to kill people#anyways i love pavitr#across the spiderverse#pav atsv#pavitr atsv#atsv pavitr#spiderverse pavitr#pavitr prabhakar#pavitr#spider man india#spider-man india#headcanons#atsv headcanons
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more of Mae's adventures in Castle Dracula
aka: Maedhros used Punch! It's super effective!
#silm#silmarillion#maedhros#dracula#crossover#oh i think i need a tag for this too#it already has its own sticky note color so it gets a tag#hmm#mae's adventures in castle dracula#context: he cut himself a bit on a broken bookshelf and drac grabbed his arm#then promptly got punched#also mae; being very treelight-y; is a natural vampire repellant apparently#so not only did dracula get punched in the face#he basically got punched in the face by a giant crucifix in terms of the amount of damage it dealt#after this scene mae briefly wonders if he misjudged how strong a punch an old adan can survive#because drac just fell on the floor and didnt move for a full ten minutes#dracula: where did you learn to fight like that#maedhros: i have six younger brothers and all of them bite#wait. after dealing with his various bitey siblings/cousins' antics mae is probably the best person at avoiding being bitten#his reflexes are strong enough that drac tries to bite him and he automatically grabs drac by the back of the collar#and relocates him to the newly declared Time Out Corner#drac runs away to hide in his room pondering his life choices#while mae realizes 'oh wait. that was a vampire'#because hey an angry guy wearing all black attacking you with his teeth? that describes teenage caranthir pretty well
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Luffy has been on point with his king's haki this arc so far..... really liking it
#like even passed out...... king behaviour#are zoro and kaido paralels bc zoro has been upping up his drinking lately lmao#a sinkhole...... well...#OTAMA IS ALIVE AND NOT CAPTURED????? OMG INU FOUND HER!!!!!!!#omg they are just DRAGGING luffy across the desert..... ENOUGH#ROBIN'S FACE WHEN SHE KNOWS LUFFY IS IN WANO AJSHAKAH#zoro just taking a stroll eating wasabi sushi akdhaksjsks WE ARE IN A CRISIS#luffy ate the fish and turbo spit the spines to the guards i know it#oh nvm its not luffy lmao#they bandaged his face so its just angry eyes#which btw kinda disappointed they just default paint the eyes grey now..... luffy sanji zoro etc.....#OH KID IN THE CELL!!!#ACT ONE OVER!!! THAT IS SO FUN!!!! THEY SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS WITH WCI TOO!!! ITS A MUSICAL MOVIE AFTER ALL....#i love angry luffy i hate seeing him like this because that's not his natural state tho. really enjoy it#talking tag#watching one piece#did they make mihawk even whiter???? dracula looking ass#perona is still living there lmaooo#she really is an edgy teen.... i love it. if you dont care i dont mind goodbye (she does care)#he said to be careful ooooooh..... that rrally is his father#wonder if he said anything to zoro lmao#is he teaming up with moria???? nvm moria is attacking him.... well done i guess... someone here proactive#why tf would he want absalom??? nvm he is bait....#avalo pizarro????? bizarre name lmao very spanish sounding.... disturbing#absalom gave uo his fruit???? to shilew.... oh my gooooooooood EVEN WORSE#absalom is dead i guess?????#devon lgbt queen i guess..... they got rep before the mugis... we are falling behind.... namivivi kiss when to top the scales#the rev army fighting fujitora and the other admiral..... wtf is blackbeard going to do..... THE END SCENE OOOF#episode 916#episode 917
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ugh
#genuinely think if i dont get therapy and medical transition soon i might actually kill myself#life is too fucking much and i cant take this shit anymore#its unfair that i got unlucky in the genetic draw and got sruck with the stupidest most feminine body in the world#and that being fat when i live the exact same lifestyle as thin people makes kt easier to tell that im born female#and that even if i do all the working out in the world its not gonan fucking chnage the way my body looks and manages its distribution#and that i have the face and mouth of every single fat comedy side character or fat villain#and that ive lived my whole life hearing about how pretty and wonderful i look and how i look like my grandmother#and that im short and have almost all my weight below my torso so i look like the worlds largest pear#and that i have a naturally soft demeanor that offsets every ounce of effort i pht into my looks to be more masc#and that i dont want to dress in baggy or sporty clothes and i dont have the budget to purchase those things even if i got desperate#or that i get overheated too easily to use layers and that i cant mentally handle being overheated#and its not fair that i cant for the life of me get my voice to cknsistantly be lower so i sound more maaculine#its not fucking fair#i cant fucking do this anymore#but im so fucking stuck reliant on ym fucking parents for mo ey that ill never get the help i need#and working as a teacher will never result in the money itll take to get the help i need#and it feels like even if i could get transition when i get a job itll be too risky with clowns like desantis#SPECIALLY as a teacher#i cant fucking look into a fucking mirror without wanting to cry and take a knife to every slab of meat that i ditn want on my body#and every day that im home im sruck hiding in my room so that i dont risk running inti my moyher and making her angry by existing#and having to affirm to her that im her little girl and be called by a name that isnt mine and pronouns that make me want to stab my ears#and be told by her that i just think im trans becuz im traumatized and dont want peole to think im attractive so they wont try to get close#to me becuz they wont know what i am when i dont even want to have sex and she says im just making that up to#my mental health is in shambles and has been for fucking months and its only getting worse#i want out#i want out so fucking bad#im tired of being jealous of my own fucking shadow becuz it looks like more of a man to me
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Susannah: Yes. Yes, he did risk himself. We all did. A lot of it... OK, a bit half-assed but at least... some of it will stick! You have to try. It's not going to work any more, running for the same old burrows... we're rafting off into space - God! Frank sees it. He said to me one day, 'Suse... you know what's going to do for us all? Not the failure of intellect, moral, muscle - but the failure of imagination! They're all too busy with their snouts in the trough to smell the fire.'
Crystal: Yeah, he says some really daft things.
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Pam Gems, Loving Women (1984)
#100plays#pam gems#loving women#modern drama#theatre quotes#1984#Gems was known best for her adaptations of older works and for her biographical plays (including the phenomenally successful Piaf in 1978)#but she consistently produced original work too‚ tho with less commercial success. this comes from her middle period and is often described#as a comedy about a love triangle; which it is‚ really‚ but that somehow feels like a dismissive way to describe a play that can just as#often raise challenging questions about the nature of activism and social change‚ the complicated way that personal relationships and#polemical discourse can influence one another‚ and the inadequacy of passion alone (both in love and in politics) without a solid#foundation. neatly split into three sections at different points in the characters' lives‚ the first and third might more easily be#described as romantic comedy; the majority of the second scene‚ however‚ is a vicious argument between idealists at odds (or a#revolutionary and a lapsed revolutionary‚ maybe). our three characters are Frank‚ an activist social worker who has recently (at the#beginning of the play) suffered a nervous breakdown‚ his radical coworker and lover Susanne‚ and Crystal‚ the working class hairdresser who#has agreed to nurse Frank in return for a roof over her head. the first scene sets up the love triangle and suggests the disharmony to come#but it is the second scene‚ one year later (and with Frank having left Susanne for Crystal‚ apparently without even breaking up face to#face) (Susannah! sorry not sure why i keep writing Susanne); anyway this is the standout scene‚ a furious showdown between the newly#domesticated Frank and the woman he spurned. there is personal enmity on Susannah's part of course‚ as well as entirely reasonable#frustration at how Frank handled the affair‚ but the argument quickly becomes centred on issues of political dogma‚ his perceived betrayal#of 'the cause' (as well as her) and what he perceives as her naivety and tunnel vision in approaching the work they once shared#it is a shamelessly intellectual segment‚ full of angry‚ verbose tirades on the state of the nation and the futility or necessity of#radical action and subversive agitation‚ sparkling dialogue that demands to be spat with venom (and contrasted completely by a much gentler#meeting between the 2 characters a decade later in the final scene). part of Gem's beauty‚ tho‚ is that she never entirely loses the humour#of the piece‚ allowing for amusing asides like the one above (Crystal enters and leaves several times throughout the argument‚ clearly#uncomfortable with the situation). on the surface it might seem like Crystal is a mildly patronising character‚ unable to keep up with the#idealogical slant of the conversation‚ but as Frank makes clear‚ in many ways she's the most real of the three of them; not having the#privileged middle class background of the others‚ her seeming disinterest in revolution is borne of necessity‚ the necessity of first#staying alive (ie. feeding herself‚ finding a roof to sleep under‚ etc) leaving her little time to engage in the largely theoretical#grandstanding of the two socialists she's fallen in with.
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anyways. i feel like ive said this before but i think that wouldve been a bigger concern of his when he was younger and was trying to think abt how he was gonna like. live in the world. well and then the world exploded and he decided he could do whatever he wants forever and started larping as his fursona and i think hes chill about it now. like i think hes okay.
#i think at the end of the day he does like his body. especially as he gets older and circumstances change and he feels more like a person#who is alive again i think he really does like himself. and i think part of it is just that he really does do whatever he wants whenever#he wants to do it.#like i think it feels like a bigger deal before everything explodes because like well you have to find a way to navigate the social aspect#of everything you do right. and in my mind i think hes recieved a lot of shit for a lot of things in his life#hence why hes kind of a very angry and isolated person. so i do think when him and fish meet and theyre this very confident person#and a relatively happy person too. and they do it in a way that feels really genuine. so i think that gets his gears turning where hes like#maybe. maybe i could do that and it would fix it. and the social aspect of it basically dissapears because the best person in his life#(in his eyes obv) is also doing that and isnt gonna make it a big deal and a lot of what they like about him is the same stuff he got shit 4#so its like. idk i think maybe theyd talk about it once but i think the hurdle for him is that he doesnt really want to change anything?#not anything changeable at least. i think he likes who he is i dont think hes really particularly insecure in his body or anything#i just think he feels this kind of disconnect from the idea of a person and the idea of himself#i think that something rlly persistent for basically his entire life as mako that he just doesnt. feel like a person. he cant really.#part of why they cling 2 each other is bcs they make each other feel. real and grounded and people. human in a way.#so i think roadhog as an idea helps with that especially again as he gets older and rat becomes a thing and life gets Good again i think#for the first time in his life hes going to really consistently feel like somebody#^ this is why i dont like talking abt hog as a persona and why i liek to call the mask his face. because it is. this is the person he is yk#and i think at some point hes okay being a guy with two names and two faces and sometimes his fish calls him their wife#and he wears cute underwear and its not a big deal and he doesnt even really think about it anymore because it all just feels natural. easy
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Love and Obsession: The Tim Drake Way
part 2
Everyone in the Batfamily knows Tim Drake has… issues with boundaries. They’ve spent years trying to teach him what’s appropriate and what’s—well—deeply unsettling and completely invasive. To be fair, he’s learned. Mostly. He doesn’t stalk his family anymore (much), and he no longer pulls up files on every single person they talk to (okay, maybe just sometimes). But it’s progress.
But then Tim starts dating Danny Fenton. And, oh boy, a few screws come loose.
It starts small, as always. Just little things. Tim’s a detective, after all—background checks are second nature. Danny’s living in Gotham, and Gotham isn’t safe. So, really, what’s the harm in knowing a little more about Danny’s friends? And his professors? And maybe also his classmates? It’s just standard protocol. Okay?
“Tim, you’ve run a full dossier on my entire biology class?” Danny asks one day, laughing as he flips through a file on the coffee table. Tim shrugs. “What if one of them is dangerous?” “Pretty sure the most dangerous thing in that class is the midterm.”
Danny doesn’t think much of it. He’s a little flattered, even. Tim’s protective. It’s sweet.
But Tim’s mind doesn’t stop there. Danny’s too handsome. Too charming. What if someone tries to hurt him? What if someone tries to take him away? It’s not obsessive—it’s just concern. So, a tracker on Danny’s phone? Necessary. Cameras in his apartment? Standard. Monitoring his sleeping patterns and hangout spots? Logical.
Tim tells himself it’s love. And maybe a little insecurity.
“You have a tracker on his phone?” Dick asks, trying not to sound alarmed. Tim nods, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Of course. What if something happens to him?” “And the cameras?” “Safety.” “The background checks on his professors?” “Gotham U isn’t exactly known for its stellar staff, Dick.”
It doesn’t stop there. Tim knows everything. Danny’s eating habits, his favorite places to go when he’s stressed, his childhood allergies. Tim’s mapped out Danny’s entire life. He knows about Danny’s ghost powers too—of course he does. He’s Tim Drake. The moment he realized Danny was Phantom, it just… clicked.
Danny being half-ghost? That’s just one more reason to worry. Tim’s up late at night, watching for any signs of ectoplasmic interference. He tracks the energy spikes. He monitors Danny’s fights.
He doesn’t think Danny knows. He’s terrified of what will happen if he finds out.
But then he does.
One evening, Danny walks into Tim’s apartment and casually drops a folder on the table. Tim’s heart stops.
“What’s this?” Danny asks, raising an eyebrow. Tim swallows hard. “I… it’s just…” “You’ve been tracking me?” Danny opens the file, glancing through pages of surveillance reports, background checks, even analysis of his ectoplasmic energy. Tim feels like his world is about to shatter.
“I… I can explain,” Tim says, his voice tight. “I’m just… worried about you. You’re in danger all the time, and I—” Danny walks over, cupping Tim’s face in his hands. Tim braces for the worst.
But Danny just smiles. “Can I put a tracker on you too?”
Tim blinks. “What?” Danny kisses his cheek. “If you’re watching my back, it’s only fair I watch yours. I need to make sure you’re safe too.”
Tim stares at him, speechless. Danny doesn’t look scared. Or angry. He looks… fond. Like Tim’s obsessive tendencies aren’t a problem at all.
“I’ve never had someone care about me this much,” Danny says softly. “I trust you with my life, Tim. This? This just proves how serious you are.”
Tim thinks he’s just fallen deeper in love.
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The Batfamily? They’re worried.
Jason corners Tim in the cave. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You’ve got cameras in his apartment. You’ve mapped out his entire life. You’ve got a tracker on him and a heartbeat monitor. And he’s… fine with it?” Tim nods, a dreamy smile on his face. “Yeah. He even wants to put a tracker on me.” “That’s not… healthy, Tim,” Dick says carefully. “That’s—” “It’s mutual,” Tim interrupts. “We’re protecting each other.”
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tim, this isn’t how relationships are supposed to work.” Tim shrugs. “It’s how ours works.”
Damian watches the whole thing with narrowed eyes. “This is deeply unsettling,” he mutters.
They try to talk to Danny. Intervention style. They invite him over, sit him down, and gently (or not so gently) try to explain that Tim’s behavior isn’t normal.
Danny just laughs. “You guys do know I’m half-ghost, right?” “That doesn’t mean—” Dick starts. “I spent my entire life being hunted by ghost hunters. I’ve had worse invasions of privacy.” Danny smiles. “Tim cares. He keeps me safe. That’s all I need.”
The bats don't quite know what to say.
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Tim and Danny, two slightly unhinged souls who think mutual surveillance is the ultimate act of love.
The bats? They’re just trying to keep up.
(“At least they’re happy?” Barbara offers weakly. Bruce sighs. “For now.”)
Gotham’s version of love was never going to be normal. But this? This is a whole new level.
#tim drake#danny phantom#danny fenton#brain dead#dead tired#dc x dp#batfam#tim drake is a stalker#we've completely watered down tim's stalking tendencies into /just/ stalking when he also learned everything there was to learn about batma#this guy is literally obsessed with knowing everything about everyone(even if it's to have the upper hand) and we completely disregard it#give me an invasive tim drake who doesn't know the first thing about boundaries bcs he's so used to researching everything about someone#before meeting them#also give me a danny fenton who has never truly felt safe or protected with anyone especially after he died in his own parents lab#while his friends watched with no supervision or lab precautions#tim learning everything about him for his own safety and protective(obsessive) tendencies makes him feel safe with tim#bcs it proves to him that tim is always watching his every step to make sure he's safe no matter where in the world either of them are#tim is always watching out for him#and if that isn't the most romantic thing someone could do for him then romance is dead#the bats are very concerned for them#tim and danny match each other's freak
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Hockey player! Sukuna headcanons
Inspired by this lovely ask by @subarusuguru. You made my head spin with the idea of hockey player Sukuna!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me! I had to write a little something 💗
Pairing: Hockey player!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 700 Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of injuries, but nothing bad. All characters are of age. Divider by @/benkeibear
Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a devil on the ice. The rival teams always know they will have several injured players after each match against Sukuna. He has a very aggressive playstyle, and his speed and strength, combined with his quick mind, make him unstoppable.
Hockey player!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes always find you when he enters the ice. He winks at you and makes a kissy face, laughing when you blow him a kiss back. The whole hockey arena can know that you are his, and he is yours. And anyone who dares make a rude comment about him being so soft for his girl will receive a brutal body check that sends them facefirst onto the ice or into the boards.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who has a mad glint in his eyes during the whole match. He is ambitious and confident, and he always plays to win. He loves being an asshole and taunt his opponents, laughing when he can get under their skin with his snide comments. But no matter how much Sukuna riles them up, they still aren't able to stop him because he always puts his whole anger and strength into his game.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a completely different man when he goes on the ice with his princess. Treating you with so much care and being such a gentleman. He holds your hand to make sure you don't fall when he teaches you how to ice skate. And once he can see you are ready for the next step, he lets go of you and tells you to skate toward him to get a kiss.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who has so much fun when showing you how to play hockey. Your time on the ice is filled with playful fights and good-natured teasing comments that are so flirty that you get butterflies the whole time. His laugh sounds different too, happy and free, and he only uses his strength to pick you up and pin you against the boards so he can kiss you until you are breathless.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who grins that charming grin when he lets you score and praises you for being such a natural talent, even though you know you suck. Of course, Sukuna also has to show off a little in front of his girl, and he steals the puck from you easily, making you gasp at his speed and watch with wide eyes and a smitten expression on your face as your boyfriend skates across the ice and shoots the puck into the goal with so much force it almost rips the net.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who feels a proud buzz running through his veins anytime he sees you in his jersey. Somehow it drives him crazy to see you walking around with his last name on your back. It spurs him on to play even better and show you that he is worthy to be your man. Maybe he should buy a ring and give you his last name on your ID too, and not just on a jersey.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to fuck you in the locker room after every match when his teammates have left. A victory fuck to celebrate when he is still pumped full of adrenaline and euphoria, pulling you onto his lap and bouncing you on his thick cock while groaning in your ear and telling you that it is all thanks to your love and support that makes him play so damn good. Or an angry fuck after a loss to make him feel ok again, lifting you up and slamming you against the shower wall, snapping his hips fast, fucking you hard and deep, growling your name when he cums in you and finds sweet relief in your warm cunt.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who can't stop smiling when you dote on him when he is injured after a rough match. He has a high pain tolerance and doesn't really worry all that much about the injuries, but he loves it when you take care of him and look at him with so much worry in your eyes. It makes him feel so warm, and so he happily plays along and lets you change his bandages, pet his hair, and cuddle him.
Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to win, but who thinks his biggest victory was winning your heart.
I am so in love with him!! Thank you so much for sending me that prompt!! I hope you liked my little headcanons ;)
Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna smut#sukuna fluff#jjk smut#jjk fluff
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I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.
We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.
The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.
Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.
And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.
It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.
As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.
Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.
#there that's my thesis about all this hope it helps#abled people can reblog this btw#pls support the disabled people in your lives they need you#us politics#us election#just for the blacklist#current events#cripple punk#cpunk#disabled#disability justice#disabled liberation
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choso didn't care if you acted like a brat; he actually thought it was cute when you would pout or curse when you didn't get something you wanted, but he didn't turn it into something it wasn't, just letting you be you because being a brat was in your nature, but this specific day made his blood boil.
each complaint and pout only sent him over, trying to smile to himself and ignore it, but he was already overstimulated with how things were going this day, and he couldn't control his emotions the way he wanted.
"but chosooo, you said you'll get it for me." pouting as you show him what it was you wanted on your phone, an annoyed sigh sliding past his lips as he rolls his eyes lightly, pushing the phone away.
it was too much, a full day of taking you everywhere and running his pockets dry, and yet you still complained. he was going to fix that; he couldn't have that happening again.
one second you had a phone shoved in his face, and then the next, his fingers were shoved down your throat while tears slid down your pretty face, gagging around him as he was stuffing you with his dick, with no intention of stopping any time soon.
"talk, keep going." teasing you, but instead of it coming off that way, he sounded mean, and that's what he intended. anger written all over his face, his other hand pushing down on your lower stomach as your body twitched.
it was all so overstimulating for you, and that's exactly what he wanted; instead, he was being a little nicer and letting it be pleasurable overstimulation instead of the uncomfortable overstimulation he was experiencing earlier.
each time he pushed into you, the farther he slipped his fingers down your throat, your body giving into him, it hurt, but it felt so fucking good.
your eyes watering and your pussy gripping around him so tightly he was about to cum, but he had to hold out because it wasn't about his pleasure but instead punishing you.
taking his fingers out of your mouth and pushing your thighs back while his weight rested on top of you, you could barely breathe, but you still wanted more, and he gave you it.
fucking into you with no breaks, his hands gripped around your thighs and his eyes on yours, that angry mug still plastered on his face, but you could see the lust all over even if it was just hints of it.
"tell me to stop, and i will." he's been fucking you so long he's lost track of time, and so have you, your toes curling and the spot under you wet.
you never gave in, never said a safe word, never begged for him to stop. it all felt too good, especially with that sexy look on his face. he thought he was punishing you; instead, he was promoting your behavior because you were still going to be a brat, whether he liked it or not.
"thank you, choso!" kissing his cheek as you took the package of what you were showing choso a week before, you always got what you wanted.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#x reader#afab reader#jujutsu choso#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#choso smut#jujutsu kaisen choso#kamo choso#choso#choso jjk#choso jujutsu kaisen#choso x you#choso x y/n#kamo choso x reader#kamo choso smut#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader#kamo choso x you
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natural devotion
ੈ✩ synopsis: gojo finds you, his ex-wife, in a sketchy dive bar. he almost doesn't recognize you.
ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), previous arranged marriage, ex-husband!gojo, clanleader!gojo, rough bathroom sex, semi-public sex, drunk sex, oral, fingering + penetration, light choking, gojo is.... weird idk how to explain. he's just strange and cold and possessive and so odd
ੈ✩ wc: 3.2k
ੈ✩ a/n: literally nobody asked for this. also it's unedited. sorry
Gojo thinks he sees a ghost when he sees you.
At least, he thinks it’s you.
You don’t see him yet, so he takes the liberty to scan you over more thoroughly. You’re not wearing anything like the simple, modest attire he remembered you donning around his estate. Instead, you’re in a form-fitting crop top and the tiniest mini skirt Gojo has ever seen. He’s not sure if it even classifies as a skirt.
Interesting.
He takes a breath as he sits down next to you, interrupting your conversation with the bartender to offer his card. You turn to look at him and you laugh.
“Put hers on my tab,” Gojo says.
“Always the gentleman.”
“You know I’ll always take care of you. Even if we aren’t married anymore.”
You could scoff at that, but you decide to be polite. He’s as candid as he’s always been. It used to humiliate you, but you aren’t the same docile little wife you used to be. You also realize his gesture could be interpreted as tender, which isn’t something you were ever used to in your marriage.
He was a cold man and it was a marriage of convenience.
Or perhaps he was only cold to you. You would watch how he would interact at social gatherings and clan parties, his charisma infecting entire rooms. Toothy grins that shone as brightly as his hair. Always loud, animated, and magnetic.
To you, he was mostly indifferent.
He was never outwardly mean, but he was constantly occupied with missions. It almost felt as if you weren’t married at all. You enjoyed speaking to him when he was around, though. There were moments when you could almost picture yourself being his friend, but then he would be away and come back cold.
When you asked for a divorce, he complied without a blink. Even after you were free from becoming an incubator for the Gojo clan’s next heir, something in your chest ached at how easily Gojo signed the papers.
And now, he’s tipsy in a bar with you and more tuned into your presence than ever. When he looks at you, there’s a lingering that you convince yourself you’re hallucinating.
Small talk with him is odd. He’s much more complicated than that, but here you are, discussing trivial things right now. If he’s remarried yet (he hasn’t). If you honed in on your cursed technique (you have).
It’s terribly odd. Like talking to a stranger that you’ve only met in a dream.
“I thought you’d have better taste in bars,” he drawls, sipping a Cosmo. It was annoyingly endearing, the way he wasn’t the kind of man to have a glass of whiskey despite acting like it.
“I could say the same to you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not a regular. This place is full of perverts.”
“Does that include you?”
Gojo grins. “Not like some of these guys. You would’ve gotten roofied if I didn’t sit down. And your outfit certainly isn’t helping.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” you scoff.
“It is one. You’re a sight to behold. Never saw you in anything like this when we were married.”
“Your clan would have my head. I assume you would, too,” you mutter.
His eyes are taking you in, flickering between your face and your body. It would make you uncomfortable if you weren’t already three beers in.
“I wouldn’t be angry. I just don’t promise that I would’ve kept my hands to myself.”
You stare at him in disbelief.
“I think this is the most forward you’ve ever been to me.”
“You were so timid back then,” he smirks. He places a hand on your knee, his thumb tracing the skin. “Such a nervous little girl. There were times I assumed you were cheating on me, the way you were so rigid with me.”
You remember being obedient and quiet. Perhaps rigid, but you had only followed his lead, pushing yourself away from him just because he was doing it to you first. You know you shouldn’t apologize or feel guilty for your lack of intimacy with him, but the way he teases you makes your face heat up.
“I wouldn’t cheat on you,” you frown.
“Good,” he smiles. It almost seems genuine. “I wouldn’t have let anyone have you, anyway.”
Your eyes widen in slight surprise.
Why did you let me divorce you, then?
His fingers are tracing circles into the skin of your thigh absentmindedly. The flutter in your chest threatens to pull on your lungs when you notice.
“You’re so different now,” he notes.
“Not really.”
“I don’t just mean the way you look, by the way. Your eyes are sharper. Posture better. Not a meek little thing anymore, huh?”
You could flush at how he belittles you, but the praise gets to your head.
“Huh. You’re the opposite. You look and act the same as when I last saw you.”
He laughs. “I always liked when you talked back, you know. Anyone ever told you can be a bit of a brat?”
You raise a brow. “Yes.”
His breath smells sweet. Tongue like a candy apple from the sugared liquor in his glass, you were sure. You don’t wince when he gets closer to you.
“Yeah? And how do they deal with it?”
You bite the inside of your cheek before entertaining him.
“Everyone’s a little different,” you mumble.
You miss the flicker of jealousy in his eyes. You’re too distracted by the shape of his mouth.
“What do you think I’d do?” Gojo tilts his head as if he’s taunting you.
“I don’t– what?” you stammer.
“You’re a smart girl. Use your imagination.”
He grins again. Everything about him is sickeningly sweet. It’s not a side of him you’ve ever seen directed at you. There’s almost a fondness there. You would only see it before in rare moments, usually when Gojo was a little drunk. You suppose he could be drunk now and you’re almost grateful despite yourself. He would always get a little handsy, especially if you were dressed up for his clan events. He’d have his hand only on your leg, crawling up the skirt of your dress. During times like those, he felt like a real husband.
They were always such fleeting moments. Even years after the divorce, certain memories could still make you dizzy.
Your mouth goes dry. You compose yourself.
“Sorry. I, uh, have to use the bathroom.”
“Gonna use your imagination in there?” Gojo jokes.
“Something like that,” you mutter back, if only to humor him.
You don’t realize the hole you’ve put yourself in once you utter the words. The invitation you’ve given him. Unfortunately, you’re also still reeling from the conversation, so you forget to lock the door of the handicapped bathroom.
To be fair, Gojo did try to convince himself not to follow you for the entire three minutes you were gone. But he’s never been that good of a man. It was your fault for being so damn tempting in the first place. But he had tried to be good even in the very beginning – he was polite, kept his hands to himself. Bought you anything you wanted.
He even let you leave him. After seeing you tonight, he now knows it was a grave mistake.
“Satoru.”
“Hey.”
He closes the door gently and locks it. Leans against the door with his arms crossed as if waiting for you to do a magic trick from the way he’s looking at you expectantly.
“Why are you–”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to follow you,” he tuts.
Okay. Fine. He had a point.
“This must be exciting for you, yeah? Seeing me lose it over you?”
You can’t form words. Despite the fire in your belly, you aren’t completely sure what his angle is here. He steps forward and backs you into the wall. He could pin you to it, easily.
His hands rest on your thighs, riding up the length of the pathetic excuse you call a skirt.
“You’re trying to kill me with this,” he huffs. “Just making everything so… difficult.”
He almost sounds disappointed in you. There is a rush of desperation flooding your brain like a knee-jerk reaction. You can feel your heart about to burst.
“Sorry,” you mumble. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.
“I was really trying to behave, too,” Gojo sighs. “Wouldn’t want to scare my ex-wife away with how much I missed her. Christ.”
“You– what?”
“Yeah, baby. How could I not miss this face?” He strokes your cheek. You’re convinced he’s been possessed by someone else, maybe. Mistaken you for a different stranger.
Your knees are already going weak. He leans in to whisper in your ear. The hand stroking your cheek holds your chin, squishing your face slightly.
“Didn’t you miss me?”
“I… I did,” you whisper.
“Good,” he smiles softly. “I like knowing you still think about me.”
The proximity is driving him insane, but he’s always liked to play with you. Sometimes he would be a little mean on purpose, but never enough to be considered bullying. He just enjoyed watching you squirm back then — it was adorable how dedicated you were to playing the part of a doting wife. He wanted to see you crack, maybe beg for his attention, but you were always too stubborn.
His cock throbs knowing that you’re putty in his hands now. Melting against him, soft and willing like a blooming flower. God, he needs a taste. He nibbles on your earlobe and grins when he feels your breath hitch.
“I kind of wanted to just take you right there on the bar. Let all those creeps see how good I’d fuck you.”
Your eyes flutter rapidly at his words. He has pinned you to the wall now. You’re close enough to feel him press against you, bullet-hard. A little more teasing and he’d pull the trigger.
He kisses down your neck, mapping it out with his teeth. He’s barely touched you and you feel like an elastic band about to snap.
“S-Satoru–”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
You pant lightly. You’re preening into his touch. Lightning makes roots down the center of your spine. You forget what you wanted to say.
“What is it? You want me to take care of you?” He pulls back this time to look you directly in the eyes. His expression softens just a second at the lovestruck look in your eyes. Tender and glistening.
You nod slowly.
“I need your words, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” your voice shakes. “I want you to take care of me.”
He hums, pleased. The desire in his face is so new to you despite having been his wife. He’d only fucked you once before, on your anniversary. You were too tempting and he, admittedly, was tired of punishing himself by not allowing himself the pleasure of having you.
He could see you now, sprawled on the tatami mat, how you smelled like cherry blossoms. Flashes of images reeling in his mind, every little sound you made. He’d fucked his fist to the memory of it all too often after you left him.
He felt honored to have the real thing in his hands right now.
He kisses you like he needs you to breathe. You feel blood rush to your ears, the music from the bar muffled. All you could hear were the sound of his grunts, the slickness of his tongue in between your lips.
He spins you around abruptly, bending you over the sink. Hand on your throat, teeth in the tendon of your shoulder.
“Look at how pretty you are,” he rasps.
You whimper, feeling his hard cock rut against the curve of your ass. He laughs when he swipes his hand underneath your skirt, the fabric of your underwear already wet.
You gasp sharply when he eases a finger in without any resistance. He swallows the sounds you make, craning your neck towards his face with his hand while the other works another finger in. Your stomach flips, all boiling heat when he curves his fingers in just the right spot. As if he’d done it a dozen times.
“Dirty girl,” Gojo mumbles. “Getting off to her ex-husband's fingers all the way up in her cunt. In a fucking dive bar bathroom, too.”
When you whine, he only scissors into you harder and laughs. It kills you how much it turns you on, even while knowing he’s being cruel. You would fantasize about it all the time back then. Needed him to make you a real wife so you could forget yourself. You close your eyes, groaning.
“S-Satoru, I–”
“You’re not gonna cum just from that, are you?” You hear a grin in his voice.
“Fuck, please —”
His fingers leave you, making you whine in protest. The sopping mess of your arousal trickles down your inner thighs.
“Not yet, baby. Want you to cum in my mouth.”
Gojo drops to his knees and flips up your skirt, pulling your soiled underwear down your legs at the same time. You cover your mouth to keep from moaning when you feel his tongue prodding at your cunt.
“I always regret not tasting you on our anniversary,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re sweeter than I imagined.”
“Imagined?” you squeak out.
“You thought I stopped wanting you just because I signed a piece of paper?”
“I didn’t – oh, fuck —”
You’re distracted by the plunge of his tongue into cunt. He sucks at the hood of your clit and you feel yourself jerk involuntarily. He’s fond of your sensitivity. He used to want to take advantage of it.
You let a particular loud whine and he hums, lapping up every drop of your arousal. He sucks at your clit in earnest while he brings his fingers back to you, immediately reaching for the spot he knows will make you see stars.
You cum so hard that you nearly bang your head against the sink faucet. Your head is spinning from the impact of it, dizzied on the high that came from a clan head in your cunt. The alcohol wasn’t helping.
He’s quick to get to his feet and kiss you so you can taste yourself. He tugs your hair and you arch for him like a taut bowstring.
“Feel how much I want you, baby?” You can feel his dick against you, something like shame flooding your system at how much of a mess you were. Getting his nice slacks all damp with your slick.
“Please,” you beg.
He doesn’t think twice once he hears your plea. He unbuckles his belt quickly and slides down his pants. He collects your wetness in between your folds to stroke his dick.
It feels like he’s gouging your stomach when he fucks into you. Bigger than any man you’ve had, still. Gojo likes that he was your first and he’s decided now that he will be your last.
“Tight,” Gojo mutters. You know it’s a compliment but your face heats up nonetheless. His hand around your throat is only more confirmation of his want.
He smacks your ass with his other hand, looking down to admire the reddish mark he left. Brute. He grins when you squeeze him tighter after it. He notices your eyes struggling to stay open and gives a particularly hard thrust just to see your jaw go slack. Eyes in half-moons, boiled by the heat of your thumping heart. Blood pumping to every soft spot in your body, your brain.
“Satoru,” you gasp.
“Yeah, baby?”
“F-Feels so…”
You inhale sharply, eyes widening when his hand snakes down to pinch your clit. Your hair’s wrapped his knuckles now. A ribbon around a wedding gift. He liked when you used to wear ribbons around your neck. Liked imagining you all wrapped up for him.
Satoru was so beautiful when he did anything, but he was angelic when he was fucking you. Cheeks all carmine, mouth wide open. It was something you wanted to get used to.
“You keep clenching, Jesus,” he grunts. Teeth at your nape, at your shoulder. Blue eyes staring at you in the mirror.
“Satoru, I’m close,” you whine.
“Hold it.”
“I– I don’t know if I can.”
“You can. You’re a good girl, even if you are dressed like a little slut.”
You whimper at that, your cunt pulsating at his words. Muscles strung out like a wet rag. You nearly cry when he pulls out of you, manhandling you to turn. He picks you up to set you down on the cold sink counter, the porcelain soothing the bruising on your ass.
He groans as he pumps himself slowly, admiring the way his tip catches on your entrance. You squirm a little, impatient, and he kisses you. It feels invasive, almost, from how rough he plays with you, sucks on your tongue. He takes the opportunity to ram into you, enjoying the way the pitched whine rolling out of your mouth gets tasted by him.
“Missed my cock, didn’t you?” he smirks. “Still the best you’ve ever had, right?”
“Y-Yes,” you sob.
His gut fucking melts.
Your mascara was getting smudged, not smudgy like he’d see in porn, but blending in the rim of your wet eyes. Dew-drop lashes.
“Feels best like this. Wanna see your face when you cum for me,” he pants.
Your hands are on his shoulders, clinging onto him. He’s so much bigger than you, especially like this — your legs spread, his big hands gripping your thigh hard enough to hurt a little. You moan. Your voice sounds girlier than usual, wounded. You don’t recognize yourself.
“Oh, it’s too deep—”
“No such thing,” Satoru snickers. “You’re – hah – so good at this. Good girl.”
“S-Satoru, it’s too–”
“You love it. Tell me.”
“F-fuck — I,” – you struggle mindlessly, voice strained – “I love it…”
“I know, baby,” he coos. Kisses your forehead, which is hilariously domestic and gentle considering the mean pace of his hips.
He grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. You’re so fucked out. He’d ask you to take a picture if he wasn’t so focused on making you cum.
“You want to cum, don’t you?” he taunts.
“Please, please, please—”
“Okay, honey,” he chuckles. “You can cum now.”
Your moan is louder than expected as your cunt squeezes him impossibly tight. You can feel all the warmth rush out of you. You really are a sight to behold, which is why Satoru cums immediately after you. You feel like you might pass out.
He kisses you all over your face, mumbling praise as you come back to your body. It’s all most nonsensical, but you swear you hear I love you. Your half-lidded eyes close as he envelops you with his arms, mascara streaking his shoulder.
He opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted by a succession of loud knocks.
“Other people need to piss!”
Satoru scoffs, pulling away from you to slide his pants back up and buckle them. He mouths something to you that you don’t understand and leans down to grab your underwear to give to you.
“Just a second!” Satoru yells. “My wife is sick, had a bit too much to drink. Almost done.”
“Wife?” you whisper, bewildered.
Satoru eyes soften in amusement. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x reader#jjk smut#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#ree.writing
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The Watchmaker
Newly employed as the assistant to a renowned watchmaker, you soon discover how deeply his obsessions run.
Warnings: 18+, boss/assistant relationship, mutual longing, loss of virginity, fingering (f!receiving), nipple play, hand job (m!receiving), creampie, gentle manhandling (consensual), breeding hints, gentle period-drama Nanami snippety-snaps and becomes unhinged, two desperate people getting far too sexy over timepieces and pots of tea
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It was unusual for a lone young woman to be lodged and apprenticed by a single man; and, yet, it came to be, when you alone passed the Watchmaker's interview.
You approached on dry cobblestones, to a handsome, deep shop, with glossy black and gold railings and doors. Your corset felt heavy with the city's summer humidity; the river held the heat like a simmering pan, and its heady stench threatened to consume you. You were used to being without a chaperone, but your modest dress and poor accompaniment drew more wayward glances in this part of the city.
You hurried into the shop, a brass bell above the door tinkling your arrival. Nobody came to greet you. You followed the voices to the back, the eyes of many timepieces following you, their ticking as whispers and gossip in your wake. You came, in time, down tiled steps to a workshop, warm and bright and full of men...naturally.
A single, cursive note graced a sign before the only remaining workbench.
Repair the clock.
Such meagre instructions for a sought-after job. In golden lamplight, a pile of cogs and a loose-handed clock face glimmered like dragon hoard. You cast your eyes, stroking your corset and heavy skirts. You nodded once, and reassured yourself, only once.
"You can do this."
The Watchmaker, a tall man whose broad shoulders and thick hands did not suggest one with a delicate touch, neither agreed nor disagreed; he simply watched, silently observing you like the many faces of his timepieces. You set to work before your audience. The Watchmaker came and went, seeking to observe the half-dozen men competing alongside you.
And, in time, half a dozen sweating young men failed one, by one, by one. The Watchmaker's disgust was apparent, and his sneers soured one, by one, by one, until the last young hopeful curdled like milk before him.
When the Watchmaker came to you, you and your box of gold were not at your station. He frowned, kept company only by muted ticks and tocks. He followed your trail, out to his walled garden.
The test would have been considered a 'trick' only by those who were angry that their lack of respect for precision and accuracy had been identified. You, who could not fathom such sloppiness, found an honest solution.
"A sundial?" The Watchmaker rumbled. You felt a rush of heat from fingertips to toes, untouched by such a voice before. Smoothing your skirts again, and finishing your adjustments to hide the heat in your cheeks, you nodded.
You had fashioned your clock face and myriad small clock pieces to form a glimmering sundial. You had positioned it just so, and confirmed its position with the time shown on your own, battered pocket watch.
The Watchmaker circled you, with narrow eyes that may contain humour were they not so scrutinising. He was impeccably tailored, you noted; a high, crisp collar and rolled back white sleeves revealed enough throat and forearm to make you sweat. An exquisite navy waistcoat nipped his waist only marginally more than his tied apron, and he hummed at your sundial.
"Not what I'd call accurate."
"I disagree. While it may not be very precise, it is accurate. The cogs for the clock couldn't be set in such a way as to make the seconds correct. They were always just out. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
He almost smiled; his eyes certainly did. Nodding, and not one for hyperbolic praise, he bowed, instead.
"Nanami Kento. I would be privileged to offer you the role as my apprentice."
The earth formed a springboard, launching you to heaven, and it wrenched the breath from your lungs on the way. Checking yourself before you babbled over with incredulous tears, you choked out an answer on a sloppy curtsey.
"Even though-- even though I'm a woman?"
A scoff. "I don't see how that's relevant."
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Mr.Nanami sought your constant presence.
A natural timekeeper, himself, he sought the company of those like him, who would not expect him to partake in social niceties and small-talk. It was no wonder, then, that he became a Watchmaker, whose many-natured friends had the same face but twice a day.
While Nanami Kento was normally at peace in ticking solitude, the many hands and ceaseless seconds had eventually, as the years went by, begun to grind into an aching loneliness.
You felt it, as summer crisped to autumn, and frosted to winter-- his desire for your company. The way his obsession bloomed to include you alongside his timepieces. The way he lingered in doorways while you handled the customers' repairs. The way he seemed breathless when your smile sent another happy patron on their way. The way he would flinch if you brushed past him.
And god, how it burned you. Eyes downcast in reverence could not remain so for long, so magnetised were they to him. His silences were rarely cold, but rather, simply those of one who held his tongue until he had something to say; a far cry from the men you knew, who sought to usurp the monarchial peace through vocal domination.
Learning such craft at Mr.Nanami's thick, calloused hands, required intimate proximity; he would have to lean around you, at points, with his chest to your back. He moved your hands within his, teaching you the dexterity needed to repair a tiny watch with surgical precision. He leaned like this around you now. You could barely breathe.
"You were not wrong. Though not strictly right, either," he murmured in your ear, his breath grazing over your cheek. His hands held the tools in yours, using your body to perform miracles. You felt faint, flushed, hot against his body, and breathed a shaking breath, quiet in your frustration so as not to disturb the sleeping cogs.
"I want to be perfect, I-- I need it--"
An amused hum, used to your angry tiny mechanics. "You are perfect, thank you. Now let us make the pocket watch match."
As your hands worked in tandem, and another impossibly tiny cog found its home, you gasped in delight, relieved, and not thinking.
"Ah, yes, Kento, we--"
Mr.Nanami stiffened behind you. You backpedaled.
"Ah-- I mean, Mr.Nanami-- I'm so sorry--"
He did not seem upset, though his ears reddened as he stepped away from you. He murmured again, unused to being perceived.
"No, no-- it's quite alright-- I use your given name, after all."
With his face flat but his eyes alight, when you looked up at him in wary apology, he sought to reassure you with a smile.
"Really, please-- please do call me Kento."
"It feels...wrong."
"I...would not seek to make you uncomfortable. It is entirely of your preference."
Your heart drowned out the whispering whirrs of the room. You heard the tap of Mr.Nanami's feet as he ascended the workshop stairs, and blurted out.
"--Kento, I'll...I'll call you Kento. Please."
A pause. Another silence. Kento's voice tightened with something altogether more intimate.
"I fear I shall get used to it far too quickly."
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Too long were you lingering in your respective doorways, before bed. Too sweet, were the shared evenings in a firecrackle sitting room. Too electrifying, were the hands that met to pour just one more cup. Too intentional were the slim-eyed stares that burned down to the very bones of you.
If you died, and committed your body to science, the ghost of you would be unsurprised if a surgeon found Nanami Kento's name scored across your ribs; for nobody else could access that cage to your heart and soul.
Nobody else could warm you, during Winter fairs on the frozen river.
Nobody else could take your hand, to help you down the stairs at the Timepiece Exhibition.
Nobody else could still you with a look, or teach you with such few words, and this was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--
Your peak hit you in a burst of static. You clasped your hand over your own mouth, as if it would sell you out for your filthy crimes. Still, you arched in your bed, your toes curling against the sheets, bucking up into nothing in waves. Clarity did not hit you after, for it had already hit you during, and had done nothing to still your fingers.
Rolling over, and pressing your face into your pillow after the ecstasy had passed, you held your breath. It was too quiet.
Your eyes sprung open. The muffled bustling you had heard from the bedroom next door, had stopped. You weren't sure when. The silence was deafening...until movement started again, more clipped than it had been before. You could feel him, moving with irritation, a prowling beast in a cage.
It was over an hour before Kento's own hand travelled down his belly, to grasp himself with whispered curses and pleas of your name. Long enough, he hoped, for you to be asleep. Long enough, he hoped, that he could hide this rampant obsession that was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--
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"I should think I'll be home for tea. Inspector Aberline's grandfather clock again. It has stage fright, I fear, for how often the Inspector stares at it."
Kento's words, from hours before, rolled through your mind again and again. The smile you had sent your final patron of the day on his way with, slipped away, for you saw the lamplighter beginning his rounds on the cobbles outside. The sun had already set; he was late, tonight. You'd have offered him a lantern, but without Kento beside you, you felt you would need its warmth and light more.
Your eyes flickered to a package on the desk. It was imperative, Kento had said, that this was delivered to the customer today. 'Today', as a concept, was growing increasingly more abstract as it threatened to expire.
You saw the deep, dark circles under Kento's eyes, in your mind's eye. He had not been sleeping well. He needed the rest. You could not bear to see him overburdened.
Taking a deep breath, and undoing your apron to replace it for your heavy coat and gloves, you tucked the package under your arm, locked up to the tune of the tinkling bell, and stole away through the night like a thief in the dark.
Clacking across cobblestones, and trying to diminish the noise of your boots upon them, you walked for what felt like miles. Though you were sure you were safe, in this part of the city, the darkness turned shadows into beasts of great renown.
Spring-Heeled Jack stalked you from the shadows. You clutched the package closer, walking faster, breathing harder--
"What the hell are you doing out here, at this time of night?"
You squealed, and flattened against a red brick wall. Kento, imperious and huge in a heavy brown overcoat, glowered down at you with unbridled rage.
"The package," you squeaked, brandishing it as a shield, "you said-- said it needed to be delivered--"
"And it is not your place to take it upon yourself to do so. Returning to find you gone, out delivering a bloody package, while there's a killer on the loose? Extraordinary." The coldness that Kento reserved only for others, now directed at you, was a bitter sting.
Still; Kento held out his arm, stiff. His lip curled when you did not immediately take it. He grew frosty as he waited, and you slipped your arm into his, to a mollified grumble.
"Come," Kento rumbled, arresting you in a hold so intimate against his side, "let us not waste a journey. The customer isn't far from here. It shall give you time to think about your foolish choices."
You felt furious tears prickle behind your eyes. Like a dog with a bone, Kento struggled to let his anger go, and you snapped up at him, "Give it a rest. You're not my husband--"
"--yet, if it would allow me any sort of say over your safety, perhaps I should be your husband." Kento had frozen, looming over you. Your belly twisted, your face hot. You turned aside, chastised like a child.
"I'm no girl," you whispered, venomous, "I can take care of myself--"
"In a world that places no value on women, why should you ever feel safe? Out here, instead of in my--"
It was Kento's turn to redden. His jaw clenched. His fingers tapped upon the package. You felt righteous anger bubbling over, and rolled the dice, in a stabbing final gambit.
"In your what, sir? In your workshop? In your arms? Or in your bed?"
Kento's stony impassivity was tested, but remained steadfast even against your snapping. But you knew him, now; you saw how his chest hitched, heard his knuckles crack, and caught the faintest flare of his nostrils. Ducking his head for a moment, and dramatised by lamplit shadow, he stepped in just once to whisper above your ear.
"You forget yourself. I am your mentor, and you are my assistant, and--"
"--and I've had enough of you pretending that's all we are--"
"--and it's hard enough not bursting into your room at night when I hear your fingers drag my name from your mouth, so if you will be so kind as to cease and desist, I will not have to press you against this damn wall to hold your tongue with my own."
His hissing reproach doused the argument with ice water. Numb-footed and stunned, you walked through treacle, as Kento dragged you to deliver the package. Your chest was still thickened by mortification by the time you approached the Watchmakers' familiar iron railings.
You found yourself pressed inside, hearing the door bolted with force. Kento's hands softened as they removed your coat from your shoulders.
"Bed," he snapped. Kento turned his back to you to light a waxdrip candle. White shirtsleeves billowed from the shoulders of his waistcoat, and he checked his pocket watch as if it would give him the answer. You reached one hand out, to bunch in the back of his waistcoat, as if a child, and he snapped again.
"Alone."
You flinched. You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. You swallowed hard, rolling the dice again.
"I hear you, too. In your room at night. The walls are thin."
"So is my patience, young lady, I will not tolerate--"
"You treat me like a girl to distance yourself from me, but pleasure yourself to my name? Please. You can make a fool of yourself but don't make a fool out of me--"
Kento spun with a growl, lifting you by the waist to drop you upon the counter. You squeaked, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself when he closed the gap between you.
"Do not act as if you know," Kento whispered, low and slow, "what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring. Do not act as if you know what it means to be reduced so, that I must spill myself onto my belly every night, to preserve your virtue.
I do not blame you, naturally-- it's my burden entirely-- but if you add one more ounce to my shoulders with that incorrigible little mouth of yours, I'm afraid your virtue shall be...under threat."
You couldn't deny the heat pooling between your thighs, now, trapped as it was by Kento's taut body. You couldn't deny your craving for such fabled bliss.
"How does it feel," you whispered, your hand creeping up the buttons of his waistcoat to stroke the silk of his cravat, "Kento? How does it feel? Do you use your hand, or--"
An agonal little choke broke past Kento's high collar. His eyes begged you to stop him. You felt his long fingers twitch on your waist.
"Do not ask me--"
"Please," you whispered again, just as desperate as him, "please, I need to know, I can't keep living life in the dark--"
"My hand," Kento choked out, his chest barrelling with the weight of his breaths, "I use my hand. But even in the dark, I can't seem to convince myself that it-- that it's--"
You felt him falter, and you begged him, your tugging loosening his cravat enough to see his throat bob behind it. Kento whined, begging in kind. His face twisted, as if the thuds of pleasure lengthening his cock were hurting him. The torture was sweet; you felt it, too.
"Don't make me say it," Kento pleaded, nose to nose and nuzzling from side to side, "I can't take it--"
"You can-- you can take me--"
"--you don't know what you're saying--"
"--I do, Kento, please--"
"--don't know what you're sacrificing--"
"--you wouldn't," you pressed, feeling his hands moving against his wishes to unbutton the back of your dress, "you wouldn't sacrifice me, I know, so just--"
Kento groaned, a sound so sinful, just to feel your dress release and slip down over your shoulders. Pinching the ends of your sleeves, with his fingertips grazing your palms and inner wrists until you shivered, he pulled. A gossamer shift of white ghosted over your skin.
"So many layers, upon a lady," Kento murmured against your lips, "like unwrapping a gift."
He sounded drunk, and the honeyrich pools of his eyes had darkened. You couldn't pinpoint the moment his resolve had crumbled, but crumble it did, with the tick-tocking eyes of many upon you. Kento grazed his fingers against your lips, ordering in a whisper.
"Open." You didn't have to, your jaw already slack as promise burned you at the edges. Kento swiped his thumb and forefinger across your tongue with a groan, and reached out, snuffing the candle between them.
What dim light there had been, died. None that breathed would hold court or witness to what Kento was about to do to your virtue.
"This will not happen only once," Kento murmured against your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you until you mewled. He cursed to hear it, becoming more unhinged by the minute. "I will take your maidenhood as a lover, but take your hand as my wife. You cannot refuse."
You could refuse-- you knew you could, in absolute safety, but such refusal would take his mouth from you with immediate effect. His hands would cease their insistent glide up, and up, beneath your skirts. He would stop rutting forwards against nothing, with each whimper that left your lips. He would no longer drag your bodice down with his teeth, to suckle at the plump swell of your breasts.
You nodded, breathless, your hands shaking against the buttons of Kento's waistcoat. He grunted as it fell open, and your hands settled upon his waist. His graze against your neck was more insistent, now, and sloppier; hungry, open mouthed kisses that suckled the salt from your skin. Occasionally, you heard him murmur, begging to you, or to his god, or to himself, for any sort of release.
Overtaken by need, you finished unbuttoning his trousers, and tangled your fingers in his hair, instead.
"Don't know what you're doing," Kento mumbled, drunker by the minute, "going to ruin you, I-- I'll ruin you-- I'm no sensible size for a virgin--"
"So you suggest I find some other man?" You panted, "You suggest I find someone smaller--"
"They don't fucking deserve you," Kento spat, forcing the last of your skirts up to grind himself at your core until you whined. With your corset untied, Kento tossed it to the floor behind him with disdain, and yanked the final layer down to free your breasts.
Shuddering, he gripped his cock to restrain himself.
"Divine," Kento whispered, ducking to nuzzle against the tips of your breasts, "I have to-- please allow me to--"
Without waiting for an answer, Kento lapped your nipple into his mouth with a groan. Suckling until you pleaded his name, with hot bursts of pleasure to your core, Kento's hands reached the crest of your thighs, and groaned to find more layers in the way.
"Buy you some more," he grunted against your breasts, gripping the fabric between strong fingers to shred it apart, "my apologies-- now, just-- oh, fuck, I--"
His fingers had slipped between your folds to glide through them. Needing to see you arch against the sudden intrusion, Kento pressed you back until you were lying on the counter, and loomed over you. You caught sight of him for the first time in minutes.
Kento was utterly dishevelled, unabashed, and too far gone. With his cravat and waistcoat hanging loose, and a long, thick swell beneath what remained of his unbuttoned trousers, he looked more debauched than your wildest fantasies. He twitched with the spurt of pre-cum that left his cock, to see you spread out before him.
Sniffing, and dragging one hand back through his parted hair, Kento scoffed at your look of glassy-eyed wonderment. His fingers curled through your lips until that sought-after arch graced his eyes, and you mewled again, your thighs clamping around his hips
"More than one of us can be reduced to a beast," he growled, circling your clit with calloused fingertips, "as you have insisted. I've taught you with these fingers before. Let us teach you something new; how it feels to peak upon the hands of a man."
"--o-oh god, oh god oh god--"
A bark of laughter, "--he won't help you now--"
"--oh, sir--"
"Try again."
"K-Kento!" You chastised through blinding pleasure. Kento chuckled again, intoxicated and made ruthless by it, and holding you flat by the belly as his hands worked miracles on your core.
"That's it-- good girl--"
The way he praised you had always brought you to a blush, but how he growled his praises while he fingered you to completion was another entity entirely.
Your hips rolled up, trying to fill the emptiness that his fingers alone couldn't. Your body was rendered base with pleasure, and nature's insistence that such passiveness should be used to leave your belly full of seed.
You could see that, too, in his eyes; an urge; a hunger that belied his gentle nature. In sudden clarity, you understood his cry of agony, from mere minutes before: 'Do not act as if you know what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring.'
"--K-Kento, I-- I don't know if I'll-- it's too much, aches-- augh--"
Your approaching peak threatened to overwhelm you, and you squirmed and begged, though you knew not what for. Kento pinned you, with one splayed hand on your belly, and whispered you on.
"That's it-- don't be afraid...shhh, now. Good girl-- that's it-- beautiful--"
You came with thigh-clamping bursts of ecstasy, so sharp and static by the hands of another, that your belly ached and cramped with the force of the spasms. Kento's fingers slowed, massaging the pleasure out of you at length, though you could feel his body growing heavy with the weight of self-restraint.
You felt yourself twitching, crunching forwards involuntarily, with little more than broken whimpers and cries as he talked you down. Though, as clarity dawned in supple bliss, you felt he may be trying to talk himself down.
"...good...that's good, that's enough, I...I am satisfied, I..."
Kento lied to himself so exquisitely, as if he didn't palm his cock with one trembling hand. As if he hadn't pulled his shirt off to relieve the prickling heat of his skin. As if he couldn't kiss you because that, oddly, would be the intimacy that broke the dam.
You broke it for him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his neck so he couldn't rear away from you. He tried, at first, with a grunt of surprise, gripping you by the waist. Feeling your lips against his rendered him dumb again, feral and nuzzling his nose to yours, like an addict in a field of poppies.
"Please-- I'm afraid I won't-- won't be gentle--"
"Bed," you whispered against his lips, "not alone."
Kento groaned again, cupping his hands beneath your thighs to lift you, and carry you up the narrow wooden staircase. He knew every shoeworn step in the dark; knew where the corridor dipped; knew the amount of steps between his bedroom door and yours, so many times had he paced between the two.
With his curtains un-drawn, only the cold winter moonlight lit the room. Meticulous, uniform possessions left meticulous, uniform shadows. The whole room smelled of Kento; of soft wax, leather and musk. In his room, in his arms as one leg flicked the door deftly closed behind him, felt like being brought home.
"If I show you how," Kento whispered, laying you on his bed, just to stalk you slowly up to his pillows, "will you...can I..."
You'd have said yes to anything. Without knowing exactly what Kento asked for, you nodded. He saw the absolute trust in your eyes, and stiffened, his eyes darkening with something more profound than need.
"Do you know what physical love entails?" He rumbled, nosing against your neck again, and depriving you of the first kiss you so desperately craved. "Do you know what it is, to be taken?"
You swallowed hard, feeling lead weights in your still twitching belly. You cursed the society that had sought your submission through ignorance.
"We...are supposed to fit together," you whispered, to Kento's satisfied rumble. Stil, it was not enough; you knew he would not continue past his insistent suckling of your throat, if you showed true ignorance, so you mumbled past your blushes.
"You...press yourself inside me, until...until you..."
"...go on."
"Until...you finish, like--like--"
"...like you did, on my fingers. Except, your completion simply fills my soul...metaphorically speaking. My completion fills you literally."
Your hand had trailed down his bare chest, reverent at his form, so different to your own and witnessed before only in fine art and statues. He didn't stop you as your hand trailed lower. He simply fixed you with a stare, that was half hope and half despair.
With rising breaths, you looked down between your bodies as you freed him. Animalistic relief twitched across Kento's shoulders, for the release from his confines. He groaned into your throat, husky in a way that made you throb. You longed to see his pleasure as he had seen yours.
Tentative, you grazed his length with the barest fingertips. Rigid, woody, hot, velvety, wet at the tip and so long and--
"Oh," you breathed, gripping him and feeling his heartbeat through his sex, and utterly unsure what you had expected, "feels...good--"
Kento breathed harshly, and had dropped onto his elbows above you, his face twisted in agony. He panted, fractious.
"Don't-- do not--"
Your hand flinched away, horrified for having hurt him, and he cursed, rolling off you to sit, strewn and messy and barely dressed, against the head of the bed. Your eyes fixed again on his manhood, heavy and twitching against his belly.
"I won't touch-- I'm sorry--"
"Don't stop," Kento emphasised, breathless, "don't...dont stop."
With a flush of heat in your cheeks, you understood the nature of Kento's agony, and it only made you hungrier. Crawling over him in the barest white undergown, to straddle his thighs and sit upon them, you reached out to grip him with one trembling hand again. Kento arched, moaning that rusty, desperate moan again.
"Show me? Like you do in...in the workshop."
"God, your hand is so sweet--" With his own hand, big enough to engulf yours, he wrapped around your grip to his length. Slowly, deliberately, and watching where your hands clasped around him with sweat on his brow, Kento used your hand to pump himself.
Feeling the glide of silk on iron made your core wetten and clench. Watching how Kento moaned, bucking into your joined fists and reaching up behind him to grip the pillows, was hypnotic. Within seconds, your hand had begun to move independently of his, stroking him with raw determination to witnessq his unravelling.
Kento groaned in time with your rhythmic strokes. His newly freed fist bunched, instead, at your hip, having rucked your slip aside to dimple shaking fingertips in the plush of your curves. You began to squeeze a little tighter at the tip, twisting a little, and making Kento see stars.
"Hah--haaaaah-- don't-- don'tstop-- better than any dream-- good girl, please, please--"
Your thumb swiped without warning across a bead of wetness that had seeped from the slit in his tip, and Kento swore, bucking hard enough to make you chirp and grip his thighs for purchase.
"--wait--wait-- I'll spill in your hand, wait--"
This didn't deter you; if anything, it spurred you on to faster and faster strokes. Kento writhed, sweating and gripping, and you watched the heavy balls beneath his length tighten up, and--
"--ungh--coming--don'tstop...unh--"
Kento's whole body tensed. His face fixed in divine ecstasy. You watched his length jerk in your fist with thick, warm glugs of sticky white seed. You stared, your new obsession making you want to stroke Kento's release between your folds, but you held him instead, feeling him rut into your fist to chase his high.
After what felt like a lifetime, Kento came back to earth, with a heavy chest. While lax, for now, something in the way he looked at you, kneeling above him and examining the way his release dripped down your forearm, told you he was barely sated.
"Always were a...a fast learner."
"Well, you always wrote me off as a child--"
"I did not," Kento huffed, a mortified, angry flush colouring his cheekbones, "I knew exactly the woman you were. I do not lust after girls. If I didn't separate you, I knew I would...I knew we would..."
You nodded. You had both fought to convince yourself against such inevitability. Pondering, and curiously disappointed in the aftermath of Kento's pleasure, you stroked his slippery length in your hand again.
"You're...still hard."
Kento's eyes flicked down, that animalistic hunger taking seed in his eyes again. When he spoke, it was low, and barely measured.
"It would not usually, but-- but feeling you above me, so close that I could flip you over and trap you beneath me, I--"
You felt your breath leaves your lungs at once. Kento winced, disgusted with himself, but you snatched it away before it could take root.
"Please-- I want that, please--"
"With all this seed, and more to come after I bury myself inside you, you will be with child within days," Kento spat, gripping your cum-slick wrists to stop you stroking another orgasm out of him. Kento froze; having been about to throw you off, he saw the look in your eyes. The look of willingness. That sheer determination that had taken you as his apprentice in the first place.
"You like that," he mused aloud, enraptured as you lifted your undergown away to reveal yourself in your entirety. With your wrists gripped in one broad hand, the other stroked down between your breasts, to settle, stroking, on the soft plush of belly just above your mound.
"You...like that? The thought of a part of me, growing inside you? The thought of me spilling myself so deep, it has nowhere to go but your belly?"
The thought made you lightheaded. Why? Why was the thought of the same sticky release that coated your hands, inside you instead, so alluring? Beast in fine tailoring a beast in fine tailoring a beast--
Kento rolled you over. The strength you always knew he had, carefully restrained by waistcoat and pocket chains, bore down upon you now. He kicked away his trousers, desperate to be as bare as you, and brought his sheets over his hips to bury you both in a warm little den. You shivered to feel his length rest on your belly and mound, so close to where you wanted him.
Kento shook his head, trying to see logic, "If I finish inside you-- you really will be in danger of bearing my child, you..."
His voice had faded, gobsmacked as you stroked your seed covered fingers between your folds, mulish and clipped.
"There," you snipped, "I've already covered myself in you, so that's that--"
"You are utterly feral, this is what I get for bringing a guttersnipe into my workshop--"
"--so you might as well just finish the deed, sir, because--"
Kento laughed, overjoyed by your fearless audacity. His lip curled, and he reached down again to stroke his sticky seed between your folds.
"You think that's what I meant by inside?" He pressed, so close to the entrance you had never sought to penetrate, "You think I meant here? No, my love...I meant here."
You squeaked to feel Kento press one thick finger at your entrance. You felt the briefest sting of resistance, felt yourself clench and buck. Kento stopped, and pressed a first kiss to your lips, so sweet that you rushed through a wildflower meadow in summer.
He stroked circles just inside your entrance, loosening you with the slick of his seed, and kissing you with an intimacy that felt so much more than all the sordid deeds you had stolen from each other so far.
"And when I say 'here'," Kento continued, his breathing getting heavier, "I meant deeper. Much deeper than my fingers could reach. In truth, I would rather break your maidenhood with my cock, than my fingers. Some...filthy little part of me, I think. I loathe it. But, since we are well past being dishonest with each other..."
"Want that, please--" you babbled, squeaking with the promise of being filled with the rod you felt dragging on your belly, "--please, do it, I need to know, need you--"
"You beg like you mean to corrupt," Kento grumbled, pressing a little harder against your entrance and shivering as you squeaked, "I was a good man before this...I think. Shhhh, shh shh...that's it...soften you up...good girl."
"Not a girl," you gasped, your voice breaking and your nails digging into Kento's shoulders. He laughed, a full, rich, deep laugh of genuine delight. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his fingers were replaced by his cockhead.
"You are right," he rumbled, nuzzling his nose to yours again, "you're certainly not. At least...you won't be, in a moment." Nose to nose with you, and whispering into your mouth, Kento pressed insistently forwards, "Hold onto me."
You did, feeling a brief sting, and stretched and stretched and stretched and--...full. You whimpered, bringing your legs around Kento to embrace all of him to you. He grunted, and gasped, pulled to bottom out within you, when he had meant to take you slowly. You clung him inside you as he moved to pull out, and begged, afraid it was already over.
"Nonono-- don't come out-- stay--"
Kento bucked into you involuntarily, and groaned a godless sound, arching up and gripping the headboard, white-knuckled.
"Got to-- got to move, to-- to finish...but at this rate--Christ, you'll kill me-- god, can't-- can't finish straight away like a boy--"
If the pleasure of being locked into the warm, wet drag of your pussy hadn't almost taken Kento to the edge, the way you looked up at him with glassy adoration would. He moaned again, another certain stepping stone to damnation.
One more glance at you had Kento planting one forearm above your head, and plaiting his fingers with yours upon the pillow. He gasped, trying not to take you too roughly, and finally, whispered again.
"Hold onto me."
Smooth, and fluid, and with the barest scraps of self control, you saw stars to feel Kento drag his cock back to your entrance, only to fill you again. You felt the thickfriction drag, and its bursts of belly-deep pleasure than rendered you oddly submissive. You revelled in it; drugged, and sighing, your eyes slipping closed.
The drunken animal in Kento had returned in force.
"...feels...weird...good--- don't stop, Ken--"
"--sh-shit, won't last-- I'm sorry--"
Kento watched you in wonderment. Whatever pleasure your ripe core gave him, could not compare to that given to him by your face; your mewls, and sighs, and whispers.
You couldn't seem to whisper his name, though; it tasted so sweet upon your tongue, that you could not bear to let it go.
You could feel Kento losing his ragged self-control. Watching your face, the plush bounce of your breasts, and the way your thighs spread against your belly every time he fucked into you, was an otherworldly delight. You took it; gladly. Your pleasure built strangely-- deeper, and more powerful, and yet not quite enough.
Your fingers sauntered down your belly. In your addled, fucked-into state, you barely noticed what you were doing. Kento noticed, though, and growled, a droplet of sweat dropping from his forehead between your breasts. His thrusts deepened, harder and faster and desperate for orgasm.
"F-fuck...just like that...just like you do at night-- my name--"
"Ke...Ken--"
"My name."
"Kento," you half-sobbed, lost in his promise to fill you with the sticky cum that had dropped down your hand, "please--pleasepleaseplease--"
"--the begging, fuck, I'm-- I'm done, I'm-- ungh, fuck--"
You knew Kento must be finishing. You felt him twitching, and jerking, within the snug gripping heat of your cunt, ruined by him as per his promise. You felt the curious warm spill somewhere deep inside you.
You knew the look of bliss upon his face. Your fingers, still rolling the remnants of his seed around your clit, moved faster and faster and faster--
You arched, seconds after Kento's own peak had begun, into your own. You heard the headboard crack under Kento's grip, heard the rhythmic, fractured moans that may have been his and may have been yours, too lost were you both in oblivion.
The world may have completed one full turn. Struggling to hold himself up, Kento shook, dopey and half-asleep after filling you as he had threatened. You locked him within you, and held him like a lead blanket, nuzzling into his throat.
"Just...stay there. Stay. I like it."
"That feels...indecent," Kento mumbled into your neck. His uncharacteristic colloquialism was winding back again, and you felt the clipped man in the waistcoat and pocket chain returning to earth. You whispered, to his devilish laugh.
"How are we supposed to make watches together after that?"
"Carefully. Very, very carefully. As husband and wife."
"...oh."
#pseudowho#Haitch#Jjk au#nanami my love#jjk#kento nanami#nanami kento#jjk nanami#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x y/n#nanami#nanami fluff#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#Watchmaker!Nanami by Pseudowho#nanami kento x you#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#nanamin#nanami fanart#Watchmaker!Nanami by Haitch#nanami kento x y/n#Nanami Kento X reader smut
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WITH MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT — TOP MALE READER X SUKUNA
synopsis. taming the king of curses is one thing. making him beg is another. since it's either fuck him good or get your throat slit anyway, why not take a gamble and achieve both? wc. 2.6k
tags. sub! sukuna, soft dom!reader. can be read as cock or strap. brat taming, choking, begging, hair-pulling, belly bulge, heavy praise kink, pet names (good boy, sweetheart), porn with feelings, this turned out way more intimate than i intended it to be
His back arched away from your chest as you slowly pushed your cock inside him, stretching him wide open. You could feel his every ragged breath from the hand you wrapped around his throat, silent for once, and you knew he was eager.
“Good fuckin’ boy, Sukuna,” you muttered lowly into his ear.
You barely heard the warning growl. He turned his head abruptly, teeth snapping together in an attempt to bite as you jerked away, barking out a startled laugh.
“Aw, that was cute.” And as though the bite wouldn’t have torn flesh, wouldn’t have scarred your face for life, you smiled down at his scowling face like it was a pretty thing.
“I am not your pet,” Sukuna snarled, and he sounded angry, something akin to a wounded animal. You hummed non-committedly, continuing to push until you were snugly seated inside him. “Fuck—the n-next time you call me that, I will bite something more than your face.”
“How tempting.” Despite his threats, his legs were trembling with effort to hold himself up, and he pressed his throat into the cup of your hand, willingly submitting to your touch. You squeezed lightly, just enough to press into his windpipe, and watched as all four of his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
It was funny, really, how he was using violence to disguise what a whore he really was. You counted to five before you let go.
Apparently, you stopped too early for his liking. He was panting, his glare wet with tears, biting down a moan with bared teeth as the fat tip of your cock caught on his rim before easing in again. You were moving at a lumbering pace, deep and hard inside him but too fucking slow and rubbing at all the wrong places.
He was growing frustrated by the second, and he finally barked, “Get on with it or I’ll kill you! Do you want to fuck me or not?”
“I am fucking you, Sukuna.”
“Not like this! Fuck—fuck you!” he half-hissed, half-whined, nails digging into the soft mattress. ‘More’ and ‘faster’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he took pride in his title of the King of Curses, and naturally his ego kept his mouth sealed shut. “Do really think I will hesitate to kill you just because I let you inside me? Are you that much of a fool?”
“Nah,” you replied nonchalantly, rolling your hips inside him to jolt out a startled moan. “You can kill me, but I don’t feel like catering to you today.”
His words exploded into a string of expletives as he slammed his hips against you, shuddering as it only dug deeper, missing his sweet spot by far.
Sukuna wanted to scream.
Hand sliding up from his throat to firmly seize his jaw, you turned his face to meet you. “D’you need a reminder, sweetheart?” Your fingers dug into his cheek, taking extra precaution in making sure he wouldn't suddenly rear up and bite you.
You needn’t have worried, though. He was way too desperate to care about the pet name or comprehend your question at that point, and he bucked his hips impatiently against yours, letting out a displeased growl. “What? J-just fucking fuck me already, brat.”
You ignored him, continuing to move into him at a languid pace. “If I just give you the reward every time you ask, you’ll turn spoiled. How about you show me that you’ve earned it first, mm?”
“What,” he lets out a shudder, breath bordering on a sob because why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? He was so good for you, all patient despite his arousal, waiting for you to take him like you had promised, and yet you were being so mean and unfair to him. “What do you fucking want from me? You are just—fuuuckk, you are just human—so fucking weak, comparable to an insect! What makes you think you have the right to demand that of me? I am your king.”
He wanted to rip that smirk right off your face, punch your pretty face in. Dine in your blood. You didn’t deserve him.
“I don’t have any right, I know,” you agreed, “but you aren’t entitled to everything, either.”
“Your ways of insinuation are pathetic—”
It hit him then, like a thunderbolt splitting the earth apart, and he gave a violent shudder.
The past twenty minutes had not been for nothing. You weren’t just toying around with him. You wanted him to see him crumble from his want for you. You wanted to hear him beg for it.
“No,” he gasped, shaking his head wildly. “No, fuck you. I am not going to beg.”
You felt a sadistic smile creep onto your face. Seeing him deviating from his usual cocky self, now a babbling, incoherent mess, gave you a strange sort of pleasure. “I didn’t ask you to beg, though, did I? But now that you mention it…”
You wanted to break him.
Not that he wasn’t breaking already.
Sukuna was trembling with the effort of not giving in, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it tore through skin. Blood trickled down one side of his chin, and you wanted to lick it up.
“I am your king,” he repeated, a tremor in his voice betraying his want. “You offer to me. I do not beg.”
“Well, king, you’re holding up all the fun,” you taunted, voice sickly sweet. “Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me?”
He shook his head again, this time with less force. Tears were welling up in his eyes again, and he didn’t even bother to blink them away, too occupied otherwise. They dotted on his lashes, threatening to spill. Where were his promises of ‘biting something more than your face’? What a little liar.
“I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be feeling it for days,” you purred into his ear, “in exchange for one word. That’s all I’m asking for. You can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?”
You watched in triumph as his eyebrows furrowed, as though carefully contemplating his answer. It was far too generous of an offer—he would be a fool to refuse. You made sure he knew that. Just one more little push, and he would topple over the edge and become putty in your hands. One more push.
Kissing your way down his spine to plaster yourself to his back, you reached a hand down his abdomen with your free hand, pressing into it where your cock rested within him. It was too much, and you knew it. You were heavy and thick inside him, filling up every inch of his tummy, and he hadn’t stopped clenching around your girth since the first time you pushed it in. Then you moved your hand, feeling him up until you found the thing you were looking for.
You heard his breath hitch.
Beneath your fingers was an obscene swelling high up in his abdomen, protruding from the hard lines of his stomach. A bulge that made for clear evidence that his insides were carving out a space for you. You should have known there was no way it would fit so innately. No matter how disagreeable his personality was, his body was so good for you, as always.
You gave the bulge a little squeeze, and Sukuna let out a choked whine, mouth gaping as though trying to form words.
You pressed yourself to his back, kissing his shoulder. “What is it?”
He shook his head, continuing to whine softly, no longer as petulant as he was desperate. You were almost afraid you had broken him.
You decided to take one more step. Flattening your palm on the bulge, you carefully pressed it back into his stomach. “What do you want, Sukuna?” you whispered. “I’ll give you everything you want.”
He tipped his head back to glare at you with the corner of his eye, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Give me more,” he gritted out, helpless. “Please.”
Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?
Without warning, you pulled back and rammed yourself into him in one go, angling your hips to pound right into his sweet spot, making him cry out in surprise. “W-wait, wait, ahh!” he screamed, the hand on his neck forcing him to stay in place. “Slow down, ‘s too much—”
You continued to slam your hips against him, hitting his prostate with every sharp thrust, drinking in his whines and complaints and ignoring all of them. “You’re so good, so fuckin’ good, Sukuna.”
He whined loudly in response, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as you railed him into oblivion. “Not good, no,” he sobbed, shaking his head, his protests falling on deaf ears. “Bastard, slow down…”
You let go of his throat to grab the back of his neck, shoving his face roughly into the mattress as he cried out. “Fuck, how do you feel so good?” you muttered mindlessly, taking more rapture in looking at his pleasure-addled expression (eyes squeezed shut, drooling onto the bed, moaning loud and clearly in ecstasy) than the fact that you were inside him. “I could do this all day long, y’know?”
The tip of his erection grazed against the sheets with every thrust, and he wanted nothing more than to grab it and jerk off to your pace, but you kept his hands so busy, either trying to knock off his balance or brutally pound his entire body into the bed.
“Ah, ah, sh-shut up! Keep talking and—I’ll twist your head off!” he threatened with a whine, desperate, but you continued to talk, embarrassing him further.
“Look at you,” you cooed, “you were making a fuss earlier, and look at you now, taking me so well. Fuck. You look like you’re made for this, Sukuna. Made for taking my cock.”
He seized up at that, hole clenching around your girth obscenely, making your pace stutter.
“What was that?” you laughed. “Was that a turn on? You’re too cute, really.”
Sukuna tried to morph his face into a look of disgust, but all he succeeded in doing was have his eyebrows pinched up in a look that resembled pure bliss more than anything. At some point he gave up struggling, arms going slack as he allowed you to pull him back against your cock by the hips, fucking him onto your lap as lewd ‘ah, ah, ah’s escaped his lips.
You were pounding into him like an animal, treating him like one, and yet your pathetic, ingratiating words never failed to make his heart cramp up with a strange sensation, heat spreading from his face to the tips of his ears and down his chest, painting him a pretty red.
You were just another lowly human, he reminded himself, someone to fuck and forget, but at the moment Sukuna found himself wishing to get lost in the stars that erupted around the edges of his vision every time you hit his prostate, found himself wanting a second time, even if the first hadn’t ended yet. You drove him insane, and he loathed how good it made him feel.
“Brat,” he heard his own voice, wrecked by how much noise he had been making, and you leaned forward to kiss his spine, letting him know you heard him.
“What?” you murmured as he didn’t continue, slowing down your thrusts. “D’you need something? Does it hurt?” He bristled at how tender your words were, how you acted like you cared about a bloodthirsty curse like him.
“Did I give you permission to stop?” He pushed his hips back against you with a growl, forcing you to pick up your pace. “Just wanta let you know—after this. You’ve got—hnngh, ahh, fuuuck! Nowhere to run. So don’t even think about i-it.”
You blinked, equal parts amused and perplexed by his sudden threat. You dared not stop, though, even as he started to pant and whine heavily into the mattress, body shuddering with the gradual approach of an orgasm. “I’m not going to run from you, Sukuna. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Why would you run, when he was right under you, pliant and wanting for you to satisfy him? Did he not understand how much you’ve yearned for this?
“Good choice,” he moaned, “don’t you dare fucking stop until you make me cum.”
You sped up your thrusts, snaking a hand back onto his neck and up to fist into his hair, wrenching his head up to smother him with a filthy kiss. It was rough, and more teeth than tongue, and at some point you could taste the sharp tang of blood from the cut in his lip earlier. You lapped it up along with the saliva that trickled down his chin, hearing him let out a needy whine.
“So close, ah—so damn close, please, please, fucking please—” he begged shamelessly between loud moans, stripping himself naked of all dignity as he spent the last of his energy to bend his back into a vile arch, pressing his ass against your crotch as you slammed yourself into his swollen sweet spot in one powerful thrust.
A scream ripped from his throat and he came untouched, staining the bed with white, at the same time clamping down on you so hard you jerked to a sudden stop. You collapsed onto his back, panting loudly as you tried to catch your breath.
“Fuck,” you groaned. “You okay?”
He refused to respond, keeping his face buried in the mattress. You took the opportunity to pull out, hearing him let out a soft whine, cold and aching and suddenly empty.
“Fuck you,” you heard him mutter.
That was good. He was still alive.
You slumped down onto the bed next to him, kissing his shoulder to try and get him to turn, and he raised a shaky hand to flip you off, mumbling something you assumed was a profanity.
Biting down a grin at how utterly adorable he was being, you found yourself overwhelmed by a sudden rush of affection.
“What, are you shy?” you teased. “Don’t be.”
He scoffed, the tips of his ears reddening. “Brat, I am not shy.”
He didn’t have any reason to be shy. Not to you. After all, you had long mapped out every inch of his body, from his prominent features to his most vulnerable. Made him want to bare his throat for you to make him feel good.
But nothing could have prepared you for the way Sukuna slowly flipped himself onto his back, levelling you with a sleepy, half-lidded gaze instead of his usual hard glare, muttering something under his breath. He watched you quietly, placing his hand next to yours on the bed, the position far too intimate for your comfort.
“Hey,” you blurted out, feeling your heart skip a beat. You knew you were risking everything, and that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, but you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out. “You were really good today.”
Good.
Sukuna had been called many things in his life before, but ‘good’ was not one of them. Good men did not dirty their hands with the blood of the innocent for fun. Good men did not sit on a mountain of bones and call themselves a king. Good men did not grow six arms and four eyes and look like monsters, and Sukuna was a monster himself.
There was a long, awkward pause, and his eyes were wide with a look you couldn’t decipher—one of disgust or mockery, maybe, and you were already regretting it. But to your utmost surprise, it started with a light blush dusted high on his cheekbones, before it bloomed into a dark red that spread across his face. The corners of his lips twitched, and then lifted, ever so slightly. He immediately fought to replace it with a scowl, but you had already seen it.
He had smiled. Sukuna had smiled at you. A genuine, almost soft smile, as though he cherished the way you told him he was good, had longed to hear it for centuries of living.
“Quit smiling, brat,” he huffed, but his voice lacked any real venom, more exhausted and content than anything, and made no refusal when you leaned in to kiss him.
Sukuna would later realise that he was neither good nor man, but if you were ever so willing to embrace a curse like him, he supposed he could be good to you, for you. masterlist! # and here’s to introducing me and my delusions to the jjk fandom… also i feel like my tags r getting a lil repetitive lol
#✧ blood of reptile.#top male reader#dom male reader#sukuna x male reader#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x male reader#sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x you#top reader#dom reader#male reader#x male reader#ryomen sukuna#bottom character#sub character#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x male reader
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the transandrophobia discourse is poisoned by separatist feminist theory that terfs and radfems have been maliciously injecting into feminist conversations, so here's The Will To Change excerpts by bell hooks again.
libratory feminism sees no difference between men and women except those manufactured by patriarchy. misogyny is a symptom of patriarchy the system, not a structure by which to interpret patriarchy the system. replacing "sexism" with "misogyny" does not change the nature of the analysis, which is a weak one. patriarchy the system can induce the symptom of misogyny in any person subjected to that system. using sexism/misogyny/male chauvinism is not a useful lens of analysis when looking at patriarchy because women are misogynists too. let's not move backward on that. women are misogynists too and men are allies.
the recent "trans men are misogynists" allegations I've seen lodged against trans men are:
unprepared to be treated like a predator, may cry about it
asked that only trans men attend a trans mens' support group
discussed male loneliness instead of talking about violence against women
all of these are actually feminist discussions. so the backlash seems like angry feminist reactions to Men Having Feelings, which is not a new thing. in fact, hooks addresses it directly.
i see men being mocked for having their feelings hurt, men being mocked for wanting to discuss their feelings, and men being mocked because they're thinking about men and manhood in new and complex ways. exactly what the doctor ordered.
i am not seeing challenges to patriarchy here. I am seeing reinforcement of patriarchal expectations of masculinity on trans men who do not want to perform those expectations. i am seeing separatist radfem bullshit in the assumption that trans men have lost or never had a valuable perspective on misogyny or gender or sexism and cannot tell when the shape of discrimination they're facing has changed. i am seeing toxic separatist radfem bullshit shut down liberatory feminist discussion because one of the speakers is trans in the wrong direction.
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✧.* what happens if you see your ex-boyfriend, theodore nott, at a halloween party?
ex!bf!theo x fawn!reader (fem pov)
word count: approx. 2.7k
cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, tit sucking/fondling, oral sex (f receiving), praise, rekindling
a/n: last minute, sleep deprived, and not proof-read halloween treat ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
You stirred awake as you heard your dorm room's door click shut and saw a glimpse of your roommate's hair disappearing from view. She was undoubtedly headed to the infamous yearly Halloween party in the Room of Requirement.
You had previously declined her offer to go with her, deciding to spend most of your time moping over your ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott.
Two weeks prior you had your heart broken when you called things off with him. Your peers had convinced you it was the right thing to do at the time as he never paid you any attention, seemingly avoiding you constantly for no good reason, sometimes days at a time. Although you initiated the separation, you wasted no time in mourning the early stages of your relationship; the moments where you would be alone with him, talking to him, kissing him, and the times you guys almost said you loved each other.
You fluffed up your pillows, preparing yourself to lay down and think of Theodore until you slept like you had been doing for the past week when you heard more shuffling outside your dorm room. It seemed like everybody would be attending the Halloween party.
Dreading the idea that he'd probably be wooing someone new, you sat back up and groaned, forcing yourself up onto your feet and into your bathroom. You stared back at yourself in the mirror; puffy-eyed and your nose tinged pink. You felt the sudden urge to go, feeling your time would be better spent seeing a few familiar faces and dancing out your blues.
You had a small problem though.
You vaguely recalled seeing the bustling students leave wearing costumes, but given the spontaneous nature of your new feelings, you had nothing to wear. You tentatively looked around your bathroom and then at your full dorm, hoping for a costume to spawn from thin air. Biting your lip, your eyes landed on a headband of fuzzy deer ears and short plush antlers.
Theodore had bought you the headband in Hogsmeade during your first date as a way to poke fun at your meek demeanor. You contemplated wearing the headband, allowing yourself a quick Halloween if you simply did the makeup. Against your better judgment, you put it on before propping yourself in front of your vanity to do the deer makeup you so saw often on your Pinterest feed. Luckily, your closet consisted of many warm browns with white accents, granting you the ability to not have to freak over finding matching clothing.
You took a final breath before walking out the door, headed towards an evening of branching out.
--------------------------------------------------------
Theodore's gaze lingered around the room, his face stoic, as he seemingly tried to look for someone.
"Someone missing his girl?" Draco teased, pinching his cheek.
Shoving him lightly with his shoulder, Theodore turned his face towards his pestering friend. "Don't smudge m'fucking makeup." He groaned inwardly as he saw no sign of you after his eyes finished their fourth round around the room. "I'm not looking for anyone either. Don't got a girl."
"Ohh yeah, we forgot," Lorenzo snorted beside him. Theodore seemed unamused, brushing past him and bumping his shoulder on the way.
"Seems angry," Blaise said, stifling a laugh.
"Would be too if I lost what he did," Draco shrugged.
Theodore Nott stalked around the perimeter of the large crowd, avoiding the large wings and costumes present. He took a swig out of his red solo cup, about to give up before seeing you walk in.
Seeing your face illuminated in the party's dim lighting, his lips parted slightly, soaking in the way you looked so graceful when entering, yet so lost.
Your headband piqued his interest. His brows furrowing, he tilted his head slightly to get a better view. Definitely his.
You walked around the room, the heel of your shoes clicking. You caught a glimpse of someone with their face completely obscured by their skeleton makeup, but there was no mistaking those eyes.
No way were you going to purposefully talk to him, the sting of your breakup still apparent. You headed towards the drinks, acting as if you were in your element when truth be told, you didn't care for drinking. You stood awkwardly at the table, looking for your friends to no avail.
You saw him striding towards you in the corner of your eyes and quickly scattered to an area with a larger crowd. Planning to circle back to the drinks table to throw him off, you weaved through the people, getting small peeks at different costumes; an American cowboy, a devil, and a very strange furry octopus.
You grabbed a red cup from the table, bringing the emptiness to your lips to fake a sip, your eyes scanning the room intensely, relieved that you lost him.
Your heart was beating faster than usual, a small bead of sweat forming on your forehead. You adjusted the headband to not fall off and straightened your top.
Coming was a mistake. The dark lighting made it difficult for you to locate your friends, Theodore was looking as handsome normal as ever, and the room seemed to shrink with each step you took.
A bit jumpy from nervousness, you started to fill a cup of oddly green punch before feeling a large hand clamp down on your wrist. Flinching, you immediately looked at the one responsible and met their piercing blue eyes.
"Avoiding me?" he said.
The way he said it like he didn't really care, only bothering to use two words like you both hadn't been pretending not to stare at each other for two weeks made you uneasy.
Pulling your hand away, you swallowed before answering. "No."
Your voice made him smile, his face clearly finding humor in your denial.
God, he looked so handsome with the skull makeup.
He placed his hands on both of your shoulders, pulling slightly away from you to get a better view of your face. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"
Unconvinced by him, you looked at him suspiciously, your body taut. "No," you said again. Frowning slightly, he dropped his hands to his side and said,
"I'm serious. I really did."
Your face started to heat up and you bit the inside of your cheeks to contain yourself. You knew that if you didn't restrain yourself, you would immediately jump up into his arms and embrace him like old times.
"Okay," you said quietly. "That's cool." You tried to sound casual, pretending like you didn't notice his gaze flickering to your deer ears and antlers.
"I like the uh, the makeup," he complimented you, gesturing towards his own face.
"Same to you. Skull-- very nice." You nodded slowly, unsure of the conversation's direction.
"Thanks. That mine?" he asked you, pointing at your headband.
Turning pink, you gave a small chuckle. "Uh yeah, just you know--" you said dismissively. "No costume..."
"Ah, I see I see. So, you here with someone?"
"No, no I'm not." You felt a bit surprised by his question, it seemed somewhat bold in a way. You both stood around some more, staring at each other and then looking away only to subtly shift your arms together.
"Alright well, I'm gonna ask you again," he suddenly spoke up. "Did you miss me?"
You didn't want to answer him truthfully, yet you didn't want to just lie to him.
"I did."
It seemed as though those two words were all he needed to hear to do what he did next. Immediately moving his hands to your face, he leaned into a kiss, wasting no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. It was far more different than the kisses you guys shared before, this time it felt like your mouths were on fire and the other person's was water; the only way to extinguish it. Your hands were still at your side, allowing him to do most of the work.
Pulling away, you swallowed thickly, trying to process what had just happened. He gave a small, amused huff before dropping his head down to face the ground as you stood there dazed.
"I don't think we should..." you started, trying to find the words. "Like just not here right...?"
Theodore looked at the lively party and nodded as he looked back at you. "You're right. Let's find someplace else."
He grabbed your hand lightly, walking you out the door, and leaving the party. You weren't sure why, but you let him, trailing behind him, trying to keep your steps light in the corridors.
"Come on, there's this classroom-- always unlocked," he smiled at you. "Bit far though," he added. You didn't mind. The anticipation and excitement of getting back with Theodore fogged your mind, shooting out every other piece of information that ever resided in your brain.
He brought you to the stairs and you started to descend, but your heels echoed loudly. "Careful, it's past curfew," he said, bringing a finger to his mouth.
"Sorry, sorry!" you whispered. "I can't it's my shoes."
Theodore stopped mid-step and so did you. His head darted around in all directions looking to see if someone was approaching. "Up you go," he said. Before you could possibly protest, he picked you up off the ground, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. He placed one of his hands around your back to support you, the other on your ass.
Despite the extra weight, he seemed to have no problem walking at his normal speed, quickly going down the many flights of stairs until you both reached the ground floor. He opened the door to a classroom, shutting it behind you guys before placing you to sit on the teacher's desk in the front of the room. You observed the classroom, your mouth slowly growing wider.
"Theo-- this is McGonagall's room! She's going to fucking kill us!"
He shook his head to reassure you. "She's not going to find out, don't worry."
You looked uncertain and he said nothing, trying to give you some time to believe him.
"Theo?" you piped up.
"Mm?" he answered, leaning on his hand placed on the table you sat on.
"Why did we break up?" you asked him.
He had a smirk on his face, but you could tell he felt as bad as you did. "What do you mean? You broke up with me."
"No I mean, why did we break up? Why did you start acting like that?" You drew invisible circles on the desk, adverting eye contact.
"I was an idiot," he scoffed. "I just- I just got scared. Always felt bad you were too good for me," he said, starting to get agitated with himself. "You're so sweet you know. I'm," he shrugged. He cupped your face with his hands, making you look at him.
"Didn't wanna drag you down with me."
You opened your mouth again to argue, but he brought his finger to your lips before leaning back in for another kiss. You felt his hands all over your body and you brought yours to his jawline. The kisses started soft, clean. But they became sloppy as he went down to kiss your neck.
"I'll be different now," he breathed out. "I promise."
His kisses grew more intense and you couldn't help but let out low whimpers as he reached the top of your chest. He took your shirt off, taking a step back to admire the view of you in your lacy white bra. He unclasped your bra, hanging it on the handle of McGonagall's closet next to her desk.
Never having gotten this far in your previous relationship, he gave a low gasp, cupping one of your tits in his large hands. Fondling you lightly, he then pinched a nipple between his fingers, suppressing his laughter as he watched you squirm on the desk. He bent over slightly taking the other nipple in his mouth.
Having his hand on your tit, combined with him gently sucking the other, you gave out quiet moans, clawing at the edge of McGonagall's desk. Pulling his head away, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to your nipple, he stood back up, bringing his hands to your waist.
He pulled your skirt down your thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. He kneeled down on the ground, shuffling closer to you.
The sight of his face between your legs, his face with the skeleton makeup on, practically had you shaking in excitement. He kept his eyes on you the whole time; as he moved the underwear sticking to your wet cunt aside, lightly trailed a finger over your wet folds, and as he moved his head closer, slipping his hot tongue into you.
"Mmm, T-theo..." you whined as he brought his tongue deeper inside of you. He flicked his tongue around, exploring freely, the sounds coming out sounding far more erotic than what you were used to.
His tongue slipped out of your cunt, and he used it to circle around your clit, eliciting shaky moans from your mouth as you bought your hands to his hair. Your eyes began to water and you felt your orgasm nearing. About to crush his skull with the way you wanted to squeeze your thighs together, your legs shook against the sides of his head.
Theodore placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs further apart, continuing to travel around your folds with his tongue with increased speed. Before you could orgasm, he pulled away suddenly, making you whine loudly in surprise.
"Theodore..." you said, tugging on his hair. He stood up and began to unbuckle his belt, slipping his pants off.
"Be patient sweetheart," he smiled. His boxers fell down his legs next, his glistening cock springing out. You placed your hands behind your back on the desk to support yourself as you stayed seated and he guided the tip of his cock with your entrance.
You felt a bit afraid, this being your first time having sex with Theodore, and it seemed like he could tell because he tilted your chin up softly and said, "I'll go slow okay?"
You nodded sheepishly, letting him push into you slowly. A tear rolled down your face, some of your deer makeup coming off. He let out a guttural moan as he inserted his large cock fully into your cunt, beginning to move slowly in and out of you.
"F-fuck," you whispered. He found your reaction cute when you looked wide-eyed at him, face contorting with pleasure.
"Got it?" he asked you. You nodded quickly, giving him the message that you were okay. "Yeah, yeah... you can take it," he whispered in your ear.
He went at a moderate pace, not wanting to overexert you for your first time.
"Theo-- Theo!" you huffed out. He stopped, backing away so that only the head of his cock was still in your sopping cunt.
"Yeah, what's up? Are you okay?" he said in concern.
"Faster..." you requested meekly. "Please?"
Surprised but not complaining, he gave a lowly chuckle, practically grinning from ear to ear.
"If that's what my good girl wants."
He increased his pace, thrusting into you quickly. Your soaking folds allowed him back in every time he pulled out. He took your tits into his hands again, twisting and pinching as he simultaneously pumped in and out of you.
Both of your moans filled the room; his low and paced, yours messy and uncontrolled.
You neared an orgasm again and you could tell he was about to come as his hair became mussed and a light layer of sweat glistened on him.
"Shit... Do you want me to come inside? Is that what you want?"
"Y-yes!" you answered desperately. Your legs shook and you threw your head back as your orgasm washed over you, his following suit right after.
His ropes of release filled your insides, beginning to seep out. He pulled out, looking at the mess he made you. He readjusted the headband on you.
"I love you."
You looked at him, mouth somewhat agape before uttering, "I love you too."
He grabbed your head, planting a kiss on your forehead before helping you off the desk and onto your feet. You looked at him hesitantly.
"Does this mean I'm your girl again?"
"Well..." he feigned uncertainty, giving you a gallic shrug.
"Don't tease..." you complained, leaning into him.
"Sorry, y'know I can't help it," he grinned. "And you never stopped being my girl."
―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――
#⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ works#⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ fawn!reader#x reader#harry potter#slytherin boys#fanfic#harry potter smut#theodore nott#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott drabble#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott x you#theo nott smut#theodore nott x you#x y/n#x y/n smut#theo nott imagine#drabble#x you smut#smut#harry potter x reader#one shot#theo nott x y/n#slytherin boys x reader#hp
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ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄
w.c › 6k
Warnings › faceclaims. Part 1. Slow burn, some slight romance with Hyojin (but Mingi is still the main love interest).
Plot › you begin to learn just how obsessive Mingi is
Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male.
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
Four Years Ago
“They’re going to add another member. To fill a gap, they feel that you guys another need main vocalist.”
When Dawon had told Mingi and the others that, it was like hell broke loose. They all couldn’t believe that the company really believed they weren’t good enough, after all that training.
Hyojin, however, didn’t see the problem with it. He could actually understand where the company was coming from—even if he did hate them for other reasons.
He didn’t think the others couldn’t sing but there was something he felt was missing. A more mature voice—sultry he’d say.
Which was why when everyone met you, he could understand why the company put you in the group. You were the package deal, minus rapping, but that was okay. And while he’d never tell Yohan, you were a much better leader than he could ever be.
So he was a bit upset for you when the other members were set on ignoring you.
The group was finally filming for their debut single. It was a school boy concept, young love and all that. Hyojin didn’t care too much about that. As long as the song was good and he wasn’t forced to make garbage music, he was fine.
“Okay, guys, we’re going to do pairs for this shot,” Gaeul said, getting the boys attentions. “The director said the pairs don’t matter. So, you guys can pick.”
Hyojin didn’t have to put two and two together that it would get awkward fast if they got to who would be forced to pair with you.
So, he eagerly stood up from his seat, “I’ll pair with (Name)-Ssi.” He said, fixing the tie to his uniform. He ignored the glances the others gave him as he looked over at you.
You were staring at him with a shocked face before a wide grin pulled on your lips, “Okay.”
Hyojin smiled slightly. He moved to follow you to the shooting area when he caught a glimpse of Mingi. His eyes widen as he saw Mingi staring at him as if he wanted to murder him. The boy was picking at his pants as he glared at him.
Who knew someone so young could make such a scary face?
Though he didn’t understand why Mingi seemed so angry? Did he.. want to pair with you?
That didn’t make any sense—he didn’t exactly talk to you.
Oh well, Hyojin had other things to worry about.
He was a bit awkward for the camera so he wasn’t having the best of time filming. The amount of times the director told him to not look like he’s having a war flashback was too many to count.
The set was a bedroom, stuff randomly around. This director had wanted it to feel a bit more real and only gave you and Hyojin the direction to act like students who were discussing how to confess to their crush.
Hyojin didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to do that but you seemed to understand.
Once the camera began to roll, you basically stole the scene with ease. Acting cute seemed like second nature to you. Hyojin just followed whatever you did, letting you lead him.
Just as the scene was about to end, you both sat on the bed as you opened a fake note. Hyojin leaned in to see that there was a little stick figure drawing, causing him to crack a slight smile.
He glanced over and felt himself freeze, your face close to his. You were staring at him with eyes he couldn’t really describe. A soft gaze as a slight smile pulled on your lips.
Did they put lipstick on your—
“Cut!”
“Great job, guys!” Gaeul said, walking over to you two. You easily pulled away as Hyojin tried to think about what just happened.
“Thanks for pairing with me, Hyojin-Ssi.” You said, smiling at him. The rest of the sentence didn’t need to be said.
“I wanted to pair with you… uhm, you don’t need to speak so politely with me.” He said, deciding to bridge the gap.
Your eyes widen before you eagerly nodded, “okay. Call me Hyung then, Jinnie.”
Jinnie?
Oh man, you were too cute.
Gaeul coughed, clapping her hands together, “great, you two are cute! But c’mon, you guys need to film a quick video for the vlog the Dawon is making.”
You and Hyojin joined the other members back in the dressing room. Dawon was holding a camera as he motioned for the group to stand up and start the intro. You stood in the middle as Hyojin stood on your left while a disgruntled Yohan on your right.
It seemed like Yohan wouldn’t like you at all… or anyone besides Hyojin for that matter.
Every member immediately got their camera ready persona on as you smiled, ready to start the introduction when someone stopped you.
“Ah, Hong (Name)-Ssi, you shouldn’t smile, it’ll go against the boyfriend image we have for you,” one of the producers said, causing you to freeze.
Another one hummed in agreement, “and maybe angle your head a bit to left, your face looks better on camera that way.”
Gaeul let out a grunt, “uh, thanks… but I’m his manager.. I can handle the group.”
“Well, handle him better.”
You ignored the questioning stares the members gave you as you dropped your smile. Hyojin wanted to say something back but he was a rookie—he had no power over the people funding their debut.
He could only watch as the light in your eyes practically went out from their berating. From that moment, he could easily tell there was a different set of standards you had to meet compared to the others.
From then on, he was going to help you, in anyway he can.
That’s why he’s your favorite… right?
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
You wanted to die.
At age twenty five you came like a teenage boy right in front of your maknae.
How embarrassing.
You grabbed your pillow and let out a loud scream, wanting to just close your eyes and never wake up. Mingi was taking a shower and you were scared he’d come into your room later.
There was no way in hell you wanted to see him again tonight.
Maybe tomorrow.
Or a few weeks.
You glanced over at your phone and stared at it for a few minutes. Maybe some posts from those freaky Miras would make you appreciate life again. Or something like that. Whatever bullshit idea you could come up with to justify you still going to the NSFW side of your fandom.
Now that you knew about the rise of gay/bisexual men into you, you wondered if you could find any.
Your biggest fan account, itsokokok had recently posted so decided to see if maybe they were congregating in the replies.
The new three posts of today was from three hours ago. It was from three different album promotions.
The first was from debut: it was a short clip of you in the music video. Your duo scene with Hyojin. You didn’t remember just how cute you acted in it, really playing up the teen boy being in love.
You checked the comments, many filled with people that weren’t Miras. Most of it was just guys saying you were really cute but in a natural way.
Second was of your performance from… pre debut? Huh, how did they find this? You looked to be maybe fifteen—a performance from your high school’s talent show. The video was of you dressed in a suit and tie performing A.D.T.O.Y by 2pm.
Quite the song for fetus you to be performing but hey, none of the adults stopped you.
It seemed the comments did have morals and mostly just complimented your ability to sing and dance at the same time. Though a few wanted you to preform the dance now… probably to thirst over you.
Lastly, the third video was one year old, a short clip of the music video for your second to last comeback. You didn’t know how they could thirst over this but you clicked on the video.
You were wet in the video, standing in front of a swimming pool. Dressed in a white button up and black slacks. The white shirt was stuck to your skin as you delivered your line, tugging at the loose tie around your neck.
At the time, you didn’t find the whole aspect of being wet on camera a bad thing. The song was about drowning in your feelings so being wet made sense.
Though you now regretted it.
@bluemuuun
↳ need him bad… don’t even know his name
@hanniesmira
↳ you don’t know Miracle?! Hong (Name) from Miracle? Dude you’re missing out, they have great songs
@bluemuuun
↳ I’m not even into kpop, I just want to fuck him ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
@slipslickk
↳ he looks good wet—I need one of his members to fuck him on stage already pls
@dohasflatass
↳ wonder if Min collapsed after seeing (Name) during shooting ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
@hanniesmira
↳ knowing min, he probably threatened anyone who stared for too long ㅎㅎㅎ
@hyunkikii
↳ Mrcle definitely take turns on his ass, got a phatty for real
@hyoojinie
↳ his gaze into the camera is so slutty
Just as you were about to log out, you came across an older post itsokokok posted. It was of your early debut. One of the stage performances. It followed you dancing with a stoic face right when it was your center turn until it was Yohan’s turn.
As soon as the main camera was off you, a wide smile pulled on your lips as you danced along. Whenever it was your turn to sing, you immediately dropped the smile.
You were mostly following the orders the company gave you. Being the stoic boyfriend.
Nowadays you stopped caring but back then you were so scared of being taken out of the group that you followed whatever the company told you.
The comments were filled with comments of Miras, a few stating they missed this side of you. If only they knew that it wasn’t the real you. You scrolled through the comments before seeing one by itsokokok himself.
He was responding to someone saying they loved you when acted stoic, and hating this new ‘fake’ you.
→ then you don’t know the true him
You sat up, staring at the comment for a moment. Itsokokok didn’t seem to really comment. He had little to none captions and just posted once everyday at random times, possibly whenever he was free. It wasn’t even anything too crazy but the comment oddly felt like he knew you?
Well, probably not. He might’ve just noticed that you were putting on an act due to your pre-debut activities. It was a drastic difference if you paid any attention.
Speaking of, how did he find any of your pre-debut stuff? You tried to think if you maybe posted them yourself or maybe your classmates or something.
Maybe your mom? She loved posting videos of your performances on her Instagram. She even gained a lot of followers because of it. Her account was basically a fan account at this point.
He might’ve just found the pre-debut performances she posted, it’s not like she’s hiding it.
You shrugged. It wasn’t too creepy. He seemed to actually appreciate you.
And that’s all you can really ask for in a fan.
“Hyung.”
You blushed and quickly turned off your phone. Mingi stepped into your room, rubbing at his face as he got on your bed. You simply watched him get comfortable before glancing over at you.
“You’re so stiff.” He said, a slight smirk on his lips. “Are you scared I’ll eat you in your sleep?”
“Mingi!” You bristled, quickly turning off your lamp as you got underneath your covered. You kept your back to him as you tried to drown out his laugh.
It was silent after a minute. You glanced back to see him fast asleep. That was fast.
Staring at him, you wondered how much he’s changed. He wasn’t seventeen anymore.
Maybe he really did love you…
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
“Solo activity?”
Your group mates were looking at you in shock. It had been almost a month since Gaeul had told you about your change in marketing and now the company finally has something for you. Your solo stage.
They were all in your apartment, getting comfy on the couch when you suddenly came out ready to leave. Everyone had been practicing daily for the comeback that they had planned for a relaxed day today.
“Yeah.” You said, feeling a bit nervous. “Did.. Dawon Hyung forget to tell you guys?”
“Oh, yeah, he did.” Yohan muttered.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Doha said, glancing back at the tv. You wanted to ask what he meant by that but then Yohan delivered a swift kick to Doha’s shin.
“Have you been practicing before us then?” Kihyun suddenly asked. “You’re already prepared to perform it?”
“Mhm… I’ve been practicing daily after our recording sessions.” You bit your lip. “It’s an easy song to learn.”
“Ah okay,” Yohan said, speaking for the others who were just staring at you. “Do you want one of us to come with?”
“Come—? Uh, uhm.” Your eyes gazed at them in disbelief. They wanted to come? Why did it feel like they were attached to your hip these days?
Mingi rolled his eyes, coming out from the kitchen. “(Name) Hyung doesn’t need someone with him. He’s not a baby.”
“You’re just jealous he might not choose you,” Doha shot back, smirking at the deadly glare Mingi sent his way.
“Ah, I guess I could bring one of you guys,” you said, causing them to perk up immediately. Their eyes stared right into your soul. You felt your hands sweat as you tried to think about who to choose.
No way would you choose Mingi… he was making you uncomfortable these days. The way he gazes at you like you’re his entire world is insane!
Yohan would be too annoying.
Kihyun would be a bit awkward.
Doha was being annoying to Mingi and you didn’t want reward his behavior.
Your gaze narrowed in on Hyojin. His eyes met yours as a slight grin pulled on his lips. That’s all he needed as he stood up with a triumphant smile. The others immediately groaned and shook their heads in annoyance.
Hyojin moved to follow you out the door when Mingi suddenly grabbed his arm. You almost yelled at Mingi for his aggressive behavior but Hyojin didn’t look shocked at all.
Mingi whispered something while Hyojin rolled his eyes.
“Childish.” He said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch what’s yours. You should worry about Yohan Hyung instead.”
“What? Yah, what are you talking about?!” Yohan yelled, glancing over at Mingi.
You stood there mouth agape. Mingi didn’t… no way he wouldn’t.. Hyojin grabbed your hand before you could properly spiral and lead you out of the apartment.
Just what the hell was Mingi’s problem?
Hyojin didn’t see you romantically, what is he worrying about?
Once you reached the music show, you were quickly dressed in an outfit to match the song you were performing. It was business casual, apparently.
Hyojin sat on the couch as the stylist helped you get dressed. He was silent for the most part, tapping away on his phone. It was another reason why you chose him. He wasn’t an annoying little shit like the rest of them.
“Jinnie,” you called, fixing the fake glasses on your face. “How does Hyung look?”
It took a minute before he finally glanced up. His eyes widen as he took you in. You were dressed in a white button up, sleeves rolled up with a loose black tie. Black slacks with sleek black dress shoes.
“It reminds me of something I wore before,” you laughed, tugging at the tie as you looked over at him.
Hyojin coughed, the tip of his ears getting red as he mutely nodded. “Mhm… you make it so hard, Hyung.”
“Hm?” You tilted your head, walking over to him as you plopped down beside him on the couch.
“I think Mingi will be upset if I told you… but everyone in the group has.. liked you.”
“Liked me? Like…”
“Romantically.” Hyojin said, smiling slightly. “But Mingi had stronger feelings for you.”
“So what… did he.. did he tell you guys to back off or something?” You asked, still reeling from the fact your members liked you. The thought seemed ludicrous!
“Yeah.” Hyojin said bluntly. “Something like that.”
You raised an eyebrow, “what did he do?”
“Secret.”
“Hyojin.”
“Mhmmm, I can’t remember.”
You glared at him as he went back to his phone. “I don’t understand. You guys really liked me..? How? Why?”
Hyojin shrugged. “I don’t know about the rest of them.. but I just liked you for you. But it wasn’t the strongest feelings.”
The strongest… You briefly wondered about Kihyun. Maybe he had stronger feelings for Kihyun?
But before you could ask, a staff member called for you. Hyojin gave you a thumbs up as you got up and left.
While you were nervous, you weren’t exactly nervous to preform on stage alone. You’ve always performed alone before debuting in Miracle.
The month you spent practicing for the song was a breeze. It was a song that took inspiration from a past song you composed. The choreographer didn’t go all out with the dance.
Though what you were really nervous about was if people would actually care.
What if the so called growing interest in you deflated immediately?
You shook your head, walking onto stage. A group of six dancers followed you. The crowed actually cheered a bit when you came on. There was a few Miracle lightsticks. But immediately, a group of male voices rung out in the building.
Everyone seemed shocked at how loud they were, even the dancers as they got into position. You couldn’t help but grin and eagerly wave at them.
“귀여! ♡♡♡♡!”
“Thank you!” You said into your mic, laughing at the immediate screams from the crowd. You walked to your position, letting the dancers grab your waist as they pulled you to sit on two of their arms—a makeshift throne.
The lights dimmed as you got ready to perform. You tried to remember all the times you performed alone and channeled the energy of younger you.
While you would dance, you would focus mostly on having great vocals. This song was a taste into the title track, you needed to show a great intro.
The performance started with a slight hiccup when the back track started before you but you continued as if nothing happened. It allowed for your vocals to truly show anyway.
The major part of the song that seemed to get most of the crowd excited was when one of the dancers grabbed your tie and tugged you towards him. You couldn’t help the slight blush during that part, feeling oddly excited over it as well.
Was this a kink?
You ended the oddly homoerotic song with the dancers kneeling in front of you, your hand digging into one of the men’s hair.
Cheers erupted as soon as you were finished. You felt excited, hearing mostly male voices scream your name. The dancers immediately stood up and grabbed you, lifting you up in the air as you shrieked in shock. Your arms immediately wrapped around one of their shoulders at the sudden movement.
If only you knew just how angry this little action would make a certain someone.
The drive home felt long for some reason. Hyojin was on his phone so you decided to check how Miras were doing.
Not too surprising, not that many Miras talked about the performance. However non fans were praising it. Itsokokok had posted.
It was three posts, seems like he had a pattern. The first was of your recent performance. A short video of the moment when the dancer pulled your tie. Your face didn’t hide any of the hidden pleasure you got from that short moment.
During practice, the pull was never harsh so it really did shock you when he tugged it harder this time around.
Of course, the comments were filled with people thirsting. Mostly non fans—gay men in particular. The same Miras that actually liked you were thirsting over you while also gushing at how you finally had a solo activity.
Shocker, the NSFW side that talked about your members fucking you actually appreciated you.
The next post was of a pre-debut one. This time, it was a nineteen year old you preforming an original song. It was the song the company used to create the solo song you just preformed.
Most of the comments didn’t seem to notice this at all. You were mainly shocked the account owner even found this clip.
Lastly, it was a clip from the group’s occasional vlog. From the setting, it was of the time the group was planning Mingi’s nineteenth birthday. You were kneeling down as you picked something up.
The camera was just on you as you arched your back by pure instinct. You don’t even remember doing that. A laugh was heard from the camera man, you quickly noticed it was Yohan filming before video you looked back and glared at Yohan.
“Go do something useful!” You had yelled, “Minnie’s party has to be good. I won’t let you ruin it.”
@bluemuuun
↳ does his back naturally arch like that??
@hanniesmira
↳ his relationship with min is so cute.. i bet today’s performance killed min ㅋㅋㅋ
Before you could read the rest, the van reached the apartment complex. You and Hyojin left as you got inside. Hyojin waved you good night before going into his shared apartment with Kihyun.
You wondered back to his claim of the members all liking you.
That just didn’t make any sense.
As you moved to unlock the door to your apartment, it swung open, showing a pissed Mingi.
Fuck.
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
“How was the performance?”
Hyojin glanced over at Kihyun. He had just walked in and was set on just speed walking straight to his bedroom. Kihyun was sitting in the couch and didn’t look away from the tv.
“It was good, Hyung is a good performer.” Hyojin muttered, slipping off his shoes. He slipped off his coat and slowly walked over to the living room.
“Yeah, he is.”
“Well… I’ll go to bed—”
“Hyojin.”
Hyojin sighed, looking back at Kihyun. Kihyun was finally looking over at him. His piercing gaze made his back tense. The slight hums of the tv filled the odd tension as Hyojin fought the urge to just walk away. It was too late to be dealing with this.
“Are you… still upset about what I said this morning?” Kihyun finally said, his gaze softening.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Kihyun stood up from the couch as he walked over to Hyojin. “I didn’t think it would upset you… I thought you were over him.”
Hyojin felt his jaw tighten, “you might’ve gotten over Hyung easily but I actually liked him. I liked him a lot—I only backed off because Mingi was right, (Name) Hyung would never see me romantically.”
“So… what’s the problem? Aren’t we—?”
“—dating?” Hyojin pinched his nose before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, are we? You only want to have sex, nothing else. Even if we are ‘dating’—I won’t allow you to speak about my past feelings as if they were trivial.
“(Name) Hyung is an important part of my life, especially because he’s still here. It’d be different if he wasn’t around anymore. So I’m sorry, Hyung, my feelings for (Name) Hyung wasn’t some three second attraction like yours… If two years ago, (Name) Hyung had returned my feelings in anyway… I’d never have gotten with you.”
Kihyun sighed, “I didn’t mean it that way, Hyojin… I didn’t realize you had liked him that much. I—”
“Hyung.” Hyojin interrupted him. “Come back to me once you figure out if you want to be boyfriends or just fuck buddies. I’m not breaking myself over another guy.”
With that, he walked into his room, slamming the door shut.
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
Mingi immediately tugged you inside and glared at you. “What type of solo stage was that?”
“What do you mean?” You asked, moving to walk to your room. Mingi was already following you as you tried to keep yourself calm.
You were older! You’re the group leader… he needs to.. he can’t treat you like this.
Especially over a simple performance.
“Hyung.” Mingi’s voice was tight. “We’ve never performed a song like that before—the company never allowed it.”
“Well they’re just trying something new with me. They’ve finally noticed a group of people they can advertise me to. I can..” you placed your bag on your bed and sighed, “I can gain some fans that actually care about me.”
“Fans? Is that all you care about? What about the music?”
“Mingi, obviously I care about the music!” You said, staring at him as he stood in your doorway. “But it’s normal to want positive feedback from sharing your art! You get it all the time, I’ve seen how Miras react to you.”
“So what, you’ll feed into the silly relationship the company uses to get people’s money?!”
You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Mingi, it’s not that serious. I’ve always wanted to do a sexy concept anyway—no one forced me.”
As you glanced back at him, any anger you had tempered down. You couldn’t be mad at him—not for long anyway. “I get it… you’re just worried but I consented to everything.” You muttered, hoping that would calm him down.
“So you consented to be whored out for some fans that only like you because they want to fuck you?”
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
A laugh left your lips as you stared straight at Mingi.
“Choi Mingi.” You whispered, your gaze hardening as your fists clenched. The words you wanted to say was in the tip of your tongue and if you weren’t so angry—you would’ve held back.
But you didn’t.
“Remember your place.” You said, walking over to him. “I am your Hyung, not your boyfriend. I’m not yours and you can’t act so possessive over me, do you understand? I don’t know what you told the others but it’s not your right to tell them to back off.”
“You—?”
“Yes I know! I’m not your boyfriend and I won’t ever be your boyfriend!” You yelled, pushing Mingi out of your room, causing him to bang his head right against the wall. He stared at you in shock as you froze. Any anger you had was gone as you wanted to rush and check if he was okay.
But you couldn’t.
You shouldn’t.
You cleared your throat as you glanced down at the ground. Your throat felt tight. “Choi Mingi, I don’t think you really love me… because if you did, you wouldn’t have insulted me to my face.”
A pained whimper left your throat as you quickly looked away from Mingi. “I’ll go… spend tonight with Hyojin. Don’t.. don’t bother me.. please.” You whispered, moving to leave as quickly as you could.
A hand gripped your arm before you could even step an inch away. Your body tensed as you waited to see what Mingi would say. He didn’t feel like that boy you knew… how much had he changed?
You reluctantly glanced back to see what he was going to say only to see him kneel down. Your eyes widen as he pressed his head against the floor, hands resting on the ground.
“죄송합니다. 죄송합니다, 형.”
“Mingi…” You whispered. You slowly knelt down and gripped at Mingi’s shoulders, pushing to make him sit up but he fought against you. He kept repeating himself, his words slowly being muffled by the sound of his gasps.
“Mingi. Choi Mingi.” With his refusal to look up, you decided to try a different method. “I’ll leave.. I’ll go to Hyojin if you don’t look at me.”
You got whiplash at how quick he looked up. Your gaze softening at the sight of his face. His eyes were red as tears streamed down his face, his face blotchy and red already. He kept gasping for air as if crying so hard was taking his breath away.
Despite yourself, you remembered the only other time he cried so hard in front of you.
“Childish. You really are childish.” You whispered, wiping away at his face. His body physically loosened at your touch as he leaned into it. Though you could tell he wasn’t coming any closer, even if his hands twitched to touch you.
It didn’t look like he was in the capacity to speak so you decided to do it for him.
“I’m upset, Mingi. I’m so upset you would hurt me like this. Were you jealous? Why would you say that about me?”
Mingi shook his head.
“Then why did you say that? What could you have possibly meant?”
“Scared..” he managed to mutter, taking a second to take a deep breath. “You’re… older… I’m… younger… the.. dancer… older… what if… what if you want an older man…? What if… you’ll leave me… because he’s better..”
You blinked, staring at him confusion. “Mingi, that’s so silly.” You whispered, cooing when he tried to glare at you—it didn’t pack a punch with his face wet with tears. “You were insecure and that’s okay… but that was not the way to go about it. Are you scared that… I’ll leave you if I get more fans?”
He hummed. “You… might… leave the group.”
“Why would I? You have solo activities but you don’t want to leave the group. I can have solo activities too. I like our group. You’re really acting your age, Mingi.”
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as he immediately began to try and pull away. You pulled him back in quickly as you brought his face to yours.
“Next time, if you’re feeling a certain way, you can.. voice it? Instead of talking down on me, okay?” You said, giving him a slight smile. “But I’m happy you immediately apologized. I didn’t think you would do that.”
Mingi sniffled, finally sitting up straight. “It’s because I—”
You clamped his mouth shut, a blush on your face. Mingi only rolled his eyes. Even when he was sad he had the strength to roll his eyes. Wow.
Despite yourself, the previous anger wasn’t as strong anymore. You didn’t think you would be so easy to forgive but you were. Was it because he apologized? He seemed so sincere that you knew it wasn’t a joke—Mingi can’t cry on command, he’s tried many times.
Surprisingly only Kihyun could.
He… he really loved you?
“Minnie,” you said, unable to hide the smile at his eager gaze from hearing his nickname. “Is it true… that you told the other members to back off?”
Mingi frowned before he silently nodded.
“Why….?”
He pulled your hand away from his mouth as he looked away. “They didn’t love you like I do. It was just simple infatuation…”
“How could you be so sure?”
Mingi raised an eyebrow, “Hyung, I’ve trained with them since I was fourteen… I’ve known them longer than you do. Besides, it’s not like they fought me on it… well not all of them.”
“All of them…? Did…?”
“One person disagreed.”
“Who?”
“Secret.”
“Mingi.”
“Ah, I can’t really remember.”
“You and Hyojin are the same, little shits.” You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “But still, that was wrong of you. You shouldn’t mess with anyone else’s feelings.”
Mingi looked as if he wanted to talk back but simply nodded. “Okay… it was two years ago anyway.”
“Two years ago?”
“Mhm. On my nineteenth birthday.”
“Ah.”
You wanted to ask more but it looked like Mingi was done talking. He rubbed at his eyes as he began wiping at his tear stained face. While you weren’t angry anymore, you still weren’t exactly so forgiving without any work on Mingi’s part.
“Minnie,” you said, watching as he perked up. “I’m still mad… so you can’t touch me at all for a month.”
His eyes widen as he stared at you as if you just told him his parents died in a plane crash. His lips wobbled as a pained grunt left him, he was obviously trying to plead a case but the rational part of him knew not to push it.
He looked as if he’d cry again.
You only smiled. “Punishment for calling your Hyung a whore. I think I’m being quite nice, don’t you think?”
Mingi squared his jaw. “Yes, Hyung…”
“Good boy.” You whispered, smirking at his pained expression. “You can’t sleep with me tonight, unless you want to sleep on the floor. Night, Minnie.”
Mingi was going to have a tough month.
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
→ have you guys seen this performance??
→ 씨발! If I had a dick it’d be hard ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
→ who is this???
→ he sounds so good??
→ wish I could pay attention to the lyrics but his ass is distracting me
→ 대박! He sounds so stable
→ I found his group performances!!! Why is he so underrated??
→ does he have any other solo work?
→ my dick hard
→ the group sings so well, I’ll tune in for their comeback!!
→ his photo cards are cheap!! I’ll buy a dozen ㅋㅋㅋ
→ I think I came
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
Three years ago
Mingi was confused. He saw so many fan accounts for other members. Way too many for himself—he didn’t get what was so special about him. But little to none accounts solely for you. The group had debuted a year ago, surely someone likes you enough to create an account?
He sighed, scrolling through the lists of popular Miras accounts. Why weren’t they praising you? You were the best, a great singer, dancer, and leader.
Was it because you didn’t fit the Korean beauty standards?
How stupid.
Mingi didn’t care about what fans thought of him so long as they liked the music—but it seemed to bother you that no one was giving you any attention.
So, he decided to rectify that.
It took him a minute but he soon figured out how to create an account.
He chose his profile picture—a picture from the group’s season greetings, one where you had frosting on your nose as you smiled at the camera.
He’d never use social media before so his generic names for the account were all taken. He didn’t know what else to name the stupid account as, it was just so he could post pictures and videos of you.
After a short break before he mentally crashed out, he decided on a different name.
Itsokokok
It was a lyric from the group’s debut title track. Your first line of the song. Not many people would probably know but that was fine with him. The account was honestly mainly for him.
He didn’t know what his first post should be so he decided on a picture he took of you. Luckily he had posted it on the group’s Instagram so no one would think anything of it. It was a candid photo, you were looking up from your phone because he had called your name. You looked so cute despite how tired you were.
His first ever picture of you was his first ever post.
Shit, he was down bad.
no smut this time, sorry yall, but chapter three will give yall what’s deserved, next week Friday. Trying something different with this OC. Anyway, next chapter, he’s about to get freaky. Also can you guess who was the member that refused Mingi’s request? ;)
죄송합니다 — is the most formal way to say sorry in Korean
Tag list: @euthymiko @love-kha1 @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @tehyunnie @tomoeroi @smellwell @remdayz @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @cherry-blossoms-187 @ofclyde @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @secretivemessenger @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @bensontrechic @onementally-unstabel-kid @me-when-life @bangbangdevotee @chaevvonders @bangchansdirty-slut @honey-valentin3 @hoshimochicchi @lucaisnothere @jaxyy219

#bottom male reader#x male reader#sub male reader#uke male reader#male reader#oc x reader#smut drabble#male bottom reader#original character
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