#just be aware as you should with any drugs
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serickswrites · 11 hours ago
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Hey howdy hey! I'm the anon that asked for this piece:
https://www.tumblr.com/serickswrites/766617442633039872/hiiiii-i-was-wondering-if-youd-be-willing-to?source=share
I absolutely adored it!!! Thank you so much for writing it!!!
Hey, friend! So glad you enjoyed it! Have another little fun one for dropping by!
Warnings: captivity, chemical restraint, noncon drugging, semi-conscious state
"There, that's perfect. That's exactly how you need to be," Whumper said as they leaned back to admire the state they had left Whumpee in. Whumpee's gaze was vacant. Whumper patted Whumpee's cheek. Whumpee could barely feel Whumper's touch.
Whumpee could barely feel anything.
They weren't really sure of much of anything any more. They knew Whumper had kidnapped them hours--weeks?--ago. But everything was so....hazy.....so.....blank.
"I just love it when I keep them just like this," Whumper's voice sounded so far away.
Dimly, Whumpee was aware of their aching body, their aching brain. But it was so distant. They were so far away. And their thoughts were slow....slower than cold molasses. Everything....just was.
"Might have over done it a little bit," Whumper muttered to themself, "but you'll come around eventually. Or you won't. Either way, I'll have my fun with you."
Whumpee realized they should be afraid. But everything was so distant and so far away that they couldn't even rouse the energy to be afraid. It was all they could do to just....be.
Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump
@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe
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catididnt · 4 days ago
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Balance your sleep
There's over and under sleeping, and it varies so much person to person. You know you, and if you're uncertain, go for the standard 8 hr, 11pm-7am average. Sleep rests your brain, helps manage the stress and fear, and helps you separate immediate fear that you need to plan for from long-term fear that needs a more measured reaction.
Rest. Rest for real. Let your brain clean up it's neurochemicals. Thinking is better that way
Daily "avoiding hopelessness" checklist
Hey, friends. I know I've been really struggling to look towards the future with any kind of hope, so here are some little things I've been trying to do every day that might help you, too.
Accept that your productivity might look weird right now. Don't expect yourself to act as if nothing is wrong.
Make art. I try to write something every day, even if I don't really feel like it, and I've found that once I get into it, I'm grateful I did.
Do something to plan for the future. Doesn't have to be big. Even getting some ice cream you know future you will thank you for counts.
Eat. Even if you're not hungry. I keep skipping meals because I don't feel like eating, and then I force myself to make something and realize I was absolutely starving.
Clean up one thing in your space. If doing all the dishes and sweeping the floors and putting away laundry all feel too overwhelming, try just doing one of those things.
Lean on your online and offline communities. I live in a county that voted trump by a margin of eighty percent. My world feels scary and hostile right now, and it's my communities that are helping me feel hopeful.
Try to find one thing that feels normal. One thing that feels safe and normal and helps you feel a bit more grounded. My local grocery store just got their shipment of chocolate oranges in for the season. That's my thing.
Try to find one thing to look forward to, no matter how small. My thing is checking my ao3 inbox for comments on my fics.
Love you all <3
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aroaessidhe · 4 months ago
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2024 reads / storygraph
Masquerade
historical fiction set in 15th century West Africa
follows a young woman from Timbuktu, recently conquered by the the warrior king of Yorùbáland
her guild of blacksmiths were already shunned as witches, and their conditions worsen under Yorùbá rule - so when she’s kidnapped by the king to be his wife, she decides to accept that it’ll be a better life for her, as long as she can get her mother’s blessing
but as months go by without her mother being found, and political tensions rise, she must decide what she wants
#masquerade#aroaessidhe 2024 reads#ahh... I enjoyed this in the beginning but I ended up being SO frustrated by the MCs decisions and inconsistencies.#click the storygraph link above to read all my thoughts tbh im not gonna copy everything in here#she’s like man this guy kidnapped me and is drugging me and treats me like an object and probably is lying about trying to find my mother :#well I should definitely try and uncover and tell him about this uprising happening under his nose so I can help him trust me!#she tells us she’s desperate for freedom and safety and autonomy and yet she’s doing so much to stay with this man who#she’s AWARE is NOT giving her autonomy AND she doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else’s freedom or autonomy?#she doesn’t even WONDER about the slave revolts or blacksmith strikes other than how can she stop them?#she’s naive and innocent but she’s also viewed as this brilliant military strategist and cunning at court politics#other than these moments she’s very naive and doesn’t make any obvious connections about what the other women#or her mother are up to (which considering the amount of speeches about men underestimating women she makes……okay)#thing is like there was some great setup to go in some really interesting directions!#if you wanted to go down the route of her goals making her singlemindedly ruthless and selfish and morally grey and rising to power#then commit to that! make her investigate the revolution and give her a reason to betray them anyway.#if you want to make it like she TRULY had no choice in becoming what she did (because any attempt to escape or connect#with the revolution had tragic consequences) then do that! But she like…..never tried anything.#She just accepted everything and tried to help the king because…I don’t even know!#if you like hades and perspephone you won’t like this. if you don’t like hades and persephone you won’t like this.#(i thought it had just been inaccurately compared to H&P - not written to reference H&P)#agh. it could have been good!
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mutalune · 5 months ago
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hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery
#starlight personal#it’s very bizarre to have my life going objectively well - work is good! personal life is good! family is good!#and still be very mentally ill and feel like I’m faking it even though I know damn well I ain’t scream-sobbing every couple of days alone in#my apartment for attention because What Attention??? my cat????? Bug is never moved by my tears she cares only for string and wires#like I know that cannabis has been immensely helpful to getting me to fucking sleep on a regular schedule and that’s integral to -#my functioning and I know that having emergency klonopin in the event of a total breakout is helpful#and I KNOW that my PMDD and depression and anxiety are very treatment resistant and ketamine is the only thing that’s provided any -#meaningful relief and logically I know I’m not abusing any of these#I’m getting a promotion at work I still go out to see friends regularly I have hobbies I have a girlfriend (??? Wild right)#like clearly these things are working because i’m better now than i was for years leading up to now#SO LIKE. DON’T STOP USING THE THINGS THAT HELP. LOGICALLY THIS MEANS THESE ARE GOOD FOR ME#I always roll my eyes when ppl go off their meds b/c they’re feeling better like babes that’s what the meds are meant to do#if you stop taking them you stop feeling better - but it’s REALLY HARD to get past the cultural conditioning#the feeling that ‘but I can white knuckle my way through this I can force myself to live without’ like WHY BITCH#WE DON’T HAVE TO LIVE WITHOUT#AND ALSO. WE’RE STILL GENERALLY MISERABLE BRO. EVEN WITH OUR LIFE IN A BETTER PLACE!!!#DO YOU NOT THINK THIS MEANS THAT WE SHOULD USE WHAT WE KNOW WORKS TO BE LESS MISERABLE#basically it’s really hard to not feel like a loser when the only things that help are ‘fun’ drugs like weed and psychedelics#I feel like I’m being a hedonistic reprobate which 1) is actually kinda cool now that I wrote it out#2) @ myself were not a good enough liar-faker that every medical professional we see wouldn’t pick up on that if that was our motivation#time to remind myself that it’s arrogant to think I could trick many trained professionals without actively trying tbh#that generally helps me get out of my self-pitying ‘ohhhhh I’m awful and lazy and bad and abusing substances’ spiral#to be very mentally ill on main it is weirdly reassuring to be like ‘just as my fanon interpretation of obi wan kinda hates himself but is -#practical enough to take care of himself even when it makes him cringe and want to scratch his face off; I too am aware that self-care is -#radical and punk and In Fact Necessary to beat back the dark and live in the light with hope so yes even though I doubt and -#feel squiggly and guilty about it I’m not going to NOT prioritize my health and well-being b/c self-hatred and self-denial benefits no one’#thank you inner obi wan i love projecting my issues onto you mwah mwah mwah smooches for my favorite boy!!!!!#and smooches for me I’m going to be proud of myself gosh darn it even if I have to fake it at first#see I wouldn’t be able to be nice to myself like this if I hadn’t been doing ketamine treatment for a year IT WORKS BRO KEEP IT UP#SCHEDULE THE DAMN APPOINTMENT AND CLEAN YOUR BONG
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tearysunshine · 1 year ago
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I don’t know if this will reach anyone it will help, but just as a PSA, Walgreens is starting to roll out planogram changes that involve Narcan on the shelves. I don’t know if every store has it or if it’s a regional decision, but it is 44.99 for a two pack. In my location, it is being held behind register one, not locked up or sensor tagged, but you still have to ask a cashier to get it for you.
This is important for harm reduction. Having Narcan on hand can be beneficial if there is even a fraction of a chance that you or a loved one could be in a situation where you overdose. This tiny little spray could mean the difference between life or death.
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Stay safe, my friends ❤️
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alagaisia · 7 months ago
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This is something I learned at one of the pre-op visits for my breast reduction! My surgeon was basically I think an independent surgeon (as I guess I would imagine is common for “cosmetic”/plastic surgeons?) and she was telling us a little bit about what to do for talking to insurance about the surgery and stuff, and she mentioned that for us going through insurance it would be at a particular hospital, but she also often did surgeries where people didn’t use there insurance, and she did those at some other place, and the price she charged up front was much lower, because that was the actual cost of the surgery (and equipment and everyone’s salaries etc.) and she had to raise the ticket price significantly when people would go through insurance, because the insurance company would negotiate that price down, and then keep some of the money. (Obviously for us and many others it still worked out to be cheaper for us out of pocket to go through insurance, but the amount she made was roughly the same even though it would look like she charged thousands more for my breast reduction than for someone not using insurance)
So, when you get those bills from your insurance after a doctors visit, and there’s that little table that tells you, this is the cost of the visit, this is the discount we got you, this is how much we paid, this is how much you still have to pay?
That line about “we got you this discount” is misleading. They actually caused the provider to raise the initial cost of your care by that amount, or more, in anticipation of the insurance company refusing to pay the full amount so that they could tell you they got you a discount.
"Why does a 15-minute visit with a doctor cost 150 bucks in America???" you're gonna want to read Money-Driven Medicine, by Maggie Mahar, and probably also The Social Transformation of American Medicine, to answer that question. It is not because your doctor is a greedy bastard; your doctor does not see most of that money. It is because the system is broken to a level that is truly impressive in its dedication to making a shit ton of money for insurance company executives and shareholders.
#my doctors visits are always around 3 or 400 for me because they never get billed as physicals because I also need prescriptions filled#and I need to go in 4x a year because adderall is so heavily restricted#and my last visit was actually $700 because they needed to drug test me not even for a real reason but because at the previous visit when#they drug tested me (also for bullshit reasons- to check that I was taking my meds instead of selling them or soemthing)#it came up with a false positive for opioids. which I don’t have access to or interest in and would not have been in my system#(mom’s nurse friend hypothesized that maybe the poppy seeds on the wverythign bagel I probably had for breakfast that morning set it off. it#seems like that’s a pretty common food to have and they should either warn you ahead of time about that or it shouldn’t be sensitive enough#to pick that up)#and insurance was like ‘we got you a $195 discount’ which is bs and ‘we paid $4’ which is even stupider#so now at my next virtual visit I’m gonna have to say hey I know the answer is no because of institutionalized stigma against me that you’re#not willing to push back on but I can’t fuckingn afford to keep paying $1600+ a year for what at this point is a middle man between me and a#pharmacist because I’ve been on this medication for fucking ages and all my other ones could be refilled at a yearly physical#so is there any way we could change things up somehow. and she’s going to say no. and I’m going to be angry and upset about it for days#back when i was at my pediatrician I had to go in every six months which was annoying but I would happily go back to that over four times a#year#but idk if the rules changed or if the rules are different for adults or if my doctor just sucks bc I brought that up early on and she was#like no this is what we do#I mean. I can technically afford it. I have the money I’m not going into medical debt or anything. I live at home with my parents and have#very low living expenses and my checking account is limited primarily by my own standards of how much I’ve decided I want to be putting into#my savings account each paycheck. but when the biggest expense in my life is something that already frustrates me and that I know is exp too#expensive and that I feel I shouldn’t have to be doing anyway and I know I’m being treated unfairly#it just feels so much worse. having to take money out of my savings account wouldn’t be the end of the world. but it feels wrongs#and I only make like $36#lmao I forgot about the commas thing.#like $36k a year so I also am aware that even though I’m in a lucky place where I’m stable that’s not *that* much money and I feel like that#is how I tend to think of things. because I’m not going to live with my parents forever and I’m deeply aware that for most people who have#to pay a rent or a mortgage $36k is the lower end of things and a seven fucking hundred dollar doctors bill is a big fuckingn deal#for a regular fucking doctors appointment#it’s not like I fucking asked to be drug tested they said ‘pay us to look at your pee or else’#it’s all bullshit
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pennjammin · 3 months ago
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PONYTAIL.
JJK HALLOWEEN! gojoxreader
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SUMMARY ❥ you have a huge, embarrassing crush on the star of the jockey team on campus. you thought you’d kept it low key, ‘till he approaches you at a halloween party, and shows you that the mechanical bull isn’t the only thing you can ride.
CONTENT ❥ collegestudent!gojo, smut, unprotected, slight breeding kink mention, college!au, athlete!reader, afab!reader, athlete!gojo, drug/alcohol use, spit kink, switch!gojo, switch!reader, masochism, sadism, aftercare, car sex.
song inspo: can’t get enough - j. cole
WC: [8.1K] MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Crisp fall air brings out the gooseflesh among your skin; hair that's not there trying to rise at the thrill of tonight's festivities. The sidewalks are packed to the brim of frat boys, sorority sisters, general slackers and... even an alumni or two. So many people to choose from, you think.
Everyone’s in costume; faces concealed by masks, clouds of smoke mixing with the breeze, and overstimulating noises from animatronics. The holidays were here. You should be trying to find a relationship, to cuddle you through the cold, but right now you just want to bone.
"Where do we even start?" you hear your friend ask from behind you, as your whole group walks - stumbles, more like - down the middle of a road that has been closed to through traffic.
"Whatever house has the most fine men standing outside," your other friend answers with a grin.
You agree, because you had already shot down a fair amount of Don Julio - and the heat of the drink had travelled straight to your core, a small throb arising in your cunt the more you glance around and see the variations of muscles poking out from underneath masked strangers’ costumes. You’d easily find the satisfaction to your hunger, but you’re impatient.
You hum longingly as your eyes fixate on a crowd outside of a large house, painted black. There’s fog rolling over the lawn, but that’s not what draws you in; it’s the group of men deep into a drinking game out front.
Without warning your friends, you beeline over. You wonder if any of them are as needy as you feel right now. The liquor alone could not justify the painful feeling of heat all throughout your nerves; it was mostly your hormones. Pathetic, you tell yourself, so incredibly ready to sit down on someone’s cock.
As your friends follow you down the pathway to the large house, you feel several pairs of eyes stick to you like bologna on hot asphalt. That's right; you and your girls are just pieces of meat dangling in front of a den of lions.
You're not surprised, though, because you’re in a brown leather brazier, accentuated by puffy white sleeves that hang off your shoulders, tucked into a skirt. You have a whip on your hip, and your boots are up to your fishnet-covered knees - one of which leads to the garter holding a toy gun against your thick thigh; to add, it shoots out a little pow flag when you pull the trigger.
And it's clearly mesmerizing in the way that you wear it well, walking right into the party with your liquid confidence through the roof, aware of one of your friends falling behind to entertain someone who had called out to her.
Once inside the belly of the beast, you're farther away from the center of attention; it seems that everyone on campus had read your mind about picking this particular house to step into. It made sense; the house was huge outside, but even bigger within.
The room is littered with men and women alike; most sloppily grinding on one another on the edges of the room, others filling their noses with bad things, but above all: you notice there are cheers coming from somewhere in the center.
You realize why as you part through the crowd, dusting your friends to see what the excitement is. And when you see it, you feel yourself grow both confused and aroused.
There, under a bright red spotlight, is an entire brown and white mechanical bull. Somehow, it had fit into this massive room, and there’s still plenty of room leftover for the influx of students. You're as impressed as the rest of the group, who watch as an ebony-haired man lacking a costume walks around to check the plugs on the bull, and bleakly instructs everyone to take several steps back.
Bass had been booming under your feet, competing with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, but it’s slowly fading away now; a voice travels over the remaining bustling.
Everyone seems to freeze as out from the crowd walks a tall, lean individual with powdery skin. He's wearing something similar to you: a black button-down shirt, leather pants, and brown boots, but most importantly - you feel your breath hitch when your eyes land on the delicious black Stetson that rests atop his contrasted snowy locks.
You feel mixed things blossoming in your chest: unease, desire, and… embarrassment.
You’ve been completely obsessed with the boy in the Stetson for months. Satoru, ‘Toru, and Gojo all being the names he answered to. You’d hopelessly pined over this Satoru, each time noting in your mind just how attractive you find him. He’s on the jockey team; you always see him in a tight, white riding suit with his helmet perched against his hip. You’re the soccer team captain, so you share a field for practice, and, well… Satoru doesn’t make it any easier for you to lock in while you train.
Your friends had noticed your infatuation and would giggle about him to you, saying how you looked like a cockdrunk puppy when he would kick himself on top of the horses - all of the muscles in his legs and arms moving underneath the skin you desperately wanted to crawl into.
He managed to pour gasoline directly onto your fire the first time he’d bumped into you on your way to the locker rooms.
“Careful, ponytail,” he’d said, a smug wink fluttering from his eye.
Then it happened again. And again. Each time you bumped into one another, he barely said two words to you, never seeming to truly notice you or take you in. This didn’t stop you from wearing your hair in a ponytail every single time, though.
He would likely not even recognize you now, given your costume and heavy finesse of makeup, a striking contrast to the sweat sticking your hair to your forehead and your muddy soccer jersey every time he’d seen you in the past. But you knew you recognized him, given the way your body was already responding to his presence.
"Alright now, y’all can't all be this shy," Satoru’s horrible attempt at a country accent booms into the crowd, gesturing wildly to the mechanical animal. "Anyone wanna be the guinea pig? Someone's gotta. I'm definitely not doing it."
A bit of laughter erupts but yet, the crowd remains still. You notice people trying to egg their friends on to test it out, but no one is either drunk or brave enough yet. Satoru continues to glare around the room, walking slowly as the spurs on his boots clack against the hardwood floor, as if he is genuinely a westerner interrogating everyone.
You suddenly feel a gush of pressure hit your back, and four hands send you lurching forward, causing you to accidentally step out beyond the crowd and into the center of the room with the snow-haired man. You exclaim loudly and your friends cheer, which prompts him to turn and look at the commotion.
"Well," Satoru’s velvety voice says, lowering his eyelids into a heated squint. "Seems we have a winner."
His lips disappear as they tuck in to wet themselves, and when they pop back out they are glistening under the red light. Though you cannot see his eyes under the harsh lighting, you can feel them, as well as the heat traveling up through your belly. You wonder then if he might possibly be remembering you.
No way, you tell yourself.
You attempt to turn and look at your friends, who are no doubt giggling endlessly at their little prank, but your head hardly cocks to the side when your hand is being grabbed by a larger, warm one.
You instantly look in the direction of it, your eyes traveling up your arm in disbelief, only to find Satoru is smirking at you.
"N-No, this was a mistake," you try to argue, but he is already gently coursing you towards his body, and your legs feel like jelly as you mindlessly obey like a little doll.
"Don't be afraid," he murmurs to you, hypnotizing you with his voice as he walks backwards, guiding you right to the steps that will allow you to get onto the bull. "You look like..." he pauses, cocking his head to the side and your heart drops, "you'd know how to hang on, no? You've got those strong legs."
You let out a breath. He still doesn’t recognize you. But you know he is referring to your thighs, which are on the larger side from all of the exercise you do for soccer. He's right, you do have the strength to keep yourself on the bull, but whether you want to do it in front of everyone remains to be seen.
"My friends pushed me forward," you blurt out, "I-I really… don't think I can do this."
His voice has lowered by now. It seems like he wants only you to hear him. Not that it mattered, as the crowd is still quite loud and so is the music thumping from another area of the house.
"I think you can," he responds, dipping his head forward like a proper cowboy, feeding into the twisted little costume he’s in. "My name is Satoru, but you can call me ‘Toru. What's yours, madam?"
You almost blurt that you already knew his name, but catch yourself.
"It's Y/N," you say bleakly, knowing he’s only asking to tell the crowd, not because he is interested in knowing who “ponytail” really is.
Not that he has indicated at all that he remembers you, which makes a little twinge of jealousy poke you in the heart because of the way he was looking at you. He must look at every woman like this.
"Y/N," he repeats slowly, as if memorizing the name, simultaneously gliding his piercing eyes down your body again and stopping briefly on your leg — the one with the gun strapped to it. "Give us a show, pretty girl. I think everyone is looking forward to this."
You'd reached the steps to the bull. You begin to suspect that Satoru is the “everyone” in question. You want to try and fight him more, but something about his voice, his unhindered belief in you despite being a total stranger caused you to want to prove him right.
You can do it, you can ride it and not fall off, no matter how intense the settings.
One final look at him, and you release your hand from his, realizing the two of you had been standing there holding hands this entire time. He broke away, but not before giving you another look that might as well have had fire attached to it in the way it sent searing erotica up your body. You’re disgusted at just how awfully, hopelessly, desperately in love with him you are.
The crowd had been falling more quiet as you approached the chopping block, it felt like. But now, it's returned to cheers and whooping as you get on your tip-toes and sling one leg over the side of the bull, your skirt bunching up around your hips.
You spot your friends, who have acquired more drinks; colorful green and purple ones. They lift their cups when they notice your eye contact, and make kissy-faces as encouragement. Or perhaps they’re making fun of your obvious puppy-like expression every time you so much as look at Satoru.
"Alright everyone," he announces suddenly, clapping his hands before walking around to the front of the bull and patting its headless neck. "Y/N has bravely stepped up to the plate tonight. Since you’re all too pussy.” Laughter from the crowd. “Let's see how long she can last."
He turns and looks up at you, dropping an eyelid down into a familiar wink and clicking his tongue.
An irritating piece of man, he is. He doesn’t have to be so damn gorgeous, easily distracting you as you grip onto the reigns around the bull's nonexistent neck, all the confidence draining smooth out of your mind.
You don't have time to think about it much more because of the sheer level of noise that erupts from the room; the crowd has erupted into whoops and whistles, music’s blasting around you. A good old fashioned hype party song, that has prompted the crowd to lose their mind.
The red light makes it hard to see much of anything beyond the first row of people, which is helpful for your nerves, but it also means that since Satoru is standing the closest to you and the bull, he is the only thing you can clearly see, as he presses the button to trigger the ride.
You gasp as it begins vibrating, something you had not expected to happen. The bull jerks to the side, before the rear end perks up, knocking you plain forward and winding you. Your breasts bounce upward and the crowd oo’s.
Satoru smugly continues to operate the bull, keeping it slow as he courses it to knock forward and back, forward and back. You sit back up, trying to defeat gravity, your grip still strong on the reigns. But little do you know that you’ve been out of control since you stepped on the floor. Satoru’s taking his precious time sinking his claws into you.
Your thighs dig into the side of the bull and Satoru spins you, jerking up the rear again; the force knocks your skirt up.
You gasp, wanting to let go of the rope to adjust it, but you know you’re going to fall off if you do. You've made a vow that you cannot fall in front of Satoru, no matter how far he pushes you to your limit. Besides, you figure, having your ass our in front of him wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The crowd cheers, realizing Satoru is operating the machine solely for their gaze, and not necessarily to challenge you.
But you have yet to put that puzzle piece together.
You continue innocently focusing on staying up, but make the mistake of looking at Satoru again. He's looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes, his top teeth poking out as he tugs on his bottom lip with them.
"Doin' so good," he mouths, pushing at the the controls again.
You groan a bit, the vibration of the bull suddenly feeling even more intense, though it's likely just a combination of your imagination and the tequila.
Your head falls back as the bull begins to move in a galloping motion. More cheers erupt, and a darkening gaze is shot from Satoru that you can't see with your head tilted.
The vibrations shouldn't feel this good, you think. You start to feel embarrassed at the thought of getting wetter on top of this bull, in front of all these people, but you can't help it; your eyes flutter closed as you try to focus beyond the pleasure.
Satoru is drinking up the sight like a glass of water in the middle of the night. He can see his effect working more and more on you, your thigh muscles flexing harder as you dig them deeper into the side of the bull. You must not think anyone notices, but he can. A sick fuck he was to currently be jealous of a literal robot.
You suddenly spring your eyelids apart and cry to Satoru that you have to stop. You can't handle the ecstasy creeping up on you, your embarrassment outweighing your desire to prove yourself a strong bullrider. If he keeps operating like this, you’ll cum all over the back of the bull.
Satoru looks hesitant but he ultimately stops the ride, and you take a deep breath when the vibrations come to a halt. The bull steadies and you loosen your thigh muscles.
Despite feeling like a failure, the crowd cheers anyway; you were up there for what felt like a lifetime, but realistically it hadn't been long, and you were expecting people to clown on you for not lasting. It's not like you couldn't stay up; it was more like you couldn't hold your pathetic desire to bone the cowboy at bay.
Satoru comes around and helps you down, the same routine as before with his hand in yours, only this time you're putting some weight on him as you feel yourself struggling to stand with your legs apart.
"You did so good, pretty girl," he coos, not even phased by your body weight. "Rode so well. Thighs a bit sore now I bet, hm?"
You feel your stomach knotting up at his word choice. "A bit," you answer grimly. "The vibrating didn't help."
"Really," he drawls, not even attempting to make it sound like a question. "How so?"
You begin to suspect he knows exactly how. His hands have found your elbows, his arms wrapped around you to keep you steady, and you find yourselves in a darker corner of the room with a convenient lack of a crowd. You blink and the bull seems a great distance away. No one is looking for you, either.
"Doesn't matter," you huff, looking at the floor. "It's embarrassing to say."
"Say it," Satoru purrs, taking your hands in his before placing them both right over his chest pecs. "Tell me what it did to you, hm? Maybe I can help, ponytail.”
You gasp then, your eyes immediately shooting up to meet his face. You almost fall over at the idea that he knows who you are, that he’s recognized you. This means that now he absolutely cannot fix what the bull had done to your poor cunt, although... with the way he's eating you alive with his pupils alone, your morality wants to fly right out of the window and beg him to fix it.
"Made me so horny," you breathe, immediately smacking yourself in the mouth at the coercion of your confession. “Th-That is not what I meant to say.”
Satoru's chest shakes against your palms as he laughs, "Adorable. Got all hot and bothered from a bull ride? Should’ve known that’s all it would take.”
Your face heats immediately. "I've been drinking," you admit with a slur, sinking farther away from sobriety. "Normally it-it’s not that easy.”
You laugh, trying to mask it as a joke, but Satoru's face is dangerously still.
“It is,” he murmured, “you always have the same little expression on your face at practice, just from seeing me.”
You want to be embarrassed that he’d caught you. But right now, your darkest, perverted fantasies are coming alive right before you; and you’d be a fool not to feed into them.
"Because..." you breathe out, feeling your back hit a wall, unsure how you ended up here. "Why do you always look so good?"
"Been thinking the same thing," he mewls, leaning over you with his hands still holding yours to his body. He lets them go then, and puts his own flat against the wall on either side of you. "Got up there and rode the bull like a champ - you can imagine what it did to me."
"What could a perfect stranger have done?” you whisper, knowing, begging, wanting the answer to be something raunchy and wet in your ear.
Instead, in a flash, his rock-solid pelvis is digging into your stomach, and he twists his hips to allow you to feel the even more solid length under his leather pants.
"We’re not strangers, ponytail," Satoru hums in your ear, just like you’d wanted; warm breath traveling through your hair and down your neck. “Always see you eyein’ me on the field. Goin’ outta ya way to knock into me afterwards. Been at this for months.”
You can't help the little whine that escapes your mouth. Your cunt had been pulsing all night, but now you can almost hear it. It's screaming at you to slide your hands down his body, to reach the waist band of the leather on his pants and then dare to explore further—
His gasp takes you out of your clouded fantasy, as you realize it's not a fantasy at all. Your hand is resting cutely over his bulge. You had been acting on your twisted, unwarranted desires from weeks ago all along.
"Ngh, knew I chose the right costume," he murmurs in your ear. "Knew it’d finally get your attention, get you to wanna ride me.”
You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. You’d been caught, being so obviously needy. You wish you can say you’re embarrassed, but when your hand doesn’t immediately move away from his dick, you know you’re fucked.
You feel yourself shuddering, your hands moving from his waist, over his ribs, passing to his shoulders; your palms sliding over thick, unidentified shapes and running down the curves in his arms. You couldn’t stop, you needed to know what all of him felt like.
“You didn’t have to be a cowboy to get me to ride you,” you whisper, “but if you care about saving horses that much-“
"Hah- shut up," he grunts. "'Fore I take you against this wall. Shouldn’t - hngh - be doing this here.”
“Isn’t this your frat house?” you question. “Take me,” you pause when his gaze darkens, “take me to your r-room.”
He groans, a velvety sound that raises the imaginary hair back up on your neck.
“Not mine, but I’ve got an idea.” He backs away from you, and the cold sensation of his body heat leaving yours makes your heart thump in pain. “C’mon, pretty.”
So he takes your hand again, and again you let him lead you around like a little pony. You don’t see your friends anymore, but you imagine the groupchat is blowing up. They no doubt saw you disappear into the shadows with Satoru.
You manage to escape to the outside without so much as a second glance from anyone, as you’ve started a riot for a turn on the mechanical bull. The memory of riding it seems so distant now.
“So tell me,” Satoru begins suddenly, pulling you hard against him, and you stumble before he puts a hand on your waist to steady you. “Just how long did you intend to keep watching me? Makin’ me all nervous before you made your move?”
You are stunned by his bold line of questioning, but he knows full well how tipsy you are, and that you’re going to answer as honestly as you can.
“I made a move the first time I ran into you,” you squeaked. “Thought you’d take it from there, but guess your balls aren’t big enough.”
This makes him grunt a bit. “If I would have made the first move, you’d still be limping. I don’t like all the small talk.”
“I see,” you purr, “otherwise you wouldn’t be leading me to this field, would ya, ‘Toru?”
“Not a field,” he corrects. “I’m parked back here. What do y’think I am, a serial killer? Wouldn’t just fuck you in the wilderness. ‘Less you asked.”
It had a nice ring to it, but you aren’t quite wasted enough to not care about being seen out in the open like that.
You reach his car and, pretending to be a gentleman, he opens the door for you, and while you sink in, he goes to the trunk. You begin to feel your heart race; you hardly know this man, actually, and maybe you’re stupid for thinking with your cunt instead of your head. Letting him lead you out back, all alone to his car.
Your nerves ease when he joins you in the back seat, nothing more than a bottle of liquor in his hand.
“Think we need to loosen up some more,” he says sternly, unscrewing the cap. “Not that I need alcohol to take care of you, ponytail, but it’ll definitely make things interesting.”
You nod in agreement, knowing you can certainly use more liquid courage. You wait for him to pass you the bottle, but instead you feel chilly fingers connect to your chin, and his thumb courses your face towards his.
“Open those lips f’me,” he murmurs lowly, tilting your chin up towards his face and bringing the liquor bottle closer to yours.
Your eyes widen in realization of what he’s about to do, but the throb between your legs has resurfaced full force at the ghost of a grip he has on your chin.
Hot liquor is sliding down your throat before you even register that you’ve parted your lips. You gasp and close your mouth into a bubble, trying to breathe through your nose as the liquor starts to go down harshly.
Satoru’s watching you intensely, “Don’t swallow it all,” he instructs quickly, to which you find yourself glaring at him.
The interior of your cheeks is going numb, and he’s telling you not to swallow.
What he does next, though, makes your skeleton jump out of your skin and back in again.
He opens his mouth; his long, fat tongue sticking out as far as it will go with a delicate curve in it. He points to his open mouth, while looking at you through his eyelashes.
You feel your face go numb. Your cunt was pounding now, secretion wetting your inner thighs and covering your pussy. You spread your legs a bit, trying to use Satoru’s backseat as something to grind down onto.
You begin doing so as you sit up straight a bit and lean forward, before pushing your cheeks out to spit a steady mix of liquor and your saliva right onto Satoru’s glistening tongue. He hisses immediately, before gripping you by the neck; taking you by surprise when your air flow becomes restricted. Your face is jerked to his as he swallows the liquor you just spit into his mouth, nipping your bottom lip.
“Tastes s’good,” he rasps, “Know you’ll taste even better.”
“But—“ you want to ride him already.
Wanna get him deep in your belly, use your hips to wring more of those deep moans from the depths of his throat. You don’t know if you can wait for that.
“But what?” Satoru challenges, applying pressure to your massive thighs with his palms. “Y’should know by now you can trust me. Didn’t I take care of you on the bull?”
He slides his finger up your stomach and to the cups of your brazier, tucking the tip of the digit inside and tugging the material down, a nipple begging to be exposed.
“Had it vibrating as hard as it could,” he continues, cocking his head to the side, careful not to let his Stetson slide off. “Still can’t get you riding it like that outta my head. Fuck.” He hisses again and—
Crack!
His hand comes down hard on your thigh, pulling a pathetic cry out of you. You look up at him through your lashes; he’s so beautiful with the way the moonlight casts a glow along his jaw, his wet lips, and the brim of his Stetson.
“Quit looking at me like that,” he says, creeping closer to you.
“Make me,” you mouth brattily, and so he does.
Keeping his hands both occupied on your thigh and your throat, he finally crashes his desperate lips against yours, creating harsh reverberations through your teeth. He starts the kiss off hard and unsure, but once you’re kissing him back, the kisses get sloppy, ferocious, desperate.
You let out a whimper against his lips, and in the split second your mouth is open his tongue has made its way inside. The muscle clashes with yours, drenching your mouth in his saliva as he takes your tongue for his own.
Meanwhile, his hand has left your throat. It’s back on the trim of your brazier, and without warning, his fingers gives it a harsh tug and your breasts are out.
He doesn’t break away from the kiss but he does glance down and start palming the meat of your chest, pinching one nipple between his index and thumb.
Not much noise is made besides your shared frustrated grunts as he breaks away from your sloppy kiss, leaving his drool all over your mouth and chin as he dips his charming head down to latch onto your nipple.
He pulls one of your legs up onto his lap, as he nestles himself next to the other one, now between your legs, and you’re forced to lean back against the window and press your hand against the back of the passenger seat for balance.
Satoru is not showing your breasts any mercy. His hand glides across the skin on your leg, before he takes his fingers in a walking motion up your thigh and then quickly grabs your tits into each hand, gathering large loads of spit and hacking them onto your chest, the glorious sound of the fluid hitting your skin making you wetter and wetter and—
He takes a big hand and pop! smacks your achingly solid nipple, dragging a loud, embarrassing cry from you.
“S-Satoru—“ you moan, undecided if you want to tell him that it’s too much.
“Hmm?” he questions, the word coming out muffled as he now has a mouth full of breast again, his tongue swirling greedily over your areolas and sending signals to your tingling nerves.
“S’alot,” you stutter, “feels t-too good.”
“Don’t care,” he shrugs, pulling away from your chest and bringing his face back up to yours, “not finished with you. Not even close.”
You whine as he cracks a smack on your tit one more time for good measure. Now he’s pulling your legs, causing you to lose balance and fall onto your back.
The back seat is spacious, but you think there’s no way he’s going to be able to bend his body to do whatever he thinks he’s about to do.
He doesn’t seem to be thinking like you, though, because his hands hike up your skirt and he hisses at the sight of your panties, not even hesitating.
“S’cute, look at the little cherry,” he grins seductively, poking the fat of your pussy with a sharp finger.
He’s referring to the pattern on the front of your tiny white thong, but you’re hardly paying attention because your mind is still ringing at his sudden contact with your cunt.
Rip!
His hands are tearing apart your poor little fishnets, paving a way for him to get your panties off. He succeeds, struggling a bit to get them past your boots; folding your knees up to your face as he does so, commenting on your flexibility.
“Hah- I love athletic girls,” he says aloud. “So flexible. Gonna have your ankles by your ears, ponytail.”
You squirm underneath him at his threat, but he’s already pinning your legs up, your boots grazing across the ceiling of his car as he stares down at your glinting pussy - dripping all over his expensive white leather.
If the alcohol wasn’t currently hitting you like a train - your brain mushing and swirling from being slapped and pushed around - you’d be trying to force your legs closed to hide from him.
“Such a fucking pretty pussy,” he grits out, leaning forward and shooting a collection of spit out of his mouth right onto it. Your eyes roll, the warmth of his body fluid landing right over your clit, making the bottom half of your body twitch. Satoru grins.
“Don’t even need my spit, y’so wet; I just love the way it looks on you,” he murmurs, keeping his hands firm on the underside of your thighs, “‘M gonna mark you with all my fluids, pretty.”
“Shut up,” you cry out, “if you’re still talkin’ it means your face isn’t stuffed with pussy.”
“Mm, ponytail gets fiesty,” Satoru looks at you from between your thighs and bites his lip, “there’s no fun in rushing right into these things, you know.”
He turns his head to the side, still wearing his Stetson - it’s somehow managing to hang on through all of the filth - and he plants a soft little kiss to your inner knee. Then another to the other leg. He rinses and repeats this process until he’s far up your thighs, and you can feel his breath dancing over your dripping hole.
“F-fuck,” you scream out, getting more frustrated, “‘m gonna shove your face if you don’t stop.”
“Try,” he challenges, but his eyes say that if you do, you’ll be teased for even longer.
"Wh-Why are you doing this to me?" you pant, ramming your knee into his rib playfully.
"Cause truthfully," he says lowly, "I liked the little game we had going. Building up the tension. Hate to see it end..." he drags his finger down the side of your thigh, making you shiver. "And hmm, you are such a pretty girl, begging like this. Imagine if your teammates knew that their beast of a captain was in the backseat of a car, begging to have her pussy eaten? Imagine!”
His breath tickles your cunt as he cracks a mean laugh, his head tilted down so that you can’t see his expression under his hat.
You swallow in embarrassment. You always go for a little teasing, but this is extreme. Before you know it, your hand has popped out before you, and your fingers splay out over the cowhide of his Stetson as you push - hard - and push until his arrogant little mouth is against your pussy.
He’s shut up instantly, groaning softly against your skin as his tongue darts out on instinct, lapping up your juices.
“That’s right,” you whisper with ache in your voice, “shut up and eat that shit.”
Your head lolls back against the window panel in Satoru’s car. He’s not even bothering to argue with you now, lost in his own heaven of your delicious nectar. If you could see past his hat you’d be able to watch as his face becomes wet and shiny, as your secretion dribbles down his chin in a heavenly mix of saliva. His tongue drags down between your folds, making you squirm, but it’s nothing compared to when he shoves his tongue right into your wanton hole.
The cry you let out vibrates against the interior of the car. Satoru’s hand has come up underneath your thigh, pulling your leg to rest across his back as he’s slid down into a crouch on the floor. His hand cracks down on your leg in the same spot as before, this time digging his fingernails down into the flesh after the slap.
You hiss, but ultimately feel even more turned on as he drags his tongue back through your juices, finding your clit, narrowing it out as he flicks it back and forth, back and forth, the same way he had been rocking you on that damned bull.
“S-Such a fucking mess,” he moans against your skin, trying to catch all of your secretion but it’s impossible with the way he keeps eating you - you’re flooding the seat, your inner thighs, and his smug little pale face. “Tastes so good. Can’t imagine how good you taste after a long game, fuck.”
You furrow your eyebrows embarrassingly at the the thought of what he was implying - your cunt all sweaty after soccer and he’d prefer that over this? You want to shudder in disgust but, picturing yourself hiked up on the wall with your soccer shorts discarded, a leg over his shoulder as Satoru ate you alive like this - works you up more than you figure you can even get at this point.
“S-Satoru,” you whimper, feeling the pool of heat twist up your insides as the familiar feeling of ejaculation creeps up on you.
You reach and grab his hat, digging your fingers into the leather, your legs clenching against his cheeks as you try to control the shaking that you know is to overcome you the second you orgasm.
“I know that sound,” Satoru purrs against your clit, “cum for me baby. Cum all over my tongue, like y’been wanting to for months.”
That’s all it takes. And god, Satoru does not show mercy as the wave starts at your clit and pushes all the way through your body, down to your curling toes in your boots and up to your nipples, which are still dancing free over the rim of your brazier.
The shakes come quickly, intensely, harsher than you’ve ever felt them before, as Satoru’s tongue rides out your high for you, not stopping until you’re just slightly twitching.
“Beautiful,” he hums, parting his mouth from you and sitting up in the backseat. “Satoru one, Y/N zero.”
You frown at his use of scoring, knowing it’s just to get under your skin.
“I’ll even out the score, fuck you,” you hiss.
“Please do, ponytail,” Satoru grins.
You find yourself pulling your legs back quickly, your thighs still a little weak and shaky as you sit up on your knees. You quickly unzip your boots and toss them somewhere in the front. Then, you grab Satoru by his ungodly black button-down and drag him to the middle of the seat.
He’s looking up at you in a mix of awe and smug, but you’re trying to pretend you don’t feel his eyes on you so that you may maintain your confidence.
You throw your right leg over his waist. Now, you’re straddling him, bare cunt over warm leather, dragging all of your juice and cream over his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind.
You fumble between your legs to unbutton his pants and then unzip them. He assists you when he raises his hips for a second, allowing you to get his pants down just enough that his bulge is pressing against you through his boxers.
He’s looking up at you with slanted eyelids, his pupils blown to black with the rim of ice-blue hardly visible. He’s clearly so tipsy, just off of the little bit you’d spit into his mouth, meanwhile your body is hot and your vision is getting blurry, nothing on your mind except getting his cock inside of you.
But oh, he deserves the teasing he’d given you. You use your hand to palm him, but simultaneously drag your hips over his lap, your sensitive cunt twitching as you do so.
His head falls back, his Adam’s apple thumping gloriously in his throat. His eyes flutter closed but only briefly.
“Fuck- shit,” he groans. “‘M sorry ‘bout the teasing, ‘kay? Want you to take advantage of me already. F-fuck, please-“
His begging is so delicious. If he thinks this is going to decrease the teasing you’re bestowing upon him, he has another thing coming.
Probably you.
“Oh?” you hum, giggling. “What’s that? Satoru begging now? How the tables have turned…”
He groans again, “S-Sick, innit? The way I want to be balls deep in that wet ass cunt. Don’t wanna wait anymore. You’ve kept me dangling for so long. Please-“
He whines. He actually whines, followed by a low whimper as he pokes out his bottom lip and lifts his head to look at you again.
A smart move on his part because you are absolutely hypnotized by his eyes, and before you know it, your hand is passing the elastic band on his black boxers. You find your hand running over bare skin - what a slut, he’d shaved. You gasp as you continue to slide your hand down to try and grab his tip - but it’s not there. It’s so far deep into his pants because he’s simply that large.
You scoot back on his lap a bit and finally whip his cock out, and it bounces a bit at its own sheer heft. There’s a pretty curve in it and thick veins swirling the sides, leading to a fat pink tip.
You realize you’ve been staring, but also slowly stroking it, admiring the fuck out of this perfect cock that you knew you would be thinking about for weeks.
“Like what you - hah - s-see?” he coos, closing one eye and glancing down at your hand sliding delicately over his length with his other.
“Mhmm,” you reply, “just imagining how good it’s gonna hurt. Your cock gonna make me cry, ‘Toru?”
“F-Fuck yeah,” he shudders, “gonna have you screaming, pretty. Loud as you want - no one can hear. Need you to milk this cock.”
“S-Shut up,” you groan, only because his words were driving you mad - and you would not last even another sixty seconds without his length penetrating your poor insides.
But, you suddenly remember the whip on your waist. Albeit made out of a cheap, rope-like material, the gears in your head start twisting like the delinquent that you are.
You catch Satoru’s wondering eye as he silently asks you why you aren’t bouncing on his cock yet - but you manage to ignore the expression as you thwip out the long black prop and quickly get it around Satoru’s neck before he can so much as gasp in surprise.
His eyes widen when he realizes you’ve made a leash out of your whip, tightening it at the base of his throat and coiling it around your wrist, bringing his face closer to you.
He’s so stunned that he remains silent, but his plump lips are parted in surprise, which you take as an opportunity to bite into the bottom one - harshly.
You suck on it as you lift your hips and your free hand finds the base of his cock - then you slide it between your folds very purposefully and agonizingly slow.
“Holy fuck,” Satoru whimpers against your mouth. “Y’doing me so dirty, Y/N, fucking ruining me. God…” he adds, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.”
You gasp at the confession, and then at the feeling of his tip pushing into your dripping hole, as you drag your hips down to sink yourself onto him.
His eyes immediately roll back, and you let go of his lip, keeping your grip on the whip as your pussy adjusts to his size - feeling the drumming pulse coming from his veins tap your walls erotically.
You try not to clench, but as you suspected, it hurts so good - you’re trying not to focus on the pain. But he’s just so thick, so filling.
You whimper and in the same moment, feel a coil of fingers wrapping into your hair, curling it around his knuckles to keep you from moving your head.
“Ride this shit,” he growls, his eyes suddenly back open and completely aware. “Put those sexy ass hips to use.”
He grips one with his free hand for emphasis, tightening his grip on your hair, suddenly making you wish you’d opted for the ponytail tonight. You cry out at the mixes of searing pain and pleasure, as you’ve managed to take all of his cock inside of you - his tip kissing your cervix painfully. You decide now you can try to move, so you use your toes to push yourself back up, finding your pace.
“It’s too big,” you complain, albeit very fakely; your grip on the whip turning your knuckles white as it’s the only thing you can do to distract yourself.
Your other hand digs into his shoulder, and he hisses.
“Nuh-uh,” he coos, “you can take it, pretty. Deep breaths, know you can be a good cockwarmer f’me.”
Your breaths are coming out in short little pants. Slowly you’re adjusting to his size, and with you slicking up his cock it’s easy to start gliding sinfully up and down, up and down-
Satoru leans forward against your restraint and greedily takes your mouth onto his. He squeezes your hip harshly to get you to moan, then shoves his tongue hungrily inside your mouth. While his tongue works on harassing yours, his cock works on bruising your uterus. You’re bouncing quicker now, but he’s meeting you halfway with animalistic thrusts of his own.
Aside from heavy breathing, the squelching sound of your wet walls against his dick accompany the clapping of your ass against his groin. You start rotating your hips, bringing one forward before the other, creating a wave-like motion as you ride your slutty little half-horse into oblivion.
His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes shut tight, his mouth only hanging onto yours by his teeth as he continues to whine into the air. You yourself have gone up a few octaves, your moans competing with his, making the atmosphere even more erotic.
“Oh, fuck,” Satoru moans, “s’tight. S’good. Such a perfect fucking pussy, fits right over me. This shit was designed just f’me. Fuck, wh-why you fuckin’ me like this?” He shudders under you, releasing your lip from his teeth and opening his eyes. “Y’must want my fuckin’ babies, all in your stomach.”
Your eyes roll back as you repeat a very sultry, “All in my stomach.”
So cockdrunk off him, if he wants to fill you to the brim you’ll let him. You’ll let him have his way with you however he wants, at this moment, if it meant he’d keep fucking up into you this good - if it meant you could have his cock more than just tonight. You’d never wanted to obey and be so good for someone before now.
“You are being so good,” Satoru purrs, which makes you realize you said the last sentence aloud. “My pretty ponytail. Taking me so well. I know it hurts, baby, but you got it. You can have all of my cock - anytime you want. I-I’m…” he had been speaking clearly, but a particular thrust had made him lose his footing, bringing back his tipsy voice, “I-I’m yours to use. To ruin.”
Your eyebrows furrow, you gasp at the velvety statement. You know he’s just drunk, you are too, but you’re so incredibly fucked. Despite his words, he’ll probably never even look at you again after this, and it pains you deeply. You can’t think about that now though, because heat is rising in your stomach.
“God, Satoru,” you mumble, “keep fucking talking. Keep talking so I can cum all over you. Please, please, f-fuck.”
“Ngh, need you to cum,” Satoru says. “Wanna feel the way you pulse when you cum. Bet you can squirt f’me too, huh? Know you’ve got it, so wet like that.”
You shake your head, your hand loosening the grip on the whip; you just don’t have the strength anymore.
You lean back, arching against him, and he takes the opportunity to pop your breast right into his mouth, gripping onto your nipple with his teeth before he sucks like a starving man.
“P-Please, God… mmph,” you drag out, eyes rolling as you can barely bring yourself to make noise with the overwhelming amount of pleasure you’re experiencing.
But you’re taken by surprise when his hand is suddenly coming away from your hair, and his arms wrap around you in a tight bear hug. Your hand has no choice but to fall from the whip as your own arms wrap behind his neck to steady yourself - and just as you think you’re about to regain balance, Satoru starts mercilessly slamming his hips up into your ass.
“SHIT!” you scream out, the loudest you have since being in the car.
Flap, flap, flap - as he absolutely destroys the inner workings of your slick pussy - determined to bruise your cervix and leave it swollen and aching for him.
“You. Are. Gonna. Cum. For. Me,” he grits, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.
You feel tears brimming your eyes; it’s just so good, hurts so bad, you can’t get enough.
You find yourself seeing and saying nothing but his name over and over for the few seconds right before your orgasm, and then your poor body is spasming on top of Satoru’s as he fucks you through your high - your insides clenching and twitching, and then a gush! as your body has decided that an inner orgasm isn’t enough. Satoru was right - you’re squirting all over him, his pants, and the backseat.
His eyes bug out as his eyebrows furrow, taking in the sight of the magnificent pool you’ve left on him.
“So fucking hot,” he moans, “can feel that shit pulsing on me. F-Fuck. My turn—“
This brings him over the edge right along with you. You’ve gone limp against him, leaning your entire torso on his as he maintains his hug on you and squirts his thick ropes of hot cum all into your uterus.
You cannot see anything except white stars in your vision as you’ve lost yourself in recovering from your orgasms, and he’s not bothering to slide himself out of you just yet.
“S-So addicting,” he sighs, leaning his head against your shoulder, his hat finally falling off behind him, revealing the fact that his hair is stuck to his sweat-covered forehead.
His cock is twitching inside of you, but you can’t think about that now. You’re trying to regain your sight as well as the ability to breathe.
You lay there against each other, still filled up. His grip has loosened on you, but his hands are delicately petting the skin between your shoulder blades, his arms not letting you go.
You’re now just trying to catch your breaths, bodies pressed together in a lustful bliss as you come down off of your highs, soberness creeping up on you.
“Was better than my fantasies,” Satoru says softly, his hands still gently roaming the skin on your back.
“Mine too,” you giggle in response, the pants slowly becoming normal breaths again.
Satoru gently tugs on your hair to bring your face back level with his, and looks up at you, as innocent as can be.
“Y’know what this means, right?” he questions, squirming a bit underneath you just to remind you that his cock remains inside of you. “You’re never gonna be able to get rid of me. M’gonna need access to this pussy, at least once a week. If not more…” he tapers off before adding, “Only, of course, if you’re up for it.”
“Absolutely!” you squeak out a little too fast, to which Satoru gives you a charming crooked smile and leans forward to peck you on the lips.
“Well then,” he hums, “don’t think we can go back in the party with our cum all over us. Can I offer you a ride home, ponytail?”
You blink down at him. His gentlemanly nature from the party has returned, truly taking you aback, because of the way he was just muttering filth a moment ago.
You took him up on his offer though, legs shaking as you crawled to the front and got your skirt and boots back on. He’d had to exit the car and get back in, his long legs prohibiting him from just crawling to the front.
You can tell he’s sober now, he better have been, otherwise he wasn’t driving you anywhere. But you knew he was when his hand gently rested on the thigh he had abused the entire time, rubbing soft circles to soothe the red handprints he’d left.
You sigh, knowing you’re completely fucked. Hooking up with him was a step in the right direction, but who was to say he’d ever want to be anything more than this? Lots of things to think about, but right now, you just relaxed under his touch as he drove you back to your dorm.
And when you saw him again, it would be at your scrimmage a week later. You’d already filled your girls in on everything, down to the nasty details they’d begged to hear. That’s why they shoved you off the bleachers the minute it appeared that Satoru’s team was done practicing.
Satoru arrived in the hallway right on cue, and you hit him with your customary bump of the shoulder.
“There you are, ponytail,” he mutters, glancing around before gently pulling you into a maintenance closet. “Thought you’d bailed on me.” He presses a fat kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. “Been thinking about you all week, need to take some stress out on that pretty pussy.”
You squeak quietly, running your fingers through his hair, missing the way he looked in his Stetson but being able to appreciate his practice attire just the same. His hands find the band of your jersey shorts and begin tugging them down.
“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” you coo quietly, your back hitting the wall. “How d’you wanna do this?”
“Well, I certainly enjoyed you on top last time,” he purrs, “but - hah - sometimes, even the cowboys need a break from riding.”
I. AM. SO. FERAL FOR JOCKEY/COWBOY GOJO WTFFF
And he’s such a gentleman STOPP <33
ok this was the most fun thing ive ever written. that’s all bye.
~ pennjammin
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blckbrrybasket · 3 months ago
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Rafe with reader who stays away from hard drugs
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People snorting cocaine at these parties always shocked you. It wasn’t so much that it was a hard drug, but more so the money that went into it. No drug was cheap that was for sure. Cocaine, though, was the drug for rich kids.
Being a pogue, you hadn’t tried it. You had no desire to. You saw what hard drugs did to your mom. Unlike coke, basically anyone with a spare room and a strong will could make meth out on the cut. At least your mom could. You didn’t mind seeing people do drugs, but you always held yourself back.
Rafe noticed it pretty easily. His first assumption was the price which is why he slyly told you one night that you could get a bump for free for being his. You still didn’t budge, politely declining and making an excuse. After some time Rafe dropped the subject becoming a bit more aware to your aversion to it.
Most people didn’t give a shit until Topper made a big deal about it.
“Yo..aren’t you gonna have any?” He sent you a inebriated smile and you resisted scrunching your nose up at him. “Nah, I’m good.” Rafe slid an arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Leave them alone Top, it’s good.” Topper rolled his eyes at Rafe’s automatically stern tone. “I was just asking, shit. If they want to be a pussy they can. Not my business.”
Topper shrugged with a smirk and turned back to the line in front of him. Your stomach dropped at the comment, Rafe’s eyes narrowing. “Yo, what the fuck?” “What, bro?” Topper shot back. The few seconds of their argument gave you enough time to leave Rafe’s lap and storm towards the door.
It was obvious that Rafe was following you. You acted like you couldn’t hear his voice calling after you in the crowd. His long legs made it easy for him to catch up to you though, hand sliding around your elbow to pull you towards him. “Babe.”
“It’s fine.” You started, already trying to cover up what happened. “No. No, it’s not. What’s going on? Talk to me.” Rafe was worried. His eyes were wide with unspoken fear that you’d be mad at him.
“It’s stupid.” You crossed your arms over your chest. Rafe shook his head, “Nothing bothering you is stupid. Please, talk to me.” Sighing, you dropped your arms and grabbed his hand to pull him outside.
He understood the need for privacy, but was surprised nonetheless. Finally after a minute the two of you stopped by the side of the yard, far enough away from prying eyes. At your groan Rafe’s eyebrows rose, unsure what to do.
You covered your face, sighing into your hands. “When you…” Your words were quiet and unsure before you started again. “When you do drugs, it’s fine. I mean…it isn’t for your body, but it’s fun. Every kook our age does drugs, but when my mom does it, it makes her a methhead.”
“The assumption isn’t wrong, but it’s different for us on the cut. The drugs our parents did ruined us.” Rafe’s eyes revealed his realization. You had never mentioned it, but he had never asked. He should have asked. He felt like such an asshole.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. Your eyes snapped up to him. Rafe rarely apologizes without being told the problem, but now it wasn’t his fault. “For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” “No, I did. I put you in that situation. I put you around drugs…fuck.”
The way you looked at the coke he did made sense now, like you had a personal vendetta against the powder. How many times had you been uncomfortable while he dealed with you on his lap? “I’m sorry.” He reaffirmed, hands cupping your face. “I don’t care what bullshit you say, I put you in that..and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” was all you could think to whisper back to him. “It’s okay.” This time it was firmer, Rafe’s earlier expression of ease slowly making its way back onto his face. “Now let’s get out of here.”
“What?” You laughed in disbelief. Rafe shrugged, arms scooping you up to swing you over his shoulder, “Parties’ boring anyways.” You laughed, clutching onto his shoulders. “By the way, don’t hurt Topper too much.”
Rafe chuckled knowing you knew him too well. “Don’t know what you mean,” he lied.
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opencommunion · 1 year ago
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it is frightening and disturbing to hear Yoav Gallant call Palestinians "human animals" but I want those who are just tuning in to be aware that this dehumanizing rhetoric isn't new. The occupation has been calling Palestinians animals since the very beginning. Moshe Dayan, who orchestrated numerous massacres in his role as defense minister during the 1967 war, called Palestinians "jackals." Yitzhak Shamir, two-term prime minister and perpetrator of the 1946 King David Hotel bombing and 1948 Deir Yassin massacre, said Palestinians are like "grasshoppers; you need to stomp on them every once in a while." Prime minister Ehud Barak, decorated with military awards from both the IOF and the US, said in 2000 that Palestinians are like "crocodiles, the more you give them meat, they want more." General Rafael Etain, after instituting a policy of mass arrests without cause which is still practiced, bragged in 1983 that "all the Arabs will be able to do is scuttle around like drugged cockroaches in a bottle." Deputy defense minister Eli Ben-Dahan said in 2013, "to me, they are like animals, they aren’t human." for decades the IOF has described their regularly scheduled massacres as "mowing the grass"; in 2021 national security strategist David M. Weinberg wrote in the Jerusalem Post, "Just like mowing your front lawn, this is constant, hard work. If you fail to do so, weeds grow wild and snakes begin to slither around in the brush." In 2014, legislator Ayelet Shaket proposed that the mothers of murdered Palestinian men should be killed along with their sons: "They should go, as should the physical homes in which they raised the snakes. Otherwise, more little snakes will be raised there. They have to die and their houses should be demolished so that they cannot bear any more terrorists." In 2002, IOF chief of staff Moshe Ya'alon compared Palestinians to a "cancer" to be eradicated. In 2000, Ovadia Yosef, Chief Sephardic Rabbi of Israel, said "how can you make peace with a snake?" These are all statements made publicly by public officials, not behind closed doors. Characterizing a population as vermin is textbook strategy for justifying genocide, and what the occupation does to Palestinians is even more dehumanizing than what they say
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yuujispinkhair · 8 months ago
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Bad Boy - Good Toy (Part 2)
His past self would have rolled his eyes at him for running back to you over and over again like some overly eager loser. But Sukuna simply cannot bring himself to give a fuck. Not when you are the only thing that can still make him feel something. The only thing that can still excite him
You can read Part 01 here
Pairing: Sub!Sukuna x Dom!Reader (female) Genre: smut, College AU Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, degradation, humiliation, Sukuna is a brat, edging, cum-feeding, tip-fucking, use of a cockring, reader slaps Sukuna's balls, creampie, smoking cigarettes, mentions of former drug use, squirting, overstimulation, piss (Reader holds Sukuna's dick while he pees + makes him squirt). Reader calls Sukuna slut, fucktoy and fuckdoll. Unhealthy relationship dynamics. Reader and Sukuna don't talk about limits or safe words. Sukuna is ok with everything Reader does to him, but please be aware that this isn't the way a sub/dom relationship is supposed to be in real life. I just wanted things to be a bit fucked up in this story ;) Divider @/benkeibear 
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Sukuna isn't the same guy he was a few weeks ago. His past self would have rolled his eyes at him for running back to you over and over again like some overly eager loser. But he isn't his past self anymore, and this new version of him scans the crowd at every party until his gaze finally finds you. And this Sukuna 2.0 feels his pulse accelerate anytime your eyes meet, and you both smile those matching smiles that are too savage to ever be called sweet.
Finally, Sukuna enjoys those boring parties again. He greets you with a smirk and some teasing insult, and you do the same, and his veins fill with that excited tingle that he's been craving so badly. You lean against the wall next to him and tell him that he is dressed like a slut with the sleeveless shirt he is wearing, and Sukuna lights a cigarette for you without you having to ask him for it, handing it to you with a grin and a cocky reply.
He must be out of his mind, but just seeing your red lipstick marks on the filter of his cigarette makes Sukuna half-hard. It makes him imagine your lips wrapped around his cock, makes him imagine his dick and balls covered in your red lipstick marks. Sukuna wonders what he must do to ever get you to suck his dick. He low-key fears the answer. Fears it because he suspects that no matter how degrading it would be, he would do anything you ask of him. Maybe the fact that it is degrading is what makes him crave it.
Maybe that should worry him. But Sukuna simply cannot bring himself to give a fuck. Not when you are the only thing that can still make him feel something. The only thing that can still excite him.
You smoke the cigarette with him, and afterward, you drag him to a bedroom and use him for your own pleasure. Use his mouth, use his cock while calling him a slut and your cute fucktoy, and Sukuna feels like blackening out from how hard he cums. He busts fat load after load over himself while you laugh and mock him for it and tell him how pathetic he is. And he feels alive.
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Sukuna knows that approaching you in bright daylight on campus after all the things he let you do to him should probably feel weird. Any sane guy would be ashamed and walk the other way when he spots you from afar.
Not Sukuna, though.
Just two days ago, you slapped his balls while teasing his cock with your fingertips, called him a dirty slut and a useless brat, and made him curse and cry out and nut all over himself when you teased and slapped him to a fucking messy orgasm.
And you laughed and called him your messy, pretty fuckdoll and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the cum-stained tip of his softening cock. The noise he made was so pathetic that Sukuna shudders when remembering it. But the moment you left, Sukuna pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of his cock, and he has jacked off five times already to the image of your red lipstick mark on his tip.
So, yeah, Sukuna assumes he should at least have the decency to blush when he walks up to you in the middle of a busy hallway. But he doesn't. Maybe he is a masochist like that, or maybe he simply is beyond caring.
You are pulling another package of that stupid strawberry bubble gum out of the vending machine as if you are the most angelic and innocent good girl. But Sukuna knows you aren't, and it drives him insane.
Just like it drives him insane that you have him wrapped around your little finger. But he can't help it. He wants to grin like an idiot because it feels so good to feel that excited buzz in his body when he looks at you. He is addicted to you. As if you are a special drug that was designed only for him. The only drug that can give him the high he so desperately craves.
He leans casually against the vending machine, smirking down at you. And you smile at him all devilish, look up at him, and blow a pastel pink bubble that smells much too sweet. The bubble pops, leaving a mess of sticky pink gum all over your lips, and Sukuna leans closer with a cat-like smirk and his low voice raspy and teasing,
"Look at you, princess. Such a messy girl, too, huh?"
You grin at him, taking a step closer, making your breasts brush lightly against him, and then you are suddenly on your tiptoes, and you are kissing him, and Sukuna's eyes fly wide open.
The moment is over too fast. Sukuna can barely treasure the feeling of your sticky lips and the warmth of your tongue as you shove the bubble gum into his mouth before you already pull away again.
You look at him with a knowing, mean little smirk.
"We both know who the real mess is, Sukuna, baby."
You reach up to cup his jaw and pat his tattooed cheek, adding in a fake sweet voice,
"Now be a good boy and chew it while you are in class. And while you do that, think about how I slapped your balls until you nutted everywhere and how cute you sounded during it. My messy boy."
Sukuna sits in class a while later and chews the gum that was in your mouth only a few minutes ago. He blows big fat pastel pink bubbles the same color as his hair while thinking about that short moment when your lips moved against his and your tongue was in his mouth, and he feels like groaning and burying his face in his hands. What the fuck is wrong with him?
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It's another Saturday, another boring party that makes Sukuna want to burn down the whole dorm just to feel something.
He is sitting on the kitchen counter, downing a vodka shot while listening half-heartedly to his brother's excited chatter. Something about a new movie, or was it a manga? Sukuna has no idea. His gaze keeps straying through the crowd, searching for the cause of his sleepless nights and ruined, cum-stained sheets.
Finally, he sees you, and adrenaline instantly pumps through his veins. Excited pleasure pools in his groin and sizzles on his skin when he asks himself what degrading thing you will do to him today.
You disappear in the crowd again, and Sukuna decides to at least wait half an hour before he comes running after you like a puppy. He claps his brother on the shoulder and tells him to go find a pretty girl to fuck before they go home, pushes himself off the kitchen counter, and slowly strolls towards the door leading to the small backyard.
He smokes a cigarette while looking at the night sky and listening to the muffled sounds of the party, thinking how all of this bores him to death. Everything except a mean girl with a liking for strawberry bubble gum and his cigarettes.
Sukuna laughs under his breath and flicks the cigarette bud into some withered rose bush. Normally, he would never run after a girl. But damn, it feels so good to run after you. This role reversal is the most delicious thing that has happened to him since he started college.
He decides it's been long enough. He'll take a quick piss while he's out here anyway, and then he will go back inside and look for you. And when he finds you, he will offer you his cigarette and say something to rile you up, hoping you will punish him for it and chase his boredom away.
He unzips his pants and pulls out his dick, about to start peeing, when a familiar voice speaks up behind him.
"What are you doing out here, slut?"
An amused huff escapes Sukuna's lips, and he looks over his broad shoulder at the dimly lit porch, where you stand and look at him with that dangerous smile on your face. Sukuna isn't a fool. He knows this doesn't mean you are suddenly running after him. You are here to do something nasty to him, and it makes his chest fill with that electric anticipation that makes his head spin.
He gives you a playful glare, feeling the corners of his lips twitch when he asks,
"Geez. Can a guy take a piss in peace, or is that too much to ask?"
You cross your arms in front of your breasts and give him an exasperated look as if he said something dumb.
"Well, no. You can't take a piss in peace, Sukuna. Because you belong to me. Little fucktoys don't get to touch their cocks without my permission. I thought you knew that, you stupid boy."
You start walking toward him, and Sukuna's heart is hammering in his chest. His hand is still wrapped around his dick, not even having time to piss yet, when you stop behind him. Your arms sneak around his waist, hugging him, and Sukuna feels his breathing become heavier.
He can hear the sadistic joy in your voice when you tell him,
"Alright, you can do it now. I allow it."
A strangled-sounding noise reverberates in the back of Sukuna's throat. He wants to laugh. Is he seriously getting flustered like some loser just because you are standing behind him while he is about to piss? Fucking pathetic!
You chuckle, and your voice is dripping with cruel amusement,
"Come on, don't act shy now, baby. Go on, pee. Or do you need help? Does my pathetic little fuckdoll need his cock held while peeing?"
Sukuna's eyelids flutter, and a groan falls from his lips. Your small body is pressing against his back, one of your hands wanders from his waist to his hips, fingertips tracing his v-line for a second, and then your small hand brushes over his that's holding his dick.
Sukuna pulls his hand away, heart beating to his throat. And your small, warm hand wraps around his heavy, flaccid cock, holding it gently. Your lips are brushing against Sukuna's back, feeling warm even through his t-shirt,
"Do it, Kuna. Piss for me, baby. Make it nice and good for me. Can you do that? Can you let me feel how your pretty dick pees?"
He moans even as he lets himself go and starts peeing, his blood rushing loudly in his ears at the feel of your hand on his cock, holding it for him while he relieves his pressure,
"Such a good boy."
The growl Sukuna makes in the back of his throat is fucking embarrassing, but damn, he doesn't give a fuck. He would let the whole party watch how he gets his dick held while he pisses, if it means you will praise him for it.
You stroke him slowly as if milking his cock off his piss, and Sukuna curses under his breath, feeling himself grow hard in your small hand.
"Aww, does this excite you? Are you getting hard from having your dick held? You are so cute, Sukuna. Such a secret romantic, hm? Little, needy slut."
But you don't stop. You just keep rubbing Sukuna's cock, stroking him to a mind-blowing orgasm that makes him shoot his cum and some more piss all over the grass in hot sticky ropes.
You stroke it all out of him and keep going even after his orgasm has ebbed off, forcing him to give you another one. And Sukuna lets you. He just stands there while you pump his cock in your fist and whisper to him how dirty he is for liking this and laugh when he squirts all over the grass, messy and hot with his piss steaming in the cool night air.
You make him cum and squirt until his dick is flushed red and overly sensitive and twitches hotly in your small hand. And all the while, you rest your face against Sukuna's back and kiss him through his t-shirt, murmuring how nasty he is, how fucking dirty. And Sukuna groans into the night as his muscular thighs shake and another milky spurt of his cum drizzles down, making a mess all over his new leather boots.
Afterward, you laugh and bring your hand to your lips, looking at Sukuna as you lick his cum off your fingers, and somehow his chest feels so weird when he sees your tongue scoop up his thick milky cum, even while he sneers at you and drawls,
"Now look at you, princess. All nice and sweet, eating my cum like a good girl. Finally learned your place, huh?"
But you just giggle as if he made the world's dumbest joke and step up to him, press your body against him while his dick is still hanging out of his pants, pulsing from the overstimulation, and kiss him on the lips, pushing your tongue deep into Sukuna's mouth, feeding him his own cum, making him eat all of it.
Sukuna's eyes widen even as he automatically wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. His own taste melts on his tongue, a mix of sweet and salty, and he growls against your lips like a fucking dog.
You laugh when you pull away, swiping a finger over his lips to catch some stray cum and push it back into his mouth,
"No, you eat it all up, sweetheart. Swallow it all down like a good little slut."
You kiss him again, press your small, soft body against his firm, tall figure, and caress your tongue against his almost tenderly, and Sukuna moans. Your small hands are on the back of his neck, scratching and caressing his undercut, making him tighten his muscular arms around you and pull you even closer against his body while he licks hungrily into your mouth until every last drop of his cum is gone.
You tuck him into his pants afterward, pat his cock through his jeans while smiling that devilish smile at him and telling him that it was cute that he squirted for you.
Sukuna stays in the backyard until Yuuji comes to look for him, smoking several cigarettes and letting the night air cool his flushed skin. Fuck, he hopes that one day you will let him push his cock into your pussy!
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His wish gets fulfilled a week later. Well, a bit of it.
Sukuna is on his back on a stranger's bed while the muffled noises of the party drift to his ears through the closed door. And you are sitting on him, naked this time, with your pretty tits jiggling in front of Sukuna's face and your hot cunt drooling over his cock, where he is resting between your slick pussy lips.
"Only the tip, Sukuna."
"I'm not stupid. I heard you the first time you said it."
"Yeah, but I don't know if a brat like you can behave. So I have to say it several times."
Sukuna huffs at your snide words, but it turns into a groan when you grab his cock and slowly sink down on him excruciatingly slow. He smirks when he hears the gasp falling from your lips and sees your eyes cross when his fat mushroom head stretches your tight hole open. Fuck, he is proud of his long and thick dick all the time, but especially tonight. Especially when it is you who goes crazy on his fat cock.
You fuck yourself on his thick tip, using him for your own pleasure, moaning from lust as you tease yourself on Sukuna's velvety mushroom head. Your tits press against Sukuna's tattooed face, and he cups them with his hands and closes his warm mouth around your nipples, and teases them with his tongue piercing, making you moan softly.
Sukuna's hips buck, a low groan falling from his lips as his cock pushes further into your tight, hot cunt.
"Come on, princess. Just sit down on me. Just sit on my cock completely. Just use me!"
He sounds like a stranger to his own ears, too breathless, too needy. Begging like some pathetic virgin. And you just chuckle cruelly and yank on his hair.
"Damn it, Sukuna. I told you just the tip. Stop acting like a bitch in heat, you little slut."
You stop moving, and Sukuna stares up at you, horrified for a moment that you will get up and grab your clothes and leave him this riled up and horny. He is about to actually beg when you roll off him. But to his relief, you just lie down next to him and spread your legs, beckoning him over with a finger.
"Come here. Show me you can be a good fucktoy. Make me cum only with your tip. Show me that you know how to be a good boy."
This is fucking torture! Sukuna's pulse is racing, and his cock is leaking angrily all over himself as he stares at your spread legs, at your slicked-up cunt with the cute, puffy clit. Fuck, he imagines he can even smell you. Can smell your pussy's sweet aroused scent, your horniness, your desire for him.
It takes everything in Sukuna to hold back, but he wants to prove himself to you and wants to show you that he can be good. That he isn't some weak little loser who doesn't know how to play a game. All the other guys may lose control, but Sukuna refuses to do so. He will show you that he is the best you ever had! That he is worth your time!
And so Sukuna kneels between your shaking legs and does as you told him, takes his throbbing cock in his tattooed hand and rubs his swollen, leaking cockhead over your clit, before he pushes himself into your tight heat, only fucking you with the tip, pulling out again to rub your stiff clit with it and then tip-fucking you again over and over until your moans become all high-pitched and cute and he feels you tighten around his cockhead.
You cum all over him, pussy grabbing his tip and spasming around it, your juices gushing over him as your body shudders and you tremble violently.
Sukuna growls, tattooed thighs tensing up as his orgasm hits him unexpectedly, his cockhead pulsing his hot seed over your swollen little clit, painting it white.
Sukuna groans loudly at the sight, pumping his cock wildly, making the rest of his cum shoot out in strong heavy spurts over your belly and your gorgeous tits, bathing them in his sticky load.
He is breathing heavily, gaze wandering over the mess he left on your body, and you smile at him with that amused twinkle in your eyes,
"Aww, couldn't keep it in anymore, sweetheart? Did my little slut get too excited? You're always such a messy boy, Sukuna. Come on, clean your mess up with your tongue, baby."
And Sukuna does so with a grin on his face and a racing heartbeat in his chest. Cupping your tits with his large hands, licking them clean, sucking on your nipples while you pet his hair. He basks in the moans falling from your lips. You don't even stop him when he slips his right hand down between your legs and rubs your clit, and then pushes two fingers inside you, fucking you with his middle finger and ring finger until you cum on them, mewling loudly as you shudder beneath him.
He rubs your clit again afterward, slow and tender caresses, rubbing your whole orgasm out of you while you twitch in his arms and moan his name so sweetly. Sukuna feels so proud.
You pull him into a kiss, a real one, pushing your tongue into Sukuna's mouth, licking and caressing him while he still rubs your clit tenderly. He feels you shudder in his arms and swallows your moans with his tongue when you twitch against his fingers and soak them with your creamy arousal.
Tonight you don't get up and leave, but stay in Sukuna's arms for a whole hour, sharing a cigarette with him and snuggling against him and kissing him while his thigh is between your legs, pressed snuggly to your hot wet cunt, smearing your sweet juices all over his thigh tattoos.
You bite his bottom lip and give him a hickey right under his ear as if you are marking your territory, and Sukuna feels his pulse flutter. And it gets even worse when you whisper to him in a voice that leaves no room for doubt,
"You're not gonna put your dick into anyone else, Sukuna. You're only my little slut, you know that, right?"
And Sukuna nods and grabs your chin to shove his tongue into your mouth again, letting you suck on his tongue, piercing and tease his cockhead with only one fingertip until he pulses his sticky cum all over his abs once again.
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You're standing next to Sukuna at another party at one of his brother's friend's dorm. You are both leaning against the living room wall, sharing a cigarette while watching the small crowd on the makeshift dancefloor make fools of themselves. The cigarette wanders from Sukuna's hand to yours and back again, sending that fucking nice electric feeling through him anytime your small fingers caress against his.
But you're in a foul mood tonight, Sukuna can tell.
It bugs him. He wants to kiss you right here to make you feel better, wants to push you up against the wall and shove his tongue into your mouth until you moan against his lips. He knows that afterward, you would tell him he is a needy slut for kissing you like that, but he wouldn't mind because, yeah, he is a needy slut when it comes to you.
But he doesn't do it. Instead, he just raises an eyebrow and smirks at you,
"Stop being so grumpy. It really ruins my fucking mood."
You give him a tired look and steal the cigarette from his lips.
"Shut up, brat."
Sukuna's smirk grows bigger, and he leans down, grinning as he licks a wet stripe up your neck and then murmurs into your ear,
"Let me fuck it all out of you, princess. My dick is the best cure. Let me give you a nice fat creampie. That will heal you."
You roll your pretty eyes and huff.
"Oh, don't be silly. You want to cum inside, baby? Then show me you deserve it."
"How?"
The smile that forms on your face is the kind that should send him running, but instead, Sukuna leans closer, brushing his lips over yours, his heart hammering in his chest, making him feel lightheaded.
You pull away, tilting your head to look deeply into his eyes.
"You like tattoos, don't you, Sukuna?"
Your fingers trail slowly over his biceps, tracing the tattooed black rings on them while you grin up at him like he stumbled into Alice's fucking Wonderland and you are the Cheshire Cat. You lean closer, your tits brushing against Sukuna's arm and your breath hot on his skin when you whisper in his ear in a voice sweet like honey,
"Get my name tatted on you. Prove to me that you know your place. That you know who you belong to."
Sukuna leaves the party feeling dizzy.
He smokes cigarette after cigarette on his way home while his head is spinning. He knows this is a bad idea. He knows he should stop playing this stupid game the two of you are playing, but damn, how is he supposed to stop when it feels so fucking good?
This is a challenge, and maybe you think he will be scared off. Hell, every sane person would tell you that you are crazy! Every sane person would say no. But the thing is, Sukuna isn't like anyone else. He isn't like those little, scared boys. He will show you! Will show you that he is worth your time, that he is worth your pussy! That he isn't one of those fucking losers who back down!
He smirks maniacally as he lets the empty cigarette package fall to the ground and kicks it across the rainy street.
You dared him, and he is not going to puss out. He is Sukuna! He doesn't lose! He doesn't back down! You want to play games? Well, he can play too, and the thing is, Sukuna always plays to fucking win!
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He comes back to you a week later, grinning like a madman, when he lifts up his t-shirt to show you the small tattoo of your name on his abs.
You lift your head to smile at him, that dangerous smile that screams trouble, and yet Sukuna also sees some real emotion in it. You approve of what he did. You are proud of him. You are happy. It makes him so hard that his cock aches from pressing so much against his tight black jeans.
You chuckle softly as you lean closer,
"You really did it, huh? Are you really that desperate for me, Kuna? So cute."
Sukuna's lips twitch, and he rolls his eyes, blowing out the smoke of his cigarette.
"Don't act like seeing your name on my skin doesn't make you cream your little panties. You want me so bad, that you wanted me to get a tattoo for you, sweetheart. So who is more desperate, huh?"
"Oh, that's easy, baby. Always you, my pretty doll. I only see one idiot who got the other's name tattooed onto himself. And it's not me."
You grin at Sukuna and grab his chin, pressing his cheeks together, making him blow the cigarette smoke out and into your face. There's a fluttery feeling in his stomach when you press your lips against his, capturing the smoke with your mouth, kissing him, and inhaling the smoke he just exhaled.
You pull away again, and you smile at him, all sweet and dangerous,
"Ok."
Sukuna cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at you,
"Ok, what?"
"I'll let you finish inside me."
Sukuna feels a huge grin spread over his face, and his large hands land on your waist, but you shake your head,
"Not now. Next week."
Your eyes sparkle in that way that Sukuna knows means trouble as you get on your tiptoes and whisper in his ear,
"And I forbid you to jack off until then. Save it all up for me. A big fat nut for my pussy."
You press a kiss onto his neck, far too gentle for the nasty thing you just murmured in his ear, and Sukuna groans out loud.
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Sukuna is in heaven and in hell at the same time.
You are on his bed. Not some stranger's bed at some shitty party in a dorm that he wants to set on fire. No, tonight you are in Sukuna's bed.
You're under him, your legs wrapped around his hips, your hands on his ass, your fingernails digging deeply into his taut muscles, your head thrown back on Sukuna's pillow, your mouth opening in loud moans and delirious mewls.
Sukuna feels so fucking proud. Fuck, of course, he knows he is good in bed. He is the best fuck anyone can ever wish for! He has been told so by countless girls. But this here, this is better than anything else! Seeing you like that, seeing you enjoying his cock like that, is a special flavor or euphoria. It makes him feel high. It makes his veins sizzle with arousal. It makes his balls so fucking taut.
And that's the fucking hellish part of this. Sukuna feels like busting the fattest nut ever after saving it all up for a whole week just like you told him to, but now he's shooting blanks because you decided to torture him even more.
He should have known. He should have known that you would come up with something cruel again. You smiled like such a pretty little devil at him when you walked into his room, kissed him with tongue, and then sat on his bed and pulled that cockring out of your bag.
You slid it onto his half-hard dick and stroked him to full horny hardness afterward, a twisted smile on your face while you teased him with little kisses on his swollen tip, smearing your red lipstick all over him, driving him absolutely fucking insane while cooing at him how cute he was like that.
"You are such a pretty boy, Sukuna. Really looking like such a doll for me. That's what you were made for, hm? Being a pretty little fucktoy that I can use any way I want."
And then you made him fuck you with the cockring on. Such a fucking farce! Of course, Sukuna complained. Of course, he bared his teeth and glared at you, hissed at you all desperate and pissed off and dizzy with arousal,
"You told me I can nut in you! What the fuck?"
But of course, he still grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him. Of course, he pushed his throbbing cock into your deliciously wet pussy. Of course, he let out a loud growl when he felt your tight hot cunt around his cock. Of course, he rolled his hips against yours, even while you sneered up at him,
"Aww, look how upset you are, baby. So cute. Shut up, toy! Put your pretty cock in me and make me cum on him. Look, I have to make sure my pretty little fuckdoll doesn't cum too soon. You are here for my enjoyment, Sukuna. Don't mix things up. Once you made me happy with your pretty cock, I will let you nut. As a reward for being a good fucktoy."
And fuck, he is making you happy with his cock. You are squealing his name when he bucks his hips against you, knowing exactly where to hit to rub your g-spot. Sukuna has already made you cream on his cock two times, soaking his sheets with your squirt.
But all that Sukuna gets are dry orgasms. He is breathing heavily, grunting and growling, shooting blanks into you, his balls aching and his head spinning. He didn't realize it until now, but the wet sobs filling his bedroom are coming from him.
Sukuna never thought he would ever be reduced to this. A sobbing horny mess with aching balls and a throbbing cock that's so fucking useless, unable to cum for real, unable to offer him any relief. But fuck, it feels so good. It makes his pulse race, makes his every fiber feel so fucking alive, and he wouldn't want it any other way. No one else can give him that mix of pain and pleasure that you do. No one else can drive him crazy like you do.
He moans loudly, letting it all out as his bed hits the wall, and you tighten around him again, screaming incoherently as you cum on his cock again.
Your eyes open, and you look up at him, a dazed look in your eyes, fucked to heaven on Sukuna's cock, a little contented smile playing around your lips.
You grab Sukuna's sweaty hair and pull him into a kiss. Whisper against his lips, kiss the tears off his face that he realizes, to his utter horror, ran down his tattooed cheeks, and coo at him,
"Look how cute you can be, Sukuna. Look how good a bad boy like you can be. Such a perfect little fuckdoll. So pretty and obedient. God, you made me so happy with your pretty dick."
You laugh, sounding exhilarated. Your small hands run down Sukuna's buff pecs and his abs, making him shudder. You don't stop until your hand reaches the fresh tattoo on his abs, tracing your name on his firm muscles with your fingertips.
"You can cum inside me now. You earned it."
And Sukuna sobs with relief.
He pulls out of you and sits back on his knees, groaning at the loss of your tight wet cunt around him. But you finally take the cockring off his swollen cock.
You wrap your hand around him, rubbing him slowly, making him growl because he is scared he will explode all over your hand, begging you to please, please let him push back inside you. A desperate mess, with tears running down his tattooed cheeks.
A low, desperate moan escapes his lips when you finally tell him,
"Now, push your pretty cock back inside, baby. You can finish inside. Nut it all into me."
And Sukuna pushes you down and rams his aching hard dick deep into you, making both of you hiss.
You stroke his full balls while Sukuna ruts needily into you like an animal in a fucking rut. He's mounting you with deep, rough thrusts, grunting and moaning, feeling like he is high. Fucking you so hard that your tits bounce wildly, and you moan those breathless moans that drive him insane.
But Sukuna is louder than you. Moaning it all out, probably making his brother curse him on the other side of the wall, but fuck, he is in fucking heaven, and he doesn't want to hold back.
His balls tighten, and Sukuna cries out brokenly, eyes pressing shut as stars explode behind his closed eyelids, and he shudders violently on top of you. Nutting so hard and long that he almost blacks out.
And you are kneading his muscular ass firmly with one hand while the other caresses his heavy balls, massaging them, making him growl while you moan and tighten around his cock again,
"Come on, little fucktoy, give me everything! All that fat nasty nut so deep inside me."
Your words get slurred at the end as your pussy clenches wildly around him, and you squeal again in horny joy, milking Sukuna's cock empty with your wild orgasm while Sukuna moans and whimpers and snaps his hips against you, fucking you deep and nasty and spurting his whole orgasm into your already overflowing pussy.
He can't stop fucking into you, making his milky cum ooze out between his cock and your cunt, making it trickle messily onto his bedsheets until you are lying in a small messy puddle of it.
Sukuna slumps on top of you with a low, satisfied groan. He can feel your small hands running up and down his broad back. Your legs are still wrapped tightly around his waist as if you never want to let go of him again, keeping him right here between your legs, his dick buried balls deep in your hot, creamy and cum-filled cunt.
You chuckle and pet his hair and whisper in his ear,
"You fucked me so good, baby. And your cum feels so nice and warm inside me, do you know that? You're such a bad boy but also such a good toy, huh, Sukuna? Such a cute little fucktoy only for me. Do you want to stay like that for a while? With your pretty dick deep in me?"
Sukuna can feel your mocking little smile against his ear as his hips buck against you again involuntarily, and a needy, wet noise falls from his lips as he tells you that, yes, he wants that. You only make him say "please" once before you grab his chin and kiss him while you squeeze your cunt around him, and Sukuna thinks he might actually be in love.
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I MIGHT BE IN LOVE TOO AAHHAHAAAH ;) Thank you so much for all the nice/horny feedback on Part 01!! I hope you enjoyed Part 02 too 💗💗
This AU was SO much fun to write! I love fucktoy Sukuna, and I want to be this Reader so bad! She is truly living such an exciting life, and who wouldn't want Sukuna as their personal little fucktoy? ;) I am glad I could experience the feeling through this AU, and I hope you could enjoy it, too!!
Thank you so much for reading 💗💗 Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!
1K notes · View notes
koqabear · 10 months ago
Text
chulo
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♫: Chulo Pt. 2, Bad Gyal
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"Your hermit of a roommate finally decides that he’s had enough of your attitude. And of your constant assumptions that he’s never felt the touch of a woman. "
taehyun x fem!reader
Genre: pwp, roommates au, smut, enemies to lovers if you squint, ft. wingman jjun 
Word count 11.4K
warnings: barely edited and barely any plot mwah, use of drugs (weed) and alcohol; mentions of the mc getting drunk (not during any of the smut), jealousy
smut warnings: sub!mc, mean dom!tyun, strength kink !! bratty mc and brat tamer tyun, high sex, shotgunning, degradation, praise, pain kink, spanking, hair pulling, thigh riding, begging, pet names/name calling (slut, baby, princess, pretty/good girl, etc.) manhandling, brief choking, mentions of safeword (it’s not used though), brief marking, biting, oral, (f. rec), face sitting, tyun is a literal pussy fiend. fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, tyun is thick and big yawnnn what else is new, dumbification maybe, slight humiliation (kink? maybe.),breast play, scratching, possessiveness, creampie (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
(lmk if i should add anything lmao)
Notes: just leaving this here to remind u guys that i am the least sane solomon on this app. i actually only wrote this for myself but congrats u all get to read it too. say thank youuu! 
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Taehyun was, for lack of a better word, a total goody-two-shoes; always holed up in his room studying, the only times he ever left home being for work, school, or to go run an errand. He was also your beloved roommate. 
It was meant to be, really; jumping blindly at the offer your mutual friend Yeonjun offhandedly mentioned, commenting about how his friend was struggling to find someone in order to split rent— “his old roommate moved out, now he’s going broke trying to afford the place on his own.” 
And you, in all your bright-eyed and enthusiastic glory, didn’t hesitate to ask for details; one long interrogation later, and you found yourself getting interviewed by the man himself— how you were able to snatch the title of Taehyun’s new roommate is something you’re still unsure of. 
Because as far as you’re aware, the two of you couldn’t be any more different.
“You’re going out again?” you hear Taehyun call out from the kitchen, the said man able to hear you approaching from the hallway from the jingling of your jewelry— something he was always on your ass for, never failing to comment how you’re like a walking tambourine with that stupid quirk to his lips— the sound of his voice teeming with judgment only brought about a roll of your eyes, trudging over to the kitchen to send him a harsh glare; you made a point of placing your bangle clad wrists on your hips, the action bringing about another soft jingling. 
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, raising a brow expectantly; Taehyun seems unfazed by your sudden confrontation, not a single muscle twitching at your accusatory tone— his back remains turned to you, leaning on the kitchen counter leisurely while he scrolls on his phone— at the sound of your persistent hmm? He peeks over his shoulder to meet eyes with you. 
“You were out till three yesterday,” he says nonchalantly, only turning so he can properly look at you whilst keeping an eye on the stove, “Is partying all you do?”
You can tell he’s trying to provoke you— but you know better than to fall for it and get angry, already victim to his constant mocking and teasing to realize that he seems to enjoy getting a rise out of you— so you simply roll your eyes and scoff, crossing your arms over your chest before you’re turning on your heel and beelining back to the door. 
“You know damn well…” you mutter to yourself, sneering at the chuckles you’re able to pick up on, “It’s none of your business anyway!” 
“Yeah, it kinda is!” Taehyun retorts, but you’re too busy slipping on your shoes and your jacket to voice out a rebuttal— swinging your purse over your shoulder, you’re able to catch his final comment right as you’re slipping out the door; “I’m not making the hangover soup again!” 
“Fuck you and your soup!” 
You shut the door behind you before Taehyun can get a word out. 
   ☆☆☆
“How are you two still living together?” 
The natural light that streams in through the windows and the sound of Yeonjun’s raspy voice is enough to have you wincing with pain and ducking your head down; hot steam from your bowl soothes your skin and puffy eyes, your body still sore from the night before as you sink into the chair with a tired sigh. 
“Because as insufferable as she is, she still pays her share of the rent,” Taehyun mutters bitterly, setting down a second bowl of soup before your mutual friend, pulling out the chair across from your as he goes to sit with crossed arms, “aren’t you gonna eat? You were begging me for this earlier.” Your lips automatically go to form a scowl, but your hand still goes to reach for your spoon— because as much as you hated feeding into Taehyun’s big fat ego, you couldn’t deny that he makes some killer hangover soup; you could already feel the tension easing from your muscles from the first bite—- your eyes remained glued to the table, knowing better than to glance back up and catch the stupid triumphant look Taehyun never bothers to hide. 
“Fucking insufferable,” you mumble between bites, glancing at the way Yeonjun seems to catch onto your words, shoulder shaking with the soft laugh he huffs out. 
“Me?” Taehyun gawks, leaning forward as though to make sure he was hearing things right; neither of you respond, which only serves to make him more irked.
“As far as I’m aware, I’m the one that has to deal with you— always coming back late and drunk as hell—” Taehyun’s pointed glare jumps over to Yeonjun, who simply flinches and averts his gaze down to the table, “you said you’d be watching over her last night.”
“I’m not a baby,” you butt in, ignoring Taehyun’s look of disbelief, “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“And yet you’re always asking me to take care of you.” 
You shrug dismissively, the last bit of your energy spent as you find yourself no longer interested in arguing; staring down at your bowl, you found that you were so busy trying to ignore Taehyun’s piercing glare that you ended up scarfing down your soup in a haste— standing abruptly, you go to place your dishes in the dishwasher before you’re spinning around and sending Taehyun a bright, innocent smile. 
“It’s not my fault you always jump to come help me out,” you coo, wincing at the soreness of your body and the sharp ache in your head as you make your way over to him, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks together, leaning in close to him even as he begins to fuss and swat at your hands angrily, “and you’re just soooo caring and sweet with me— it’s in your nature, don’t lie.” 
“It gets tiring listening to you complain around the house,” Taehyun sneers grabbing your wrists firmly and pulling your hands off his face swiftly— the sudden strength catches you off guard, hands falling dumbly at your sides as you can only stare at Taehyun as he continues, cold and aloof as always, “It’s the only way I can get you to shut up.”
“Sureee… sure,” you mumble offhandedly, clearly unimpressed by his excuse as you saunter off to the living room instead, making yourself comfortable on the couch before you’re yelling back to the kitchen one last time. 
“Jjunie,” you call, waiting for the muffled hmm? of the said man before you continue, “are we still down for the part next Saturday? Jake’s place?”
“Oh… uhhhm,” he pauses, and you’re sure Taehyun is probably sending him a deadly glare right now, “sure, if you want to.” 
“Of course I want to,” you grin, pulling out your phone to look up Jake’s instagram page, scrolling through his feed to get a refresher of what he looks like, the satisfaction of what you see seeping into your voice as you speak, “Partying’s all I do.”
You swear you hear a scoff; it only serves to make you anticipate the weekend a little more. 
   ☆☆☆
“You’re leaving like that?” 
Your body is jolting in surprise, the mascara wand in your hand clattering on your desk as you curse in shock— Taehyun stands in your now opened doorway, unable to sense his presence due to the focus you were putting in to make sure your makeup came out perfect— meeting his gaze through the mirror, you frown, nose scrunching in distaste at the way he clearly judges you; your hand reaches for your phone, turning down the music you were playing in order to actually hear him properly. 
“Don’t you know how to knock?” 
“I tried. I’ve been trying. For the past three minutes,” Taehyun says, ignoring your complaints as he makes his way into your room, coming up behind you as he scans your setup— he ignores the way you continue to glare at him harshly, eyes running slowly over the mess you’ve made before he’s leaning down and reaching across the vanity; you’re pressed back against the chair and left to watch as his arm obscures your vision, hoping he didn’t pick up on the way your eyes glued onto his muscles that bulged slightly as he reached for the charger plugged into the far outlet. 
“You never gave this back,” Taehyun sighs, and before you can refute that you were just about to, he gives you a pointed look with that raised brow of his. “It’s been three days.”
“My bad,” is all you can bring yourself to say, picking up your mascara wand again as you go back to applying your makeup carefully— but it’s hard to concentrate, especially with the way Taehyun continues to linger behind you, able to feel his warmth due to how close he is— and you glance over your shoulder, scanning him up and down before you’re turning back to your vanity, “is there something else I can help you with?” 
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“What, the whole why are you dressed like that thing? Are you seriously expecting an answer to that?” you ask, putting your mascara away as you move to your lips instead, “It’s nothing new, I don’t know why you’re so fixated on that right now.”
“Nothing new?” Taehyun repeats, and through the reflection of the mirror, you’re able to catch the way he frowns in disbelief and scans you once more. “You never dress like this for house parties.” 
“Hmm,” you hum softly, doing your final touch ups before you’re standing abruptly, spinning around to face Taehyun with a pout, “it’s the skirt right? It’s throwing the whole thing off.” 
Taehyun watches as you push past him and head straight to your closet; glancing over your shoulder and nodding at him to sit on your bed, turning back around before you can catch the way he hesitantly follows your command— and you’re turning back around with three more garments in your hand, each option smaller than the one before— the sight has his brows jumping briefly. 
“I was thinking this one at first— I think the darker denim is cuter though, like this one,” you press each skirt to your waist, peeking at yourself in your body length mirror before you switch to the next option; again, you’re pouting and shaking your head, throwing the first two options aside before you’re turning around to show Taehyun the last option proudly. 
“But actually, I think this one is the one— look at the pockets, they’re sooo cute,” you smile, flipping the garment over to show him— and indeed, they’re blinged out and sparkly, just like the rest of you; you hold it against your waist, checking yourself out in the mirror with satisfaction. 
“That— that barely covers you.”
“So?” you effortlessly reply, tilting your head and meeting Taehyun’s gaze through the mirror; dramatically, you gasp, mouth falling open and brows rising as you proceed to blatantly mock him, “Oh, is this too scandalous for you? Sorry, I forget you’re a bit more… reserved. It’s okay, you don’t have to stay in here if it makes you uncomfortable.”
You’re biting your tongue as you listen to Taehyun sputter behind you in confusion; through the corner of your eye, you’re able to watch as his brows knit together, leaning forward and tilting his head as he struggles to find a response. 
“Where the hell did you get that from?”
“Oh,” you trail off, tsking awkwardly and amping up your dramatics as you pause— Looking over your shoulder, you meet Taehyun’s prying gaze, returning it with a faux apologetic smile. “Y’knoww… Yeonjun told me. About you.”
If anything, that only serves to confuse Taehyun even more— and worry him, if the way he stares off into space, visibly deep in thought, serves as any indicator. 
“What did he tell you,” Taehyun mutters, the question more directed to himself as he racks his mind for possible answers— but you beat him to it, continuing your efforts to keep a poker face as you shrug innocently. 
“Just… about you. Relationships, experience…” and you’re turning your back to him, muttering the last part and taking in the way Taehyun leans forward even more to catch what slips out your mouth, “or, lack thereof.” 
“Excuse me?” 
“We were talking about our own stuff and you kinda just came up in the conversation randomly!” you say defensively, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s okay to shy away from… this lifestyle, or whatever you like to call it— there’s nothing wrong with being your little introverted self, tyunnie.” 
You’re provoking him— you’re setting up quite the bait, and it’s working, because Taehyun can only find himself able to gawk at you in disbelief, mouth parted slightly in wonder of it all— your cute nickname flies over his head in favor of processing the fact that you basically just called him a homebody. A virgin. 
Just when Taehyun thinks he’s found the words to respond to such an outlandish accusation, your phone dings with a notification— you’re all but bouncing over to it excitedly, hovering over the device and letting out a soft ah! In excitement— sending Taehyun a pleading smile, he’s already able to guess what you’ll ask of him. 
“Junie’s here! Can you please please please go answer the door for me? I need to change.” you watch Taehyun hesitate for a moment; he then nods reluctantly, getting up slowly before he trudges out of your room, your words still bouncing around the walls of his mind as you shut the door and yell out a cute thank you! As you do. 
Taehyun opens the front door to find an equally flashy Yeonjun on the other side— the sight of his over the top outfit is enough to catch Taehyun off guard and have all his thoughts tumbling out of his mouth without restraint. 
“Did you tell her I was a virgin?”
Yeonjun’s brows jump up in disbelief— he’s halting mid step through the doorway, sending Taehyun a confused look before he steps inside and closes the door behind him— looking at his friend for further explanation, Yeonjun is only met with Taehyun crossing his arms with an expectant look. 
“Dude. What the hell are you on about.”
“Why is ___ acting like I’m a total prude— saying you told her I was inexperienced,” Taehyun isn’t exactly sure why tonight’s comment was what set him off— you’ve been like this for as long as he could remember, always portraying Taehyun as someone pure, innocent, and stuck-up— he always thought you were joking, but as it turns out, that might not be the case. 
“Oh— she’s probably not being serious, don’t worry,” Yeonjun shrugs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, craning his neck to try and get a glance down the hallway, seeing if you’re finally ready— you’re nowhere to be seen, and Yeonjun sighs impatiently.
“Okay, but what did you say to her?” Taehyun presses on, eyes narrowing at the sight of Yeonjun pressing his lips together hesitantly, “Yeonjun.”
“I just said that it’s… rare to ever see you get interested in anyone,” Yeonjun pouts, but Taehyun can tell that’s not the full truth— Yeonjun caves in after a moment, gulping softly and lowering his voice to nothing but a murmur, “and that she should stop flirting with you, cause you wouldn’t even know how to handle all that.”
“You what?!”
“Yeonjunnie, what do you think?” your voice is sweet and lilted as you finally come out of your room, interrupting Taehyun’s heated outburst with your jingling jewelry— the two men are turning over to you, Taehyun too busy taking in your appearance to notice Yeonjun sighing in relief at your well-timed interruption. 
“So?” you ask, doing a cute spin that has Taehyun’s eyes widening and his hands clenching— yeah, that skirt was practically a belt, your pretty skin lotioned up and shining under the lights, the spin only allowing him to get a perfect whiff of your addicting scent, “Y’think I can get Jake’s attention with this?”
The name has Taehyun frowning before he can even process it— behind him, Yeonjun whistles at your dolled-up self, doing a once over as he proceeds to hype you up. 
“Are you kidding? I’m gonna have to fend you off from everyone in that place,” he says, reaching out for your hand and grinning at the way you giggle and take it, your fingers interlacing naturally, “he’s gonna be all over you.” 
“Jake? You can’t actually be attracted to that douchebag,” Taehyun frowns, watching the way your expression immediately drops at his comment.
“I am, actually. It’s nothing serious, just a hook up at most,” you roll your eyes, voice turning undeniably bitter as you bend down to slip on your shoes, the sight of your panties peeking out from the skirt, tucked neatly between your thighs not lost on Taehyun, “Plus, I heard he really knows how to treat a woman.”
Taehyun’s gaze snaps up to meet Yeonjun’s; his glare is lethal enough to kill, and the recipient can only shrug sheepishly in return. 
“Sleep well Taehyun,” you remark, clearly poking fun at the fact that Taehyun usually sleeps much earlier than you, never failing to call him a grandpa for it, (which is ridiculous, considering that you barely sleep.) “You don’t have to worry about me— probably won’t be home tonight.”
You’re closing the door and dragging Yeonjun with you before Taehyun can respond, probably off to pregame outside while you wait for your uber; he’s left staring at the spot you just stood at, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in anger— a minute goes by, and something decidedly shifts within Taehyun. 
He’s gotta do something about this image you have of him. He should probably fix that attitude of yours too, while he’s at it. 
   ☆☆☆
“Where the hell is he?” it’s something you seem to have asked for the umpteenth time tonight, leaning against the wall and pouting at your friend while you stand in line for the bathroom— you’ve been at the party for a solid hour now, and you still have yet to see Jake around. And to think, he was the one who invited you to his place in the first place. How rude. 
“I told you not to give him a chance!” Yeonjun yells, leaning in closer so you can actually hear him through the booming music and the crowds of people singing along to whatever’s blasting from the living room, “this party fucking sucks, too.”
You can only exaggerate your pout further with a petulant humph. Your body slouches and you can already feel your heart getting heavy with disappointment, unable to refute the way your best friend proceeds to mutter something about Jake probably being too busy sucking off another girl’s face in a random room of the house. 
“You never gave in to his advances— you said he was a man-whore,” Yeonjun continues to recall, wincing at the sight of two random girls rushing past him and to the front of the line, carrying their clearly shit-faced friend and screaming about how she’s going to throw up all over— the two of you cringe, exchanging a glance and mutually agreeing that you two can hold it a little more; you slowly trudge your way back to where everyone else is. “What changed? Why’d you give in?” 
You scoff, lips upturned with distaste as you send your friend a glare— the wound still as fresh as ever, voice dripping with venom as you lean close to Yeonjun’s ear so he can actually hear you. 
“Junnie, you know why!” you whine, smacking his shoulder and ignoring the way he childishly yelps, “I’ve officially decided to move on— I can’t stand flirting with a brick wall anymore, I need to… need to…” 
You’re trailing off, gaze wandering off to a foreign point, Yeonjun’s brows furrowing before he begins to follow your line of sight— and just like you, Yeonjun remains speechless, the unexpected sight leaving your jaws gaping. 
“This can’t be real.” 
But it is. The way Taehyun is currently leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand and coy smile on his face as he talks to some random girl, is very real. You can recognize that man anywhere— even in this crowded room of dancing and jumping bodies, your eyes still remain glued to him. 
But, the more you look at him, the more you realize something— he looks… different. It’s subtle, but it’s still there; the mischievous glint in his eyes, his relaxed posture and the hair that falls into his eyes, he has a confident, sly air to him you’ve never seen before— the girl leans up on her tippy-toes to whisper something in his ear, a hand on his shoulder to get stabilized, and the two laugh; your mind is too preoccupied with the way her hand lingers, the way Taehyun tilts his head in amusement, to realize the frown that has pulled your face together. 
Taehyun brings the can of beer in his hand to his lips— he turns his head, and his eyes find yours effortlessly. 
“He actually came,” Yeonjun awes beside you, and that’s enough to have your head whipping toward him, trying to ignore the way your face burns at the sudden eye contact, still able to feel his eyes linger on you for a moment after. 
“What are you talking about? Did you give him the address?” you say, your voice whiny as you speak, surprised to find that you’re not exactly sure how to feel at his sudden appearance— torn between the sudden interest he piqued within you and the disappointment that festeres in your stomach, knowing that now that Taehyun is here, you won’t think twice to give anyone else any attention. 
“Hmm? No, he was invited,” Yeonjun says, glancing back to where Taehyun is, looking back to find your confused expression, “him and Jake go way back.”
You’re kidding. 
“Nope. Those two were fucking menaces,” Yeonjun laughs— it seems as though the words must’ve slipped out of your mouth, the shock painted on your face more amusing to your friend than anything, “they used to host the craziest parties— now that I think about it though, that was probably all Taehyun’s work.”
“Wait… don’t tell me that…” you glance over to where Taehyun remains, then glance back at Yeonjun, reading his expression carefully and gasping, “was Jake Taehyun’s old roommate?”
Yeonjun nods, as though the news wasn’t earth-shattering to you. 
“After a while, I guess Taehyun just didn’t feel like keeping up with the fast life… I don’t blame him though.” Yeonjun shrugs, his eyes beginning to drift behind you, drawing you to turn around at the sound of the crowd on the dance floor cheering and yelling obnoxiously— and sure enough, Jake can be seen in the middle of a circle, flashlights of phone cameras recording lighting him up clear as day— you wince at the sight of a random girl dancing up on him, the sight leaving you to shudder and wonder why you were even gonna give him the time of day.
Ah, right.
“I can’t believe I was about to rebound on him with an old friend,” you breathe out, bristling at the sound of Yeonjun’s laughter, whipping your head around to send him a harsh glare, “and you were going to let me!” 
Yeonjun raises his hands up defensively. 
“Hey, I was just being a good friend,” he says, but with the way he smiles mischievously, you don’t buy it a bit. “I support women’s wrongs, or whatever.” 
“You prick,” you mutter miserably, gaze inevitably wandering back to where Taehyun remains; frowning at them now being visibly closer, Taehyun’s hand resting leisurely on the girl’s waist as they talk. 
And again, his eyes flicker back to meet yours.
“You know, he’s only here for you,” Yeonjun murmurs in your ear, watching your interactions like a spectacle, “he doesn’t care about that girl— probably just trying to get you jealous.”
“Stop lying,” you say, but your voice is weak and your brain is susceptible to his words; you tell him to shut up, but the way you perk up with interest is saying otherwise. 
“If I’m lying, then why is he giving you fuck me eyes?” 
As if on queue, Taehyun glances back again— his gaze is dark and inviting, scanning you slowly before he turns back to the unknown girl— and his eyes soften; they’re less intense, aloof, clearly uninterested. The final piece of your resolve crumbles to pieces.
“I think I’m about to do something stupid,” you say sheepishly, eyes still glued on the man across the room; beside you, Yeonjun chuckles.
“Do it,” he says, giving your back an encouraging push, sending you stumbling forward, “I support it.”
You don’t bother looking back at your friend for one last word of reassurance— your feet have begun to take you before you could even stop and think. 
You’re pushing through bodies; it’s crowded and hot and sweaty, cringing and jumping at the feeling of hands brushing against your bare skin— whether it be intentional or not, you try not to dwell on it, honed in on your goal instead.
It takes a moment for you to finally find yourself on the other side of the crowd— but you’ve lost Taehyun, eyes darting back to where he was just a second ago, frowning and scanning the area for the familiar man— he’s nowhere to be found. 
You’ve begun to wander around— exploring the layout carefully, eventually abandoning the living room and making your way into the kitchen instead— and like before, you’re unable to find Taehyun, growing increasingly frustrated the longer it takes to find him; it isn’t until you’re making your way to the back porch that you finally spot a familiar, broad frame leaning against the railing. 
“Taehyun,” you call out, the said man not flinching at the sound of his name; his back remains turned to you, but he listens to the sound of your nearing footsteps and your jingling jewelry, the scent of your perfume following soon after; you’re standing behind him, hands undoubtedly on your hips and a pout on your face as you speak. “What are you doing here?” 
He huffs out a soft chuckle— his relaxed, slouched posture only serves to annoy you, going to stand next to him so you can get a good look at his face— you try to hide the shock that’s blooming on your face, but then again, you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions. 
Taehyun cracks a small, lopsided smile; your eyes are wide and you seem like a deer caught in headlights, watching with fascination as Taehyun continues his attempts to light up the joint caught in his lips— your mouth is falling open to say something, but you’re closing it immediately after; this proceeds to repeat for a few seconds more, only able to find your words once you’ve watched Taehyun take a relaxed, languid hit. 
“You… you smoke?” you ask softly, unsure of what else to say as you stand staring at Taehyun dumbly— he raises a brow in amusement, pulling the joint away from his lips and turning to blow the smoke out into the night— it’s a slow, deep sigh, and you’re left in awe as you watch the smoke fall from his parted lips and disappear into the air; his eyes fall back on you, and you gulp. 
“Yeah?” he says casually, turning so that he’s leaning his side against the railing, tilting his head and drinking up your every reaction eagerly. “What about it?” 
Now that you’re before him, you’re finally able to get a proper look at Taehyun— a good look, unable to stop your eyes from wandering; he’s wearing that usual baggy tee and cargo pants combo that he’s so fond of, but even so, everything just feels so different; his undercut is styled cleanly, his nimble fingers glint with the aid of silver rings, a chain hanging from his neck to match— his tan skin glows under the single light placed on the porch and fuck, has he always smelled this good?
“Nothing, it’s just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip and thinking carefully over what to say; Taehyun quirks up a brow curiously, bringing his hand back up to his lips, taking another slow drag from the joint, watching the end light up before he pulls away— and you huff, hands gesturing hopelessly as you find yourself unable to properly articulate your thoughts, not when he’s staring at you so intensely, “Where did all… this, come from?”
Taehyun doesn’t answer; he simply stares at you with amused eyes. So, you continue.
“You’re always judging me for going to parties, now you’re here? And—” you stammer, pointing at the joint between his fingers in confusion, “I’ve always asked if you wanted to smoke together, and you always said no.” 
Gently, your voice trails off— and suddenly, any confidence you had when you initially approached Taehyun is wilting, your gaze averting as you begin to recount his behavior, his words, everything.
“Do you hate me or something?” 
Your words are accusatory and petulant; the question is meant to be lighthearted, but Taehyun can tell there is some genuineness to it. 
It’s silent; you’re tense. Your gaze remains glued to some distant irrelevant point, finding yourself too nervous to look up at Taehyun’s reaction to your sudden outburst— but nothing happens. Seconds feel like hours, and after what feels like eternity, a hand is gently reaching to tilt your chin up; your gaze meets Taehyun’s, and he smiles— his other hand slowly comes up your face, the joint centimeters away from your lips. 
“Wanna hit?”
His evasion to your question is not lost on you. Bitterly, you chuckle, reaching up to take the joint from him— but he’s pulling it away from you before you can grab it, tutting softly and placing it back at your lips; you reach for it again, but this time, Taehyun grabs your wrist to stop you. He taps the joint against your lips and raises his brows expectantly— what he’s asking of you finally clicks in your mind; your lips part, and he holds the joint for you as you inhale. 
Taehyun watches you with dark, intent eyes— as though analyzing every move you make, from the way you lean your head forward to the way your eyes flicker up nervously to look up at him— your face is oddly innocent and shy, feeling a lot smaller under the man’s gaze as you finally pull away; you’re exhaling slowly, your mouth slightly bitter from the taste as your swallow nervously. 
“So? Are you just gonna ignore all my questions?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling a lot weaker as you lean on the railing, crossing your arms and watching Taehyun bring the joint back to his lips— the edges of his mouth quirk up at the sticky feeling of your lip gloss that lingers on it. 
“Well… first of all… I’ve been like this, you just met me during the time I decided to back off and change my ways,” Taehyun jokes, the joint still caught between his lips as he speaks, hanging precariously, “and second of all, I definitely don’t hate you.” 
“You don’t?” you ask hopefully, doe eyes lighting up and your hand subconsciously reaching out to ask for the joint; he chuckles and hands it to you, shaking his head and watching you take a long hit with a raised brow.
“No. You’re just annoying,” he mutters, watching the way you bristle with annoyance, “what? It’s true. You drive me crazy, always forcing me to take care of your reckless ass.”
“Seriously? I literally don’t do anything to you— you’re the one who always decides to get involved,” you sneer, your snarky attitude finally back as you glare at an unfazed Taehyun; your eyes run over his appearance once more, unable to control your childish mouth as you continue, “even now— you come here out of nowhere and suddenly you’re all badass.”
“Are you trying to prove me wrong? You gonna go find some girl to bring back to the apartment?” you pout at him, taking one last hit from the joint and smiling wickedly, “I wouldn’t mind if you did, there won’t be anyone else home anyway— I have the same plans as you tonight, remember?” 
Your back is suddenly pressed against the railing; Taehyun is close, he’s pressing against you, caging you in and looking down at you with a gaze that makes you feel small— your skin warms and your eyes widen, unsure of what else to do but stand there and take the way he smiles meanly at you.
“Yeah? Where is Jake, anyway?” he asks, taking the joint from your hands and placing it between his own lips, hand steadying himself against the railing as the other suddenly lands on your bare thigh, just below your ass; you jolt at the feeling, his eyes flickering down at your outfit, at the tiny pieces that barely leave any room to the imagination; his skin is warm but his rings are cool against you, fingertips barely digging into the flesh, “or wait— is it not your turn yet?” 
Your body flushes with an unexpected heat; his voice is downright degrading, his eyes filled with pity, telling you things that his mouth doesn’t have to— look at you, all dressed up for a man who hasn’t even looked your way tonight. 
He looks at you as though you were nothing short of pathetic; it makes your knees feel weak and your stomach flip with an unexpected need. 
“Jake isn’t worth my time,” you confess, watching as Taehyun raises his brows as though to say oh really? “I can easily find someone better than him.”
“You could,” he muses, voice mocking and coy, taking another small hit before he speaks, “but who?”
“I— I’m sure there are plenty of other guys here right now,” you breath out, heart thundering in your chest; Taehyun’s face is close, so close, your bodies slowly beginning to get firmly pressed together— your brain is starting to feel foggy, your limbs suddenly much heavier and tingly; your eyes feel heavy and you’re beginning to list off names absentmindedly, all of men who you spotted in the party, all with a reputation as equally notorious as Jake’s. 
“Heesung’s in there… and Sunghoon… and…” Taehyun is giving a big nod to every name you list; he’s patronizing you, staring at you with deceivingly big puppy eyes as he hums a soft mmhmm, and who else? His eyes never leaving yours as you both try to pretend that you don’t notice his lips inching closer to yours, the way every exhale of smoke from him goes directly into your parted lips, your voice breathy and weak as you hold back a whimper that threatens to slip through, “And… fuck, and Beomgyu’s in there too… he wanted to come to the party together, y’know. Said we should go to his place after.”
“Hmm, you’ve got quite a few options lined up,” Taehyun hums, his voice sweet and light to your ears, a shuddered sigh leaving you as his hand squeezes your skin teasingly, caressing it softly and wandering up and down, up and down; he tilts his head, low lidded eyes glued to your lips as he murmurs the last part so softly you almost missed it, “but would any of them be able to fuck you right?”
Your mind reels; your chest is heaving with shallow breaths, the two of you stuck in a state of limbo as you feel yourself get lost in the feeling of him, unaware of the way your eyes have begun to gloss over, your hand reaching out to steady yourself on his bicep— your fingers wrap around the thick muscle, and his hand slides up your leg, bold and strong as he squeezes your ass— a soft whine slips out. 
“Well?” he asks again, unable to hold back a lethargic, fond smile at the way your other hand reaches up for the joint that’s still between his lips, putting it between your own, pretty glossed lips begging to be devoured— after a second, you shake your head softly, turning your head to the side and sighing slowly; with your eyes averted, you finally decide to bite the bullet. 
“No,” you say softly, “don’t want any of them anyway.”
“Then who do you want?” he asks oh so softly, leaning in to place a soft kiss at your jaw; goosebumps erupt all over your skin, and you shudder at the way he hums softly in question, persisting after seeing you get hesitant to respond— after what feels like forever, you turn to look at him; his low lidded eyes, his plump lips— and your nails dig into his bicep subconsciously. 
“You.”
There’s no chance for you to take back your words; Taehyun’s lips are rough and desperate against yours, all teeth and tongue as he groans at the feeling of your sticky gloss transferring onto him, your soft whines only aiding him to press himself more against you, to really cage you in and keep you right where he wants you. He’s biting your lip teasingly, sneaking his tongue in and toying with you, feeling him smile lazily against your mouth, wandering hand continuing to caress your skin, fingertips venturing under the hem of your tight denim skirt. 
After a while, it becomes too much— your body feels hot, your hand is gripping onto him tightly, as though he could escape if you let him go— your lungs burn and you’re barely able to keep up with him anymore, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to mind; you’re whining and crying softly at the way he continues to squeeze your ass teasingly, jolting at the way he suddenly slaps it— your fingers jump up to tangle themselves into his roots, tugging roughly at them in hopes of getting him to part from you; he seems to understand what you want, but he continues to ravish you for a few seconds more before he finally pulls away. 
In Taehyun’s eyes, this is the best you’ve looked all night; out of breath and flushed, pressed between the railing and his body, his cock already half-hard as he wills himself to not rut against your soft exposed skin like an animal— his hand leaves the railing to grab onto your waist, the other reaching for the joint that is still in your weak hold— he inspects the half-smoked, almost extinguished item before he looks back at you; a small, mischievous grin spreads on his lips, and he slips a thigh between your legs. 
“Taehyun…!” you gasp, bouncing up as Taehyun presses the firm muscle against your poor dripping pussy; your panties stick to your cunt and quickly create a wet patch on Taehyun’s jeans, and he can already feel the warmth of you through the denim— your thighs close around his own shakily, your free hand grabbing onto his shoulder for support; the glassy, wide eyed look you give him  is almost enough to make Taehyun lose it and fuck you then and there. 
“Hmm? What’s up,” Taehyun asks apathetically, fishing in his pocket for his lighter, letting go of your waist to relight the joint with a dark, concentrated gaze; his thigh continues to move against you, flexing and bouncing against your cunt, and all you can do is cry softly and plead for him to stop teasing— his lips quirk up into a mean smile, and his eyes flicker back up to your hazy, fucked out face, tucking the lighter back in his pocket and tilting his head curiously at you. 
“What do you want, baby?” he asks softly, bringing the joint to his lips and taking a long, slow hit, his eyes never leaving yours as he does. 
“Please… please stop teasing,” you whine, and judging by the way Taehyun raises a brow at that, it’s not enough; his thigh has stopped moving, so you resort to grinding pitifully against it, eyes shining with a desperation that intrigues him, “not enough… need more.”
He huffs; his hand comes up to grab your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to open— you follow his command without a second thought, the last thing you see as your eyes flutter shut being Taehyun leaning in, his own mouth an inch away from yours as he exhales the smoke directly into your mouth. 
“Oh yeah? Want it?” he murmurs, feeling you nod in his hold, “tell me then. Tell me how you want it.”
“I— I…” words seem to have escaped you; it’s hard to find the confidence to tell him what you want, the world around you a blurry and lethargic mess, your senses heightened to only feel Taehyun, his skin on yours, his rings that dig into your cheek, his warm thigh that you grind against— peeking through your low lidded eyes, you watch him shake his head disappointedly, taking another hit and proceeding to blow out the smoke into your awaiting mouth once more. 
“C’mon baby, use your words. I know you can,” he insists patiently, clicking his tongue and scolding you as you proceed to blank out once more; his fingertips dig into your cheeks roughly, blunt nails threatening to leave indents as he forces you to look at him. 
“Want it rough? Want it hard?” he spits out, listening to your whiny mmhmm, mmhmm! with narrowed eyes, and he laughs— it’s mean and condescending, just like his next words, “fucking slut, ‘course you do.”
He’s capturing your lips in another harsh kiss before you can protest; the joint in his hand is snuffed out on the fence and tucked away, his hands falling onto your hips as he begins to press you firmly against him, guiding your pace entirely and forcing you to ride his thigh; you whine and you moan against his lips, fingers tugging at his hair as you grind your soaked cunt against his jeans— when Taehyun pulls away, your lips chase his without a second thought, hands tightening your hold against him in fear that he’ll leave.
“You want it?” he asks once more, bouncing his thigh against your messy cunt, grinning at the way you yelp, “Tell me baby, go on, say it; tell me you want it.” 
He won’t let you go quite easily this time. Sharp, intense eyes prying the words out of you, brows furrowing together at the weak, quiet attempts that come from you, fingers leaving a bruising grip on you as he silently commands for more.
“Taehyun, c’mon…” you pout, an embarrassed heat rising up your face, not used to seeing this side of him— you didn’t even know it existed, to be fair, “I want it, please, stop being a tease.”
Taehyun has you regretting your words in the blink of an eye; hand pressing the small of your back, forcing you to arch and proceeding to land a harsh smack on your ass that has you gasping, the skin stinging from the feeling of the rough metal of his rings landing on it— but his hand doesn’t fail to caress the place soothingly, a total contrast to the ruthless glare he gives you.
“A tease?” he sneers, landing another, gentler smack, as though the words are enough to get him angry all over again.
“You mean like when you were showing off this cute little skirt to me? Hmmm? Bending down and showing me your panties? Or when you were talking about getting fucked by my friends?” he can feel you tremble against his hold, your mouth opening to retaliate— but you’re not quick enough, Taehyun’s smart mouth running faster than yours, “Or how ‘bout when you force me to watch you run off to parties and bring a man over to your room, just to have me take care of you in the mornings? Is that what you mean by a tease?” 
You shake your head, scrambling to come up with a response; Taehyun seems to have gotten quite fed up with you, because his hand is coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a subtle pressure that leaves you light headed and mushy.
“What, can’t talk now? What happened to that mouthy girl I had here earlier?” Taehyun says, his voice mean and dripping with venom, “tell me you want it, or I’ll leave you here— you said you had some other toys to fuck with inside, right? I’m sure they could help give you what you want.”
“No, no, please, I want it, need it,” you cry, attempting to chase any pleasure and grind your cunt against him; you’re quickly stopped by his firm, bruising hand, “Taehyun, Taehyun, please, please fuck me, I want you, please?”
“I don’t know,” he mutters lowly, eyes glued to the way your hips buck and cant, trying desperately to break free from his hold that prevents you from moving, “think you deserve it?”
“Yes,” you immediately sigh, body restless and hot and overwhelmingly needy, feeling as though you’ve gotten tunnel vision for the man before you; your hand slips from his shoulder and down his chest, finding the hardened bulge that has been pressing against your body with ease— his jaw clenches, and his face remains stoic— but that doesn’t mean you don’t notice the way his lips part or his hips press against your palm reassuringly, “yes– give it to me, want it, only wanted you from the start.”
“Fuck,” he breathes out, heavy eyes locked onto the way you look up at him so prettily, your hand palming and rubbing at his clothed cock only serving to cloud his thoughts further, “C’mon.” 
He’s stealing one last slow, messy kiss from you before he pulls away; fingers intertwined with yours, stepping back and proceeding to tug you along— you stumble at the sudden action, your airy self giggling softly at the way you tumble into Taehyun’s broad back; he sends you a fond smile, squeezing your hand reassuringly before he’s opening the door to the house and leading you back inside. 
It feels as though the whole environment of the party has changed; the neon lights, blasting music and humid air is a little more welcomed than it was before, unable to contain the dopey smile that grows on your face as you allow Taehyun to lead you wherever; you trust him. 
“Wherever” leads you to a bedroom upstairs— Taehyun is slamming the door shut and grabbing your waist, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall before you can even react; his face is inches from yours as he mutters a safeword for the two of you, waiting for you to nod and repeat it back before his lips are back on yours— but this time, he seems to want to take his time with you; plump, swollen lips beginning to trail along your jaw, wandering until he’s peppering kisses along your neck, teasing mouth nipping and sucking at your jaw until you’re holding onto his shoulders and begging for more. 
Slowly, he begins to walk the two of you backwards; lips never leaving yours, hands caressing your skin and toying with the hem of your shirt as he sits down on the bed, making you stand between his legs— pulling away, you put your hands on Taehyun’s firm shoulders, sighing shakily at the way he looks at you; as though he were holding back from devouring you entirely, a fondness that makes you weak in the knees undeniably there in his pupils. 
“Fuck, pretty girl, pretty body,” he breathes, leaning forward to pepper kisses wherever he can— pushing your shirt up to expose your chest, burying his head in your tits and placing open mouthed kisses, biting teasingly at the flesh, chuckling at the feeling of you jolting and jutting your chest out, your body much more reactive and sensitive— and he trails down slowly, down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, lingering there for a bit as he kisses and sucks marks into the vast canvas; his hands trail up and down your sides, pulling you in every time you try to squirm away. 
“What, you getting shy on me now?” he tuts, nipping at your side and listening to the squeal that escapes you— his hands tighten and he’s forcing you forward, leaning back until he’s laying down and you’re straddling him precariously; your knees dig into the mattress and you’re trying your best to remain stable, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to be satisfied yet— you frown in confusion at the feeling of him trying to tug your hips up more, resisting the motion with a tilt of your head; Taehyun pouts. 
“Don’t be like that,” he groans, hands shifting from your hips to the back of your thighs, one cupping your ass and the other falling just below— and you yelp, Taehyun’s muscles flexing as he moves you up forcefully, much too strong for you to retaliate; you’re tumbling down, face burning and planting into the mattress as Taehyun shifts below you— your dripping cunt hovering just above his face, skirt riding up and bunching at your hips, any whines of protests falling on deaf ears as he begins to press soft kisses on your inner thighs. 
“T–Taehyun, wait, you don’t—” you stutter through moans, fingers gripping onto the sheets below you as you feel him beginning to trail up, your body revealing just how much you don’t mean your words, “you don’t have to— mmh–!”
His hands are coming up to your middle, pulling and signaling for you to sit up; you do, partly from your own efforts but mostly from his, easily moving you as though you were nothing but a doll— and your cunt is hovering over his face, hungry eyes flickering up to meet yours— he sees the hesitation on your face, the way you’re beginning to ramble once more, and he scoffs; the smack that lands on the back of your thigh is enough to get you to stop mid sentence. 
“Just shut up and let me taste you,” he says sternly; his fingers dig into your hips and he’s tugging you down, sneering at the way you continue to hesitate, only allowing yourself to hover over him— he bites at your inner thigh in retaliation, the sensitive feeling bringing out a cry from you, hips bucking and thighs squeezing around his head for a second, “C’mon baby, sit on my face— I can take it, you know I can.”
The hesitant hum you let out is enough for him; he rolls his eyes, and with a strength you forgot he possessed, he forces you to plant your cunt directly onto him. 
It feels like a switch has flipped within him. Fuck, you think, your lips parted in a silent scream, a hand scrambling to tangle itself in his hair, fuck! 
He hasn’t even bothered to move your panties to the side; he’s eating you out through them, tongue pushing into your hole and lips kissing and sucking at your clit like a man starved, groaning and praising you with a muffled voice; his fingers dig into your ass, making sure to keep you planted firmly on his face as he eats you out.
You think you’re losing your fucking mind. 
Just when you thought it was too much, that your body felt like it was buzzing with electricity, filled with a euphoria and pleasure that had you mewling and crying desperately, Taehyun’s nimble fingers finally push the ruined cloth that covers your pussy to the side— and oh, oh, your eyes are rolling back and your mouth is stuck open, Taehyun’s hot tongue lapping and fucking into your hole and his nose pressing firmly into your clit— he’s panting and sighing against your cunt, slurping up any arousal that leaks from your poor hole— his head shakes from side to side, humming into your pussy, and the last bit of resolve within you shatters. 
“Taehyun— oh my god, Taehyun—!” you cry, hips grinding down into him, thighs closing around his head; you can feel him fucking smiling lazily into your pussy, rough hand slapping your ass and guiding your movements against him, as though to silently reassure you and ask for more. “Please— oh god, oh— fuckfuckfuck, m’close, I’m close, hnng—!” 
Your words are nothing but fuel to the man beneath you— his tongue is flattening against your hole, licking up and flicking at your clit before he begins to suck on it; two fingers prod at your clenching entrance, proceeding to push in without warning, curling expertly and finding your sweet spot with ease; your body shivers and you wail, muscles growing weak as you fall forward once more— burying your head in your arms as you cry about how close you are, the new position only allowing Taehyun to move your hips firmly against him, rocking you back into him; his fingers pull out of your cunt in favor of shoving his tongue back in instead, following every buck and twitch of your hips with ease— his nails dig into your skin as he holds you still, eliciting a dull feeling of pain, and everything falls apart. 
Too much, too much! you think— maybe you say it out loud, your mouth open and gasping as you grip onto the bed sheets, feeling as Taehyun continues his same, intense ministrations; letting you ride out your orgasm but not stopping, even after you’ve begun to sniffle and cry about how sensitive you feel— after a while, Taehyun finally gives in, pulling away from your cunt to lick you clean, pressing firm, sloppy kisses against your hole and puffy clit, smiling at the way you twitch with each one. 
You feel as though your bones have all melted; you can’t move, face burrowed into the mattress and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath— beneath you, Taehyun moves, slipping out from under you and hovering behind, hungry eyes taking in the sight before him eagerly; ass up and back arched, glistening hole on display as you continue to shudder and breathe shakily— you hear the sound of clothes rustling behind you, followed by the feeling of the bed dipping— Taehyun’s hand rubs at your ass fondly, and you jump at the sudden sensation, eyes screwing shut and a quiet whine leaving you.  
“You’re so fucking hot,” Taehyun sighs, biting at his lip and stroking your skin, up your back and to your shoulders, leaning over and kissing gently at the nape of your neck as he whispers, “think you can take more?” 
“Yes– yeah, please,” you beg quietly, unable to feel an ounce of shame from how immediate your response is; you can feel his cock rubbing against your ass, the stickiness of his tip that ruts against you subtly— you look over your shoulder with a hazy eyes and a soft, blissful smile, meeting Taehyun’s equally fucked out gaze as you push your hips back, “wanna feel you inside— I’m on the pill.” 
The sharp breath of air Taehyun sucks in isn’t lost on you— his cock jumps from the way you grind against him, no longer able to keep up that cold and uninterested facade he’s kept up since the moment you two met up for the first time— he wants you, bad. And to his delight, you seem to feel the same. 
“Jesus, you drive me so fucking crazy,” Taehyun breathes, the soft giggle you let out not helping him remain calm; he sits back, a hand grabbing at your waist and the other wrapping around his length— he’s squeezing the base, pumping at it slowly, the gruff sighs and moans you hear behind you enough to have you clenching around nothing— just when you think you’ll have to beg again, you feel his thick tip begin to prod at your entrance. 
You think you could cum from the feeling of him stretching you out alone— a broken moan leaves you at the feeling of him entering inside you, so thick and big that you think he might just break you; your head drops back into the mattress and your hips are pulled back against Taehyun’s, soft cries leaving you at the feeling of him bottomed out inside you. 
“P-perfect, so… damn perfect,” Taehyun rasps out, head falling back and eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of you clenching around him— you’re so tight and sensitive, walls fluttering around him and sucking him in, tempting him to lose control and pound you straight into the mattress; he has to take a deep breath and concentrate on not cumming then and there, because the way you’re beginning to whine for more like a cockhungry bitch is really getting to him, “shit– stop— ugh– stop squeezing me like that princess, won’t fucking last long if you do.”
You can only whine in protest at that; it’s so hard to remain still, your hazy mind already fucked out beyond belief from your first orgasm— but even so, you still want more, you crave it, you need it; you make sure that Taehyun is aware of it, too, whiny and breathy as you cry and cry for him to fuck you. 
“Tyun, come on,” you pout, impatiently moving your hips back, in search of any stimulation you can get, “please, wanna get fucked already, want it hard, don’t tell me that was all talk earlier.”
If there’s one thing you’ve figured out about Taehyun, it’s that he hates when you try to act up on him— because as he tightens his fingers into your plush skin and slowly begins to pull his hips out, you realize quickly that he’s most definitely not all talk. 
“Ah—!” 
Your body is being driven forward with each thrust— Taehyun is fucking you hard, muttering angry words that you can’t even pick up over the sound of your own moans; his cock is thick and his hips are angled so his head bumps against your sensitive spot with each thrust, harsh pace not allowing you any reprieve as you simply fall limp, unable to move your hips back in tandem with his pace; if anything, Taehyun is doing it for you, rough hands bringing you back against him like it’s nothing. 
“Fucking slut— got such a dirty mouth, should make sure you to fuck you good so you can’t talk back to me,” he growls, feeling you clench like a vice around him, even more when he stops thrusting in favor of pulling you back like a doll for him to use, “Oh, you’d like that huh? Like it when I use you like a toy? Stupid pussy’s nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me— yeah, c’mon, move your hips, thaat’s it, just like that.” 
His mouth continues to spew filth, a stark contrast to how Taehyun usually is— he’s always been quieter during sex, but the sight of you trembling and struggling to take his cock is enough for his mouth to run faster than his mind— that, and the aid of his high that seems to have gotten rid of any self-control he usually exhibits. 
Your movements have become sluggish and weak— you’re getting tired, he can tell, so with one last slap to your ass that has you yelping, he finally decides to take control again. 
“God, can’t even fuck me for more than a few minutes? Where’d that cocky girl from before go, hmm?” He asks, voice patronizing as he begins his harsh thrusts— only pulling out halfway before he’s sinking in all the way, hips slapping against your ass creating a lewd sound; your cunt only tightens and gushes around him, hiccupped moans leaving you as he picks up his pace, watching as your arms give out beneath you and your face gets planted into the mattress; he huffs out a laugh, and reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair— yanking your head back, you yelp, left to his mercy as he begins to pound into your ruthlessly. 
“Taehyun, wait– slow down…!” you cry, scratching at the bed sheets and feeling tears prick at your eyes— and he does, for a second, waiting for you to say something else, for the safeword you both agreed on— but you don’t, and the laugh he lets out after catching on is enough to have your face burning with humiliation— and his pace picks back up— no, he’s meaner than before, degrading you below his breath and pulling at your hair, pulling you back against him, a hand sneaking down to place sloppy circles at your clit— you’re keening and clenching like a vice around him, a sharp hiss leaving him at the feeling. 
“Mmmh, too… too much,” you manage to say softly, immediately given another harsh tug at your hair in response, your eyes watering at the feeling. 
“Too much?” Taehyun repeats, and you can practically hear the pout on his lips from the patronizing tone, “thought you wanted it hard? Don’t tell me it was all talk.”
He’s spitting your exact words back at you, watching with amusement as you try weakly to prove him wrong. 
“That’s right. You’ll take it like a good girl should,” he grunts, slowing his pace down and punctuating his words with rough, deep thrusts, “Fucking. Take it. All.” 
You’re close, he can feel it, he can hear it— and the thought of watching your pretty face screw up into pleasure and bliss is enough to send Taehyun’s mind reeling, not hesitating to pull out and let go of your body— his lips quirk up with satisfaction at the way you’re immediately falling limp, fucked out face peeking behind in confusion, about to complain about why he stopped when he begins to move you. 
It feels dizzying, the way he’s able to manipulate you and force you into any position he likes; you’re sure Taehyun can read it all over your face, because he smiles meanly at you, patting your cheek fondly before he begins to busy himself with your clothes. 
“Don’t think I never noticed you staring, pretty,” he grins, tugging your skirt and panties down swiftly, eying the soiled underwear before he throws it off to the side, landing directly on his discarded pile of clothes— and he sends you another sleazy smile that has you bringing your knees up and closing your legs shyly— it’s all futile though, because he’s immediately kneeling before you and spreading your thighs open with his warm, large hands, holding onto the underside of your knees as he scoots closer to you, “always getting so touchy with me, grabbing onto my arms and thighs— dumb little thing, bet you thought you were getting away with it each time, hmm?”
“Shut up,” you whine, resisting the urge to cover your face and hide away— but you really can’t, especially with the way his thick cock ruts against your pussy, tip sliding up and down your slit as he teases you by putting it in, only to pull back out again, “Taehyun…”
“C’mon, grab onto me,” he muses, slipping the tip in once more before he begins to slide in slowly, watching your mouth fall open and your eyes grow glassy, “wanna watch you cum on my cock.”
This new position practically has you seeing stars— Taehyun hovers over you and watches intently, chain hanging over your face as he presses your thighs against your body, fucking you straight into the mattress; you tremble and you gasp, a fire festering in your stomach as you beg for more— “m-more, please, faster, harder, s-shit—!”
Taehyun listens to your every request intently— his stamina is impressive and ruthless, and his cock is reaching and hitting places you never knew were there— your back arches and your hands scramble to grab onto something to stabilize yourself, inevitably falling onto Taehyun’s body in the end; one on his shoulder, the other on his bicep that flexes from the effort of keeping your squirming body still. 
“So… fucking… pretty,” Taehyun groans, watching your chest heave and your eyes blink away tears, leaning down to suck and bite at your breast, frowning at the bra that still covers them— throwing a leg over his shoulder, Taehyun pulls your bra up roughly, hips continuing to pound against yours as he latches his mouth onto your pretty nipples— you gasp, nails digging into his skin as you begin to cry to him, good, s-so good, fuck! 
“Shit, I’m close,” he says after a moment, pulling off your breasts with a lewd pop! That has your eyes rolling back; he moves up to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, murmuring your name sweetly and waiting for you to respond. “I’m close baby, so– so fucking close– where— hah, where do you want it?”
“Inside,” you immediately mewl, hearing him groan unabashedly in response, “Please, pleasepleaseplease, inside, inside—! Fill me, want your cum, wanna be full—!”
“Okay baby, okay,” he says sweetly, kissing at your neck and wandering up to your ear, “gonna fill you up good, just like you want.”
“Oh, are you close too?” he asks, and you nod furiously, watching as he goes back to hover over you, watching every change in your expression intently, “I can feel it, pretty cunt’s squeezing me so good– c’mon, cum for me baby, wanna see it, wanna watch your pretty face, will you let me? Yeah, only for me to see— gonna cum, fuck, make you mine, you’re mine only, okay?”
His words are enough to send you over the edge; you let out a long whine and scratch at his skin, crying out his name desperately as your nails rake down his back, down his arm; he hisses at the feeling, the pain enough to set him off and join you right after; his hips stutter and his face screws up from the pleasure, brows knitting together and teeth gritting together as he lets out soft moans— but his eyes never leave yours, deft fingers circling your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm— your legs tremble under his hold, eyes rolling back and face smoothing out from the pure euphoria you feel.
“Yours… just yours,” you sigh out, feeling his hips finally still, thick cum beginning to leak out from you, falling onto the sheets and ruining them completely; you pant and try to regain composure, but it’s really, really hard— you feel like you’re on cloud nine, words tumbling past your lips before you can second guess them, “y’have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”
“Really?” he asks; the panic you feel in your chest is short-lived, because as soon as you see the soft look in Taehyun’s eyes, you melt. 
“Yeah…” you say softly, suddenly a lot more shy under his gaze, “this was like. Attempt number one hundred of me trying to get over you. Or make you jealous.”
“Hmm… well, you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m all yours,” he mumbles, swooping in to steal a slow kiss from you; you can’t control the giddy laugh that leaves you at that, lazy hands tangling into his hair to keep him close. 
“Good,” you murmur against his lips, “I was running out of guys to use against you.”
His hand squeezes at your hip in warning— you smile coyly. 
“Joking, of course.” 
Nipping at your lip, Taehyun sends you a half-hearted glare. 
“You better be.” 
You give him a giddy nod; after tonight, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to compare to him, anyway. Shifting underneath him, you wince at the feeling of your sweaty body rubbing against the sheets— Taehyun is able to read your face before you can get anything out.
“Wanna go home?” he asks softly. 
“Please,” you say, giving him a shy smile that has his heart flipping pathetically, “will you carry me?” 
He laughs, placing a chaste kiss on your lips and sneaking his arms under your figure. 
“Always.” 
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mavrintarou · 4 months ago
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[2:53 PM] Kozume Kenma
My version of Kenma
Warning: hurt to comfort & makeup smut
.
Kozume Kenma may look like a reserved and introverted man in public, but little did anyone know about the hidden facets of his personality that only you were aware of.
Kenma had a kink for cockwarming.
Any available opportunity, he wanted to be buried deep inside your pussy. Whether it would be while you guys slept, after sex or bathing, or when he was working (aka streaming).
However, the two of you engaged in a heated discussion, resulting in a temporary separation that lasted for three days.
You clarified that you would stay at your sister’s place for the week, giving your boyfriend space. Unfortunately, you returned to your shared condo with Kenma to grab more clothes and other necessities without letting him know.
As you noticed the closed door to his office, a clear indication that he was in a live session, you discreetly made your way to the shared bedroom to retrieve your belongings and depart as silently as possible.
You rummaged through the drawer of your swimming suit and stuffed it into your bag. After ensuring you got everything you needed, you walked out but froze when you got near Kenma’s office.
His door was wide open, and you couldn’t walk past without him seeing you.
Unless he wasn’t in his office.
Taking a deep breath, you moved your feet; even if he saw you or vice versa, you two were still on a break. Kenma was great at ignoring the problem, only wishing to brush it off or pretend as if it had never happened.
You looked straight, refusing to peek at the corner of your eyes to see if he was in his office.
“You’re really going to just walk by and not say a word?”
You barely reached the doorway when you halted, and your brow raised, surprised to hear him confront you. You tilt your head back to look at him; he sits in his chair, leaning back and watching you with tired eyes.
“I forgot something and just came to grab it, just pretend I wasn’t here.” Because you’re great at doing that.
“Come here.”
You looked away and let out a sharp breath. “I need to go; my sister is waiting for me downstairs.”
“Come. Here. Y/n.” He punctuated each word in a tone she recognized as his dominant and assertive voice.
You instinctively stepped back and positioned yourself between the doorway, standing your ground. “What?” you asked, making an effort to maintain your composure despite the circumstances.
“Come. Here.” He emphasized each word, his tone firm yet gentle.
You set your bag down before walking over to him, and when you got close enough, he moved like lightning, tugging you over and between his legs. His face was buried in your stomach, and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs. “Don’t go….”
“I’ll be back in a couple of days – “ He shook his head, tightening his grip. “Ken, we should use this time to ourselves to –“
“I’m sorry; I don’t want to be away from you anymore,” he pleaded, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desperation. “Please, don’t leave me.”
Cupping his face in your hands, your eyes scanned his entire countenance, taking note of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the bloodshot redness in his gaze. Concerned, you softly inquired, “when did you last sleep?”
Being a popular streamer, Kenma often went for extended periods without sleep, sometimes exceeding 24 hours.
“I couldn’t sleep without you.”
You couldn’t accuse him of lying knowing full well he needed you to sleep. You are his drug yet his peace and when it came to sleep, he truly needed you to sleep.
“Ken –“
“Don’t go, please…” he pleaded in a whimpering tone she had never heard of.
Letting out a deep sigh, you tenderly wrapped an arm around his shoulder and ran your fingers through his hair. “Okay, let me make a call and inform my sister,” you suggested, awaiting his response. However, he clung to you, not letting you go. “Ken, let go so I can get my phone,” you gently urged, hoping he would release his grip.
Shaking his head, his hand began searching for his phone on the desk and handed it to you. “Just use mine,” he muttered, offering a solution without letting you go.
.
You found it difficult to fall asleep because Kenma’s weight felt like an anchor, making you hesitant to move for fear of disturbing him once he drifted off to sleep. You were familiar with Kenma’s affectionate hold in bed, but the way he clung to you at that moment felt different. It seemed as though he was afraid that you would slip away once he entered a deep slumber. His weight on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder with his breath tickling your cheek and neck. He had one arm pillowing your head with the other wrapped around your waist and your legs entangled together.  
After assuring your sister you’re okay and will follow up with her, you force Kenma to turn off his computer and sleep.
He shook his head like an exhausted puppy, “only if you sleep with me.”
It’s been an hour, and you can still feel his grip on your shirt readjusting from time to time, letting you know he wasn’t in a deep slumber yet.
His fingers kept twitching and you finally exhaled and whispered, “just do it, it’s fine…”
You should have known when he stripped down to just his boxer briefs, that he was considerate enough to leave just that much of clothing on. Kenma always slept naked.
Kenma was sensitive, when he felt his privilege had been taken away from him, he needed reassurance upon receiving it again.  
He doesn’t hesitate to turn you on his side and swiftly, any lower garments you had on are gone and Kenma is behind you.
“Lift your leg for me,” he whispers huskily.
When you lift your leg, he slips his semi-hard cock into your hot and ready pussy. Your body misses him just as much as he misses you. Relaxing your leg you let out a breath, “now, sleep.”
He let out a shaky breath that sounded much like a low groan. “Okay,” he whispered, voice clearly satisfied.
You don’t feel him truly relaxed and asleep until his hand slips inside your shirt, skims against your tummy until his palm is against one of your tits, giving it a gentle squeeze. His even breath calms you at last and lulls you to sleep.
.
You wake up two hours later in the same position, Kenma is behind you and still inside you.
He was deeply asleep and you gently pry his hand away from your chest before slowly easing his cock out of you. It was no shock to you when you felt a gush of sticky fluid release and you quickly squeezed your thighs close. Kenma had no problem ejaculating in his sleep. You have woken up to him, thinking he was awake due to his hips moving only to discover after he’s cummed, he was thrusting in his sleep.
“Don’t go…”
Looking over your shoulder, Kenma was barely awake, only enough to sense you moving.
“Keep sleeping,” you whisper, pulling the comforters over his shoulder.
He locked his arms around your waist, pressing his face against your back. “No, don’t leave me.”
Frustratedly you snapped, “I’m not leaving – Christ… just…” you exhale, “just sleep, I’m just going to be in the living room.”
Incredibly stubborn, he shook his head, tightening his hold on you.
“Let me go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you assured, tapping his hand that’s locked around your waist. You felt a huff of breath against your back before his grip loosened and you were free.
.
You wiped the residue smeared between your thighs and cleaned yourself before walking out. You nearly swore under your breath when you swung open the door and Kenma was leaning against the doorway, still naked.
“Done?”
You blinked, “uh – yeah…”
Without a word, he reached for your wrist and tugged you along back to his bed. “Get in, please.”
You followed his command and crawled into his bed again. He followed and spooned you from behind.
“I’m sorry.” Kenma must have felt your tensed body. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, I am aware of my behavior and how it affects you and I will change. I’ll talk out our problems, stop ignoring them.” He turns you around so he can see your face and tilts your chin until you stare into his eyes. “Forgive me, please?”
You nodded, “I forgive you.” You lean to press a kiss to his lips. “There’s no next time.”
You’re pulled into his arms as he confirms, “yes, there’s no next time, I’ll make sure of it.” He leans back to smile at you before kissing you again.
You’re rolled onto your back and knew where it was going. Your legs widen to allow him in between your legs. His cock was already pressed and rubbing against your pussy. “Please,” you begged.
He slips inside you and Kenma keeps a steady pace. He leans over you, supporting his weight on his left elbow right, “I can’t live without you, Y/n. You are the air I breathe, my life…” His right hand pushes your shirt up to expose your tits and groped one mound, tweaking your perky nipple. “I don’t ever want to be without you again…”
Your hands are placed on his waist, urging him to thrust deeper into you. “Me too, Ken… I missed you… fuck – ah… more… harder, Ken…”
Slow yet deep thrusts have you seeing stars. “Need you… need you…”
His chest is pressed against yours as he grunts into your ear. “Me too… always…”
The room is filled with skin slapping skin and the creaking of his bed.
You moan his name, belly tightening and your pussy fluttering around his cock. Kenma’s cock jerks inside you before following with ejaculation. You feel each spurt leaving his cock, shooting at your womb.
Kenma shifts you, rolling you both around while still intimately connected. You lie above him and straddle his body. “This is great makeup sex.”
Running a hand through his hair, he smiles, “agree. Again?”
. . .
E/n: I watched the Garbage Dump movie a few weeks ago and loved it!
>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy
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thesilmarillionblog · 6 months ago
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𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u
Series Masterlist is here.
Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.
Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader
Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, heartless Soldier Boy, reader gets hurt, mention of violence, mention of drugs, betrayal, Soldier Boy being a dick, reader is a supe, Crimson Countess is a bitch
Word Count: 1796
A/N: English is not my first language.
* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.
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“Get lost fuckface and bring me a coffee,” Ben said telling the the poor guy who was trying his best to make Soldier Boy happy till the broadcast start.
The announcement of the new Payback member to the American public was scheduled for today. The company's executives had already made the decision to bring on a new employee, despite the fact that the team already had enough members. Everyone on the team opposed this idea, with the exception of Soldier Boy and you, but nothing changed.
You didn't mind if a new person joined the team because they were assigning Soldier Boy all tasks, regardless of importance, and you could see he was growing more and more irate with each passing day. Given that Black Noir was the team's second-strongest member, it was obvious Soldier Boy didn't appreciate the concept of being used for insignificant tasks constsantly. It was obvious that the team definitely required one more strong member.
“You don’t have to be so rude to those people,” you murmered as you approached Ben. "They are all scared of you already.”
Ben chuckled as he sat down and sniffed the white dust, saying, “I am not familiar with the concept of princess treatment, sweetheart, and nobody respects a pussy leader; keep that in mind.”
You sighed knowing he would never change his attitude just because you told him to. He pulled you to his lap and gave you a quick and firm kiss, silencing you before you argue with him.
All of you were taken aback when a new supe was introduced because you hadn't seen her before. She smiled and gave a short but impactful speech about how she would benefit America and its citizens. She looked nice and strong with her red suit and long red hair.
You were only made to feel worse by the fact that everyone was rooting for Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess every day, and their fan base became stronger over time. The current Crimson Countess stood on the side where you used to stand. They were singing together in ads while standing side by side and hand in hand, which was keeping you up at nights. The growing distance between you and Ben was eating you alive.
He hardly ever visited or spoke to you during the day, despite the fact that he used to spend the night with you in the past. There were moments when you tried to talk to him about what was going on, but he waved you off right away, saying he had things to do and couldn't be seen with any other woman but the Countess.
You were frequently questioned about their relationship, and you smiled while telling the cameras that they were lucky to have found each other and that they were strong together. If only they were aware of your true feelings.
Even though Ben continued to treat Noir rudely, which greatly upset and angered you, the rest of the crew was glad that Soldier Boy had finally become distracted. This was because they had been mistreated and bullied by him less than in the past. You two had heated disagreements over Noir as well in the past, but Ben consistently ignored your emotions and ideas. Now that Crimson also supported him about how he should treat the team made your blood boil with hatred and agony.
Noir remarked, removing his mask, “I can't do this, Y/N. I refuse to bow to him and put up with the way he treats me.”
You walked up to him and touched his back to get him to turn to face you. “What do you mean?” you questioned.
“I’m saying he is not worthy of being a leader.” Noir paced violently and stated, “All he does is get high with Crimson and bully me and everyone around him. He left you aside too.”
Though you knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, his words cut deep and silenced you for a second.
“Don’t do something crazy, Noir. You hear me?” You asked, ignoring his thoughts about Ben leaving you. “You know his short temper.”
Noir was always kind and kind, so you were surprised to see him so furious, but you knew he was right about everything, and Ben seemed to be getting worse and more distant every day as his connection with Countess took shape right before your eyes. You seemed to be deceiving yourself all along when you told yourself that their relationship wasn't real.
“I don’t know. Someone must do something about this.”
“You don’t stand a chance against him,” you said as you grasped his arms tightly. “I’ll talk to him, okay. I’ve got this, I promise.”
Noir gave you a nod before he put the mask on, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You waited patiently until you learned Ben would be alone tonight because Crimson would be going on a mission. Your heart raced when you entered his house without saying anything. He must have heard the noises you made already, because he turned to you immediately and did not look surprised to see you.
“Hi,” you whispered, not knowing how to react around him anymore.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked as he sat down in the coach after. He was high on cocaine.
As you walked up to him, you gave him a disappointed expression, but the way he looked stopped you. In the past, you were close every second, but those days are long in the past now.
“What’s wrong with you?” Your eyes were watery as you asked. It seemed like you would explode at any moment.
“Are fucking on your period? Why so sensitive?” His smile infuriated you, and he laughed as if something amusing had happened. There was something very punchable about his face.
“Why do you still treat Noir like a fucking jackass? He follows your instructions to the letter, and you are simply being disrespectful to him and the team as a whole.” You spoke angrily, as if you wanted him to share your feelings of rage. You wanted to wipe that foolish smile off his face.
His body abruptly shifted, giving you a menacing glance and raising his finger in your direction. “Don't fucking give me some advise. Who the fuck are you? You do realize that I am the fucking boss here, don't you?”
He hasn't been this angry with you in a long time, so you were surprised by his harsh remarks. It seemed like he hated you as he spat those words.
You yelled back, “I don't even know the man I'm talking to anymore,” at which point your tears finally fell. “Since Crimson entered your life, you have changed, Ben. She fucking hates you; she doesn't even love you. Don’t you see it?”
He was eventually enraged by your screams at him, and he stood in front of you with hate in his eyes. Your heart pained when you saw him staring at you like that, with eyes full of anger and fury.
“Do you know what I'm going to do?” He asked softly, as if he were just saying something kind. “I'm fucking gonna kill that masked pussy Noir and fucking make sure you watch through it.”
His cold words frozen you, and your eyes widened seeing he meant every word he said.
You shoved him away by his chest and sobbed, “If you ever touch Noir, I swear I'll cut Countess’ bitch head and throw it to your fucking thick skull.”
You were aware that nothing or no one could stop Ben from doing what he wanted to do, and that you might be the reason Noir was put to death or anything like. Your pulse raced upon witnessing Ben's unexpected outburst of rage against Noir.
Judging by his face, it was clear he was taken aback by your sharp words. You’ve never talked in athreatening way before with anyone. Your sigh and sobbing were the only things that filled the pregnant silence in the room.
“Ben,” you said softly, trying to reach again one more time, and you touched his face, hoping he wouldn’t push your hands back. To your surprise, he didn’t make a move. You looked him into the eyes between your tears and said, “I am the only one who truly loves you. Not her, not anyone else. Just me. What happened to us?”
You waited for him to answer you after you gave him a firm kiss, showing your love and care for him, but he didn’t kiss you back. Instead, he pushed your hands away from his face, with an unreadable look on his face.
“Why are you being selfish?” he asked, breaking the silence, almost irritated by your kindness toward him. “People love seeing me and her together. Duty fucking comes first.”
“You don’t owe love to her just to be loved by people you don’t even know,” you said, trying to convince him he didn’t have to do something he didn’t want to.
“How the fuck do you know I’m doing this for people only?”
“What do you mean?” you asked, as your heart skipped for a moment.
“Maybe I’m fed up with your soft attitude, and I want to be with her. How about that?” He said he was giving you an insidious smile.
With a heavy heart, you stepped back from him as more tears dropped from your cheeks. There was no point trying to convince Ben for your love while he didn’t give a fuck about it at all and the one he wanted was actually Countess.
“Is that what you want?”
“It fucking is,” he said, sitting down in the coach and keeping sniffing cocaine, like the conversation meant nothing to him and he wanted you to be gone.
Before leaving his house, you turned him one last time, saying, “She’ll betray you, Ben. I don’t know if I see that day, but you’ll see it.”
Next Chapter
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A/N: Well, that was a one shot, but let me know if you think that I should make it multi-chapters. Comments are appreciated, hehehe. <33
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in-sufficientdata · 1 year ago
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This can be a huge source of medical trauma and it's so cruel that it's being imposed on people by the medical establishment itself. How can they help but feel anything but helpless? There's no fighting that.
I can't help but think of this from my own perspective as a fibromyalgia patient who keeps having to fight being thought of as (or even being labeled as) drug-seeking.
I am literally just trying to live life closer to the standard that 'normal' people have every day.
Why is it in any way fair that most people are mostly pain-free and capable of doing the things they want to do, but I have to suffer with pain on a daily basis that is at minimum, on a very rare, very good day, at level 5?
Why is it when I report that my pain level is at level 7, 8, 9, I only get doctors side-eyeing me and explaining my OTC options?
I have had chronic pain since I was 8. I'm very fucking aware of my OTC options, so no thank you, doc.
And when I spend 20 minutes explaining in detail that my daily pain has noticeably increased and changed in quality since around January 1st, why should I have my PCP giggle at me every time I say that I need help with managing my pain and learning ways to deal with it?
It felt incredibly invalidating and I wish he would have said, look, I don't have the expertise to help you, so here's a referral to a pain specialist.
I only found out there was a such thing by trying to research the topic after this on my own!
So yeah, it's not just the insurance companies, it's the doctors, too.
It's almost like having a profit-motivated medical establishment hurts patients.
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serpent-benediction · 6 months ago
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[TW: SAGAU Imposter stuff, death, some detailed descriptions of wounds and stuff. Don’t expect anything amazing].
Some would call this development a cliché of sorts, wrapped in the illusion of perfection. You knew better than to allow yourself respite in the face of trickery.
———————————————————
Chains and ropes entangled and dug into your limbs, keeping you stationary under the gaze of thousands of people. A majority of them were unknowns - real somehow, but never essential to your eyes. Blanks with no sense of self before you got here.
Other than the ‘NPC’s’ ; numerous vision holders from across the continents were here to witness this display.
The more prominent members of the Knights of Favonius were present, alongside the Adepti watching from the sidelines. Itto’s Gang were barely spotted from your position,
Roaring cheers echoed from every side, like waves crashing against a sea. Drowning. Even like this, you couldn’t gather the will to make out words as your body was dragged down dirt and concrete, scraping skin against the ground. The pain was numb, though perhaps that could be attributed to the amount of drugs they put into you — or the blood you’ve lost on the way here.
An abrupt stop forces your head upwards to finally observe where they’re taking you - and the sight is not pretty. A statue of gold wearing your face stretches into the sky ; a teasing reminder that this world was made for you.
Venti and Zhongli stayed within the confines of the crowd, keeping their identities hidden whilst the puppet Ei stood ahead, her signature blade at the ready. . . That costed a pretty penny out of your pocket.
“Do you have any words you’d like to say in your final moments, Imposter? Perhaps our Lord will take mercy upon you.” The nobody that was dragging you eventually speaks up. A Millelith member - Yan-something.
Venom seeped throughout every word spoken, only being comparable to the poison-tipped arrows that nearly nicked your skin on numerous occasions. If you were younger, more naive, you’d answer with pleas for your life - begging for forgiveness or some half-assed mercy.
The current you knew why this was happening. It was like a bad joke, akin to all those ‘self-aware’ stories you had the ‘pleasure’ of reading all those years ago.
Years in this hellhole. The memories of your first day here were engrained in your mind and the reason you survived this long. Suspicion was your ally in the first weeks, allowing your continued survival up until now.
Until you got sloppy. Careless. Attached.
An attempt at gaining a friend unfettered by deceit. A slow and gradual process at first, but the results were expected. Betrayal in the middle of the night, after months of back and forth, between moments of care and affection - only to have it ripped away. Perhaps you should have stayed in Snezhnaya. At least the Fatui were direct in what they were doing, and Childe was a good friend before. . . all of this.
You held valid, human emotions, but they treated you like an animal. Your rights were stripped in an instant, and you were forced into a cage - trapped amongst the worst dredges of society for what seemed like an eternity. Food was scarce, water even more, and the punishments. . .
Even if you survived, the scars would never fade. Flesh torn asunder with blades and scalpels, subjected to inhumane torture as they froze, electrocuted and burnt skin away ; red blood adorning the walls in a sickening mockery of your false form. The healing afterwards was just a formality, just so you wouldn’t die in their ‘humble care’.
You held the same face as their beloved idol, the being of all their affections and worship, yet they couldn’t handle the fact that your blood wasn’t a precious golden. Truly ridiculous to have the next best thing, but treat it like a third-rate gift, no?
“You and your… God, can go fuck themselves.” Vulgarity came easily, and sarcasm came next. You had no love for these… false people. They weren’t real. This was all a mere dream, or perhaps a coma, or maybe even the dying remnants of your brain already coming to an end.
Pain enveloped your face in an instant ; blood immediately trickling from the newfound wound. It wasn’t a crushed nose this time around, but it still fucking hurt.
“Don’t ever disrespect The Creator!”
How ridiculous. Aren’t you supposed to be ‘God’ here? Where’s Nahida? Where’s Xiao? Where’s the plot point in where you’re safe and sound with unbearable, psychological trauma?
Where’s your savior?
Was. . . was this really it? Years of your life wasted, struggling to survive in this backwater hellhole? You forced yourself to change just to fit in with the rest of these… people. You didn’t have a vision or some godly set of skills honed by A Player — you were normal.
What a damn joke.
— More of your crimson blood splattered against the ground as you were forced before the Shogun ; her outside face neutral, though you could sense that she was seething on the inside. A useless puppet through and through.
“For your transgressions against The Creator for daring to masquerade as them, I hereby sentence you to death.” — She didn’t even offer you a moment to say a final word. Tsk. Worthless bastard.
“KILL THEM! KILL THEM! KILL THEM! KILL THE IMPOSTER!” The chants roared louder and louder.
. . . But, you weren’t going to grant them the satisfaction of begging. You were scared, deathly so, but maybe release wouldn’t be that bad. . .
“When I get down to the abyss, hell, or whatever it’s called. . . I’ll make sure I give Makoto my thanks for being such a shitty sister.”
A singular movement, and everything shifted.
The sensation of having your head severed from your body ended quickly ; the disconnection of your brain from your spine bringing your story to a close. In the last, fickle moments before inevitability kicked in - only then did you notice the anger and sadness on Ei’s face.
It was. . . beautiful to see her cry.
. . . Perhaps they’d wonder why you died with a smile on your face. Perhaps they’d discover you were their God after your demise, grieving over your body with the fervor that only a cult could do.
Or maybe you were never special. A nobody like the NPC’s who happily spat and kicked you when you were down, insulting you with no end in sight.
Was this real—
——————————
You’re awoken to another cold breeze ; akin to the first time you’ve had the displeasure of arising here.
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thelesbianpoirot · 10 months ago
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The thing about BDSM/stripping/pornography/prostitution that I critique is not about what the sub/victim/penetrated wants. I don't care to shame the person with the abuse and rape fantasy. People from oppressed groups who hate themselves will seek out means of self destruction and humiliation. They are taught to. It is what society trained them to do. It is not surprising that many young women (and young gay men) run towards violent sex, plastic surgery, extreme piercing, extreme tattooing, prostitution and exploitation. What other group is taught to hate themselves more? What other group is more death seeking? I am not shocked the groups with the highest rates suicide attempts, eating disorder, lowest record self esteem, poor body image, mocked the most in media, have high murder and sexual assault rates hate themselves and seek lifestyles that reflect or perpetuate their own destruction. "Choke me daddy," the 14yr old writes on her social media page, and gets likes of people thinking she cool, hot and progressive. She knows there are people who want to do horrible things to her, and if she lets them, and "enjoys" it, that is the closest she will get to love, attention, and praise. She reads and masturbates to rape fantasies in fanfiction/dark romance books because she is aware of the place society wants her in and was a victim of their concerted efforts to normalize and even eroticize her submission and degradation. She is not a product of free choice and individualism. She is a good student of society's bigotry and hatred. Proof of free choice would be her having the highest standards, self preservation and dignity. That is what would make her stand out amongst her peers. That is what would buck tradition. I have grown up around poor black people my entirely life, and watched many people destroy their lives with drugs, gangs, getting pregnant by multiple men, and many other social ills. Many of these things were avoidable, I avoided them, a few of my friends did, I wondered why they hadn't. And it's after I grew up that I realize many of those people didn't think they were capable of doing anything else, or were deserving of any other kind of life. When the world hates you, makes a systematic effort to destroy you every day, you listen and begin destroying yourself too. In a way to pretend you have total control over your life at all times.
I will not argue with a sub/pornstar/stripper/prostitute that she should be ashamed of herself. She already is. She wouldn't be doing this if she were raised to care for and respect herself by a loving just society. I will argue that her abusive dom, the sex buyer, rapist, and director (person in power exploiting them) needs to be tried for crimes and put down like an animal.
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