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mephisto-reporting · 2 months ago

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Wearing This Dress Was a Mistake…or Was It?

Premise: You decide to prank him by making him think that you'd be wearing that risque, revealing outfit when you are about to head out... only to find out that pranks have consequences. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

CALEB

Caleb was lounging on your couch like he owned the place, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other holding a can of soda that he swirled absentmindedly. He had taken a few days off, escaping from his duties as Colonel to come back to Linkon. And now, here he was, making himself right at home in your apartment like he had never left. The sight was almost domestic, but you knew better—there was nothing ordinary about Caleb. Not anymore.

He was on leave, a rare moment where he could shed the weight of his uniform and just be Caleb. It was a refreshing change to see him like this—less guarded, more relaxed—but something about it sparked mischief in you. You'd always had a playful, mischievous relationship with Caleb when you were younger. Pranks, jabs, teasing—it had all been part of the dynamic. And now that he was back, you couldn't help but feel a familiar tug to push his buttons just a little.

You'd planned this prank for a while. Slipping into the most scandalous, revealing outfit you could find in your closet, one that certainly wasn’t something you'd wear out in public. You had no intention of actually leaving—just giving Caleb the briefest hint that you were about to, and seeing how he’d react.

You walked into the living room, draped in the most inappropriate outfit you could manage. A fitted dress that barely covered your thighs, a deep V that left little to the imagination, and a loose, barely-there wrap that hung carelessly from your shoulders. Your intention was to get under Caleb’s skin, to push him just a little—just enough to remind him that the old pranks hadn’t gone anywhere.

When Caleb glanced up, his relaxed demeanor faltered for just a second, his sharp gaze lingering on you. There was a flicker of something darker in his eyes, something predatory. But he said nothing at first, just observing you with a cold silence that sent a chill down your spine. Your pulse quickened slightly under his intense gaze, but you pushed down the thrill crawling up your spine. This was just a joke.

You took a deep breath, feigning innocence. "I'm heading out to meet some friends," you announced, grabbing your purse.

The shift was instantaneous.

The lazy, relaxed Caleb from moments ago was gone. His can hit the coffee table with a soft thud, his entire frame tensing as he straightened up. His gaze darkened, trailing over your figure with slow, possessive deliberation.

"You're wearing that?" His voice was low, almost casual—but you could hear the undercurrent of something dangerous lurking beneath it.

You swallowed but kept up the act. "Yeah. Why?" You tilted your head, feigning confusion. "It looks good, doesn't it?"

"You’re not going anywhere dressed like that." he muttered, the words falling from his lips in a near-growl.

You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest. "What, you think I can’t pull it off?"

He stood in one smooth motion, and before you could react, he was standing in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist with a surprising amount of force. His fingers were warm, rough, as if he were trying to ground himself with the touch.

"If you're so insistent on showing this side of you to others," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, "then it’s only fair that I get to see more of it, isn't it?"

Before you could protest, he hoisted you effortlessly onto his shoulder, your legs dangling in the air as he carried you toward your room like a caveman claiming his prize.

"Caleb!" You gasped, half-laughing, half-embarrassed by the sheer force of his actions. But Caleb wasn't listening. His grip was firm, his footsteps purposeful as he crossed the room.

He threw open your bedroom door, his eyes locking with yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "You think you can strut around like this for anyone else?" His voice was dangerously calm, but the heat in his gaze betrayed the undercurrent of rage—jealousy, possessiveness—swirling just beneath the surface.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he silenced you with a heated kiss, his lips claiming yours in a way that left no room for argument. His lips were urgent, demanding, but still with an edge of care as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in that outfit.

"Do you want me to show you what that outfit can do to any individual with a working braincell?" Caleb murmured against your lips, his breath shallow as he gently pushed you onto the bed. He towered over you, his body a wall of heat and strength, completely commanding your attention.

You couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, still shaken by the intensity of the moment. "It was just a prank, Caleb. I didn’t mean—"

His fingers traced the line of your jaw with surprising gentleness before his eyes darkened. "No," he whispered. "You didn’t mean to tease me like this, but now that you have, you’re not going anywhere. Not until I’ve had my fill of you. I don’t like the idea of anyone else looking at you like this.”

You opened your mouth to explain, to tell you weren’t actually heading out like this, but before you could say a word, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours with a possessiveness that left you breathless. His hands roamed down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, gripping you tightly as if he were afraid someone might take you from him.

You could feel his breath on your neck, hot and heavy, as he pulled away just enough to whisper, “You’re mine, understand?” His words were both possessive and adoring, a dangerous combination you knew too well.

And as your neighbors found out soon after, the only sounds that filled the air that evening were far less friendly than the teasing words you’d exchanged earlier.

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was early. Again.

Technically, he was supposed to be on time tonight—after all, it was his gallery event. But you knew better. You had predicted, with painful accuracy, that he'd find some way to ding-dong ditch his own damn celebration. Which was exactly why he was here at your apartment an hour before you needed to leave.

"I'm only here because Thomas would physically drag me if I didn't show up at all," he muttered from the other side of the door of your bedroom. "Consider this me being a responsible artist. All of you should be grateful."

You hummed, feigning disinterest as you checked your reflection in the mirror. "Oh, I am grateful, Rafayel."

"Good, as you shou—"

He cut himself off entirely as you stepped out from your bedroom.

You had planned this prank the moment you'd heard he was coming early. Because if Rafayel wanted to ditch the gallery, you'd at least make sure he suffered before he got his way. So, instead of slipping into something elegant and refined for an art exhibition, you had opted for something else entirely. It wasn’t even an outfit you would wear outside—it barely covered anything at all, and the material clung to your body in all the wrong places. A sheer, tight-fitting slip with lace accents, enough to leave little to the imagination. The fabric wasn’t completely transparent, but it did the job well enough to make every inch of your skin noticeable. Every inch of skin exposed was deliberate. Calculated. A direct attack on Rafayel's composure.

And oh, it worked.

His entire body stiffened, the lazy smirk on his lips frozen mid-form. His next grape missed his mouth completely, bouncing pathetically off his chin and rolling onto the floor. But he didn't even notice.

For a long, silent moment, all Rafayel did was stare.

Then, dramatically, he clutched his chest. "No."

You blinked. "No?"

"I can't take you anywhere like this," he lamented, waving frantically at all the exposed skin. "You—You will steal the show! The gallery will forget my masterpieces the moment you walk through the door!" Rafayel’s eyes flickered to the door, then back to you, his expression a mix of shock and something darker. “You’re kidding. You want me to take you to the gallery dressed like… this? Everyone will be staring, and I can’t have that.”

He turned his back to you with a huff, clearly flustered. He spun around to face you again, his eyes narrowing, and a flicker of possessiveness flashed across his face. “This is too much. I’m not taking you out like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”

His expression faltered, and for a split second, you saw a vulnerability in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by his usual dramatic demeanor. “Embarrassed? No!! I just don’t want everyone gawking at my—especially when I’m the one who’s supposed to admire you tonight. How am I supposed to take you out like this? All eyes will be on you, and I don’t know if I’m prepared for that level of attention. How am I supposed to look at this…”

"Is that such a bad thing?" You teased, twirling a loose strand of hair around your finger.

"Yes!" Rafayel practically whined. He circled you like a predator, eyes flickering with a hunger he hadn’t quite named yet. "Some art should be displayed for the world, sure," he murmured, voice turning dangerously low. "But some art? This should be kept private. Mine."

You bit your lip, barely suppressing a laugh. "Raf, it's just a prank. I'm not actually going like this."

He stilled. Then, very slowly, he grinned.

"Oh?" he purred, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. His fingers skimmed the edge of your exposed thigh, tracing your skin before gripping it lightly. "Then you should go change, hmm?"

You moved to step back, but Rafayel caught your wrist. His grip was loose, teasing, but there was no mistaking the heat behind it.

"Ah, wait," he murmured, feigning deep thought. "Actually… No. That would take too long."

You frowned. "What—?"

"We're already late," he sighed, tone laced with mock regret. "And if we're already late, then it doesn’t really matter, does it?"

Before you could say anything else, Rafayel scooped you up in one swift motion, his hands firmly gripping you. “Forget the gallery,” he said, his voice practically a growl. “You’re not leaving this apartment until I’ve taken my time enjoying this… work of art.”

“Rafayel, wait!” You tried to protest, but he was already striding toward your bedroom, his grip firm around you.

“You don’t deserve to wear something this distracting for anyone else,” he muttered, his voice laced with a possessive hunger. “I’ll be the only one to appreciate it properly.”

Before you could even respond, his lips were on yours, demanding and heated, the rest of the world completely irrelevant. You could barely keep up with the intensity of his kiss as he stripped away the fabric, each motion more urgent than the last.

As the sound of Thomas’ calls rang through both your phones, going straight to voicemail, Rafayel didn’t spare it a second thought. The gallery? It was already a lost cause. Tonight, he had you—and he was taking his sweet time with it.

SYLUS

As Sylus prepared for his mission, a sense of anticipation hung thick in the air. He was packing his gear with the meticulous attention of a man who thrived on the chaos he created, readying himself for whatever dangerous task lay ahead. This lifestyle was no stranger to him —the dangerous, dark heart of his empire. But you couldn’t shake the worry that gnawed at you every time he walked out the door. Dangerous, illegal missions were a regular part of his life, and while you knew he could handle himself, the thought of him in harm’s way left you restless.

But you weren’t about to voice that concern—not when he took so much pleasure in riling you up with his teasing. Tonight, you had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine—payback, as you saw it. After all, his teasing and his ability to keep you on edge with his deep voice, knowing smirks, fleeting touches, and that intense gaze deserved a little retaliation. This time, you were going to make him work for it.

Fair was fair.

You stepped into the study, heels clicking against the floor, the sharp sound enough to draw his attention. His red eyes flickered up from his preparations, widening just slightly before narrowing with intrigue. You had dressed specifically to get a reaction—a short, black mesh dress that left little to the imagination, the sheer material teasing glimpses of lace underneath. The plunging neckline dipped scandalously low, while the cutouts along your waist accentuated every tempting curve.

Sylus let out a low, appreciative hum as he leaned back against the wall, taking his time raking his gaze over you.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going dressed like that, sweetie?” His smirk was lazy, but the sharp glint in his crimson stare was anything but.

You let your eyes linger on his figure for a moment, before casually offering, "Actually, I’m heading back to Linkon for a night out—clubbing with some friends." Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you took a few steps closer, and you could see his pupils dilate briefly, his reaction evident, though he masked it quickly with another smirk.

"Well, well," he drawled, his eyes still locked on your attire. "Funny, I’ve never gotten the pleasure of seeing you in such bold outfits before."

You shrugged nonchalantly, your lips curling into a playful smile. "I dress for the occasion."

A small chuckle escaped him, the sound rich and dark. "Interesting, these 'occasions' never seem to happen when I'm around." His eyes trailed over you once more, the intensity of his gaze making your pulse quicken.

He walked slowly, closing the distance between you in a few slow, measured strides. When he reached you, his fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your thigh, the touch featherlight, deliberate.

“I suppose I should consider myself unfortunate, then,” he murmured, trailing his hand higher. “But I’ll be damned, sweetie, you do look ravishing.”

You hummed, feeling the heat of his touch ghosting over your skin. "Maybe ypu were just not paying enough attention before."

His laugh was low, dark, full of amusement. "Oh, kitten," he purred, his hands drifting lower, tracing the dip of your waist before pulling you just a little closer. "Trust me, I pay attention. Especially when it comes to you."

Your breath hitched as his palm splayed possessively over your hip, his fingers teasing the hem of your barely-there dress. “Not worried about all the attention I’ll get?” you teased, meeting his gaze.

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost like a growl. "Sweetie, I know you can handle yourself if things go wrong." he said, his hands suddenly roaming over your skin, slow and deliberate, almost as if he were marking his territory. His touch was magnetic, entrancing. His fingers traced your jawline, grazing over the curve of your neck, and you felt the weight of his presence pull you in, closer to him with each movement.

He smirked, as if he could sense the effect he was having on you. "Go ahead. Have fun tonight," he murmured, pulling out his black card from his wallet and offering it to you. "Just don't have too much fun without me." His breath ghosted over your lips, hot and tantalizing, and you could feel his eyes trailing lower

You saw it then—the flicker of something dark and hungry in his stare, a silent challenge laced with possession. It made you want to push just a little further.

“What if I do?”

The moment the words left your lips, you barely had time to react before Sylus’s hands were on you. A startled gasp escaped you as he lifted you effortlessly, locking your legs around his waist. The back of your dress rode up, and his fingers pressed into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his mouth found yours. The kiss was deep, slow, devastating. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was claiming you, drawing you in until the thought of leaving, of doing anything other than this, felt ridiculous. “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure you’re more entertained...” he murmured against your ear, his voice dripping with possessiveness, as if you were already his in every sense.

Without another word, he carried you through the mansion, his lips never leaving yours as his pace quickened. He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, his hold on you firm, commanding, as though the very idea of you going out tonight was laughable. His smirk never faltered, his confidence radiating in waves.

“You think I’d let that happen?” he said in a husky whisper against your lips, his voice thick with amusement. As he kicked open the door to his bedroom, he laid you down on the bed with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “Guess neither of us is going anywhere tonight…”

You tried to speak between stolen breaths, to tell him it was a prank, but he only smirked against your mouth, cutting you off with another slow, intoxicating kiss.His weight pressed you down onto the bed, his hands sliding over every inch of exposed skin. “It’s a good thing you weren’t actually going out,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement. “Because I plan to keep you here… All. Night. Long.”

A thrill ran through you as you realized just how easily he'd flipped the situation in his favor. And you weren't sure if you could—if you wanted to—fight it.

XAVIER

You had been scheming for a while, setting the perfect trap to prank Xavier, and today was the day you were finally going to execute your plan. You’d texted him earlier, asking him to swing by your apartment to pick up the meals you had prepared for him. You knew full well Xavier could barely cook an egg without burning it, so he was always appreciative when you made him something special. You always made quite a batch of food whenever he came over to pick it up so he could store them in his freezer.

He had a spare key to your apartment in case of emergencies, but today, you were going to make sure he’d get more than just food when he came over. He’d always been so calm and collected in most situations that it was infuriating at times. You had tried to get a reaction out of him before but had always failed. But today, it would be different. Today, you knew you would get him to falter. You’d been thinking of a little prank to get a rise out of him—and you knew exactly what would get under his skin.

When you heard the door click open, you made sure to pick up your purse slowly, letting Xavier get a good look at the outfit you’d chosen: A tight, revealing midnight blue dress that clung to your curves like a second skin, the plunging neckline barely covering what was necessary and the high slit on the side showing just enough leg to drive anyone wild. The fabric was soft, almost like a second layer of skin, and you knew it would make his blood run hot.

Xavier’s footfalls slowed, and the air seemed to thicken with tension as he entered the room, his eyes immediately darkening the moment they landed on you. His usually calm expression shifted, but only slightly, and his voice, low and even, carried an edge. “You have plans?” His tone was casual, but you could tell it didn’t match the storm brewing in his gaze.

“Oh, yeah, I’m heading out with some colleagues,” you answered nonchalantly, knowing full well that would get him riled up. In your mind, this was all part of the prank. You were expecting a laugh, a joke, maybe even a playful remark.

His eyes narrowed, the calm veneer slipping away. “Wrong answer.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him with feigned confusion. “Huh?”

“I said, wrong answer. You are not going out to meet them… in that?” He spoke slowly.

“Why not? What’s wrong with the dress? I think it makes me look nice.” You looked at your dress pretending that you didn’t know what was wrong with it. “Plus, I already made plans with them…”

He didn’t hesitate, slamming the door behind him with a soft thud. His hand rested on the doorframe as he leaned in, towering over you. “Your plan,” he said, voice gruff with unspoken demand, “is with me. Right here. And only I should be the one seeing you in that dress. And outside of it.” he added, his voice dark with possessiveness.

Your heart raced, though you maintained an innocent air. “Xavier, come on... I’m just going out for fun. It’s not a big deal.” You tried to laugh it off, but your breath caught as his hands trailed over your skin, tracing your body with an intention that left no room for interpretation.

You didn’t have a chance to react before he was right in front of you, his frame crowding you against the door, his hands gripping your hips as he lifted you slightly.

He didn’t respond to your attempt at casualness. Instead, his gaze was fierce, intense, and utterly unyielding. The meals you had prepared was forgotten. The only thing on his mind was you—and the dress you wore, too.

“Why do they get to see you like this when it’s meant for me?” His voice dropped, each word heavier than the last.

Your breath hitched at the intensity in his voice. The heat between you was immediate, pressing, suffocating. Xavier reached up, his fingers gently grazing your neck, then sliding down to your waist, his touch possessive and slow.

You tried to laugh it off again, your playful nature not quite prepared for how serious he had gotten. “It’s just a prank,” you said, offering an innocent smile, hoping to break the tension. “I am not going anywhere…” You giggled, but it came out a little nervous. “I swear… It’s just a prank, Xavier.”

He blinked once, the twice, confusion flickering in his eyes. His boyish, innocent looked returned, stunned at your words. He seemed to process it for a moment. Then, the intensity of his gaze returned, fiercer than before. He took a step forward, closing the non existent distance between you, and his lips were suddenly on yours—hard, commanding. His lips crushed against yours, his tongue immediately claiming dominance as he growled low in his throat.

Before you could even process what was happening, you were on the couch, his body pressing you into the cushions. His hands roamed, touching you everywhere. as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Prank or not,” he said, his voice hushed but full of intensity, “you’ve got me thinking about you in that dress with them—with anyone else.” His hands moved lower, sliding over the fabric of your dress. “You thought teasing me would be funny, huh? Let’s see how funny it is now.” His tone was equal parts teasing and threatening, a dangerous mix that made your heart race.

You gasped as his hands found your thighs, pulling you against him, his body already pressing into yours. There was no more pretending, no more games. Xavier’s need was undeniable, and you couldn’t escape the heat between you.

His lips met yours again, deeper, more frantic this time, as if making sure you understood just how serious he was about what was happening between you. You didn’t stand a chance against him.

And when the night ended, teasing Xavier definitely wouldn’t be on your list of things to do again... or maybe it would be.

ZAYNE

The dress was daring—too daring, perhaps. The fabric clung to your body, smooth and sultry, dipping dangerously low in the front and riding scandalously high on your thighs. The sheer lace along the sides barely covered enough, teasingly revealing glimpses of skin beneath. It was the kind of dress that would have heads turning, and you knew it.

That was the point.

You had planned this all too perfectly. A new pastry café had just opened downtown, and you’d invited Zayne out for a date. You had been expecting a reaction when he arrived—maybe a subtle quirk of his brow, a small shift in his usual stoic demeanor. Something.

Instead, when you opened the door and greeted him with an innocent smile, his gaze flickered over you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, the door clicked shut behind him.

His expression remained unreadable, but his movements weren’t. The way he took his time removing his gloves, slipping them off with methodical ease before placing them neatly on the nearby counter. The way his fingers traced the hem of his coat, unbuttoning it in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Interesting choice,” he finally said, his voice calm—too calm—as his gaze finally lifted back to meet yours.

You grinned, shifting your weight just slightly to make the dress slide a little higher along your thigh. “Do you like it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step forward, and you felt the weight of his presence settle over you. His fingers brushed your arm, barely there, before trailing down your wrist. The lightest touch. A doctor’s touch—controlled, precise. But beneath it was something else.

Something simmering.

“Tell me.” His voice was still even, his tone almost thoughtful as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your fingertips. “How far were you planning to go with this little game of yours?”

Your heart stuttered. He knows.

You feigned innocence, tilting your head as if confused. “Game? I was just dressing up for our date.”

“Is that so?” His lips curved, the barest hint of amusement slipping through. “Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if we went outside right now.”

Your stomach flipped. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Before you could respond, his other hand moved—so subtle, so swift—and in one seamless motion, he pulled you closer, his fingers splaying over your lower back. Your breath hitched as your bodies pressed together, the warmth of him seeping through the thin material of your dress.

His lips were close now, brushing against your ear. “You forgot,” he murmured, “I know you.”

Your skin burned.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “Okay, fine. It was a prank.”

Zayne chuckled softly. The sound was low, velvety, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “I knew that before coming over.”

His fingers traced slow, idle circles against the small of your back, and suddenly, you were all too aware of how little there was between you. How easy it would be for him to simply pull—just a little—and the dress would slide right off your shoulders.

You blinked. “Wait, you—?”

“Of course I knew.” He leaned in, his breath brushing against your jaw. “You think I don’t know when you’re trying to get a rise out of me?” The heat in his voice made your knees weak.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as his fingers traced a slow path up your spine, dragging along the zipper of your dress.

“I knew the moment you picked up my call earlier and sounded too innocent. The way you sent me a picture of the food but conveniently cropped yourself out.” His fingers pressed, teasing, against the small of your back. “And now? Now you’re here, looking like this and expecting me to just let you waltz out into a crowded café?”

You barely managed a breath before he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glint of something more. “Cute.” His lips brushed against yours, feather-light. “But you knew better.”

You shivered at the subtle challenge in his voice, the sheer restraint beneath it. “Zayne, we have a reservation—”

“Mm.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate. “We’ll reschedule.”

“I—”

Whatever you were about to say was swallowed by his kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was deliberate. A slow, consuming thing that left no room for escape. His hands were firm but unhurried as he guided you back, step by step, until your back met the nearest surface—the couch, the wall, you didn’t even know anymore.

Zayne finally pulled away, but only just. His breath fanned across your lips, his fingers still resting against your waist. He looked at you then, truly looked at you, his eyes dark with something unspoken.

“You wanted my attention.” His voice was a whisper now, a dangerous kind of quiet. “You have it.” Your protests faded the moment his hands slid lower, gripping your thighs just enough to make your breath hitch. His lips trailed downward, past your jaw, tracing a searing path along your neck before murmuring, “Tell me, was the prank worth it?”

And as his hands began to move, taking their time, exploring, savoring—one thing became very, very clear.

Prank or not, you wouldn’t be leaving for that café tonight.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace@sinsodom@m00nchildwrites

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screampied · 6 months ago

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☆ cw. fem! reader, college au, bimbo-y reader, dumbification, praise, nerd nanami's a secret freak, fīngering, mdni.

nerd! nanami who eats you out while wearing his glasses. you told him this ‘method’ was far more efficient . . and, he could teach you more about the anatomy of the clit better.. oh, and the fact at how you said you always were a visual learner. you were always grateful for his tutoring sessions sure, but you couldn’t help but stare at him. not just at his eyes, but his noticeable bulge too that would always outline beneath his slacks. and yet now, here you were—laid flat on his wooden old desk as he’s buried right between your pretty thighs. “hm,” he’d grumble, sliding a swollen fat thumb down your glossy clit. nanami hears your cute breaths grow shallow along with the clanking dangles of your earrings and he huffs. “princess, pay attention,” and his eyes flicker down at your sopping needy entrance. “she’s important.”

“o- okay,” you wheeze out a tiny breath, and your eyes focus primarily on the head that’s buried between your legs. nanami pushes back the clear lenses of his glasses before giving your sloppy cunt a single tender kiss. a sweetened gasp rips away from your parted lips as you stare at him, watching intently as he closes his eyes shut, gradually sliding his tongue from top to bottom. “fuuck, ‘ken.”

nanami whistles softly against your dribbling folds while you’re wetly glazing his peachy, pink lips with your slick. “ah, the clit is such a mystery,” he’d purr, positioning his glasses. you’d then roll your eyes once he starts rambling all sorts of anatomy facts while eating you out at the same time. nanami’s pearly cold lenses repeatedly rub up against your thighs as he swiftly flicks his tongue, using his flat vast thumb to smear shapes down your slit. “sooo many nerves inside this pretty thing. thousands ‘n thousands of nerve fibers,” and you moan, feeling him cup his pursed dripping lips around your clit. nanami feels you claw a hand through his blond scalp, digging through his thin blond tresses before he hums.

“but – let’s start with my personal favorite shall we, princess? the dorsal nerve..”

he found it cute how you were so whiny, struggling to hold still as your back brushes up against the dozens of incorrectly marked papers behind you. they were scattered everywhere on the desk, an entire pile—and nanami thinks you were just starting to answer things wrong purposely. “let’s see,” he softly coos, feverish breath colliding right against your eagerly twitching sex. you’ve got a good tugging grip on his hair, peering at how his flaxen blond strings entangle ‘n intertwine between your fingers. “she’s important why?”

a mewling sobbing moan was your answer as his glasses continued to glide and tickle against your skin. nanami raises a single brow, and as his chiseled chin’s just streaming down with shimmery sheeny slick, he tsks.

“u- uhh,” you whimper, tightening your grip against his silky threads of hair. truth be told, your mind was entirely empty. you weren’t thinking about anything except for that fact that his tongue was ferociously gliding up and down the streaming slope of your pretty pussy. it makes you gnaw on your lip, growing even more dumb all from the salaciously narrow strokes of his tongue. “because it stimulates t.. the clit?”

“no, dummy,” he whispers, and even his playful insults made your pussy throb. nanami felt the exact pulse trigger against the flatness of his tongue and you whimper. you could feel his coy grin twisting against his lips before he starts to slurp harder.

it’s loud . . and your eyes were already starting to roll back the second he eases a slender middle finger inside.

“the dorsal nerve helps innervate this spot,” and a treble squeak of a whine snatches out your throat once he teasingly nibbles against your clit. it feels good, and you could feel your body heat gradually heating up more and more. “wonder what goes on in that pretty head of yours,” and with another moan following out from your lips, he gives your wet entrance a soft direct spank. “nothin’. bet it’s just empty, right silly girl?”

“kentoooo, fuck—” you’d moan, maintaining a good grip on his hair. fuck, it was just the way you perfectly dragged out the two syllables of his name – and, oh was the prettiest melody he’s ever heard.

panting heavily, nanami starts to run the pointed tip of his tongue farther inside of your pussy. it’s like he’s a natural—and to be honest, you didn’t think he’d be the type to have such a skillful tongue. for the hours and hours he spends talking, but you were starting to connect the dots. maybe nerds could be just as filthy. . especially with their mouths. his tongue resumes to delve in and out rapidly, barely giving you any time to catch your irregular unsteady breaths. glancing down, you see him with fogged up glasses and a sleazy growing grin.

he’s smug.

your taste – it makes nanami salivate, and he’s even starting to drool past the corners of his lips. you had a treacly flavor to you, and it continues to please his tastebuds the more he swirls his tongue inside. he’s right between your thighs and it’s a pretty sight… you’re a pretty sight, and you can’t help but start to frantically grind your hips against his slack jaw. “forget the l- lesson. don’t stop.”

nanami gives the inner sweltering flaps of your cunt another loving kiss before warm fawn eyes fixate back toward you. “ohh, but princess,” and he could hear your soft gasps once he starts to massage his palm around your sopping heat. he’s maneuvering tender circles against your wet pussy before giving it a soft smack, hearing you whimper for more. you were soaked. . geysering pools of your slick coat his hand and it makes him hum in amusement. “if i do that, then you won’t learn anything,” and you could feel every sharp axon electrocute alongside each nerve of your body. your thighs were this close to snapping back shut, and he’s gotta pry them apart with two big hands. “wonder if my tongue’s jus’ makin’ you dumber,” and that’s riiight when nanami smears the bridge of nose against your cunt.

“nghh, kento,” your eyes widen, and each time his lips smack from pulling away to breathe—you could feel both of your ears ring. he’s filthy, and nanami was so hard that he even reached beneath the desk, slipping a hand inside of his unbuckled pants. you continued to drag your cunt against his face, covering the lower part of his dripping chin with every drop of your lewd polished essence before mewling. “fuck, fuuuuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“the woman orgasm,” he whispers in husky awe, his tone as smooth as silky silk. nanami lowly grunts, wrapping a hand around his veiny base before giving it a few solid pumps. oh, you turned him on. it was so bad that he couldn’t help but imagine being inside of you. fucking you on his desk, pushing your head into your red-marked papers in hopes that that could feed you some sorts of knowledge – all while showering you with a plethora of compliments of course.

you were pretty, but between your legs you were even prettier. as nanami continues to prattle endlessly, talking your ear off about whatever, his glasses end up falling and you grab them.

sepia hooded eyes narrow at you before he scoffs, taking a second to spit on your weeping cunt. “tell me, sweet thing,” and you’re whimpering, the arch in your back growing as your lips part awkwardly. nanami’s still fisting his cock with a single hand, slowly twirling his tongue inside between your glistening folds before applying faster and faster pressure. it’s repetitive, and you clench down on your jaw the second you feel him pop in his lanky ring finger. “how many nerves does it take to orgasm? quickly.”

as your lashes continuously flutter – you let off a sweet whimper. “around e- eight thousand?”

“smart girl,” he coos, and you felt a stir of butterflies rummage through the lower pits of your stomach at the praise. nanami’s practically french kissing your cunt, using allllll types of tongue. effortlessly, he’s thrusting his tongue in and out, locating every pivotal part inside before he abruptly stops stroking himself. he groans, feeling a vein run down his shaft before he gives your cunt it’s final departing kiss. “c’monnn, let go for me. cum on my tongue, princess.”

as your lips cutely stretch out further, curling ‘n contorting into a shocked oval shape—you tightly grip onto his blonde strands. “fuuuuck,” was all you could reply with, and you could still hear nanami grumbling out nonsense under his breath. even a nerd with his mouth full.

sloppily, his tongue wanders everywhere, reaching near every crevice and swirls its way around your clit before dipping itself right back out. there was not a single thought programmed in your brain—except for the fact that if his tongue was like this, you only wondered what his dick felt like. the thought alone makes you let off a crooning whimper as a lightning wave of pulses throb between your jittery legs. you were so close that the taste of your inevitable orgasm was simply sweet.

it’s as sweet as vanilla frosted icing, and the second you started to uncurl your toes, you felt it.

a cute whimper ripples out of your hoarse vocal chords as you remain to cling onto his glasses. nanami subtlety squints up at you with the most cunt-drunken grin before he lies his tongue all the way flat. “mmph,” and with a sloppy squelching slosh, you hear a finger of his loudly ‘pop’ out of your soddened slit. nanami was moving his head back and forth, the fabric of his tie tickling against your skin whilst you’re coming undone. your harmonious-sounding orgasm lasts for a good nine seconds, echoing through the thin walls of his dorm before he sighs. nanami’s starting to see why you preferred this more than his lectures—

“thaaaat’s it,” he smears his sheeny-slick lips against the opening of your pussy. you’re drooling wet, jaw dropped with your eyes bulged out of their sockets as you realized you came on his tongue.

nanami’s tongue completely wiped out any sorts of review that was supposed to be jotted inside your brain. instead – you’re just dumbfounded with cartoony heart eyes forming in your dilated pupils the more you stare at him. you wanted more, you wanted him. nanami gently caresses down your tender pulsating entrance before giving it a soft pat. it’s a pat that then turns into a sloppy ‘mwah’ with his lips, and it makes your heart race. with droopy eyes, you watch as he runs a hand through his neatly parted hair. unkempt, but still handsome.

“silly girl,” he scoffs to himself with a scolding head shake, and within seconds later he leans in, giving you a chaste kiss. you moan, wrapping your arms around him. nanami grunts, swiping his tongue around the sugary sweet lip gloss that glues against your lips before he slowly spins you around.

“is this part of the lesson too?” you sheepishly hum, still feeling hot ‘n heavy from his lips being on yours just a moment ago. with a tiny gasp, you feel nanami gingerly press up against you, gently grabbing your waist. you ached for more, and you didn’t care about the private session anymore.

“partially,” nanami rasps, and you feel him lean further in, resting his chin against your shoulder. nanami stares at your body and he puts his glasses back on before sighing. with a hand gently pushing you forward – making you arch fully, the blonde grunts. “we forgot the other important part of the lesson though, ‘m afraid.”

with a cutesy shake of your ass against his grey crooked slacks that barely clung onto his hips, you bite the inside of your cheek. you feel something brick hard behind you that doesn’t exactly feel like a book. “a- and what’s that, ‘ken?”

nanami slowly licks the left side of your neck and you moan once he lifts up your leg, bringing his lips up to your ear. “penetration, princess.”

second lesson?

#★vegasbaby.#mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell idk #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk #aggnm #female reader

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nanamiskentos · 2 months ago

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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ your boyfriend, gojo satoru, told you that he was gonna' stay behind in japan, he had to go to work and all — he's a high school teacher, you see. so what's he doing sneaking behind the red carpet, looking all suspiciously rumpled and mussed? oh hell no.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, jujutsu canon, celebrity!reader, misunderstandings and mild angst, reader doesn't know about jujutsu, makeup séx, máting préss, cérvix kissing, brééding kink :D

word count ⋆ ★ 5.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ because i've always wanted gojo to be on the red carpet...yasss watched the grammys <3 smth silly, short and sweet i whipped up 😁

THE HOTTEST STAR OF THE YEAR RUSHES FROM RED CARPET, WHY? STAY TUNED FOR MORE.

saint laurent heels beat staccato taps into the worn brick, graff crystals dangling from your adorned wrist as you shove your brightly lit phone into your boyfriend's face, "what the hell, satoru?" the offending headline glaring right back at him from your screen.

gojo, for his part, just shoves his hands into his navy slacks, rolling his shoulders back in that deliciously snug ice-blue cotton dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with pale hair. you curse how your gaze dips, resolve cracking, and glossy lips pursed.

strange, how he he looks nothing short of absolutely roughed up, soft fabric crumpled, and sunglasses tilted askew. white hair mussed as though someone took to running their hands through snowy locks, huh.

"hi, baby. happy to see me?"

oh, he's trying to be charming. cute. gojo's grinning, lips parting over sharp teeth, acting as though he totally hadn't been lurking behind rows of insistent paparazzi practically hurdling themselves around the red carpet stairs.

and despite better judgement and little regard for desperate tabloids springing up, you'd pushed past security, past cries of your name, to chase after your boyfriend, who had just texted you an hour ago at most. about how work was going so great.

"you better have a really, really good explanation for this."

to his credit, gojo has the decent sense to look mildly ashamed. pale blue eyes narrow beneath tinted lenses, and he's faintly chewing on the inside of his cheek, "d'you want the long version or the short version? because you gotta' believe me, baby, hear me out –"

something's buzzing, faintly pulsing to the beat of not like us, it's gojo's phone. and he's fumbling through the deep pockets of his slacks. you furiously snap your eyes away from how well they fit, that's so not the point right now, ugh!

"your side chick, hmm?"

gojo looks vaguely offended, rolling his eyes skywards as he unlocks his phone, "hey, we got some attitude today, pretty. why's that?"

you cross your arms over oscar de la renta, sheer panels stitched to mimic stained glass, bless your stylist, truly. "we got some attitude 'cause my boyfriend told me he was busy with work, and had to teach class. dropped me off at the airport, even."

gojo sighs, teeth kissing his tongue as he clicks, "i am working, believe me. and — oh."

you crunch your heel into the gravel, loose stones that line this back passage behind the carpet and the theatre, "what's oh? 'toru?"

"promise not to get mad?" gojo's murmuring, tilting his dim phone screen around. it's a screenshot of a headline, barely a minute old. the photo? you, here, right now. wagging a stern finger at gojo, who's throwing his hands up in disbelief.

STAR FLEES RED CARPET TO RENDEZVOUS WITH MYSTERY MAN? BOYFRIEND, OR SOMETHING MORE?

the tagline follows, some blithe words about how you're prioritising a man in the shadows, over a shining career? over a golden gramophone clutched in your hand, lights sparkling your name on stage. you hiss at the ridiculous amount of shares and comments already, "oh, come on."

"we're so screwed, baby," gojo sighs, rubbing his temple, swiping away at a quick notification from stoic lookin' blonde who doesn't even crack a smile in his profile photo, kento? huh, you've never met a kento.

you sigh, feeling the headache oncoming at the mere thought of your manager furiously scouring the theatre for you, "we?"

gojo scowls, shoving his phone away, "hey, i have people to answer to as well. last thing i need is a public image."

what an odd sentiment, you privately wonder. gojo is wealthy, stupidly so. you're certain of that. something about old money, his family stretches back generations on some beautiful estate. but he's a high school teacher. you've seen him grade quizzes, seen blurry photos of students in dark jackets and neatly pressed uniforms. a private school on the outskirts of tokyo, sure, but public image?

"since when do high school teachers care about their pr?"

gojo flexes his hands, and your eyes drop. slender fingers that you know like the back of your own hand, fingers you've traced absentmindedly when he's sprawled across your couch, fingers that have curled into the dip of your waist in the quiet hours of the night. long, pale, too elegant for someone as brash as him, tensing now as though he's bracing for impact. he's hesitating, weird, because gojo satoru never hesitates.

well, maybe once. the first time he asked you out, flushed and nigh tripping over himself, looking so damn adorable that you had stomped your loubitons, and said 'yes' just so you could kiss him.

"i need to tell you something, baby."

something cold slides down your spine, and it has nothing to do with the evening chill. the air shifts, thickens, pressing against your skin in a way that makes your pulse gallop. you swallow, tongue suddenly heavy in your mouth at how gojo looks unsettled.

that's what gets you. he's never like this. not even that one time months ago when you caught him unwrapping white bandages from his eyes, headache, he had muttered, fingers gripping some torn, stained bundle of purple and green silk. he had crashed out on your cosmos couch minutes later, surly and morose for the days that followed.

your mind races. his family, it has to be his family. the old-money, aristocratic gojo family, the family that he's never introduced you too. they probably think actresses and pop stars are meant to be ogled at from afar, hardly worthy material to bring home to the estate. your stomach churns, for is that why he showed up here, rumpled and tense, instead of waiting until you got home? is this it, ending things?

your heart's hammering, and you hate this, hate it so bad. how how much you want to cling to him, to stop whatever he's about to say from slipping past his candy-pink lips.

"i'm a sorcerer."

there's a sharp, stabbing pain right behind your eyes.

and you're blinking, slowly, mind whirring. then you laugh, loud. sharp, and far too high-pitched, "god, this is why i love you. you're funny, 'toru. i can't believe you actually had me worried and shit, like –"

"i'm being serious, baby." and that's the thing, isn't it? he seems so, like he believes every word coming out of his mouth. his hands, big and warm, close around yours, and there's something in the way that he clasps you, as though he's pleading, and it makes you freeze.

"swear i would never string you along in something like this," gojo murmurs, "i know it's a lot, but seriously, you can ask me anything. anything, and i'll try to answer. and i wasn't ever sure how i was gonna' tell you, but promise i was waiting for the right time and –"

your boyfriend, bless his beautiful face and questionable judgement, and golden heart, has lost his goddamn mind.

your fingers tighten around his, feeling the scrape of faint callouses and scars, "okay, c'mon. now this is getting a little weird."

"you don't believe me?" and gojo looks, god, he looks devastated. long, white lashes fluttering against icy eyes, earnest in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"babe, you said sorcerer right? like...magic? big pointy hats, and all that shit?"

gojo just nods, a faint flush colouring his cheeks, "jujutsu sorcerer. it's real, like, y'know shoko? remember when we met her at that bar downtown, we went to school together. she can back me up, or –, or, i can take you to the school, or introduce you to –"

"okay, okay!" you pull your hands away, feeling your breath hitch as your pulse pounds in your ears, "satoru, stop. seriously. i don't know what you're trying to do here, but it's really startin' to freak me out."

gojo's jaw tightens, the beautiful and haunting lines of his face hardening. something raw, and something sharp flickers through his eyes, "you think i'm fuckin' with you?" there's something brittle in the low control of his tone, "you think i'd joke about this?

you throw your hands up, bejewelled bvlgari sliding down your digits, "yes, satoru! you joke about everything, sometimes." your heart is erratic now, bile sitting in the back of your throat, "what the fuck are you even sayin', like, magic? that you really want me to believe that you're a wizard?"

"not a wizard, sorcerer."

"oh, my bad," you bite out, lips snapping around disbelieving words, "that just makes so much more sense."

gojo's eyes flare, and he's pressing a thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his defined nose, as though he can feel another one of his migraines creeping up, "god, can you just, — can you just listen to me for once?"

"listen to you?" you laugh, but it's far more of a disbelieving scoff, "listen to yourself, please. satoru, we're halfway across the world right now. i could put my career, my entire future, on hold because i really do love you. and now you're telling me that you — what? fight demons in your free time?"

"curses," gojo mutters, rolling big, blue eyes, as though it makes much of a difference to you.

"oh my god."

gojo's looking at you as though he doesn't even recognise you, like he expected something different, as though you're the one making this hard. his throat is bobbing, adam's apple shifting, and you can see his hands pinch at his sides, "knew you wouldn't believe me," he's muttering, shaking his head of tousled, white hair, "this was jus' stupid, no wonder i never tried this whole time."

"they why do it now?" you throw the words at him, suddenly furious and hurting, because you don't understand why he's pulling this on you, now. "why? like, go on, show me something, then, 'toru! or otherwise this is some insane, insane shit, i can't even – i don't know what you want me to do."

gojo's mouth opens, and then closes. his shoulders droop just slightly, and for a moment, just a brief and flickering moment, he looks far more tired than his twenty-eight years. but a split second passes, and he's exhaling, just stepping back.

"forget it," gojo snaps, voice clipped, "this was a mistake. i got real shit to do, talk to y'afterwards." he's turning, stalking off and pulling his sunglasses away from his face (he rarely does that), as though you're the one that's let him down.

what the fuck? the tell-tale click of a camera rings your ears, followed by a bright flash. great. you need a drink, stat.

you shouldn't do this. you know you shouldn't do this. and yet, here you are, gripping at gojo's sleek phone, left with you when he disappeared to fuck knows where.

your fingers twitch around the case, like you should just chuck it across the hotel suite and be done with this whole thing. but you don't, you just sit there. the silence pressing in too thick, your manager's tired voice still rattling in your skull.

yes. you have a boyfriend. yes, he showed up tonight. yes, you still love him, even if he's lost his marbles.

you keep that last part to yourself, thumb hesitating over your own phone, resisting the urge to doom scroll your way into some clarity. as though your snark reddit thread is going to have some answers for this mess.

the oscar de la renta is long gone, carefully pried off and zipped away into a smooth, dark bag — leaving you in a slinky ysl number, straight from their summer runway, drumming your fingers along the bejewelled hem as diamonds still glint at your ears. and gojo? nowhere to be found.

you exhale sharply, rolling his phone between your palms before pressing the screen to life. you shouldn't, you never do this. in two years, you've never once felt the need to snoop, nor pry, to check if he was lyin' about anything, because he never gave you a reason to.

but here you are, thumbing in the passcode anyway. it's your birthday, fuck. of course it is. you're staring at the unlocked screen, suddenly still, what the hell are you even looking for? if this was some elaborate joke, some ruse, what would you find? some notes app plan to send you spiralling? but it was the way that gojo satoru had looked, as though he had truly been hurt, and it hadn't seem false at all.

your thumb hesitates, tapping onto the messages. skimming past familiar names, shoko (right, yep), that kento, and something from an okkotsu with a smiling emoticon next to it. your stomach churns at the intrusion, but your curiosity (and desire to break free of the doghouse) presses harder. you press at a read bubble.

yaga we think it's a special grade. could possess a domain. gojo exorcised it. 👍

you're peering at the timestamp, thirty mere minutes before you had torn away from the red carpet, demanding to know why the hell he looked as though he lost the fight with an angry gnome, as though he'd wrestled a ghost in the back alley.

your mouth goes bone dry, 'exorcised.' this clearly isn't a joke, it's far too intricate, too deeply woven into gojo's life for it to be some elaborate prank. you feel vaguely ill, swiping through emails, some from a guy named ijichi, reports full of the kind of gory details you'd expect from a crime documentary. terms like domain expansion, cursed energy and a special grade blur together as you flip onto your side, heels still dangling off the bed, skirt hem riding up.

then, by pure accident, you tap into his camera roll. oh, there's so much of you. soft candid shots, like you laughing into a martini. you, asleep in the passenger seat of his car, caught mid-bite into a croissant that time he took you to paris. a dumb, fond smile tugs at your sparkling lips despite yourself, but then you swipe and —

a video. you press play, praying to the heavens above that there's no mortal punishment for being a nosy ass.

gojo, in that sleek, grey suit that you so adore. he seems to be at some restaurant, on a cruise ship, perhaps? demolishing a banana split with the kind of enthusiasm that most men reserve for their wedding night.

next to him, a pale and dark-haired boy is watching in resigned horror, while the bleary, unfocused lens swivels to a group of more, unfamiliar teenagers. they're all dressed in some form of black-tie wear, rambling about completed missions and gojo-sensei.

sensei, you frown, feeling a thick lump in your throat. they must be his students, the ones from his classes, and the way they're talking to him, laughing and giggling? he's so, so loved. fuck, what had you been missing?

the camera lingers on a girl with a sharp sway of auburn hair, propped with her elbows on the table, in a frilly black dress. there's a pink-haired kid nudging her as she snaps her fingers, something glinting on the table.

nails, like those you'd see at some hardware store. nails that move, without her even touching them once. your stomach twists, and you rewind. once. twice. ten times. watching, staring, trying to catch at how the metal swivels without even brushed against.

sorcery. gojo had said to your face, and you had scoffed. tch', you snap the phone shut and shove it on the soft sheets, something ugly clawing at your throat. nausea, guilt. some form of shame, and exasperation with the man you love for not telling you this earlier.

you fiddle with the diamond hanging from your ear, forlornly glancing at the heavy door, for you want gojo. to say that you're sorry, to say that you're furious he didn't explain this better, to say that you love him, that you want him to be alright, that you need him, that you want —

slam!

the door swings open, no keycard, and no knock. and you near damn jump out of your skin, a rush of heat and cold spiking through you all at once. crawling over your bare arms, legs still glossed and smoothed underneath your little dress.

gojo. gojo, standing there, looking undone. ruffled, and heaving as he drinks the sight of you in. those ever-present sunglasses, those tinted shades that he so favours are gone. and when his eyes flick up to you, you suck in a breath so sharp that it scrapes at your throat.

they glow, electric blue, almost too vibrant to be real, like something pulled straight out of a vivid imagination.

"satoru," you manage, voice pattering away at how his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, catching the way his lips part, something frayed and desperate twisting his expression. the fine cotton of his shirt is streaked with red, and there's a smear of that same crimson shade reaching up his left cheek, stretching up to his ear. like a painter who got impatient with a brush.

"baby," gojo exhales, voice thick, as though he's been holding this in all night, moving towards you, steady, "i shoulda' told you, told you more. need you to believe me, but –"

you press a manicured finger against his lips, "i believe you. satoru, i really do. i'm so sorry, i had no idea and — wait, whose blood is this?"

gojo shudders under your touch, just the slightest tremour, eyes blown wide, "not who," lashes fluttering lower, leaning against you, "what. and it doesn't matter much now."

your boyfriend's searching your face, looking for something, something more intimate, desparate in your expression. his brows pulled together, and mouth parting into a soft oh! when he sees a mirror reflection of his own want.

and then, he's kissing you, and you're kissing him. whining desperately into the press of his lips, suddenly hot for the urge to pull your legs right against that thick bulge that jostles at your thigh. to lean more into the wandering hands that tug at the hem of season ysl.

you're gasping, not protesting as thick hands pull at your thighs. laying you flat against the bed, the finest suite that this hotel has to offer. away from prying eyes, and nosy reporters hoping to catch the who's who of your bedmates. or rather, the singular love of your life.

gojo's chuckling at your expression, "don't worry, baby. won't ruin yer' pretty dress," lips curled into a slow smile, burning a determined path down the arch of your neck, past the low dip of your neckline over your breasts, "want me, baby? wan' this?"

"so bad," you murmur, just giggling as gojo groans, pulling you up so you're splayed out for him, balanced across his thighs. the very tip of your heels digging into his back as you cross your legs to pull him closer, "m'boyfriend's so hot."

gojo whines into your chest, laving blossoming bruises over the skin that you know will give the makeup artists a field day, and it's obvious how needy he is. thick curve of his bulge pressing right up against your core, rutting his hips for some friction as he showers you in attention, worshipping your form. lips coming back to press into yours, laving at your mouth.

"hah, 'toru!" you yelp, adjusting the silky, beaded neckline, "easy on the d-dress. fuck, can't explain that to my s-stylist when you –" you're mewling, your words getting lost in the heat of gojo's panting mouth.

"what'dya take me for, baby?" gojo hums, slick strands clinging to his dewy lips, running broad hands over your waist, "but i gotta' show my girl," and here, he's patting lower over your hips, "some lovin', and some care, heh."

gojo truly fears he may be obsessed with you, just as much as the rest of the world is. but he, well, he's the only one who gets to see you like this, the flesh of your thighs splayed out underneath the hem that's ridden up of that gorgeous number you've got on. throwing your head back for him, just him.

he's sighing, prettily, tapping at your cheek with loving fingers, "can fuck ya' here, right? gonna' do it so good, show y'some other things you've been missin' out on."

you tilt your head, "you already fuck me that good, 'toru." feeling him groan, racking his bulge up against you once more, "never made me miss out on a, hah, a d-damn thing."

gojo looks ravenous, eyes still wide, white lashes framing the pools of vibrant, electric blue, "told ya' about jujutsu, didn't i?" pressing a filthy kiss to your lips once more, "well, heh, just you wait. can use it for plentyyy other things, baby."

your dress is being pushed up, the soft fabric giving little resistance as gojo presses the rough pads of his fingers into your hips. haute couture giving way for gojo to touch as much of you as he can.

"baby," he's whining, jaw slack as he slides a finger over the crevice of your thighs, "prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen. love you so bad, it hurts. it really, really does." and how could you not love him back, gojo who's peering at you with dilated, adoring eyes?

"just gonna, yeah, put ya' down there. don't gotta' do much, just lay there, pretty." gojo's pressing you down slowly, gently. further into the mattress, as he slots himself right at the apex of your thighs. slapping at your fingers when you reach for the straps of your heels, "don't," he whines, petulant, "it looks hot. might hafta' get you another pair," bestowing another sweet kiss upon your waiting, swollen lips when you scoff.

"satoru," you purr, carding your polished nails over the man's scalp, threading your fingers through soft, white strands. relishing in how his throat bobs, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, "said you had some jujutsu, that's the word, right? something to show me? well?"

whatever paper thin resolve had been holding gojo satoru cracks, snapping away as gojo's eyes harden, hand pulling at the bands of your thin, sheer panties. ones clearly meant to flirt, and tease.

the lace waistband gives way with a gutting, sopping tear. and gojo's grinning, wide so sharp canines poke out from underneath cherry lips, rolling the ball of torn fabric up and tucking them away into his pockets, snickering as though he's won his prize, "s-soaked, already?"

you fight the furious blush that colours your cheeks when gojo whistles, low and impressed, laying himself flat on his stomach so your heels are swinging over his shoulders, resting against his back, as he takes in the brazen sight of your swollen folds throbbing, "pretty pussy's always so wet for me, heh." watching clear slick gather from your mound to your entrance, sliding his index finger along your slit, "wanna' taste you, baby."

you know there's little else on this earth that brings as much pleasure as gojo's eager mouth, the way he becomes truly ravenous when he's in between your legs — thighs hooked over his frame. how he always knows the right spots to press his mouth to, where to flatten his tongue against your slick. but now? right now, you want him in you. mouth lolling at the idea of his thick inches stuffin' you so, so full.

gojo latches onto your silence, resting his soft head of white hair against your thigh, batting long lashes up at you from underneath his lidded gaze, "or does my pretty girl want somethin' else, mhm?" the corners of his soft, pink lips quirking upwards in the ghost of a knowing smile.

it's hard to form a decent response when his slender middle finger is teasing over your glimmering slit, making you keen at the slick pop! of your arousal ringing in your ears, "s-satoru! think you, hahh, know what i want, please."

you're not above begging, certainly not when gojo's grinning, as pleased as the cat who got the cream. looming up to unbuckle his fine, leather belt, and hissing when his own hand provides just enough fiction to make his ears blush a hot, deep crimson.

you never, ever grow tired of this sight. the pale flush on gojo's neck trailing down, down further past sinous muscle and soft flesh. past the curl of white hairs on his groin, and to the long, thick curve of his cock that already looks as though it's throbbing.

"wait a sec', baby," gojo breathes, two gentle fingers pushing past your dripping folds to gather some of the translucent slick pooling onto the sheets beneath you. the wet smack! of his hand pumping your arousal over his cock like some lubricant, and the way he's releasing a sharp, serpentine sound at how filthy it all is.

he's teasing you, and it makes you groan. makes you writhe on the bed, desperately hoping that he has some form of mercy on you, bucking your cunt against his rounded, leaking tip that's sliding through your folds, "gonna' show ya' exactly how i hit bullseye each time, baby."

there's that luminous blue light, pulsing from gojo's irises (that you swear have reformed into feral, little hearts). it's a shade of blue so intense, it seems as though he's been carved from the sky itself.

"f-fuck," you whine, feeling the first inch of his thick shaft nudging past your swollen, aching folds, "hngh, 'toru, fuck, 's big." whimpering from the sheer pleasure as gojo chuckles, his warm palms resting on your thighs to swing your legs over his shoulders once more. pressing down into the meanest mating press that you can imagine.

glorious, hot inches rummaging past your gummy walls, exploring every crevice as you're certain his weeping tip must already be kissing that sensitive spot at your cervix, "babe, satoru, fillin' me so good already."

the nasty, acute angle at which he's got you folded is something out of your most lustful dreams, ones where gojo's panting just like he is now, already babbling, "always s'perfect for me, perfect fit, love you baby," that low rumble in gojo's chest quivering as he litters droopy kisses over your cheek, your neck and down your collarbone.

that purr falling from gojo's glossy lips getting louder with each surefire hit that he delivers against your sweet, rough spot, and had you been in a more coherent state, you would have been marvelling at how instantly your boyfriend had managed to hit the bullseye he promised, and you hear him faintly laugh, "called six eyes, baby. gonna' show you allll the ways i can use it, heh."

not able to stop the whimper when you feel the sticky smack of skin against your ass, slamming into you over and over again, "y'got two eyes, though?"

a damn near sob when he begins rolling his hips so sluttily, so he can truly swab at you with the most pleasurable sensation, laughing so pretty with a faint dimple creasing the corner of his mouth, "tch', so much to teach ya', baby. don't worry, we'll cover everything."

"hah, 'toru, satoru, babe," you squeal, the very tips of your manicured nails placing little perfect pricks onto the nape of gojo's flushed neck, "fuckin' me so damn' good." and you know how much your boyfriend likes to be praised, for he's flushing even more, whining as you lock your ankles in the air.

and the pace that he keeps up is nothing short of inhuman, tacking his groin against your sloppy clit until there's tears of relief pooling on your lashes. and it's not like you've ever been left dissatisfied with gojo satoru around, for from the very first night, he's been an expert at leaving you bleary eyed, and hazy with little cupid arrows dancing around your head.

but to be aware of all this, well, it's something different. there's that raw, searing blue gaze that you've never caught before, sending waves of raw pleasure down your spine.

each raspy groan drawn out of gojo is punctuated with the thick slap of his cock against your inner walls, that filthy mess of his pre and your arousal puddling beneath your hips and thighs so, so deliciously.

as though he's committing every inch of you to memory, his girthy shaft bullying fat inches, battering your guts with the most tingly, mind-numbing kisses ever, and he seems to be sipping at your lips, downing his favourite taste (or second favourite, he may claim with a cheeky grin). kissing at your neck, beneath the weight of diamonds that glitter at your flushed ears.

you're trying to shift under the weight pushing you down, parting your thighs to create more space so you can gasp, "h-here, 'toru, please. 'm so close, wanna' cum with you."

and how could gojo satoru not want to propose to you right then and there? visions running through his head, all of you. you, his wife, his love, and the idea of, fuck, little bundles with his white hair cradled in your arms. visions that he's heard you talk about fondly before. already dreaming of that opulent diamond band he saw in that window store front of some luxury flagship store.

and gojo doesn't even realise he's getting caught up in that lovesick haze. nimble fingers rolling over the hood of your throbbing clit, tight circles being traced over the sensitive bud. and how he relishes the sound of your wanton moans falling against his ear, you have to finish, he needs to see it.

six eyes kicking up into overdrive as he angles his aching cock just so, that ghostly, cobalt light finding the exact spot in your pretty, perfect cunt to make you whine and squeal, and gojo feels as though he may have just seen the pearly gates when you quiver, shaking in his hold as you release crashes down on you. you, you, you. falling apart so prettily for him, lashes fluttering shut as you squeeze your eyes, and there's that gorgeous glow that he so loves to admire.

"hah, ah, 'toru!" you dig into his back, feeling up the open dress shirt still hanging from him, "s-sensitive, babe. so, s-soo good, mmph!" moaning at the feeling of gojo bursting, filling you with thick ropes of pearly release, throbbing right at your very core. laughing fondly as he kisses you through his own release, gasping and groaning into your mouth, "baby, fuck, baby, love you sooo much." clearly reluctant to even pull out of you, but enamoured by the sight of viscous, creamy cum leaking of you, practically adoring the filthy sight.

"tsk', i got sloppy with my aim, pretty," gojo hisses, "didn't put it all in ya', wanna try again?"

you're tucked against gojo's chest, cheek pressed to that expensive cologne that always lingers on him. spicy, clean, with that faint undercurrent of something sweet. his hand is in your hair, raking through it, and he's laughing, laughing as he smooths down your dress, all so fond and unbothered as you scowl.

for you know that tomorrow, everyone's gonna' be demanding answers as to why that brand new little ysl looks as though you crawled through a hedge backwards. black silk all wrinkled, straps coming loose at your shoulders.

speaking of answers...

"satoru?" you murmur, lacing your fingers with his, and gojo just hums in acknowledge, slow and lazy as you sigh, "do you have a kid?"

your boyfriend's freezing, and you feel him stiffen beneath you as he pulls back to stare at you, "what — like a kid kid? like a mini-me?" pink, kiss-stung lips parted as he's blinking, as though he's missing to whatever you've caught on.

"yeah," you mumble, suddenly feeling a lil' silly about it, "i was just, y'know, looking at your phone. swear i wasn't being nosy on purpose, just wanted to see all that sorcerer shit you were talkin' about. and i think i saw something, like a legal doc' with a kid under your name." tapping your chin in thought, "ugh, what was it again? megumi?"

gojo's features shift, that flicker of 'oh shit' that makes you backtrack, "i don't mind, by the way," you blurt, hands up, "not mad or anythin', just, like, wanted to know. since you were tellin' me everything about you, and if you have like a secret child, or two –"

a beat, and then gojo laughs. you can feel the vibrations of the deep rumbles in his chest, that ridiculous cackle that makes your ribs shake against his chest. thick arms locking you tighter against him as he grins, "oh, baby," he's purring, "it's a long story. see, i met this fella' once, toji zenin, this was wayy back when i was in school, and he killed me –"

"what the fuck?"

"i have a lotta' stories like this, don't worry. i'll tell ya' whatever you wanna' know, hah."

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo #gojo x you #daphworks

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kissingmilfs · 9 days ago

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ʚɞ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ʚɞ

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞.

𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 & 𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒏𝒊

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ��𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

an incessant blaring sound interrupts your nighttime routine. at first, you assume its from the apartment building next to yours. but then the smell of smoke slowly infiltrates any crevice and vent it can seep through. the noises of people frantically exiting the building doesn’t quell the alarm. you feel horrible for thinking what a major inconvenience this is. half of your hair is set with curlers. you grab your purse, keys and phone and follow the crowd down the stairs safely.

once you’re in the night air, you thank whatever gods may exist, it wasn’t your building effected. firefighters flutter in and out of the apartment units sharing an alley with yours. the flames appear somewhat tamed. neighbors mindlessly chatter—speculating what could have caused the fire. EMTs already set up a barricade but it doesn’t stop human curiosity. folks pressing tightly on the wooden barricades and incessantly pestering cops, firefighters or EMTs for any update.

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

thirty minutes later, the flames have succumbed to the efforts of the firefighters. a lingering smell of smoke sits in the air. mud and water mix with the black ash on the building. you see familiar faces crying and holding each other. the firefighters did their best but half of the building got hit the hardest. guilt washes over you. here you felt inconvenienced by the alarm but people have lost most of their belongings and most likely have to start from scratch.

unexpectedly the crowd erupts with a thunderous clap and cheering. it takes no time to realize everyone is commending the firefighters for their hard work. you witness the civil servants peeling off their helmets one by one. it’s clear all of them are exhausted. then some women start dog whistling. with an arched eyebrow, you locate the firefighter causing all the chaos.

the woman stands over 6 feet. she already removed the top layer of the suit which dangles off one shoulder. the moonlight and street lights reflect off her brown skin glistening with sweat. you can hear the gulp of women, straight and queer, as the firefighter curls her fingers underneath her fitted and soaked white t-shirt. she brings the hem of her shirt to her face—wiping off sweat and lingering ash. the entirety of her abs are on display. without even straining you see a drop of sweat rolling down her stomach.

a few women start fanning themselves. you even witness one pushing her cleavage up for prominent display. you hear through the chaos someone announcing residents in your building are allowed to enter again. sighing your relief, you start following the crowd. someone grabs your elbow—trying to get your attention.

swiftly turning around, you’re met face to face with the firefighter causing the lustful gazes and audible desires. with the distance closed—you’re able to see the faded scars on her face and the beginning wrinkles on the corners of her eyes. something about her, her face, those intense grey eyes stirs familiarity in your core. she presents you with a crooked smile.

“don’t recognize me, stranger?” her voice emerges as if from the squashed flames themselves.

you narrow your eyes and let them inspect those features. her fluffy and long eyelashes. her silken black hair that frames her face. the richness of her skin tone provoking you to kiss every inch.

you gasp with recognition. “sevika?”

sevika lets out the tiniest chuckle and nods. her hand on your elbow remains. it sends warmth and comfort throughout your arm. now that you’ve placed the face—you cannot believe you did not connect the dots sooner. yes, she’s aged but she’s still sevika. maybe not your sevika but still the sevika you grew up with.

the same sevika who fiercely protected you and let you crawl into her bottom bunk. the same sevika who beat up the boys for touching you the wrong way. then wiping your tears away moments later. especially the same sevika that took you to the overlook and shared your first kiss with. your guardian angel you never stopped thinking about or hoping turned out okay.

“you’re a firefighter now?”

“well i’ve been one for ten years but yeah.” sevika hold on your elbow shifts, you almost cry, but she only moves her hand underneath it.

your eyes continue searching sevika’s. “i thought you might’ve moved away or…”

sevika knowingly crooks a smile. “or jail?” you cringe but sevika laughs. “yeah, well i came too close a few times. but must’ve had my own guardian angel or something because the last time i got arrested—the judge told me enough was enough. she sent me to some reform program. i ended up liking the firefighter gig so…permanently fighting fires.”

“i’m so proud of you, sev. really.”

“thanks, kid.” sevika takes one step back then inconspicuously checks you out. “maybe not a kid anymore. you’ve filled out well.” she reaches out with her free hand and lifts some hair away from your ears. “and you’ve grown into your ears.”

an instantaneous blush spreads on your cheeks and you swat sevika’s hand away. your fingers reach to situate your hair but sevika catches them. you watch as sevika brings your hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. the feel of those full lips sends signals all over your skin. it’s almost the same effect she unwillingly provoked on all those women. refraining from retracting your hand, you keep your eyes locked on sevika.

she only smiles. her lips spreading across your knuckles. dammit. sevika fully knows the effect she’s having on you. she drinks it in eagerly despite your limited reactions.

“you hurt or anything? you didn’t live in that building, right?”

you shake your head in response to both questions. sevika smiles again. “oh, good. not a damsel in distress anymore. i get off in an hour. you’ll still be up?”

blinking away your visible confusion, you think over her question. “um, probably, yeah? why?”

a laugh rumbles in sevika’s chest but it never escapes her lips. “because i wanna come over, pretty girl. it’s been so long. can you blame me for wanting to make up for lost time?”

“oh. no, i mean, yes.” you groan—feeling like that helpless teenager that always needed sevika around. “yes, you can come over. i’ll be up. im apartment 8C—ring the buzzer and i’ll come get you.”

sevika hums her acknowledgment then releases her hold from your hand and elbow. yet her touch doesn’t cease and she reaches for a few strands of hair. “it’s kinda unfair, ya know?”

“what’s unfair?”

“you’re outside in a robe and hair half done but still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

placing a kettle on the stove, you reach for two mugs and a container of all your special teas. sevika won’t know, but you never offer anyone your good teas. tonight feels special though. you can feel those grey eyes boring into your back. in the hour and a half window sevika allotted you—you showered, finished with the curlers in your hair, and found a pair of your cutest pajamas. the ruffles on the hem of the shorts barely grazed the crease meeting your butt and thighs. maybe overly ambitious?

when you had greeted sevika at the front door—you could tell her eyes didn’t know what to take in first. in sevika’s mind you were the picture of femininity. pink cotton pajamas hugging your curves sinfully. the cute little bow on the camisole teasing her eyes. she hadn’t expected her heart to momentarily stop at witnessing a fray strand you missed in your curler set. and the way you smelled? a mixture of strawberries and coconut with the faintest dash of something earthy.

sevika’s always found hyperfemininity attractive in the women she dated and slept with. but it was something about you…you wore it effortlessly and without second thought. it was apart of you.

she took in your apartment but eventually found herself staring at you as you prepared the tea.

“need any help, pretty girl?”

the words linger in the air before settling into your skin. when did she get so comfortable with petnames? the kettle whistles pulling you away from the lustful thoughts. “i’m good, thanks. do you still take a heap of sugar and milk in your tea?”

sevika barks out a laughter and you cannot help looking over your shoulder to witness the melodic sound. “i guess some things don’t change. yeah, you know what i like.”

squashing your nerves, you carefully pack some tea herbs into a tiny meshed infuser. once they’re packed—you steadily pour water over them in the mugs. normally you’d watch the tea steep, darkening the water, but instead you carry the mugs over to sevika. placing them down carefully on the thrifted mahogany coffee table, you rush back into the kitchen grabbing a pint of milk, brown sugar and some shortbread cookies.

there’s a sudden warmth that appears behind you. before you can properly investigate a calloused yet familiar hand gently rests on your waist.

“you sure you don’t need help with that…sugar?”

you’re hopeless against the drawl of sevika’s words. the end of her sentence hitting with a double entendres. you cannot place a time sevika’s petnamed you, sugar. she awakens another level of curiosity and arousal within you. if only you could see the look on sevika’s face. the knowing smirk of her affect on you. her pupils dilating and darkening in a way you’ve never been privy to.

you cannot help the racing of your heart. or closing your eyes. you don’t even notice you’re leaning back into sevika’s comfortable warmth until her hand shifts towards the front of your hip. as if she’s catching you and relaying the same message: i miss you.

“yes, you can carry the sugar, sev.” the words somehow manage to crawl out after the long pause between question.

sevika barely grunts her response before reaching underneath your arm. she purposely leans forward. her hips now pressed against your butt. you feel the encompassing safety of her broad shoulders brushing on your neck. you find yourself holding your breath until she pulls away. her prosthetic arm, this one different than the one from the fire earlier, smoothly retrieves the sugar jar.

then she steps back, as if, nothing happened and walks nonchalantly back to the couch. she might as well have whistled with the cockiness oozing off of her. you shakily inhale, one, two, three, then exhale, four five six. jitters remain nonetheless.

you find sevika on the love seat and taking up space at that. yes, you technically have room to sit. but you’d be forced to sit directly underneath her. despite the presence of another sofa, you are both aware that is not how this dance flows.

as sevika already suspected, you delicately lower yourself in the couch cushion next to her. your thighs have no space besides pressed tightly against hers. you cannot tell if you’re hallucinating or can actually feel the warmth through her jeans. not wanting to address the obvious silence you begin prepping the teas. a crap ton of sugar and then enough milk the color turns almost a sandy color.

sevika intently watches your actions. your fingers moving with remembered fluidity. she likes the color you polished your nails. finding herself wondering how they’d juxtapose against the pinkness of your spread pussy. sevika cannot deny the intense arousal building within her. it came the second she spotted your face. it dwelled and grew with her longing to hold you and whisper how much she missed you.

every second spent in your presence reminded sevika why she never lasted long in previous relationships. it took her some therapy and time alone to realize she unintentionally looked for you in every kiss, every hug, every fuck. no one ever came close to the calming water you poured on her raging fire. she could not leave the apartment without, at least, holding your face and kissing you tenderly then passionately.

“i learned to make chai. authentic chai.” your carefully plucked words barely relieves the tension.

sevika tips her head a little. “you did? why?”

you blush and hand sevika her tea. the answer feels rather obvious. “you said whenever we got outta there—you’d make me your amma’s chai.” you stop there. you cannot bring yourself to finish. but you know sevika can deduce and fill in the rest.

“did it help?”

“help with what?”

“help you feel closer to me.”

the words linger between the two of you. sevika’s expertly laid her intentions out with a few words. the bait flops in your hands—far too easy to deny or resist.

you turn your head—finally meeting sevika’s gaze for the first time since she entered the apartment. you expected another cocky smirk. instead you’re met with rounded eyes of vulnerability. they almost pool sevika’s desperation. even if you had planned on lying, on denying the obvious, everything vanished. reflected back at you was the same fifteen year old girl you fell in love with.

“no. no, it didn’t. nothing did.” you whisper out the words. almost believing if you speak the truth you’ll awaken from a beautiful dream.

sevika rests her mug on the coffee table. mindful of the coaster present. you focus on the action but within seconds her hand, no longer on the mug, cups your face. it emanates the lingering warmth from her mug. even without thinking, you reach for her prosthetic arm rested on her lap. you settle it on your other cheek. the balance of cold metal and warm flesh somehow feels symbolic. or maybe you’re searching for too much meaning in reuniting with an old friend…lover?

the magnetic pull draws you both closer until your lips are slotted together. moving in synchronization as if 15 years haven’t passed. as if you didn’t only share one kiss. all the longing and aching over pours into the kiss. your heart somehow thumps rapidly yet feels calm and steady within its cavity. when sevika tenderly swipes her tongue against your plump bottom lip—you know in that instance you’d do anything she wanted.

you graciously part your lips with a whimper. you feel sevika hesitate before she parts your lips by an inch.

“you always sound like that, pretty girl?” sevika barely murmurs the question on your lips.

too impatient to answer or decipher what sevika means, you take the inch of space back and unite your lips once again. sevika laughs into the kiss and indulges the neediness. she is just as desperate, maybe even more. her hands ever so slightly tighten their hold on your face. a tiny whimper escapes once again as sevika tangles her tongue with yours. she responds with a eager grumble of her own.

sevika, testing the waters, pretends to pull away. your lips, without hesitation, chase after hers. you both do this dance until sevika manages to guide you into her lap. any hesitancy dissolves. you are reunited with an old flame and you’re desperate to kindle it and let it burn and consume you. straddling sevika’s hips, panting into the kiss, sevika presses one hand on your lower back—keeping you firmly in place.

letting your body make the decisions, not wrapped in the cloud of lingering doubt, you nip on sevika’s lower lip. sucking flesh between your lips as your tongue strokes the inner softness of her lip. you relish the feeing of sevika’s hand gripping your back. the little groan she emits. her shifting underneath—as if you’re already getting her hot and bothered (you are).

her grip still firm on your lower back—sevika tips her head back on the couch. her eyes remain closed as she processes the weight of her actions and of you in her lap. your own lips tingle as you analyze sevika’s face. a smile stretches on yours as you notice her thoroughly kissed and swollen lips. you’re already itching for another kiss. instead, patient as ever, your fingers work to remove the curlers from your hair. it’s no point in pretending you and sevika are not having sex tonight. curlers and sex don’t necessarily pair.

sevika eyes barely manage open as she feels the shift in her lap. she watches in intense fascination as you free your hair. there are varying curl patterns since some curlers where in place longer than others. your fingers delicate despite the slight panting on your chest. your nipples already pert in attention. you do not catch sevika’s gaze until you’re almost done.

she smiles without hesitation the second your eyes meet. her hands begin wandering up your sides. in the wake your camisole rides up with the action. goosebumps populate your skin. your fingers almost tremble pulling the last bobby pin. sevika drags you closer the second the final curl falls. your hair creates a curtain of privacy.

sevika rakes her eyes over the exposed skin and how your camisole rests underneath your breasts. “can i take this off, pretty girl?”

an immediate nod comes from you. “please, yes.”

sevika moans. she moans at your eagerness and how willing you are to trust her. the surprise only lasts momentarily as sevika’s peeling off the tiny fabric. you watch her lips fall apart with a flux of emotions on her face. once the shirt is freed from your hair—sevika opens her mouth to ask for permission.

your hand cradles the back of sevika’s neck and draw her closer to one nipple. “you don’t have to ask permission, sev. i want what you want.”

sevika moans again with the permission. you effortlessly taking control of what you want—turns sevika on more than she’s ready to admit. nonetheless her lips circle around your nipple. her tongue darts around the bud. it earns her the response of you bucking your hips and pushing her closer to your breast. she gladly obliges.

her lips suction your nipple with a little more pressure. a hand comes to cup the neglected breast. palming and kneading with expertise. her large hand encompasses in a way you don’t think any lover has before. her teeth carefully experiment with nibbling on your nipple. you whine in response.

your hips move on their own accord. the combined sensation of teeth, tongue, lips and her hands leaves you desperate and wanting. you relish in the feeling of her jean crotch providing the perfect friction to your needy grinding. sevika groans into your nipple once she connects the dots.

her lips move from your nipple. a string of saliva leaving a connection. she lifts her eyes to yours. a sound traps in your throat seeing the pure need in sevika’s eyes.

hushed and rushed words tumble from sevika’s lips. “i need to make you feel good, baby. please. please can i taste you?”

you are positive sevika’s never had such desperation in her words. because you know no one in their right mind could deny her. but with you…she’s uncertain. the years of yearning bubbling over into this precise moment. you capture her lips in response. trying to say; yes take everything, all you need and want, drink and fill yourself.

with grace of a ballerina—sevika turns the tides and she’s standing with you in her arms, bridal style. you don’t even have the opportunity to be thrown off guard. she moves around your apartment as if she’s walked in this space numerous times. sevika locates your room without instruction.

she lowers you on the bed like a delicate flower. you’re tempted to protest but you give her the grace. you both deserve a tender reunion. sevika hastily steps out of her jeans. she stands before you in her navy boxers and a black shirt. your breathing matches hers with built up tension and anticipation. sevika moves closer to the bed and you begin crawling backwards.

she catches your ankle, shaking her head. “not yet, baby.”

sevika kneels at the edge of the bed on the floor. understanding without her saying much, you position yourself where she placed you before. sevika nuzzles her cheek against the inside of your knee. your fingers find solace in her strands. your nails softly scratching at her scalp. with your soothing yet tingling touch sevika begins her journey of kisses up your thighs. interchangeably switching sides until her lips meet the hem of your shorts.

sevika’s eyes travel the length of your body and her lips spread into a smile as you lift your hips. chuckling lowly, sevika parts with enough space to remove your shorts and underwear in one swift motion. she loses her breathing at the sight of you bare before her. the tussles of hair on your mound travel down to your lips. sevika gently widens your thighs. her action reveals how drenched you are. she can hear the slick separating between your folds. her mouth salivates at the sight and sound.

her hands massage at your thighs eliciting a trembling moan from you. you whimper, looping one leg on sevika’s shoulder. digging the heel of your foot into her shoulder blade to draw her near.

“don’t make me beg, sev. come on…”

sevika groans and circles her arms around your thighs, tugging you closer off the edge of the bed. “i’m sorry, princess. i don’t mean to make you wait. let me fix that.”

she presses a chaste kiss on your clit. you’re about to admonish her for teasing but your words are caught in your throat. sevika roughly drags her tongue up the length of your cunt. she moans deeply as your taste floods her mouth. now paired with your scent, sevika knows she will never get enough. her fingers firmly grip into your thighs and she feasts.

her tongue expertly explores every single inch it can reach. she starts with the languid yet pressured licks. each lick causes you to buck into her mouth. too unaware you could potentially bust her upper lip. not that sevika cares either. she switches her methods and uses the tip of her tongue to tease circles on your clit. she basks in the heavy moan you release as she focuses on your clit. your hips move in faint circles meeting each stroke of her tongue. one hand remains in sevika’s hair—softly caressing her hair or on occasion tugging on the silk-like strands.

sevika whimpers into your cunt as you play with her hair. her whimpers vibrate on your clit in such a sensual way. it produces a high pitched whine that you’ve never heard from yourself. even sevika briefly paused to fully appreciate the noise that graced her ears. nonetheless she returns to worshiping your clit. as she sucks it between her pursed lips, her own hand snakes down into her boxers.

not at all surprised with the pool of her own arousal. her calloused fingers rub an immediate circle around her clit. she’s so wet and sensitive she can barely feel the roughness embedded on her fingertips. but that’s not the stimulation she’s seeking. the second sevika’s tongue dips inside your cunt—her two fingers push past her entrance. you and sevika simultaneously groan. sevika allows you the opportunity to arch off the bed and grind down on her tongue. the warm and wet muscle teasing that special, squishy spot inside of you. her own fingers knuckles deep inside herself.

sevika almost cries into your pussy with the overwhelming sensations. riding her own fingers while you ride her tongue. through the haze in her eyes sevika witnesses the beauty of you chasing your desires. she wants you to topple over on her tongue continuously. if she could, she’d put brush to canvas and honor this moment forever. it only instills in sevika she must never depart from your life again.

your fingers tug sevika’s hair. sevika replies with a whimper and somehow understands the frantic look in your eyes. her lips return to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. she witnesses your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. her own hips speeding up in hopes of climaxing with you. sevika’s tongue dashes across your clit occasionally intent on seeing you lose control with the added stimulation.

“seeeev!” your back arches off the bed and your thighs squeeze her head in place.

those manicured nails sevika adores so much scrape over her scalp. she moans with the stinging sensation. her fingers make squelching noises as she works them rapidly. you’re too lost in the heights of your climax. unable to register sevika is fucking herself as her mouth sends black spots over your vision.

sevika, relentlessly, obliges after hearing a pleading whimper. her lips leave a departing kiss on your clit before pulling away. but sevika continues grinding on her fingers. she bites into your thigh as she chases her own release. it takes everything in you to prop up on your elbows. your eyes watch in widened excitement.

she catches your gaze and you forget how to breathe. the unadulterated need and yearning in those grey eyes set you off for another round. sevika seems to read your thoughts before they even form. she carefully retracts her fingers then climbs on the bed. sevika helps guide you towards the center of the mattress.

“you flexible, pretty girl?” sevika questions. her soaked fingers teasingly run through your folds.

“depends. why?”

sevika smiles too wide for it being such a loaded question. she spreads your legs wider then hovers a little above you. you instinctively press your hand into the shell of her lower back. urging the woman to apply more of her weight. sevika happily follows the non-verbal instruction. she sighs at the feeling of your body.

her intentions soon become clear as sevika presses her swollen and perturbed clit on your mound. you let out a shaky gasp at the sensation. sevika reaches underneath your knee and lifts your leg on her shoulder. a guttural moan escapes you from the unexpected stretch.

“fuck, i’m sorry, baby. too much? i can stop.” sevika is already attempting to lower the leg.

without hesitation you grab sevika’s wrist and shake your head. “no, please. i need to see you come. please…use me.”

sevika bucks her hips with the unexpected words you bestow on her. she leaves the leg on her shoulder. her works to find the perfect rhythm and fluidity to grind her clit down. she eventually settles on moving her hips up and down. it allows both your clits to feel stimulated when she drags down. her prosthetic fingers dig into your thighs as her hips work in momentum. once you’ve grown accustomed to sevika’s pacing—you lift your hips to meet her halfway.

you almost drool at the sight of sevika’s head thrown back in ecstasy. the rhythmic bumping of your clits. the sensitivity it invokes—one you’re bound to chase for the rest of your life. sevika lets out the tiniest mewl. it sounds so unlike her, you almost question, if it came from you. yet her eyes are half hooded and eyebrows scrunched as if in concentration. a thin layer of sweat shines on her face. she’s majestic.

sevika attempts to focus her gaze on you. a pleading tone laced into her words. “baby…baby…gonna…pl-please…”

you refrain from the shit eating grin wanting to overtake your face. “asking me to come, sevi-baby?”

biting her lip, sevika nods shamelessly, needing the permission. craving the permission from her most special girl. “please…”

“you’re perfect, sevika. i’ve missed you. go ahead, beautiful. come for me. let me see you…”

sevika turns her head into the propped leg on her shoulder and messily kisses the tender flesh. you continue meeting her hips despite sevika forgoing any sort of rhythmic pacing. she whispers incoherent love rambles and gratitude. a moan trapped in sevika’s throat gives away her platitude. she slams her hips into you, as if, coming inside of you.

her body tenses above you right before moans bubble from her lips. eventually her tension alleviates to waves of trembling. you remove your leg from her shoulder and instantly sevika collapses atop of you. her legs slotted with yours. you feel just how wet this ordeal made her.

sevika nuzzles her nose into neck. your fingers trace nonsensical shapes over her back. overtime your hearts sync as you listen to each others breathing.

“my pretty girl…it’ll be until death do us part before we are separated again.” sevika whispers the promise into your neck.

an exhausted yet satiated smile tickles your cheeks. “is that a marriage proposal, sevika?”

sevika cheekily nips the sensitive skin of your neck. “and a promise, sugar.”

#sevika #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you

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gojover · 28 days ago

Text

“are you mad at me?”

“no.”

kuroo decides that you are mad at him. he looks up at you, sprawled on the couch with his legs dangling off the other side.

“do you know what i found wedged in between the washing machine and the dryer today?” you ask him.

“what?” kuroo slips off the couch with a groan. he’s growing old, he thinks. both of you have crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes, but he likes to think of that as the mark of a life spent well with each other. the other day, you’d found a gray hair on his head while he was shaving and instead of sympathising with him, you’d laughed.

you purse your lips. “four socks.”

he winces. “oh.”

“oh?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him.

he walks over to you, a little sheepish, but mostly amused at how put upon you appear. “i’m pretty sure socks are sentient. they migrate.”

“migrate?”

“it’s a phenomenon.” he steps closer, hands sliding to your waist. “scientists are baffled.”

you try not to smile, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “tetsurou.”

“come on,” he says softly. “don’t pout.”

“i’m not pouting.”

“you are,” he says, and then because he’s kuroo, he kisses the corner of your mouth.

your lips press tighter, but kuroo just brushes another kiss against the other corner of your mouth. his hands settle at your waist, thumbs gliding beneath the hem of your shirt.

“you can’t just kiss your way out of this,” you protest.

he hums, pressing another kiss to your lips this time—barely more than a peck. then another. and another, slow and coaxing, until your mouth parts and you sigh into his lips.

“tetsurou—”

“mhm?” he kisses you again, like he’s trying to chase the tension away from your jaw. his lips curve against yours when he feels you melt against him, just a tiny bit.

“you’re not funny.”

“i’m hilarious,” he counters, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before drawing back. his eyes are fond, his smile even fonder.

you shake your head. “next time, put your socks away.”

“yes ma’am.” he grins, shifting his hands to the small of your back. “still mad?”

“...yes.”

“want me to try again?”

#16. one person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

#gojofile’s requests #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #gojover’s drabbles

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sobbingscripter · 2 months ago

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Tags: [mlw][mdni][childhood friends][semi-public][cowgirl][oral (f! receiving][female orgasm][reunited][he's got anxiety][romantic][raw][fingering][implied facial][suggested creampie, if that's even a tag]

Jason's not the type of man to get giddy.

Not by a longshot.

In fact, he's not even the type of man to look in the direction of a woman, just because he knows that he'd need to find a girl who's big backed enough to carry his emotional baggage and he's not ready to burden someone with that.

Clearing away his thoughts, Jason takes a step into the one part of Gotham he wouldn't deem as a total shitshow.

The public library.

Walls are strewn with red paper hearts on string, tablecloths are changed to heart prints and there's a gigantic, glittery Cupid cutout right above the librarian's desk. And with each breeze, it dangles and Jason can't hide the amusement in his eyes when the flying baby spins, arrow in his direction. And he scoffs under his breath.

Before moving towards the front desk and he feels the way his breath stutters in his chest at the sight of you.

"Where's Beatrice? Old, short lady, curlers, mole with the hair?" He's damn near frantic. He's not prepared for this.

Pretty hair framing your face, a bright red bow in your hair and sparkling eyes that stare up at him, and your pretty, pouty lips curl at the corners.

"Oh, she's out for a few months. She got her hip surgery, so I'm her temporary replacement." You give him the sweetest smile, staring at him from beneath long, luxurious lashes that could almost rival Bruce's and Jason swallows, nodding his head.

"I—uh— I'm...— excuse me."

Jason leaves through the same door he came in, muscular hands braced on his hips and he lets out laboured breaths. If someone were to accuse him of being a blushing mess, he wouldn't even be able to deny it, instead, only being able to empty his Glock.

Because no one accuses the Red Hood of feeling feelings.

Carding muscular fingers through his hair, Jason tries to hype himself up, trying to give a pep talk that doesn't involve internal screaming and a potential panic attack.

He doesn't understand why HIS Selina Kyle needs to be working at the library he frequents. It seems like a sick joke.

Especially because you probably don't even remember him. Because not only was he like, 10, but he was also, masked whenever you two came across each other.

Quite literally, his first everything.

First solo save.

First crush.

First Valentine.

First kiss.

First fantasy.

First boner.

Jason steps back into the library, his boots heavy on the carpeted floorboards and he steps to the front desk, his chest puffed and a purpose in his voice.

"I'm Jason." He introduces. "I read to the kids on Wednesdays and Fridays."

He watches you glance towards the clipboard in front of you, glossy lips pursed before you nod your head, giving him that exact smile that used to be painted on the forefront of his brain for majority of his adolescence.

"Yeah, Beatrice told me about you." Your head tilts, and you give him that sweet, lovely leer you've always had.

"You're 'tall fella'." And you introduce yourself, before handing him the pen to sign in. A pretty fountain pen, patterned with hearts and he signs the notepad, adding the exact time as well. 12:13pm.

Jason passes into the library, immediately met with the excited squeals of kids no higher than his hip, and he glances at the multiple tables, colourful chairs occupied by excitement incarnate.

"Okay, okay." Jason hums, before sitting on his seat. A bright red wingback, although, the back of it is covered in snowy lace, undoubtedly for the occasion and he places his hands on his knees.

"What books are on today's list?"

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

Jason's halfway through his 9th 'happily ever after' before he glances towards the doorway, your form leaning against the doorframe as you listen intently. Although your attention isn't as much on him, as it is on the children scattered in front of him, wide-eyed stares as though they've never heard the fairy tales before.

The softest and most gentle smile remains planted on your lips, cheeks rosy and brows relaxed, and your arms are crossed over your chest. Before you glance towards him.

Overing him an even sweeter smile.

And Jason stumbles over his words, before his lips purse, and he feels the way his ears burn with embarassment.

"Oooooh, he's shy." A tiny voice calls out and is immediately followed by a flurry of 'ooh's.

And they're right. He is shy.

But he also cannot empty his Glock.

And Jason glances towards you, or at least attempts to, because right above your head, there's another fucking Cupid pointing an arrow at him. And his fist clenches in annoyance at the convenience of the smirking infant, ruddy cheeks and tiny wings that, speaking aerodynamically, should definitely not be able to lift that chubby body higher than a foot or two.

Jason lets out a deep, controlled breath before lowering his gaze to meet yours, pretty doe eyes stare at him with the intensity of a thousand suns and his compression shirt seems a bit too stuffy right now. But he doesn't tear his gaze away.

At least not immediately, because once your pretty lashes flutter when you blink, he looks away. To the complete opposite direction of you.

"You've been reading for a while, so I wanted to ask if you want a juice box?" You offer him sweetly and God, he feels like a pervert because he wants your juice box.

Your sweet, tantalizing and snug juice box.

"Please." He damn near breathes out the word, and you nod your head, carrying in a tray with multiple juice boxes, as well as snacks. Sliced fruit in labelled bowls, incase something isn't immediately identifiable, chips, raisins, cookies.

And Jason looks at the juice box you place in his hand.

Pineapple.

He doesn't know if he's being paranoid, but it's a bit on the nose, but he slides the straw into the hole, unable to hide the snicker that tumbles from his lips at the sight.

And you let out a snort. "Perv."

God.

You even laugh the same.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

When the library empties out, you're left all alone with Jason, golden light streams into the library, although, it's dimmed by the frosted glass windows, and Jason clears his throat.

"Shouldn't you be heading home?" He questions you softly, absentmindedly picking up books that have been scattered across the tables and he sets them back into their places on the shelves. The actions so practiced and familiar, that it leads you to believe he's reading to these kids for far longer than you originally thought.

"I still need to update the system as to which books were taken, so, that'll take a bit." You respond with a sweet hum, clearing out the bowls and empty juice boxes from the tables and wiping them down.

You're methodical.

He likes that.

You've always been methodical. When it came to putting bandaids on his scuffed and knobby knees, when it came to speedily mending his cape before Bruce could find out.

Although looking back on it, Bruce could probably tell.

The lime green thread wasn't too difficult to spot against the shade of his cape, but he just never mentioned it.

"You don't have Valentine's Day plans?" You question him this time, glancing at Jason over your shoulder as you begin to take down the bulk of the worst of the decorations. Mainly the Cupid's. And the origami flowers that dangle from the corners of the room and he shakes his head.

"Not a big fan of Valentine's Day."

"You've never had a good Valentine's Day?" You hum softly, pausing your motions to stare at Jason while he continues to reorganize the shelves, and you get the honour of watching the muscles of his back flex and move with every motion.

"I had like, one." He hums softly. "When I was younger."

"You wanna have another one?"

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

There's something so stupidly romantic about the way the two of you are seated next to each other, a packet of chocolate chip cookies between and conversation flowing like water from a river.

And Jason doesn't know if it's the way the flame of the scented candle reflects in your iris, or if it's the way you thumb away the crumbs from the corner of his mouth or if it's even the way you compliment the colour of his eyes.

But he leans in, impulsive and stupid, but he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours in a sweet peck.

And you stare up at him, eyes wide and brows raised in surprise before a smile spreads across your face. Wide and dimpled, before you place a manicured hand on the side of his face, leaning in and you whisper so softly, just before your lips meet his.

"If it isn't the Boy Wonder."

Jason wastes no time in pulling you into his lap, your thighs pressed against his waist as your hands cradle his face so sweetly, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones as his hands find your waist. Warm, rough palms pressed against the skin of your waist and he pulls you closer.

He doesn't need to say he missed you. He doesn't need to say that you were the only person he wanted to see after the Lazarus pit.

Jason pulls away, pressing soft, sweet kisses along the curve of your jaw, lingering on your erratic pulse and your nails scratch at his scalp, carding through thick, wavy locks. Your head tips back, trying to give him the maximum amount of access to the sensitive flesh as your hips roll needily.

And your lips part to let out a shaky breath, lashes flutter and you whine softly, glossy lips letting out sweet moans that fill his ears, just like that sweet, lingering perfume on your skin fills his nose.

It's all too much.

Too much and not enough.

The way you grind against the bulge in his pants does nothing to sate that burning feeling in the pit of his belly, but the way your thighs press against his waist, as if you're trying to pull him closer.

That.

That does it for him.

It feels like a fucking dream when you hop up on the table, thighs parted and he watches the way your slick forces your pretty panties clinging to your cunt. Outlining the pretty folds and puffy lips, and he groans under his breath, his head moving to rest against the plush flesh of your thigh.

"You're so perfect." He breathes out. "Can I?"

Jason asks you softly, even as his fingers hook around the soaked gusset of your panties, pulling it to the side and clingy gossamers of your slick snap against his fingertips. And he whines when you lift your skirt better, thighs moving to rest on his broad shoulders and his face is nestled between your thighs.

Jason's tongue drags through your slippery folds, wet muscle gathering the stickiness of your slick before he groans at the taste, lunging the glob at the hood of your clit, before he circles the sensitive nub with mastered precision.

He feels the way your pillowy thighs press against his blazing ears, sweet sounds slipping past your lips as your nails scratch at his scalp, fingers massaging his head as your hips lift to meet the curls and flicks of his tongue.

Meaty hands paw at your thighs, and Jason pulls away occasionally, just to press sloppy, wet kisses against your skin, glancing up at you through his lashes as you push his hair out of your face. Right at that snowy tuft, and all the way to the nape of his neck, and Jason could fucking paint the inside of his pants when your nails dig into the flesh of his neck, pulling his face back to your cunt.

"You taste so fucking good..."

One of your hands support your weight on the surface of the table, your head tipped back and hickeys littered across the expanse of your neck and your eyes are half-lidded, moans falling from your lips with the kind of ease that only comes with unbridled and unfiltered lust.

But Jason knows it's not lust.

And if he didn't know it before, he definitely knows it when you pull him away from your cunt, his chin and lips glistening with slick and you lean down, pressing a sweet yet sloppy kiss against his lips.

Before you usher him back below your skirt.

And he sucks at your needy clit, feeling the way your hips buck and twitch, slick coating his lips, his tongue as well as his chin. And thick fingers dig into the fat of your thighs as he laps at whatever trickles from your sloppy hole.

And Jason brings up a hand, pushing your thigh further from his ear, before sliding two fingers into your drooling cunt, feeling the way you spasm around his digits, your belly caving inward and you whine.

"You're so tight..." Jason breathes out, tongue flicking against your overstimulated clit, just as his fingers curl against that spongy spot that makes your eyes flutter shut. "And you're so warm..."

You whine, your body breaking out in goosebumps and you can barely give a warning before you're coming on Jason's fingers, feeling the way he keeps sucking on your clit, coaxing a damn near screaming orgasm from you and your thighs wrap around his head.

And only when you let him up, does he let out panting breaths, before slumping back in his seat, carding his fingers through his hair. And he looks up to you with hazy green eyes.

And you barely wait before you're fiddling with his belt buckle, trying to unzip his charcoal coloured cargo pants, and he lets out a hoarse laugh, before helping you undo the loop and he shifts, just enough to pull his cock out.

And it's so pretty.

Long, thick, beads of precum trickling down that pretty upward curve and pooling just above his cock, flushed red tip weeping and twitching.

And you swallow.

Wrapping a hand around the base of him, and you give Jason a few slow, tentative pumps, watching the way deep breaths escape his lips.

"Ride me." Jason sighs, a soft whimper leaving him. "Please ride me."

Jason whines when your hips meet his, his cock nestled so firmly in your gooey walls, your cunt pulsing around his cock, your arms wrapping around his neck and your face tucked in the crook of his shoulder.

And his hands bracket your hips, fingers kneading the fatty globes of your ass, as his hips tilt upwards, rotund tip pressing against your cervix so sweetly. And he groans, pressing the sweetest kiss against your temple.

And he whines when your hips roll against his.

The air is thick with tension, the scent of cinnamon from that candle that's still casts a pretty gold glow and the smell of his cologne.

Earthy, smoky and so, so intoxicating that it makes your eyes roll back in your head, your nails digging into the back of his neck.

Your hips roll, the plumpness of your ass meeting his thighs in rhythmic movements and Jason's pretty sure the Lazarus pit was bullshit and he's actually dead right now.

Because you're so fucking heavenly.

The sluttiest squelchy sounds ring out from your pretty cunt, and you keep slobbering around his cock, as he bullies your insides so eagerly. Each of his hips move to meet your sloppy movements and Jason's hands massage at your hips.

He savours the way you feel in his hands.

The last time he had you on his lap was exactly 12 days before he died. You had placed the sweetest kiss on his lips, giving him the prettiest little doe eyed gaze.

And you're doing the exact same fucking thing right now.

Bleary eyes staring up at Jason, your lips parting to let out the prettiest, sluttiest little sounds while he fucks up into you. Each ridge and each vein drags against your sloppy walls, and watching the way your brows knit into the cutest little frown.

You look so pretty.

"So fucking pretty..." Jason whines, his face buried in your neck as he moves your hips, harder, faster, meaner but so, so sweetly.

"Shit, can I come inside?" He begs softly. "Please, please, please."

He begs so prettily, his blunt nails leaving indentations in the fat of your ass, his face hidden and you can only murmur a weak 'uh-huh' as you pummels into you so...

Meanly.

Hips snapping vigorously while he keeps cooing, kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist so tightly, he might break one of your ribs. His muscles bulge underneath his already tight shirt, his brows bunch and his hips still.

Jason edges himself just a bit, before whispering.

"No..."

He needs to fulfill his fantasy. He owes it to himself.

"I wanna come on your face."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@jasontoddswhitestreak 🌸

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@allycat4458 🪻

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

#sobbingscripter #dc comics #valentines day specials #valentines day #jason todd dc comics #jason todd x reader smut #dc jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd #dc comics x reader smut #dc comics x you #dc comics x reader #dc x you #dc x reader

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starkeyisthelastname · 8 months ago

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Dealer!Rafe who keeps your purse full and your pussy fed 💵🐱

Rafe who knows he’s gonna be gone all day, so he makes sure two things are done before he goes. He fills your purse with more than enough cash and he gives you the best dick a girl could want. It’s right in the morning too, so his voice is a little more raspy as he talks you through it. “Shit baby… creamin’ all over daddy’s dick already?” He rasped out, his gold chain dangling over your pretty face. You were a mess, sparkly acrylics digging into his toned back, baby pink toes curling as he fucked you deep.

“Daddy… you’re so big.” You mumbled, eyes rolling back as he stretched your dripping hole. You knew you weren’t going to last long with the thrusts he was giving you, pussy fluttering the deeper he went and more he talked.

Rafe slid all the way out, blue eyes watching how your pussy clenched around nothing as you let out a gorgeous whine. “You need daddy’s dick back inside you, don’t you mama?” He teased, letting the tip barely slip back in. Your head was spinning, words coming out in a babble as you wanted your hole to be stuffed again. You were too drunk off of big dick to form a sentence, instead clawing at his abs in a desperate attempt to get him to go back in.

He let out a breathless laugh, absolutely loving to watch your pretty self wanting your shit continuously drilled in. “Keep those legs back for me, ma.” He said, helping you lift your knees to your chest so that he had the perfect angle to your fucked out little hole. “Gotta give my girl whatever she wants. Yeah? Purse full of cash and daddy’s big dick stretchin’ her pussy out.” His voice rough as he slammed back in. He’d always make sure you were taken care of before he went somewhere. His pretty girl always getting spoiled with money and really good dick.

#rafe cameron #dealer!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe concepts #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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bi-writes · 27 days ago

Note

i wanna know about john n his pretty wife!! i have questions!!! how does she deal with the times he gets called in too much, their first big spat? gimme all the angsty details that end with him giving her a little shake 🥴

today marks 37 days. (18+)

he said he would be home 23 days ago, but it's still 36 days too long for you. you talked to him about this, you think.

no—that can't be it. you talked. john did not listen.

you're tired. you knew you would be. you knew it the first time john looked in your eyes when he came inside of you—really came inside of you. no condom, hand fixed against the bend of your jaw, blue eyes wide and focused. john was chasing something then, determined to make it to the finish line of a race, but the thing that always strikes you as strange is that he is always the only one running. there is no competition, and yet john treats your relationship that way.

he always has to win. the winner of the argument. the more expensive gift. the more thoughtful response. the heavier hand, the fatter wallet, the softer kiss—

but he can shove all of it up his fucking ass. he's a liar.

john likes the red carpet whenever he comes home. he likes routine. he likes stomping his boots out on the welcome mat, dropping his duffel by the door, and eating a big meal before he puts you on your back on the marble kitchen counter and eats you out with a voracious growl.

the ring placated you for a bit. big, sparkly thing, something you loved showing off to your friends, at the office, dangling it in front of the gossips at your spin class just to get them to shut the fuck up for once. it made you docile—you liked it for a little while. you liked playing dress-up.

frilly apron. dutch oven full of tender meat. big, wet eyes as you knelt between his legs and let him come on your tongue for being so brave, so good, such a hero. you put the rose-tinted glasses on and let a man fuck you so brain-dead, you forgot your own convictions.

and for what? a fucking BMW?

you're smiling to yourself when you pull into the garage. john's car is there, and you shut your car door with your heel as you make your way inside. you shut the door hard behind you, barely glancing at john's duffel bag by the door as you hang up your leather purse and drop your keys in the bowl.

john's in the dining room. he's sitting at the table, manspreading, and there's a bottle of some dark liquor and a glass sitting in front of him. there's also an ashtray there, where a fat cigar sits, and you scowl when you see it.

it's not allowed in the house.

he doesn't move when he hears your heels hit the hardwood. he does clench his jaw, however, when you pick up the bottle of liquor from in front of him and tip it upside down over the tray. you watch with a bored expression as you fill the ashtray with liquor until it overflows, putting out the cigar and flooding the wood table with a sodden cigar and ashy alcohol.

you take a swig from the bottle once you're satisfied, gritting your teeth as it goes down hard. scotch. fucking gross.

"welcome home," you say bitterly, wiping your hand off on his shirt before making your way into the kitchen. you reach into the freezer for a pint of ice cream, closing it with your hip as you fish out a spoon and pop the lid off.

john is standing in the doorway when you sit on the couch. he's angry, that much is clear, but you pretend that it doesn't bother you. you stick a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth before giving him your eyes. you smile.

"yes, john?"

"i don't ask for much," he starts. you laugh, tucking your feet up underneath you. you take another spoonful of ice cream—this is gonna be good. "do i, love?"

you raise a brow. "you're asking me, honey? or telling me?"

john crosses his arms over his chest, rocking on his feet as he walks further into the room.

"don't get smart with me, baby."

"oooo..." you laugh, and it makes him flinch. "i'm terrified, john."

"i'm not tryin' to scare you, i'm trying to make you listen," john snaps. you point the spoon at him and wink, nodding your head.

"mmm..." you smile. "now you have it, john. bingo. it feels good when your wife listens, doesn't it? and it fucking sucks when she doesn't, huh, honey? when she doesn't do what you expect her to? when she fibs...when she goes back on her word—"

"oh, that's what this is about?" john comes forward, bending low, cupping your jaw with a soft hand before he grips it tight between his fingers. his paw dwarfs your throat, and you glare up at him. "cause i'm late?"

"i feel lucky when you're late," you push his hand off of you. his brow furrows. "you could be dead for all i know, but at least when you're late, your sorry ass comes through the door and can just pretend all over again like everything is fine."

"you knew," john murmurs. "you knew what you were signing up for."

"i did!" you snap. you throw the spoon at him, but he just hits it away, letting it clatter onto the floor. your eyes water. "i did know, and i told you to let me go! i told you!"

"you knew that was never going to happen," john spits. you're startled by the way he snarls at you. john is normally so good at keeping his composure. he fights, but he does it with a smart mouth and a smug smile, but this—the idea of losing you, of letting you go—that pushes him over some edge? "you knew i was never going to let you go, so i don't even know why you fuckin' asked me to. if you think for one second that what we have isn't until death, i don't mind giving you a reminder."

"john," you whisper. your lip wobbles. "john, i love you more than anything in the world." you blink away tears, but they spill over anyways, unforgiving. "please...i can't do this anymore with you. i-i can't spend weeks in agony thinking that you're dead. i can't do it, john. i-i can't, i can't spend one more night in that bed without you—"

"oh, love."

you hate that the sex is so good. you hate more than anything that john is anything but a selfish lover. he might be a man with a few years on him, but his stamina endures. he tests your flexibility with the way he spreads your thighs to accommodate the width of himself, but you welcome the stretch. thick cock splitting you open, sweaty chest against yours, a big hand under your head to keep you close as he licks into your mouth and tells you how beautiful his wife looks, just like always.

how good she feels. how wet she is. how tight her pretty pussy is, how nice it'll feel when it's full of him—i'll keep you forever, i'll make it forever, in, in, in, inside you—

john tastes the way fine wine does. bitter, warm, better with time. it takes a bit to get used to him. it takes a bit of breathing and a bit of familiarity to realize what it is that you have in your hands, but you are just as bad.

he cannot let you go, and you cannot let him go. you claw, and you scream, and you beg for a life that's different from this one, but you won't walk away because it's just not possible.

but what is love if not something that mends what is broken? that drips glue into the spaces between the cracks and keeps what will come apart from falling into itself?

your kisses taste like chocolate, of course.

it's john's favorite.

#captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price thoughts #john price smut

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junicult · 6 months ago

Text

!! the bachelors after their first kiss with you

contains ; fluff! gn!(but written with fem in mind)farmer for most. implied male in alex’s. non canon setting (for most). unestablished relationships—pre dating. alcohol usage. smoking (cigarettess).

note ; i had a nice time in my imagination with this one

harvey.

he stares at you, stunned at how easily you were able to do the thing he’s been thinking about for weeks. how soft your lips felt, how comforting your hand on his chest was, and how genuinely intoxicated just one simple kiss from you was already making him feel.

he clears his throat, and almost like you just sucked every word out of him, all he could muster up was a mumbled, “thank you.” he thanked you. for kissing him.

you purse your lips, trying your darnedest not to laugh watching his face just drop, realizing the first thing he said to you after you kissed him for the first time was a thank you.

“oh no, it was my pleasure.” you tease, allowing a small giggle to slip. he sighs like his blood has run cold, too embarrassed to even respond. luckily for him, you’re just too perfect, and you cool his sting by leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. you pull back with a smile, hand cupped over the opposing one, “goodnight harvey. i’ll see you tomorrow. you can thank me for that one, then.”

sam.

he acted almost as quick as you did, the moment he saw your eyes fixate on his lips and lean in, he wasted no time to fill in the gap between you two.

“you kissed me.” he says, face washed in amusement and adrenaline. he remains a solid grip where his hands rest on your lower waist, clear he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon.

“i might’ve.” you murmur, flickering your gaze to and from his. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think—

“are you all shy now? did i make you nervous?” he angles his head to chase your nervously wandering eyes, mischievous grin and tease in his tone. his hand consciously cups the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your jaw to gently force your chin up and maintain eye contact.

you huff, shaking your head. “well, a little! we just kissed!” you try not to sound too whiny—though, the way his grin spreads almost makes you forget that plan.

“aha! i made you nervous! am i so handsome? am i such a good kisser?” he muses, snickering in triumph.

“sam,” you test, narrowing your eyes through your eyelashes.

“what? you dunno know the answer? wanna kiss again to find out?”

shane.

he didn’t actually think you’d lean in, much less keep it going for so long that he’d have to push against you a moment later to give him a second to breathe.

but you shake your head, misinterpreting it all so quickly. “i’m sorry—i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have kissed you, i don’t know why i did that, i’m sorry—“

“whoa, i wasn’t pushin’ you away,” he immediately rouses, “i’m not mad that you kissed me.” and he snickers lowly, “more like pounced on me.”

“you’re not?” you hum breathlessly, straightening your pants and tucking pieces of your hair back. now your chest bubbles with a new kind of embarrassment. you nibble on your lower lip, attempting to ease your breaths. “i—i dunno why i did that. i don’t usually drink…much less makeout with people while i do.”

you slouch back down on the old, creaky dock next to him. he snorts, tilting his head, “‘m just too irresistible, huh?”

you shoot him a glower. “yeah,” you say like it’s sarcastic, but really, you’re well aware you aren’t drunk enough to start behaving irrationally. “i just didn’t mean to do that.”

“i don’t mind that you kissed me.” he shrugs.

you watch as he takes a swig from his beer can. his eyes focus on the overall still lake in front of you both. “you don’t?”

he almost wants to tease you for all your disbeliefs. he chooses to scoff out a laugh instead, shaking his head. “mm-mm.”

you turn to face the water, gently swinging your dangling legs over the edge. “hm,” you hum back, “maybe we should talk about that when we’re both sober.”

sebastian.

he’s borderline shocked at how easy it was for him to kiss you back—no hesitation after your fingers brushed the back of his hair to pull him in. he’s almost loopy, too, and he’s never been the type to swoon so hard from these kinds of affections. but he’s also learned a lot has changed since he first met you.

“you taste like cigarettes.” you murmur as you step back, licking your lower lip as if to repeat the taste. you turn towards the city lights, and for the first time he’s finding it nearly impossible to follow your gaze.

“i’m sorry,” he truthfully says, absentmindedly stepping down on the previously tossed cigarette butt at his shoe. “i’ve been trying to stop.”

“tastes like you, too. mixed in, i guess.” you note with a smile, “it’s not terrible though. but good, you should try and quit.”

he honestly doesn’t know how to take that—in his mind, he can’t imagine that tastes good, much less the combination any glorious. yet you turn to him again, stuffed hands unfolding from your pockets to reach across for his.

all you had to do was to give him a tiny tug, sliding your hands up his shoulders before he repositioned his own back to where they previously sat on your waist.

“let me bask it in while i can, though.”

alex.

you’ve almost never seen him with this soft, content look on his face. you’re half expecting him to burst into laughter, try to justify his actions with a teasing lilt and offer to pretend like it never happened.

but no. all he does is look at you, watching the way your eyes shift between each of his, evaluating. like he’s waiting for one of you to break.

you take the bait. “why’d you do that?” you murmur, quiet enough the wind almost picks it up.

he shrugs. “i dunno. it felt right.” he hums, and despite his uncertain words, he says it with sincerity. “was that the wrong choice?”

you think for a moment. for you, you surely thought about it for weeks. but the timing certainly didn’t feel appropriate. vulnerability changes a man like him most of all, and the last thing you’d want to do was take advantage of that. you absentmindedly swirl the grains of sand under your fingertips.

“no, i don’t think so.” you respond easily.

he nods. you’ve never seen him this quiet, but despite that, you’ve got an idea of what’s exactly going through his mind. when he turns away, you’re certain.

“you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“of course not.”

elliott.

he had almost forgotten why he invited you over—just for inspiration on the last couple chapters of his novel, or did he honestly plan for it to go like this?

“so…what happens after they…kiss?” you coyly murmur, still held in his embrace so close you can smell the drop of pomegranate on his lips.

“well, i haven’t written that far just yet,” he pauses to take a breath, “i was hoping they’d finally confess their love.”

he’s so handsome this close, your head still reels and lips feel fuzzy as you struggle to bring back in your even breaths.

you nod, slow and computing. “yeah—no, that sounds good.”

your plump lips hold him in a trance, as do his, making it so hard to concentrate on his words all the while you feel you’re too fixated on them.

“so you believe they love each other? that they should finally tell the other?”

the kiss rendered you thoughtless—what can you expect from a romantic like him? however, the metaphor is not lost on you. and had he let you go at this point, it wouldn’t have been so easy for you to eagerly nod, “absolutely. two people in love should tell each other they’re in love.”

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kpop---scenarios · 2 months ago

Text

Fulfilled

Pairing: Chan/Hyunjin/Han/Changbin x Reader

Summary: You're in a relationship with all four men, and tonight is the night for something special.

Warnings: Smut [ unprotected sex, creampies x4, oral - f. receiving/m. receiving, light hair pulling, lots of good girl, just smutty things in general] 18+ ONLY. MDNI

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: This was commissioned by @pixie0627 ! I hope you love it! Also HUGE thank you to @iridescentxstars for being my beta reader/helper/idea bouncer/everything else on this. I so appreciate you!!

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97 @1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13 @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez @stayatinykatsy @catlove83 @jeonginstulip @kaleigh-2002 @honeycombbaybee @hyuneyeon @flylis @kpop-choco @chloe-elise-2000 @eastjonowhere @stephanieeeyang @nightmarenyxx @0325tiny @m1nn1everse @igot7bulletproofmonstas @imeverycliche @cathyxhaddy

“Who's ready for a movie night?” You yell out as you walk into your boyfriend's apartment, who he shares with your other boyfriends. You close the door behind you, seeing Changbin sitting on the couch, the other three not yet in the room.

“Hi, beautiful.” Changbin smiles.

“Hi Binnie.” You grin, setting down your purse on the chair, walking into the room. Changbin stands up, pulling you into him, giving you a kiss before sitting back down on the couch.

“Where are the others?” You ask, trying to peek into different rooms.

“Uh, Chan's in the kitchen, Hyunjin is in his room and Han had to run out but he'll be back soon.” He responds. You shuffle your feet, making your way into the kitchen, seeing Chan standing at the sink washing dishes. You sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hi, baby.” He laughs. You move around to his side as he turns his head, planting a kiss on your already puckered lips.

“Hi.” You smile, letting go of him, heading out of the kitchen and to the hallway towards Hyunjins room. Without knocking, you push the door open, rushing into his room to jump on him as he lays in his bed.

“Surprise.” You laugh, your hair dangling in your face. Hyunjin laughs with you, pushing your hair away before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly.

“It's not a surprise if I knew you were coming.” He mumbles, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“But you didn't know when I was coming, so it's still a surprise.” You say back. “Come on, it's movie night.” You finish, trying to pry yourself out of his grip.

“Is Han even back yet?” He asks. “I'm sure we've got time before he gets back…” He says, grabbing your ass.

“You know damn well it's not your night tonight.” You giggle, wiggling out of his embrace. You help pull him out of bed, dragging him behind you towards the living room. As soon as the two of you make it to the living room, the front door opens and Han walks in, his face lighting up the second he sees you.

“You're here already.” He smiles, giving you a kiss before taking his bags to the kitchen.

Changbin and Hyunjin pull you down onto the couch with them as you all wait for Chan and Han to be done in the kitchen so you can start the movie.

“What are we watching tonight?” You ask, watching Chan and Han place snacks onto the coffee table.

“It's between The Nun and The Nun 2.” Chan sighs.

“Who put Han in charge of picking the movie for movie night?” You groan.

“Don’t worry, we'll protect you, baby.” Hyunjin laughs as they all settle into their spots. Changbin and Hyunjin sat beside you, while Han sat between your legs on the floor. Chan on the other hand, sat in a chair by himself, which you didn't question, and soon you would find out why.

You had a hard time concentrating on the movie. On one side you had Changbin holding your hand, his thumb gently rubbing the inside of your palm, while Hyunjin on the other side of you, had his hand on your thigh, slowly creeping up, gently squeezing you, making you feel a lot of different things. Han sat below you, rubbing your legs, it felt so fucking good, it made you want to let out a moan, but only for a second until you glanced over at Chan, who paid no attention to the movie, but instead sat there and watched you with the other three. You couldn't gauge the expression on his face, it was too dark in the room, but you could feel his eyes on you.

You wanted to say something to him, but before you could, the movie paused, and the lights remained off. The touches stopped as Chan sits on the edge of the chair.

“Y/N.” He begins.

“Yes?” You respond.

“Do you remember the conversation we had with you a few weeks ago?” He asks

“We've had a few conversations in the last few weeks.” You murmur.

“You know which one I'm talking about.” He says, his voice was firm, unwavering. You knew he wasn't playing around.

“The one…with… all…” you trail off, the knot in your stomach growing bigger.

“The one with all of us baby, use your words.” Chan says.

“Yeah… the one with all of us.” You whisper.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I… um…” You stutter.

“Use. Your. Words.” Chan says, again. His voice is a little more stern now. “If you don't want to, then tell us. This only works if you're honest about what you want and what you don't want.”

You clear your throat. “I want to, but I'm just… scared, I guess.”

“We'll talk you through the whole thing, baby.” Changbin says, squeezing your hand.

“What are you scared of?” Chan asks. His voice is now soothing and calm. You can feel Han still rubbing your leg, Changbins hand still in yours, Hyunjins hand still wrapped around your thigh.

“That it's going to be too much…” You whisper.

“Speak up, baby.” Hyunjin urges, squeezing your thigh.

“It'll be too much for me, that it'll hurt.” You say again, speaking a little louder this time. “Or I won't be good at it… and you'll all be disappointed.”

Chan chuckles lightly. “I thought you would know better by now, baby.” He begins. “There is no way that you could disappoint us. If you want to try and it's uncomfortable for you, or you don't like it, whatever the case is, then we stop. If you're not enjoying it, then we're not enjoying it.” He explains.

“You are our main priority.” Han chimes in. “That's why we have a safe word. You remember what it is, right?” He asks.

“Pineapple.” You say.

“Good girl.” Changbin murmurs.

“This is your decision. If you want to go ahead then say so, but if you don't, you can have your night with Han as planned.” Chan tells you. He slouches back in his chair, legs spread as he watches you. Changbin and Hyunjin both turn their heads to face you, while Han spins on the floor to face you as well. You bite your lip as you try to decide what you want to do. You did want to go through with this, and you knew that if you wanted to stop, they would, but new and out of your comfort zones were always terrifying.

“Let's give her a minute to decide.” Chan says, getting up from his chair. The three others all follow suit, getting up to leave the living room.

“Wait!” You call out, standing up as they walk towards the kitchen. They all turn around to face you, waiting for your answer.

“Yes.” You whisper.

Chan looks at you with another eyebrow raised. You clear your throat, taking a deep breath.

“Yes.” You say louder. “I want to do this.”

You had met Chan first, and when you started seeing him more, you had finally told him you were a virgin. In the past some men found it weird and ended up ghosting you, or they became weirdly obsessed with the fact that you hadn't been with anyone else, to the point that you ended things with them. But not Chan. He remained his usual self, and when he brought you home to meet his roommates, even in your lack of experience, you knew there was a certain kind of dynamic there.

A few days into hanging out, Chan sat you down with Han, Changbin and Hyunjin and that's when he started the talk, specifically the talk about all of you being in a relationship together. At first you were taken aback, how the hell were you supposed to be in a relationship with all four of them, what if you didn't like them in that kind of way? Chan somehow knew that wasn't going to be an issue and had you start going out on dates with each of them, of course with your consent. It didn't take long after that for you to realize that you had fallen for each of them. They all brought something to your different relationships that the others maybe didn't have, or it isn't their strong suit. But when it came to sex, fucking, making love, whatever you wanted to call it, they were all on the similar side. Gentle when needed, rough when needed, always putting you first and making sure you were more than taken care of. You had never in your wildest dreams thought you could be happy with more than one man, but here you were, almost 2 years later and you had never been happier.

“You're sure?” Hyunjin asks as they all walk towards you.

You nod your head yes, unsure if you were going to be able to actually speak.

“Words.” Chan grunts, grabbing onto your hand.

“Yes, I'm sure.” You manage to squeak.

“Good girl.” Chan smiles. “Let's go.” He finishes, turning around, walking towards a bedroom. You don't follow, feeling stuck in your spot. Han notices first, walking back down the hallway to grab your hand, pulling you towards Chan's room with the rest of them.

As soon as you're in the room, the door closes and there's hands pulling and grabbing at you. Chan stands behind you as Hyunjin comes up to you, kissing you. His lips are soft as they gently move against yours. Your face is pulled away from Hyunjin's, as Changbin presses his lips to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. He releases you, Han’s hand grabs the back of your head, moving in for a kiss of his own, leaving you breathless. Changbin is peppering kisses against your neck before Han pulls away from you. You let out quiet moans as their hands are all over your body, touching you in places that make your knees weak. Your body tenses, Chan can feel it immediately.

“Just relax baby.” Chan whispers into your ear, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

Han reaches for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your body, throwing it somewhere in the room. Hyunjin unbuttons your pants, kneeling down to pull them down your body. You step out of your pants, Hyunjin's hands grazing up your legs, his fingers touching your clothed cunt. Chan unhooks your bra, letting it slide down your arms. You can feel his cock slowly hardening as he presses himself against you. Changbin grabs your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You let out a small gasp at the feeling. Hyunjin moves down to wrap his lips around your other nipple while Han pulls down your panties, leaving you naked and exposed in front of them all.

As quickly as it began, it stopped. They all back away from you, quietly admiring your naked body while you feel the wetness seep from inside of you. A chill hits you, you move to wrap your arms around yourself, trying to cover your naked body.

“Don't.” Hyunjin says.

“Don't cover yourself, baby girl.” Chan whispers into your ear.

“We wanna see you.” Changbin whispers.

“All of you.” Han murmurs, motioning to your arms. You move them away from your body, hanging them down at your sides.

“You're doing great, baby.” Chan murmurs as Hyunjin grabs your hand, pulling you towards the bed.

“Lie down.” Han says, motioning to the bed.

“Legs spread.” Changbin adds in.

You walk past them all, feeling a little more confident as you crawl onto the bed, laying on your back with your legs spread wide, waiting for whatever they wanted to give to you.

You watch each man intensely as they all begin to strip, except for Chan. They pull their shirts over their heads, dropping them to the floor, before taking off their pants and boxers, each one of their thick, veiny cocks standing tall. Without a word, they all moved to their positions, as if they talked about where each one was going to go, though you were sure they had.

Changbin walks to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees as he pulls you closer towards the edge. Not a word is spoken as Chan taps Changbin on the shoulder, glancing towards Han. Changbin silently moves away, letting Han take his place instead. It was, after all, supposed to be his night . Han doesn't say a word as he places your ankles over his shoulders before he spreads your lips, wrapping his lips around your clit.

“Fuck.” You gasp, immediately feeling nothing but pleasure flowing through your body, while Hyunjin and Changbin watch you get your pussy eaten, while Chan watches from the corner of the room. You let out small whispers, trying to contain your noises.

“Let us hear you.” Chan pipes up, his voice is low. “You have to be louder.”

You don't say anything, honestly you barely heard him. Your eyes were closed, you were focusing on what Han was doing and how it felt. It wasn't until you felt a smack on your inner thigh that you realized someone had been talking to you.

“Let us hear you baby.” Hyunjin says, crawling onto the bed. He kneels beside you, grabbing your tits, playing with your nipple. You look over at him, seeing his cock standing tall, twitching, desperate to be touched. You reach over, rubbing your thumb over his tip, spreading the cum seeping out of him around his cock before you slowly begin to jerk him off. Your moans increase, as well as the volume, moaning Han's name as Changbin gets on the bed at the other side of you, playing with the other nipple. You do the same to him, spreading his cum around his cock before beginning to jerk them off. Your eyes land on Chan who adjusts himself in his chair. You swore you could see his cock twitch in his pants as he adjusted to the tightening.

“Does that feel good?” Changbin asks, leaning forward to suck on your nipple.

“Mmhmmm.” You moan, biting your lip.

“Words.” Chan calls from across the room. He stands up, walking over to the edge of the bed, looking down at you. “Answer us when we ask you a question.”

“So fucking good.” You pant. Han switches between sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue, it was driving you crazy. “Please.” You gasp, you let go of Hyunjin and Changbin's cocks, reaching down to Han's head, grabbing a clump of his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Please what?” Chan asks from the edge of the bed.

“Please can I cum?” You whine, feeling your orgasm coming but then dropping back down as Han switches methods.

“She wants to cum, Han. What do you think?” Chan asks, watching your eyes roll back as you try to grind on his face.

“I say we let her.” Hyunjin responds, wrapping his hand around his own cock, stroking himself at the sight of you.

“You wanna cum bad, don't you baby?” Changbin asks.

“Uh huh.” You groan, riding Han's tongue.

“Cum then.” Chan smirks. “Cum on his face.”

With that, Han goes into overdrive, pushing two fingers inside of you while he sucks on your clit, both Hyunjin and Changbin suck on your nipples, making you explode. You scream out as your orgasm pushes through your body, sending you into pure euphoria.

Han pulls away from you, licking his lips to lap up your juices from his face. The four of them surround you, as you pant, waiting for whatever was coming next.

“On all fours.” Hyunjin tells you. Han adjusts himself behind you as you struggle to get up. You can hear a zipper from behind you. You turn to look, seeing Chan getting undressed, you watch him pull down his pants and his boxers, letting his throbbing cock spring free.

You feel Han's hands on your hips as he pushes himself inside of you, Hyunjin kneels in front of you. “Open wide.” He tells you. You open your mouth, letting Hyunjin push his cock inside while Han pushes himself into you deep, letting out a low groan as he adjusts inside you. You close your mouth around Hyunjin's cock, your arms already shaking. Changbin and Chan are on either side of you, stroking their cocks as they watch you get fucked from both ends.

You try to moan, but it's muffled as Hyuniin thrusts his cock into your mouth, doing his best to shove it deep down your throat.

“Fuck baby, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Han groans. He throws his head back as his grip on your hips tighten, but it doesn't last long. Chan clears his throat, halting all activities. Han pulls out of your cunt, while Hyunjin pulls out of your mouth. They all trade spots, with Chan now kneeling in front of you, Hyunjjn on one side of you, with Han on the other side.

“You're finally joining us?” You pant, looking up at Chan. He smirks at you, grabbing your chin.

“Open up, baby.” He murmurs, right as Changbin pushes his cock into you. You cry out as he stretches out your pussy, and Chan takes that opportunity to slip his cock into your mouth, making you gag.

“Mhm, we love that sound.” Chan groans, grabbing onto a clump of your hair, pushing into your mouth harder. You were finding it hard to concentrate, Hyunjin and Han's hands roaming your body, smacking your ass while they stroke themselves, Chan fucking your face, and Changbin ramming his cock into you. Changbin reaches under, placing his fingers on your swollen clit, rubbing it gently but fast. You clench your cunt around his cock, humming with Chan's cock in your mouth, making him moan.

Changbin fucks you hard and fast, you whimper as loud as you can as you feel your second orgasm steadily approaching.

“You're doing so fucking good.” Changbin grunts. “Cum for me… fuck.” He groans.

Your orgasm hits again, Changbin thrusts faster. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum.” He whines, letting out a deep breath as he releases his load into you. “Holy shit.” He breathes, his thrusts slowing down as he works through his high. He takes a moment before he pulls out of you, stumbling back to the chair in the corner of the room.

“You guys keep going, I'm good.” he breathes, resting his head back on the back of the chair to close his eyes for a moment. They all chuckle as they switch positions again.

“On your back, baby.” Hyunjin smirks. You roll onto your back, welcoming the break to your arms. Hyunjin places your ankles on his shoulder, sliding his cock deep into you. Chan and Han jerk themselves off, watching your tits bounce as Hyunjin rails you.

“You're doing such a good job.” Hyunjin murmurs, holding tightly onto your legs. “Such a good fucking girl.”

His words send shivers down your spine as your eyes close, letting out breathy moans.

“How does it feel?” Chan asks you.

“So… good.” You breathe.

“You wanna cum again?” Han asks, groaning while he stroking his cock faster. “You wanna cum all over Hyunjins cock?”

“Yes… yes please make me cum all over his cock.” You moan.

“Fuck, baby.” Han moans. “I'm not lasting much longer.” He pants.

Without another word, Hyunjin pulls out of you, trading spots with Han, letting him fuck you now. Han pushes into you again, moaning loudly. “Jesus fucking christ.” He groans, his fingertips digging into your hips as he fucks you as hard and fast as he can. “Shit, shit, shit.” He cries out, cumming only seconds later, spilling his cum deep inside of you.

“Magic pussy, baby.” Han chuckles, pulling out of you. He makes his way out of the room, leaving you with just Chan and Hyunjin now.

“You want a turn?” Hyunjin asks Chan, motioning to you.

“You can go first.” Chan replies, leaning down to wrap his lips around your tits. Hyunjin pushes his cock into you, making you gasp. You were sore, exhausted and just drained but you were having so much fun and it felt so good, you didn't want it to end.

Hyunjin holds your legs up high, his large hands grasping your ankles while he drives his cock into you. Chan continues to suck on your nipple, while reaching between your lips, rubbing your overly sensitive clit.

“Oh fuck, please, no.” You gasp, trying to sit up. Chan gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

“Let me take care of you baby.” He whispers. He only uses one finger on your clit, slowly rubbing it, making your whole body jolt. “Doesn't that feel good?” He asks.

You nod your head, biting your lip while you buck your hips.

“Words, baby girl. You have to use them.” He whispers. You listen to Hyunjin grunt as you squeeze your pussy around his cock, his grip on your legs tightening even more.

“So good… you both… make me…feel so fucking good.” You cry out, your third orgasm flowing through your body. Your clit felt raw, your pussy throbbed as Hyunjin rammed into you over and over again. But seconds later, he couldn't hold onto it anymore.

“I'm gonna cum.” He pants, slowing down his thrusts as he fills you up with even more cum. He smiles at you as he pulls out of you, his legs shaking as he backs away, sitting on the chair trying to catch his breath.

You lay there, feeling like you're not going to be able to move, until Chan lays down, his cock dripping with pre-cum, standing tall.

You turn your head to look at him, and he smiles at you.

“Ride me.” He murmurs. Without a word, you gather all your energy and get up, crawling over to him, feeling the cum of Changbin, Han and Hyunjin seep out of your cunt. You straddle Chan as the door opens, Han and Changbin making their way back into the room. They sit down with an exhausted Hyunjin, watching you sink down onto Chan's cock. You gasp loudly, your nails dig into his chest. His hands rest underneath your ass, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. You drag your nails down his chest, making him moan as he bounces you faster and harder. Suddenly, you get your fourth wind, you grind your pussy on his cock, riding him as hard and as fast as you can.

“That's it baby.” Chan groans. “You've done so fucking well tonight.”

“Fuck, look at you go.” Han groans. “Riding his cock like the good girl you are.”

You throw your head back, your clit rubbing against Chan in just the right way, you can't help but cum again, all over his cock now. Chan begins to bounce you again, desperate for his own orgasm.

“Fuck, yes, just like that baby.” He grunts, trying to hold it back. But he watches you run your hands through your hair, and the way your tits were bouncing while you rode him and he couldn't hold back. “Goddamn, I'm cumming.” He groans. He holds you down in place while he cums, filling you up for the last time tonight. He breathes heavily along with you, until you roll off of him, unable to move or speak, hell, you could barely even breathe in the moment.

None of them say a word. Instead, Hyunjin gets dressed, and Changbin comes to scoop you off the bed. He carries you out of the room and into the bathroom where the tub is filled with water and bubbles, candles all over the bathroom as well as your favorite drink sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Changbin slowly puts you into the bath, where you practically sink down into the water, the heat feels so nice on your body. Your eyes are closed, you don't feel like you can open them at all. You're completely beat. Han and Changbin sit outside the tub, on the floor and one rubs your head while the other one rubs your feet.

Not long after, Hyunjin and Chan come into the bathroom, smiling widely as they watch you relax.

“So.” Hyunjin starts. “What'd you think?”

“Mhmmmm.” You mumble, letting out a giggle as Chan's reminders flow through your head. “That was…” you breathe. “Amazing.”

“So you had fun?” Changbin laughs.

“So much fun.” You mumble. “But I'm so sleepy.”

“When you're ready, I'll take you to bed. After all, it is my night.” Han smiles. Your eyes shoot open, you stare at him, terrified. You didn't think your pussy could handle anything else tonight.

“To snuggle.” Han laughs. “I think if you ever wanted to do this again, you'd need to rest after first.”

“Rest. Yes. Resting sounds wondering.” You smile, closing your eyes once again.

“I didn't hear a no to doing this again.” Chan laughs.

“That's because there's no way in hell I'd turn down doing this again.” You laugh. “Maybe we could try some new things too..” you trail off.

“Like what?” Hyunjin asks, they all raise an eyebrow.

“I've heard about… double penetration… could be fun.” You say.

“Alright!” Han yells. “Who's the one corrupting her!?”

“You.” You laugh, pointing to Han. “You were the one who said it would be fun.”

“Shit, that's right.” Han nervously laughs.

“Alright, that's it, she's sleeping with me tonight.” Changbin says, throwing his hands up.

“No, if anyone, it should be me!” Hyunjin chimes in.

“Why you? It should be me, actually.” Chan laughs.

You laid in the tub, listening to the four loves of your life argue over who you were sleeping with tonight, and you really and truly had never been happier with your life.

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harmonysanreads · 2 months ago

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oh to baby the ever handsome flawless hero,,, phainon you deserve to be handfed and get your cheeks pinched and cooed at. i need to cut fruits for him i need to make sure he stays warm in cold weather. please maintain your whimsy if he loses that boyish smile i will END IT ALLLLLL

“You're so... cute.”

Being caught by surprise spells death for a warrior and you are a master at enacting that incantation every time. Phainon would've marinated in the bafflement of it all for a while longer, if his reflexes hadn't acted faster, arms springing forward to catch your figure — deliberately pushed towards himself.

“Haa — mmf?” his must look like a visage worthy of jeer, but his attention is too flighty to focus on anything less important than the press of your palms against his cheeks, mushing the flesh together to your whimsy.

It wouldn't be difficult to push you away, if his left hand hadn't been occupied with securing your balance on his lap, firmly coiled around your waist. But it would be incorrect to assume his wishes lay anywhere in that territory, his very free and very much functioning right hand dangling by the side seemed to provide evidence to his prominent disinterest in severing the contact.

Light falls on your back, veiling your exact expression from his curious eyes. But he can tell that you've leaned closer, feel the absence of heat from where your hand parted ways from his skin and settled amongst the ivory strands of his hair.

“How can a man be this... this adorable?” there's a frightening mix of endearment and frustration in your voice, unless he's losing his mind. Your vigorous ruffling of his hair next, assures him that he has not.

“It should be illegal to be this precious.” the pout that he's most certain exists on your lips bleeds its way to your admissions of how endearing he apparently is. He's unable to force words out of his parched mouth, blood clogged around from his ears to his cheeks — where you deliver a sharp pinch to, rouging the skin further.

His winch is promptly muffled by your skin, the abrupt pull your hand causing him to crash straight into your embrace. He can feel the barely-there weight of your cheek brushing against his hair, utterances of a line of words he vaguely recognizes as abstract terms of endearment bounces off his ears. You try to rock him like a newborn child, he assists by melting further in your arms.

The grip you have around him is by no means strong, but the thought that he could take advantage of it to liberate himself from this embarrassing situation does not once cross his mind. He doesn't even find it the least bit flustering, in fact.

Just as quickly as it started, you pull him away from your arms and all the muscles in his face drop. It does not seem like you thought it vital to be acknowledged either, focusing instead on scooping a few grapes from the bowl of fruit that Phainon cannot even recall you putting down.

“What are you thinking about? Open your mouth.” his jaw slackens at the command, at a speed that'd no doubt give many people whiplash. If wind passed by at that moment, it'd no doubt whistle in his head.

You push one after another piece of mouthwatering fruit, but his braincells scurry away from processing the tastes of them. Bright blue eyes cradle the pleased curve of your lips with utmost caution, caress the purse between them whenever he appears slow in following your motion. He feels moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. Your smile, your warmth, the timbre of his voice, all so heart-wrenchingly ethereal —

“Tsk, look at how messy you are, can't even chew a piece of fruit cleanly.” you suddenly remark, purposefully smearing some pomegranate juice on the corner of his lips. He blinks at the shift in your expression, you tilt your head to address his confusion, nearly burning the remnants of his conscious mind.

Your titillating gaze flits to the scene of your creation next, tracing over the arch of his lips and returning back to gauge his stare — challenging him to speak, to break free, to deny you as you lean closer, fixated on the stain of fruit residue you painted your intentions with.

He answers by decreasing a breath worth of space, the hand that rested so far in serenity on your back pushed you closer, while his right hand wrenched the dagger away from your knuckle tight clasp. Gone is the veil of dew that you cloaked yourself in thus far, expression scrunched in what he can only assume is incendiary displeasure.

He watched as your disgruntled eyes followed the twirl of the dagger now dancing between his fingers, “So close! I must admit, you're getting more and more creative with your approaches, melite!” his energetic response did nothing but worsen your existing disappointment.

You crossed your arms in petulance, no longer interested in keeping that searing eye-contact, “Maybe just poison my food next, eh? Definitely much easier than going through all this trouble.”

The casual lilt of Phainon's suggestion appalls you, compelling you to turn around to face his stupid wide smile, “What are you saying? Didn't you always want a Hero’s death?”

That puts a dent to his disturbing playfulness, he throws away the excuse of a dagger somewhere without care. Eyes glossing over in realization, “You remembered...!”

That earns him nothing but a deadpan.

A boom of laughter fills the air, “Okay, okay, I'll stop ‘messing around’, as you like to say.”

Traces of his amusement linger and gather round to form one last wink, “But I wasn't joking, it really did touch this little heart of mine.” he cradles the mentioned organ in cue, getting a seasoned eye-roll in response.

Now it's his turn to gather you close, you do your duty in pushing against the embrace, like you've done so many times before — losing before his strength like every time.

“And I also wasn't joking when I suggested that you can use more underhanded methods to kill me for good.” he looks directly at you, through you, trapping you in place to match his steps in continuing this charade.

“Why?” you feel compelled to ask and to your bewilderment, Phainon's smile softens.

“Because death by your hand, no matter the way, would be my greatest honor.”

#cannot have things being too sweet - some salt has to be thrown to balance everything #phainon #phainon brainrot #phainon x reader #yandere phainon #yandere phainon x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #naraven

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yanderenightmare · 7 months ago

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♡ TW: enemies to lovers, past bullying, reformed bully x victim

♡ fem reader

“No way.” You shake your head—face warped in something akin to disgust. Judging him for even asking, glaring in disbelief at him and what dangles from the clothing hanger in his hand. He couldn't be serious.

“Come on, please, for me?” he pleads, downright pleads. But there’s no way.

“No.” You say more firmly, planting both hands on your tilted hips. “I don’t get what you’re thinking, but it’s not exactly a time in our lives I want to relive.”

He pouts and sags a little where he stands, clasping his hands together in prayer, making the ill-taste outfit swing. “Oh, come on, it won’t be the same as then,” he promises with zero believability backing him. He even dares smile as he spouts the bullshit in his next words, “It’ll be like therapy. Let’s reframe your trauma together.”

You scoff. He’s unbelievable. “You’re stupid.”

He feigns feeling insulted. “I’m serious!”

“You always said I looked like trash in that—no way I’m not putting it on,” you dismiss.

But then he gets down on his knees. Hands still together as if in worship. Looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. “I was lying through my teeth back then—you know that! I’ll be honest this time around. Tell you exactly how often I had to change my pants because of you—”

“Ew, stop.” You can’t believe the spectacle he’s creating—such a drama queen—and all for getting you to put on a make-shift copy of your old high-school uniform.

“Come one, pretty, pretty, pretty please?” He shuffles forward on his knees until he’s right by your feet—bottom lip jutting out in his pout. “The prettiest please?”

You look down at him—you mouth a prim pursed line, gritting your teeth to try and steal yourself. Grimacing at the outfit sprawled on his lap. There’s no way. Absolutely no way.

“Pretty please?” he continues, making you roll your eyes with a sigh.

“Fine,” you bite out but quickly add, “But you have to wear one, too.”

You think you’re being smart. But he only grins—a wicked little twinkle in his eye.

“Way ahead of you.”

From behind the outfit meant for you, he pulls forth a black gakuran to match.

Okay, so you hadn’t really thought he would have bought one for himself—you realize now the mistake in your speculation. Of course, he’d bought one for himself. But hold on… You raise your brow, folding your arms atop your chest. “And where’s the pants?”

“They didn’t have my size, but my sweats are already a good lookalike,” he explains away. “This doesn’t really fit either, but it won’t stay on for long, so’ doesn’t matter.”

He gets up and hastily pulls his shirt off of his head, then, with just as much enthusiasm, pulls the black school jacket on. And he’s right—his black sweatpants could pass for the old Tobi trousers he used to wear. All in all, it’s a sight for sore eyes. Looking at him feels just short of seeing his old high-school self.

“Come on. You said.” He holds out the rendition of your old uniform. “Get dressed.”

You regret conceding. But it’s too late to go back on your word now. Rolling your eyes, you receive the hanger with a sigh, “Oh, fine. Just this once, you freak.”

You get dressed without making much of a show. Leaving your current comfy outfit in an unceremonious pile, you pull the tacky articles on hastily. Black pleated skirt and sailor blouse with a little red bow sash—there’s even a pair of knee-high socks to go with it. As a grown-up, it’s utterly humiliating having to wear it now.

But he doesn’t seem to share your discomfort. Only groaning, “Damn. There she is—my prettiest little junior~”

You ball your skirt in your fists. Glancing up at him only to look down again, fixing your gaze to the floor. Heat in your face. Mumbling, “This is weird—you look dumb.”

“Oh yeah?” his voice curls with newfound enjoyment. “Well, you don’t look a day older.”

He comes closer, and oh god—you don’t know why you’re so nervous. But fuck—you feel like your back in time—back in time when you were a sorry loser getting picked on, and he was… he was a—

“Perv,” you manage to say. Though, that’s not really the word you’d been thinking.

He chuckles, so close now that he also starts to play with the hem of your skirt. “That’s for damn sure.” Agreeing, he hums, “Only for you though. So’s fine.”

He bends down and finds your neck with his tongue and teeth—his hand traveling up under your skirt without further ado.

“Hey,” you protest, wringing his ill-fitting jacket in both fists, hauling him off. And even though it makes him look back at you like a kicked puppy, you don’t let it get to you as you scold him, “Thought we were reframing my trauma. At this rate, you’re just itching to make me relive it.”

He tries giving you one of his innocent smiles. “Oh?” His arms curl around your waist, pulling you close—chest to chest—simpering while leering down at you, voice in a purr, “It won’t be any fun if I can’t bully you a little bit like I used to.”

He tries leaning down to catch your lips, but you push him away. Breaking free, then scoffing, “Tch, if that’s how you’re gonna play this, then have fun beating off on your own.”

“But—” He starts, but you’re already on your way to leave the room. Hooking two fingers into the band of your skirt, he stops you and spins you back, now all mopey and sorry, “I’m sorry, don’t go, princess—how about we one-eighty it, and I tell you all the reasons I love you? Will that make you humor me?”

He’s back to pleading.

And you can’t help the small smile it gives you. Muttering, “Maybe.”

He smiles giddily, too, “I love how pouty you can be sometimes.”

Your brows furrow, “Hey!” That’s not a compliment.

But he only laughs and continues, “And I love your snippy little tsundere attitude.”

“Those are both insults, you tit—” you argue, but he doesn’t care, hugging you close, lifting you off your feet before falling with you down on the bed. Hanging over you, he admires every inch of your perfect body tucked into that cute little uniform he used to make fun of because he was scared of how silly you made him feel.

“I love how you tell me off.”

Deciding to face his fears was the best decision he’d ever made.

“I love how you look at me.”

It’s crazy to think you’re here with him still, after all these years.

“I love how you put up with me, how you make all my wishes come true—how, even though I don’t deserve you, you stay with me anyway—how you’re mine even though I’m a scumbag.”

You’re eyes soften under his speech. For all his tactlessness, he can also be really quite sweet. You raise both hands, reaching out to cup his face—beholding the softness in his eyes—that way he looks at you. It makes your chest stir.

“You’re not that bad,” you confess, pulling him down to tease his lips with yours.

Kissing you once, he accredits you, “That’s ‘cause you make me a better man.”

You smile and kiss him again, then resume your teasing, “Don't get ahead of yourself. You’re still a boy.”

He lifts and raises a brow down at you in retaliation, “Is that so?” And oh no, you recognize that look.

“Well, this boy is feeling hormonal and horny and just raring to go—” he overplays. Gasping, “And what do you know? How lucky!” He lowers himself again, then starts peppering kisses all over your face in between words, “I’ve got this perfect little high-school sweetheart lying here all up for the taking—”

♡ BNHA – Hawks, Dabi, Bakugou, ♡ JJK – Gojo, really silly in-love Sukuna ♡ HQ – Kuro, Atsumu ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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