#smut ending

[leeluvsyoongi]

Kiss Me Purple and Blue hcs — { jazz artist! taehyung x fem! reader }

Synopsis: Sfw & Nsfw headcanons about 30s jazz! artist taehyung who gives the impression that his job is far more valuable than you.

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | warning(s)— smoking, rough sex, fingering, somewhat-toxic dynamic, abandonment, tooth-rotting fluff, potential impregnation.

all nsfw is under the divider and is marked.

⋆.˚ | author's note: Initially, I was going to make this a series of hurt no comfort headcannons (if ya’ll like this I might make a part two just for that) but I got too soft, so now we have a happy ending. (i stayed up till 4 writing this because my writer’s block decided to vanish and my capability to put words together randomly came back. 🫶🏾

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | word count: 4.5k

✧˖° Freak- lana del ray

SFW

jazz artist! taehyung who's world is drenched in late-night symphonies, dimly lit bars, and a haze of forgotten dreams. His honeyed eyes lay low, as sun-kissed porcelain fingers glide between the keys of his saxophone, pouring his essence into every rich note.

jazz artist! taehyung eyes are heavy-lidded with weights you would never understand. A thousand silent words were sealed inside his soul. Offstage, your bright smile and praise do little to amuse him, your presence once a steamed mug of tea on a chill winter's eve grows bitter and oversweetened, just as everything he treaded near.

jazz artist! taehyung tilts his head just enough to summon shadows along the sharp planes of his face. A slow deliberate blink of his sepia hues sent shivers down your spine, prickling silver thorns over your skin. "You were saying?" He hums in a slow baritone, polishing the gilded edges of the instrument, touching it with more reverence than he had ever offered you.

You submit a small smile, rubbing a palm over your skin. "I was wondering if you had time, tonight," A slow lump dissolves down your throat. "Would you like to come over for dinner, I-I bought a new radio..." Your eyes hesitantly flicker up to his own, the mere act intimidating you.

jazz artist! taehyung shrugs, before tucking away the precious instrument, and lifting the heavy black case effortlessly. His gaze was languid, almost lazy, beckoning you into a world where you weren't quite sure you'd survive, "Lead the way." You tenderly smile, your heart rate easing at the unanticipated lack of rejection. "I made your favorite pasta..." Your fingers thread in nervous knots, and your bottom lip catches beneath your teeth.

jazz artist! taehyung thumb grazes the plush flesh of your bottom lip, gently yielding, "You'll hurt yourself that way," A small smile curves at his lips, before disappearing. "Pasta sounds good." His hand gently lowers to your own, curling around your wrist, a calloused thumb gently tracing the subtle ridge of veins on your inner wrist; memorizing the faint sinuous lines.

jazz artist! taehyung notices the way your eyes widen, taken aback by his intimate touches. He knows he hadn't touched or pleasured you in over a month, hardly writing you the tender heartfelt letters you had yearned for. He knew how terribly you missed the perfect sweeps of his cursive script, dancing along the folded edges of the parchments you had collected over the months of your relationship.

He knew he didn't deserve you, yet he selfishly held on, afraid of another man giving you what he failed to offer time and time again.

jazz artist! taehyung Wanted to love you like you deserved, he wished he could deliver more than he had. He hated you for being so accepting of how little he had to give, of holding onto every small worthless sentiment as though it had meant heaven and all its glories to you.

He wanted you to yell and confront him, to tell him you had grown fed up with his love for music outweighing the love he had for you.

jazz artist! taehyung his eyes flicker down to your own, his thoughts scattered by the soft quell of your voice, "TeTe...we're here..." Your hand gives his own a small squeeze, before unlocking the door of your home. You had been so happy about covering the mortgage of your childhood home after your parents had passed, making you the owner of the house. He slid off his shoes, setting down his prized saxophone. He was all too familiar with the warm brown carpeted floors and comfortable waft of vanilla. Your hands tenderly unbutton his tailored coat, skimming over the silver buttons before hanging the expensive fabric over the rack. "Thank you," He traces your silhouette, his palms pressed firm to the soft curves of your waist, the pronounced slope of his nose pressed against the warmth of your neck. "Taehyung...we should eat," You pull away, setting a distance between the two of you.

He knew deep down you were deeply hurt, yet you still held onto him.

jazz artist! taehyung nods, before tucking his fingers into his dark vest, withdrawing a small box of matches, and another of Montecristo. His low-hooded gaze drags up to your own, after igniting a flame at the butt of his cigar. "Anything for you darling," He flicks a finger over the stick, tapping down the tobacco roll.

jazz artist! taehyung Knows you're holding onto the frayed ends of the relationship you had honed for months. You always sent him letters despite his lack of response, you called him on the telephone every night before bed and always attended every performance he had.

You were the perfect girlfriend he did not deserve.

jazz artist! taehyung who sat across from you, his long fingers curling around the stem of his wine glass, though he hadn’t taken a sip in minutes. The low-hanging light of the dining table caught on the edge of his jawline, sharp and distant like the rest of him. His eyes lift to you, before dropping back to the tablecloth, tracing invisible lines over the linen, "I missed you." Your voice cut through the uncomfortable silence. He watched your fingers gracefully cut through a boiled carrot, before lifting the fork to your lips. "Yeah?" He hums, lifting his cigar from the ashtray she had arranged for him and inhaling the thick smoke. "Yeah...I did." He notices the small quiver in your voice, before hearing the small tink of cutlery set against porcalaine.

jazz artist! taehyung releases a slow sigh, before running a hand through his parted brown hair. "Yeah, I missed you too baby," His voice smooth and unconsolidated. "D-Did you really?" His eyes screwed shut, he hated the small tremor between your words, the tangible doubt. He didn't want to see the way your bottom lip trembled or the way your eyes pleadingly sought his own.

"I did, I've just been busy..." He rests his forehead against his palms, and you notice the stressed curve of his shoulders.

He didn't even touch his plate, the pasta you spent hours perfecting just for him.

jazz artist! taehyung lifts his head, before burning out the cigar. He notices the way your eyes flicker between the untouched plate and his frame, before taking a few bites just to subdue that miserable look in your eyes. "This is really good," He murmurs, before downing the food with a heavy swing of wine. He prays to whatever watchful god that you smile, that eyes brighten just a little more, that the dullness he cast upon you drifts.

jazz artist! taehyung watches the way you silently nod your head, before lifting your half-eaten plate and empty wine glass and disappearing to the kitchen. He releases a heavy sigh, before scuffing down the rest of the meal and carrying the remaining cutlery to the kitchen.

jazz artist! taehyung spots your hunched frame resting over your arms. His heart aches at the muffled sobs that escape your lips. He hates himself even more for every pained quiver of your shoulders. Your soft cries reminded him of everything he couldn't fix, of every single-handed attempt you made at fixing the shattered porcelain fragments of your relationship. "Baby..." His hand cautiously drifted over your shoulder, before slowly making contact. He couldn't bear every slight tremor that raked over your frame. He exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers sliding down to the curve of your neck, offering the only kind of touch he knew how to give—soft, uncertain, like an incomplete song.

jazz artist! taehyung feels your red-rimmed scleras scalding through him, he can feel the shift of your weight as you reach for a tissue to blow your nose. "I'm sorry...I-I did everything I could..I really did Tae." Your voice is hardly a whisper, as you shift your weight against your feet.

jazz artist! taehyung bends down to your level, he's on his knees before you, his hands firm against your arms, watching your downward gaze seep with unushered tears. It wasn’t the kind of action he usually took, wasn’t the comfort he had been taught to offer. "[_____], look at me sweetheart." His fingers gently swept your hair away from your face, his thumbs tenderly brushing away every slow tear. His stomach sunk under the prospect of the many nights you cried alone in the vast empty cavern of your home with no comfort. The thought sickened him.

jazz artist! taehyung feels something small and vulnerable stir beneath the layers of indifference he had worn for so long. His touch soothes every hurt that spills from your beautiful eyes. "Shhh, I'm here baby, I'm right here," His voice thick with a tenderness he wasn’t sure how to handle. "I know you've been trying so hard, so hard," He begins, unbeknownst to what his sentence would trail on. "You've been so good to me Jagiya," There it is, that word he had reserved only for you. "I'm a terrible person for leaving you alone for so long, for always doing the bare minimum and letting you do all the hard work in our relationship," He instinctively pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your frame.

jazz artist! taehyung felt your face buried into his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his shirt, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel the weight of your sorrow. His palm gently patted your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension that built a home in your bones.

NSFW

jazz artist! taehyung will gently cups your face between his palms, before slotting his lips against your own, the electricity between you both surges, and before either of you can think about it too long, the distance is gone. He can feel the way your fingers tug at the fabric of his overcoat, nimble fingers unbuttoning the material between breathless open-mouthed kisses. "Tae..." Your voice is a haze, between the frantic shuffle of cloth. He's drunken on the hitch of your voice when his heart-shaped lips press deliberate kisses down your throat. His roughened fingers slide down the straps of your dress as if he’s reclaiming something lost. You know the weight of his silence—months of distance have made it heavier, shattered with the jagged breath of desire he can’t seem to tame.

jazz artist! taehyung moves with impatience, pulling at the fabric of your dress as though it’s been a barrier too long. He doesn’t speak; he doesn't need to. There’s nothing gentle about the way he touches you—no softness or hesitation—only the kind of urgency that comes from months of absence, of waiting for something to break between you. His lips press against your skin, each kiss a mark of both frustration and longing, almost as if the tenderness of what’s been lost would be swallowed up by the ferocity of this moment.

jazz artist! taehyung lifts your body, your back bracing against the tiled wall. You feel the contrast in his touch: the hardness of his hands, the feverish press of his chest bare against your own, and yet, buried beneath it all, a faint tremor. A soft break in his detached exterior, "Taehyung..." You begin, fisting your fingers into his soft tresses. The heat of his mouth against your sternum produces a desperate whimper from you. Taehyung's eyes are half-lowered, lips curving in the ghost of a smirk at the sound he pulled from you. "Hm?"

His body moves with the kind of desperation that has built up over months of emotional distance. “Tell me, baby what is it?” He muses, the low timber of his words ghost over the soft flesh of your breast before his lips press against the supple skin. “Tell me what you need angel,” His hand delicately cups the curve of the other mound, soulful whiskey eyes locking you in place. The other had secured firmly beneath the curve of your ass keeping you in place. “Oh–” Your eyes widen at the audacious skim of his thumb over your nipple, drawing feather-light traces over the erect skin.

His sultry gaze takes in the slow rise and fall of your chest, feeling your heart thrash beneath his lips.”You’re my girl,” His voice is low, his eyes holding a weight that pressed down against your ribcage, threatening to snap the brittle bones. “Understand?” You swallow thickly, nodding at the command. “Only I can touch you like this,” 

His lips trace a blazing trail down the slope of your breast, the straight line of his nose pressed against the plush flesh with an agonizing kiss. “I’m so sorry baby,” The low velvet of his voice tremors ever so slightly, “For everything.” His lips skim up your chest, pressing against your neck,“I swear, I’m gonna spend every day,” The soft curve of his lips graze the skin behind your ear, the warmth of his palm gently squeezing your breast, “Loving you so good.” 

And who are you to reject the tender promises he repeated time and time again like a broken record? To reject the deliberate bliss he finally granted you after months of abandonment.

jazz artist! taehyung sinks your frame into the soft material of your mattress; leaving both your clothes a puddle of cloth at the foot of the bed. His hands smooth down the curves of your silhouette. Once again, you’re at his mercy, at the mercy of his empty promises and the touches you craved from the man who tore parts of you and left you hollow. 

I hate you. You think, watching the deep hue of his irises swim beneath the yellow lamp at your bedside table. Admiring the god-like symmetry of his features, and the delicate furrow of his brows when his nose gently bumps against your own. His soft breath caresses your skin, “I love you,” He exhales, his hands gently raised to your cheek, and you’re lost once again in the small smile that lifts his face, and the rosy hue of his bled cheeks. 

You don’t. You fight back the words, replacing them with a small smile. I hate you Kim Taehyung. You want to sputter the blatant lies in his face, watch his tender boxy smile turn forlorn, watch the warmth of his irises grow distant and detached as they had always been when you felt your cheeks warm at his presence when butterflies spun restlessly in your gut. Instead, you smile, your nose brushing against his own, as your thumb greets the mole beneath his left eye. “I love you too,” You whisper.

jazz artist! taehyung feels the hesitation of your words, senses the unforetold words caught in your throat, and watches you swallow them down and replace the syllables with a smile. He can taste the bitter lack of trust when he kisses your lips and can feel the fear of abandonment on your tongue. He swallows it down, tasting the sweetness of your mouth, intoxicating himself with your untold secrets. He wanted you to talk to him, to bend and break him with the weight of grief you’ve been keeping to yourself for all these months because of him. The thought of your sweet smile and all the small things you remembered about him being ripped away was terrifying.

 You were the only person who truly loved him

jazz artist! taehyung touches the soft dips of your hip, taking in every inch of you. Every scar you complained about, every childhood scab. He memorized them all and kissed every one of them like constellations in the night. He leaned forward, his mouth brushing against your own. You felt the warmth of his throat spilling into your own, your lips feverishly trailed down his neck, the broad span of his chest, tasting the sweet pulse of his beating heart, and the alkaline sheen that coated his honeyed skin. “I need you TeTe,” The familiar nickname rests on your tongue, your fingers teasing the dips and curves of his abdomen. He released a ragged breath, one held for too long. Your fingers continued their path, tracing every chiseled line, down to the the fine line of hair. You felt the tremor in his gut, every heave of his breath. Your hands dared to skim over the swelling curve of his length, expelling a breathy groan from his lips. His quick hands wrap around the plush of your thighs, drawing them apart.

jazz artist! taehyung your own breath tremored when his hand slid down your navel; between your legs. “Taehyung–” Your voice faltered in a sigh, feeling beads of arousal spill from your weeping cunt. A slight chuckle escapes him, before a pair dipped low gathered the wetness, and massaged the warmth over your throbbing nub, the gesture lessure and sensual. You knew the feeling outmatched your own fingers on the desperate nights you failed to reach anything near pleasure, the fruitless attempts of your fingers curled deep inside of you whispering his name like an unkempt prayer, only to fall on your back hopless and humiliated. 

jazz artist! taehyung

wraps the digits around his lips, humming at the taste, his tongue lathers over them, before slowly releasing. He watches your face, carefully memorizing the soft crease of your brows as you bite down on your lip, the quiver of your gut, and the breathy sigh when his fingers slip in with ease. The drunken haze of your eyes, as your lips part in shallow pants. He’s amused by the way your walls flutter around his fingers, every clench eliciting a soft moan.

 “I know it’s been so long, I’m sorry,” He whispers, his words failing to coat the slight amusement of watching your needy hole suck in his digits. Too blissed out to acknowledge the croon of his voice, and too relived at the stretch of his tanned slender fingers. He slowly works you open, skillful fingers curling and bending as though adjusting the keys of his instrument, drawing breathless melodies from your lips. You squirm and gasp, as he holds you in place, his hand flattening over your midsection as his fingers scissor your hole.

“M-m’ g-gonna—” Your voice is urgent, hands fitting the pillow beneath your head. “I know.” His eyes pin you in place, his fingers carefully pumping in and out of you before picking up his pace. “T-Tae-hyung!” His name hurls past your lips, as you burrow your face into the soft cotton. Your knees trembling with the force of your impending release. It’s almost shameful how every thrust of his fingers draws out a wet squelch; the sounds melding with his heavy breathing and your own. 

jazz artist! taehyung  presses a kiss to your knee when you finally release coating his fingers in your pleasure. “Better?” A small smile tugs at his lips, before brushing his strands away from his sight. ��Hm..” You nod, your joints sore from being spread open for so long. His thumbs gently kneed at the sore muscles of your inner thighs and lower pelvis. He presses another kiss to your knee, before carefully resting them over his shoulders; adjusting his body over your own. Your eyes flicker down between your bodies, watching the way his hand smoothed over himself, gathering a hoarse moan from the base of his throat. His eyelids fell shut, and the soft flesh of his lip caught between his teeth. You moaned from the mere sight alone, before sighing at the spurt of warmth that dripped over your sensitive flesh. A hand holds your leg in place, the other slowly guiding the flushed head of his cock into your entrance. 

jazz artist! taehyung  feels the tension in your joints melt away once he’s fully pressed. His lips find your own in a daze, crushing his mouth against your own, before setting a pace. He swallows every desperate cry, groaning at the way your fingers dig into his biceps, this only spurs him on. His hips curve into your own, ignorant to the sobs that begin to rip from your throat, drinking in every plea to slow down his pace. His grip on your leg grows firmer, fucking himself into you at a restless pace. He’s lost far beneath the fabric of tender affection and vows. Every snap of his hips punctuates the deep-rooted frustration, balled up deep inside of him. His hand rests over the headboard; before lowering your other leg against the curve of his lip. You’re sobbing, broken cries heaving through your chest, “T-Tae–” Your voice breaks off in a wail.

His breathing is ragged against your neck, bruising your cervix with every push, “You can take it,” He grits, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. You shake your head with half a consciousness, choking on your drool, “C-Cant–” Your hand weakly pushes at his chest, whining in frustration, “T-Tae it hurts,” You know deep you don’t want it to stop, the saccharine burn of pain and pleasure numbing your senses. “Fuck, I know baby just hold on a little more,” He mumbles, burrowing the shared aches of your fraying relationship deep inside of you, “Fuck, fuck—” He groans against the damp skin of your neck, pumping deep inside of you. Your cry out, as he wrings out a second orgasm from your fucked out cunt. 

jazz artist! taehyung realizes the weight of his actions after the haze clears his mind. He acknowledges the possibility of impregnating you hangs looms over your heads. He lays breathless by your side, before gathering you in his arms. “Hey,” His lips press against your temple, rubbing your back in tender circles. Your eyes flicker up to his own before your entire frame grows tense realizing what the two of you had done. The panic in your eyes is palatable, he can sense the endless possibilities trampling through your mind.

“[____], I can hear you thinking,” He cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to your own. “Stop, okay.” You shake your head, pushing away from him. “What the fuck did we just do?” You sit up, your head falling against your palms. Taehyung sits up, confusion drawn on his face, “What do you mean? We made love.” He chuckles dryly, and his smile drops when he realizes how upset you are. “No Taehyung, you fucked me, and now you’re going to gather your things and walk out the door like you always do,” You pointed an accusing finger at him, gathering the sheets over your frame protectively. You watch as his brows furrow in hurt, “No…no–I’m not [_____],” His voice falls to a whisper, “God no,” He runs a stressed hand through his hair, exhaling. “I wouldn’t okay?”

jazz artist! taehyung feels his heart crack at every accusation you throw at him. “I love you,”  He swallows thickly, assuring you, “I love you, okay?” His hand reaches out to touch you, to gently usher you back into his embrace. You roughly slap his hand away, rejecting every offer of comfort. “And if I find out I’m pregnant? What the hell are you gonna do? You’re going to leave and never show your face again,” You seeth, your eyes sharp. He’s taken aback when you finally confront him when you spill every bit of resentment tucked in the depth of your soul. You have every right to think he would, to assume he would walk out the door and never show his face. “I’m not,” He doesn’t hesitate to deny your claims, to shut down every possibility you throw at his face.

His voice is calm, his eyes brimming with ingenuity. “I won’t, not ever. I swear on my life.” He moves closer, gently lowering his hands to your shoulders, turning you to face him, “I promise Jagiya,” His eyes flicker over your face, wide with anxiety. He watches your shoulders slump in defeat, as you finally give in, “I’m serious Taehyung,” Your breath, wavering with the threat of unushered tears. “So am I,” He exhales, pulling you close against his chest, before whispering sweet nothings against your hair, “I deserve every little thing you said, I know I do, and I’m glad you let it out of your chest,” His hand rubs over your arm, slanting your face to his own before kissing away your tears. “I’m so sorry baby,” His lips press against your nose, to your forehead, and down to your mouth. “I love you too,” You respond to his prior confession, wrapping your arms around his neck, “And I forgive you Tae,” You murmer the words burrowing your face into the warmth of his chest. “Thank you,” He sighs, pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline before unraveling his limbs from you.

jazz artist! taehyung returns with a washcloth and a small bucket of warm water. He takes his time cleaning up the space between your legs, his fingers brushing over the bruises on your thighs, before cleaning himself up and returning to the warmth of your embrace. “I was too rough, are you okay?” He whispers. “I’m okay,” You whisper, pressing a kiss against his chest. He’s contempt just being with you like this; months of unsolved tensions subdued. For the first time in weeks, he was able to ease his mind. Not even the possibility of a child could draw him away, because deep down, Taehyung knew he would do anything and everything to keep you close.

The prospect of you with anyone else, or suffering alone made him nauseous, “Are you asleep?” He whispers, drawing soft shapes over your back, “Kind of,” You whisper, “Why?” He presses his chin against your head, securing his arms tighter around your waist, “I don’t know, I just…” He sighs, shaking his head, “A baby is kind of cute, don’t you think?” A smile creeps over his lip at your scoff, “I’m praying hard that I don’t get pregnant, I don’t think I’m ready,” Taehyung hums, “You’ll be a great mom though,” His hand gently caresses the curve of your ass, his thumb brushing over your hip. “I guess.” You sleepily murmer, snuggling yourself further into the warmth of his skin. “Do you wanna mess around with the new radio tomorrow?” Your fingers gently comb through his brown strands, your eyes darting up to his own, “I think I’d much rather mess around with you,” A small smile curls at his lips, before breaking into a pained laugh at the smack you delivered to his chest. “Fuck, sorry.”

[tojbnuy]

boyfriend!toji who doesn’t know why but he feels this weird jealousy everytime he sees you meet your friends and greet them all with a big hug. you never did that with him. you relationship was still fairly new to the both of you, but you kissed you fucked you even held hands sometimes when walking around. but, what toji was now realizing, was that he wanted a hug. well, he wanted a hug from You. not a casual little hug, a hug. holding each other. he didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding needy and like the complete opposite of how he usually acts. he had never cared about this kinda stuff with other people, he’d never experienced it growing up and he thought he could live without it. until you. until you showed him that wanting to be held was normal. he’d been thinking about it for a while until one night, as the two of you got ready for bed it simply slipped out.

‘how come you don’t hug me?’

immediately you stopped plaiting your hair and turned to him with a shocked look.

‘what?’

‘how come you don’t hug me? like when you see your friends or you say bye you hug them. you don’t hug me.’

as soon as he said it he felt stupid. a grown man like him, older than you and he was sat here asking for a fucking hug. what if you turned the question around and said ‘well you don’t hug me’ what would he say? that i’ve never done that before sorry i don’t know how? his thoughts came to a stop when he felt a small hand grab his own larger one.

‘i- toji im so sorry. i’m sorry i didn’t think that was something you wanted.’

fuck now he’s made you feel bad.

‘nah doll you don’t have to say sorry, its nothing let’s just go to bed’

‘no toji please. let’s talk about it.’

you lifted the blanket and made your way over to his side of the bed so you could sit face to face. everything about you was so soft, so kind. such a complete contrast to himself. he was panicking, he didn’t do stuff like this, never talked about stuff like this.

‘honestly toji, i really just thought you weren’t a touchy person. i’m sorry for just assuming especially considering everything you’ve been through,’

‘no please doll. i wasn’t trying to blame you for anything. i just’

his palms were actually sweating, but your face. god your darling sweet face, looking at him like he hung up the stars in sky. like every word out of his mouth meant the world to you. you would wait for him to get the words out no matter how long he took.

‘i don’t know to be honest. you’re right i’m not a touchy person i’ve never really hugged anyone. but i want that. with you. and im sorry, i should be the one to initiate it i just didn’t really know how doll.’ his voice was so quiet, just a rough whisper.

he looked up to stare into your glassy eyes when you leaned in and kissed him. a small whisper of a kiss.

‘can i hug you?’ you said with your lips pressed against his.

he knew you knew he would prefer not to dwell on it.

and then he wrapped his arms around your back so tightly like he was showing the universe just how bad he needed you. he pulled you into his lap and let his cheek fall to your shoulder. he felt your arms wrap around his neck and you fingers stroking the hairs at his nape.

neither of you spoke, you simply sat and held each other and made a silent promise to maintain the closeness from today onwards.

‘thank you for telling me toji. you big baby.’

‘yeah that’s enough. time for bed.’

your giggle was music to his ears.

[shawtuzi]

this video got me thinking….its kinda giving choso so walk with me real quick besties

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“fuckkkk,” the back of choso’s head knocked against the headboard, his chest heaving with a thin sheen of sweat covering it. the poor boy couldn’t form a single thought—the only thing swirling around in his empty mind is that he needed more.

his breath hitched when he felt your tongue wrap around his nipple once more, flicking the sensitive bud with your tongue. you didn’t bother saying much to him, it’d be pointless being the only word he could respond with was a breathy ‘fuck’.

“i’m ’bout to—hmph! nut again, it’s coming baby,” his head lolled onto his shoulder, his hips now bucking up to create a rhythm with your hand. you hummed around his nipple, squeezing his angry red tip, the clear pearls of precum leaking from his tip had you dying for a taste. “be louder…w’nna hear you cho,” you whispered in his ear, licking at the shell of it.

choso shuddered rather violently at the feeling, but nonetheless he got louder for you—a tad bit louder than you had expected. choso’s mouth dropped opened, a symphony of whiny moans following right after.

if he had any energy he’d fuck your fist himself, but alas after 3 consecutive orgasms all he could do was pathetically roll his hips. “so fuckin’ close, cmon baby make me cum,” choso nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt your soft hands begin to play his balls, squeezing them ever so softly.

choso’s entire body went limp as his orgasm hit, moan after pornographic moan spilling past his kiss bitten lips. the first shot of cum landed on his chest, some getting on his chin, which you greedily licked at a second later. his thighs shook in overstimulation, nearly closing because now it was really starting to become too much.

“baby baby baby wait—hah! you’re gonna f-fuckin’ kill me,” his larger hand wrapped weakly around your wrist, but it stopped nothing. you kissed you way up his chest to his neck, sloppily kissing, licking, and sucking any bit you could get. he just smelled so good—like vanilla and cinnamon, you just wanted to eat him up.

you brushed his hair out his face with your free hand. you looked into his tired, yet oh so lustful eyes, “you good?” you asked, halting your hand’s movements. choso sniffled and gave you a weak nod, “want you to drain me dry angel, even if i start crying.” it’s funny because just as choso finished his sentence a stray tear slipped from his eye, landing on his already messy abdomen.

choso stuck out his tongue making you giggle. you knew exactly what he wanted. you leant over, wasting no time shoving your tongue in his mouth, swallowing up his whiny moans. you resumed your hand’s movements, squealing when you felt choso’s teeth sink into your bottom lip.

he truly didn’t know if he had another orgasm in him but he didn’t care, even if he blacked out. why do you ask?? because soon he’ll be receiving the best aftercare known to man. cuddles, kisses, BACK SCRATCHES!!! he was as content as could be.

[moechies]

“shit, this pussy’s damn tight, girl.” toji chuckles, leaned against the wooden headboard of his mattress, with your pretty cunt impaled on his dick. you’re sat upon the man’s lap, back slumped into his bigger body as he lifts your legs to your chest with a singular arm.

“hnn—! thank y-you, thank you, thank you !” you slur, holding onto the man’s bigger arm for leverage as he pumps his cock against your cunt, your round butt slapping against his pelvis.

“tch,” he smirks, “thank you? haven’t heard that one b’fore.” his thrusts come to a slow, leaving you breathless and dazed. you lay back against the man’s chest as he continues lazy but brutal pumps to your poor cunt, pushing against him in an attempt to get him to slow.

“hnn.. ‘m sorry..” you cry out, embarrassed, face growing flushed as your nose scrunches at the memory of a few seconds prior.

toji can’t help but fall into a short fit of laughing at your adorable innocence, soft lips curled into a mean smirk, “‘s alright, sweet thing. yer so polite, hm?” he taunts, pressing a weighted kiss against your lips. you slip your tongue against his before you lose the chance, pressing your face closer to the man’s touch.

“y’take cock like a naughty brat, though.” he whispers in between a breath.

his sloppy tongue overrules yours, slowly but surely swallowing you whole. he peeks through a sliver of his eye, watching you pant into his mouth with your eyes squeezed tight, drool leaking down your chin, so entirety focused on kissing him back. “toji—“ you mewl.

“ya started it,” he mumbles against your swollen lips, giving your cunt a soft slap. you jerk and cry against his hold, pushing the said assaulting hand away, making him giggle. “what a dumb little thing.”

“please ! ‘m gonna c-cum! toji, please, please—“ you cry as his thrusts get harder, pace becomes sloppier, before it all comes to an abrupt stop.

your pants slow, gentle mewls that leave your lips as you begin to fall into a fit of sobs. “no..” toji breaks a grin, petting against your hair whispering sweet praises, “‘m sorry doll, daddy’s tired. let me have a break, yeah?” he adores how you look up to him with bleary eyes, chest full of pained hiccups as you attempt to bounce yourself atop his cock in your position. “..w-wanna cum!”

“don’t be so selfish, sweet thing. ‘m old, ‘s what ya get for hangin’ around me.” he lies through his teeth. pace slowly resuming. his creamy, slicked up cock causes his thrusts to grow in noise, face flushing at the evidence of the use of your poor cunt.

“daddy —!”

“shhh, settle down and let daddy focus, yeah?” he mumbles breathlessly against the shell of your ear, “or else daddy might get too tired.. and won’t be able to finish ya off.” he sighs.

[orbitganymede]

self proclaimed guard dog simon who’s never held a conversation with you or even really tried to interact with you at all. he had caught a glimpse of you out on the town and traced you back to your current job, lucky for him, on base. you’re a little freaked out, this mammoth of a man randomly shows up one day and pulls a chair up to your desk, takes out a book and just hangs out for a few hours? even leaves an extra lighter for his cigs in your pen holder. introductions were a quick back and forth on names and that’s about it, sometimes he comments on your clothes or jewelry, he saw your dainty little chain on your neck and purchased an S charm the next day, left it on your desk and that was that. you really shouldn’t be okay with this but he’s kinda intriguing, and the guy that has the office next to yours hasn’t bothered you in weeks, something you’ve been begging for mentally, so really what’s simon doing wrong? he sometimes even brings you a stray pudding cup from the mess, how sweet.

but what really gets you is when you’ve just got in your car, setting your things down, buckling your seat belt, the works, but simon slides in your passenger seat, gives you a look (his eyes look so pretty in the sunlight) and tells you to “take us home”, you’re nervous to say the least, you heard what happened to janet in admin when she told him one of his stacks of paperwork was filed wrong, that she wasn’t gonna take his next one until he fixed his mistake (she’d left crying, cursing his name to high hell, and asking for a transfer) so really what choice do you have.

and maybe he walks into your place, goes straight for where you always store your remote and turns on the channel you like to watch, almost as if he’s seen this routine before, he even asks what face mask you’re gonna do tonight, you wonder how he guessed that you do a face mask every friday night (he suggests the blueberry charcoal one, says it makes your skin glowy (he did not use the word glowy)) you shrug and go on with your nightly tasks, make dinner, do dishes, shower. but what actually makes you stop in your tracks is when he walks out of the bathroom, still steamed up from his shower, butt ass naked and asks you what your favorite position is, pet.

[sunsburns]

guess

smut 18+, age gap, fem reader, underwear fixation

logan howlett loves to swear up and down that he’s too old to mess around with a pretty young thing like you. you’re out of his league in everything you do, from the way you can get up early in the morning and stay out late at night, stumbling back into your apartment in a fit of giggles, humming the last song that played at the club you were returning from.

he acts like he doesn’t notice, and he acts like you don’t exist. but the moment you bumped into him in the laundry room it’s been hard to ignore you.

it was wade who’d introduced the two of you to each other when he was giving logan the grand tour of the apartment complex, and they’d run into you while you were unloading a drier, tossing your clothes into a basket.

you in your tiny shorts and tight tank top, one earbud in and the other dangling by your chest. he tried hard not to stare, especially when you slowly straightened yourself up, holding your basket of clothes to your side, hair messy and sticking to your face a little bit.

it was hot in the laundry room, hell, the whole fucking building felt like a furnace now that the a.c. refused to work in the peak of summer.

but there you were, wide smile and open arms when wade shoved logan in your direction. you didn’t take it personally when he merely grunted at you, a slight nod to his head as a greeting. to logan’s surprise, your lips curled as you looked up at him, and you stared up at him like he was some kind of tree you wanted to climb.

no shame about it either.

logan’s eyes were drawn to your basket as wade spoke, retelling the whole story of how the two of you became ‘neighbour besties’, as he had put it. how you helped wade keep up with the ‘youngsters’, as he called them.

no, logan was too busy staring at a lacy black pair of panties sitting at the top of your basket. pretty little thing, pretty little bows to adorn it.

he slowly tore his eyes away from them and looked at you, then down to your hips where he could see your bright pink underwear, peaking out from the denim.

and maybe, in a dream or two, he imagined what those cute pink ones looked like in full. how it would be like to push you against your door before you could even unlock it, unbutton your shorts and dig his hands into them just to feel the soft fabric of your pretty pink underwear, soiled and ruined from how wet you were with want.

but for now, he’d have to do with the black lacy ones, he almost didn't want to take them off. running his hands over the fabric, grinning when your back arches against the bed, a little desperate, way too needy.

you’ve soaked them, all ruined just from him touching you, from the way his teeth teased you, pulling at the bows, running his nose over your clothed pussy.

logan hooked his fingers over the fabric at the center, pulling it to the side, tongue poking into your cunt, drawing out a whine from you. with an open mouth, he pulled back to see your slick, coated lips with a satisfied grunt.

logan pulled them back just to stare. fuck, they were so pretty. you were so pretty just sitting under him, in nothing but those pretty panties. yeah, logan might be old, but he can keep up for a night.

[sukunasweetheart]

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna...

warnings!!! dark content, noncon breeding, dubcon, sukuna ties your hands together, baby trapping, toxic, possessive and jealous sukuna, manipulative tendencies and mentions of violence (not towards reader), oral (f!receiving)

divider by @/saradika-graphics

3.8k words

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who'd always coax you into fucking him bareback without a condom because he swears it feels better...

being so sweet, seducing you into letting him hit it raw, doing whatever it takes to put you in a good mood, get you hot and bothered so you can't deny him for long, swearing that he'd pull out, and that you'd have nothing to worry about...

but scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who never kept his word. he'd fuck you silly and cum deep into your womb, even though he promised he wouldn't. you wanted to stop him, but you were feeling too good in the moment to fight him off. when you confront him about it afterwards, he simply tells you "my bad, sweetheart. i didn't mean to, but you just felt too good..."

he gets high off the feeling of cumming inside you.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who secretly wished he could fuck you pregnant with his seed. but you told him you didn't want a baby, which he disappoints him, though he may not show it. he wants to see your belly swell up with his child, and to suck on your sweet milk when your tits start leaking. fuck, just the thought of it had made him get hard.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't take you seriously when you broke it off with him. you could see it in his eyes sometimes, the way he seemed eerily quiet when your pregnancy tests turned out with only one line. you felt glad you'd taken those birth control pills behind his back. but you decided enough was enough. you loved him, but you just didn't want to have a child with him.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't even seem phased by the break up. he believed he could coax you back to him again, given with some time. you are his, and nothing will change that. when he sees you around, he shamelessly flirts with you and tries to convince you to come back to him, telling you that he misses you dearly. there are times when he almost succeeds, only because you do miss him sometimes too.

a few weeks into the break up, you truthfully, begin to feel a little sexually frustrated. you don't recall having such a high sex drive before getting with sukuna, but he seems to have permanently altered your body, the way he used to pleasure you so good...

you gather some friends and head into a club, and try to forget about him.

at the club, you re-familiarise yourself with the smell of alcohol in the air, the music that hurts your eardrums, and the crowd of people all around you, wherever you went. it's been a while since you've been here, because you had been with sukuna for over two years now.

an hour or two passes, and you've gotten yourself fairly tipsy at the bar now.

you sync yourself up with the music, but a familiar figure catches your attention from the second floor of the club, afar. it's sukuna. but he's not looking at you.

he's standing with his ex-girlfriend - the one that had gotten hysterical with you after she'd found out about your relationship with him. your mood plummets, for some reason.

you're the one that broke up with him. it shouldn't matter what he's up to after that. liar. you told me you missed me. you try to ignore him, and continue drinking yourself drunk, the edges of your vision already swimming.

sukuna's at the club, only because a friend of his snitched on you and told him that you were out here somewhere. he didn't think he'd meet yorozu, out of everyone it could've been.

"hi, ryo. i heard you'd finally broken up with that girl?" she asks sweetly, standing as close to him as possible.

sukuna gives her a deadpan stare.

"broken up? says who?"

"well, everyone. don't tell me you're pathetically clinging onto her now? that's not like you."

"i'm not you. now get lost, i'm busy."

yorozu grabs his hand, stopping him from walking away.

"wait! i just wanna tell you..."

she continues talking, but his attention has already drifted elsewhere, as his eyes pan toward the crowd downstairs. now...where are you? when he does manage to find you in the crowd downstairs, he doesn't like what he sees. that's an understatement. he hates it.

you're swaying your hips with some other bastard, making out with him on the dance floor.

"damn- you're so fuckin' hot," the stranger chuckles against the shell of your ear, your arms around his neck.

"am i really?" you respond giggling, clearly intoxicated.

"yeah, you are... why don't you come home with me?"

"hmmm? sure, why not? 'm single now, anyway," you mumble, your feet now beginning to stumble. you're starting to miss him again.

"broke up with your boyfriend, did you? poor thing."

"i'll help you feel better." the man grins and helps you walk outside of the club.

on his way out however, he bumps into someone of a large frame. he's all tatted up, and his gaze is holding a mean glare as he stares down at him. he holds out his hand to him, like he's asking for something.

"hand her over, and i won't beat you to death."

oh. he must be the ex. that was enough for the man to quietly place your body into sukuna's arms and exit the club.

tch, he's as spineless as he looks.

sukuna handles your limp body with care, your breath pungent with the smell of alcohol. he's irritated to no end right now, and a vein is bulging from his forehead, but he safely carries you to his car.

outside, the man thinks he's clear of danger, and decides he's had enough for the night. but, someone's heavy arm comes down around his shoulders suddenly.

"hey. you're the one that played it too close with sukuna's girl? how unlucky of you," a man with a scar on his lip talks nonchalantly.

he gets dragged into a nearby alleyway.

"don't take it personally. i got paid to do this."

the man shrieks as he gets beaten to a pulp, just enough so it hurts like hell, but not enough to kill him. sukuna likes to keep his word.

meanwhile... you're taken to your own home. he found the keys to your house in your purse. sukuna tucks you into your own bed, and even dresses you into your own pajamas. and then...

he just leaves.

-

the next morning - you don't remember a thing. you're left feeling confused, wondering how you managed to get home and how you were even sober enough to get yourself dressed. the only thing you can recall is seeing sukuna with his ex, and then making out with some random guy on the dance floor. everything else is blacked out.

you ask your friends, but they were also too busy getting wasted to know what happened to you. but you feel fine physically, so you brush the incident off.

now the only thing bothering you... sukuna hasn't contacted you again ever since you witnessed him and yorozu talking. so he must've gone back to her. that makes you feel... irritated. upset. sad, even. even though you wanted to break things off first.

you slowly start getting back to your normal daily life again, although with a heavy heart. only change is, that you can't seem to find your birth control pills, wherever you last put them. you contemplate for a moment, wondering whether you should buy a new pack, but you end up shrugging it off, knowing that you won't really need them in the meantime anyway...

you're trying to get back into what life was like before you met sukuna. falling back into bad diet habits, staring at your phone, going back and forth between unblocking and blocking sukuna's number - wondering if he's texted you again in the meantime - but of course, there is nothing new.

he may have had his toxic traits, but you knew he loved you a lot... he cooked you wonderful meals and spoiled you with gifts and knew how to make you orgasm until you couldn't speak. and he was tender with you, even though he teased you a lot.

and now, you're back to using toys to satisfy yourself... it's always like this! you start thinking about him and your hand begins to wander down - you can only hope that you'll eventually lose these feelings soon.

you decide to head out and go on a shopping spree alone, to distract yourself from your thoughts and maybe lift your spirits up.

spending a lot of money for yourself always feels nice. you're buying a lot of cute clothes, accessories and food, jumping between shop to shop. the sun sets rather quickly, and by now, you're at your final stop, mulling over whether this expensive, but beautiful bracelet and necklace set is worth buying. your impulse gets the better of you and you ask for it to be packaged for you.

you reach for your wallet to pay with your card, but someone's familiar voice rings out beside you as he approaches.

"i'll pay for the set." sukuna already has his credit card out, and is handing it to the store clerk, using a tone that makes him difficult to question.

"...sukuna?" you say quizzically, his name slipping from your lips without thinking.

the clerk scans his card, and your items are already paid for.

"what are you doing here..." you ask him, with mixed feelings running around in the pit of your stomach.

"missed me?" he asks with a smirk, very naturally taking your multiple shopping bags from your hand. "i just happened to be in the area."

you're not sure if you believe him. just when you're about to ask him something again, he guides you out of the store with his hand on your shoulder.

"i thought you got back with your ex," you say, taking your bags back from his hand. "i'm sure she'll be upset if she sees you here with me."

"what? where did you get that nonsense from?" he seems genuinely confused.

"i saw you at the club, by coincidence. you were talking with her."

oh... he didn't realise you'd noticed him back there.

"oh, sweetheart... that was a coincidence. i wasn't planning on meeting her. did you really believe that i'd get back with that woman?"

you shouldn't be feeling relieved to such an extent... but your shoulders loosen up after hearing that.

"well... you stopped contacting me after i last saw you with her. of course i'd start believing it."

"oh? i thought you had my number blocked. were you anticipating my texts? you missed me, after all." sukuna leans in closer to you, smiling cockily.

you should have just kept your mouth shut...

"i'll take you home. you have a lot of luggage, no?" sukuna offers, taking your bags back from your hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you know you're supposed to decline here. but you let your feelings get the best of you... and end up letting him lead you to his car.

he was supposed to just quickly drop you off home.

"you have a lot of stuff. i'll help you carry it home," sukuna gave his excuse, with something more sly hiding in his eyes. you know exactly what he wants. but when he insists so strongly, you can't deny him. like the fool you are.

you unlock your door and he comes inside to put your bags down on the floor at the entrance. and as you had expected, he doesn't leave right away. instead, he looks down at you with a coy smile, while you return the gaze with a more standoffish one. the tension feels thick and heavy as neither of you speak for a moment.

"well? i'm sure you didn't let me in without knowing my intentions..." sukuna moves forward and closer to you, hands very naturally finding their way to your waist.

he leans down slowly and offers you a brief kiss, a very light and short one, like he's testing the waters. he scans your face for your response. your lips feel all tingly. and all he sees is that you're not pushing him away.

"we shouldn't..." you whisper, but your resolve is too weak. you can't tell him to go away, much less kick him out of your home.

"i know."

in truth, he doesn't really. why should he be separate from you? you belong to him. he pulls you in for a deeper kiss. and you just let it happen.

and, lord, he smells and tastes divine. there's a reason why you always forgave him despite his scummy behaviour when it came to using protection. though you ended up breaking him off, you wonder if it'll be different if you give him another chance.

he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing, and heads off to your bedroom, before you can change your mind. you comply, holding onto his strong embrace weakly, having missed this kind of treatment.

when you're laid onto your own bed, sukuna smirks again as he cages you between his arms.

"you're being so obedient. must've regretted breaking up with me-?"

pulling him in with a hand to the back of his neck, you shut him up with another demanding kiss, not letting him speak for long. sukuna groans as you slip your tongue into him, initiating something messier than what the both of you were doing before.

he's quick to unzip your skirt and side it off, along with your panties. in desperation, he doesn't take the time to fully get you naked and instead, pushes your shirt and bra up to fondle your jutting breasts. sukuna then peels his own jacket and shirt off.

"spread your legs for me, sweetheart. i'll spoil you tonight."

you part your legs slowly - and he sees that you're already glistening with slick. bringing his face down, he aims straight for your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it entirely. your back arches as you gasp, the warm and wet feeling being so arousing like nothing else in this world.

you feel the tip of his tongue flicker up and down your clitoris in a mesmerising rhythm - knowing exactly what you want, and need to reach your orgasm. and the way he sucks on you with the correct amount of pressure, while making the lewdest noises, forcing your hips to stutter uncontrollably against his mouth, with the way it feels so mind numbing, is just too much in its own way.

you let your erotic moans ring out, because you know he loves it when you show him how good you're feeling - and your hands can't help but hold onto his hair from the intense pleasure, which he never seem to flinch from.

the first orgasm hits you like a truck, with the way you're left breathless and gasping for air as your legs reflexively try to close up - sukuna has to hold them apart with his strong grip as he continues tonguing you even as you're cumming, your cunt thrumming against his lips.

"o-ooh- fuck-! sukuna!" you plead, your blank gaze meeting the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, hips jolting without restraint.

when he does eventually show mercy and remove his mouth from your poor aching clit, you're already on the brink of sobbing, your legs down to your toes feeling all prickly from the overstimulation. your mind is in a haze.

so much so, that you didn't realise that he had bound your wrists to the bed frame until he was already done with it.

"wha- sukuna...? why're you tying me up-?" you question, still a little out of it from your last orgasm.

"shh, love. it's not like this is the first time...relax," sukuna comforts you, caressing your face. you can't help the small uneasiness from growing in your stomach. he suddenly gives your clit a light slap. it startles you a bit, and you gasp.

"you're so pretty. do you know that?"

you see your own reflection in his ringed eyes. your heart races, and you don't know if it's because you're flustered or terrified.

"i just wanna..."

his cock aches in his pants.

he never finishes his sentence. instead, he just offers you a soft, yet sloppy kiss.

sukuna frees his erection, and sighs in relief. it's all messy and leaky with precum. he lines it up against your wet and puckering cunt. you won't deny that you want it...

"sukuna... condom..." you remind him gently, getting slightly nervous from the way he's rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

"... 'm sorry sweetheart. i don't think i can do that."

he pushes his hips in one go, and you're left gasping from the sudden intrusion. you're immediately pushed into a mating press.

sukuna groans from how he immediately feels your wet walls sucking him in, your slick making his cock glisten as he thrusts in and out. he's missed this so, so much.

"fuck- sukuna! you can't- oh my g-god..." your hands tug at your bindings as you try and resist your moans from coming out of your throat, but the way his dick satisfies your cunt is otherworldly, his tip kissing your cervix, over and over again.

"that's it, baby... just enjoy yourself," he urges you on, getting breathless from his own fast pace, cock pulsating inside of you in excitement. god, you always drive him crazy.

still, in the back of your mind you still have a sliver of trust in this man. foolishly so. surely he'll pull out at the last second. surely he won't cum inside you in this situation. it's been a while since you stopped being on the pill.

your bed creaks from how roughly sukuna pounds your pussy, all while groaning with such shamelessness, only caring about the pleasure that is found from the warmth and wetness of your puckering hole.

"fuuck... fuck! to think you were gonna let some other bastard do this to you..." he growls under his breath, brows furrowing. you don't hear him. he remembers his original motive for all of this. to remind you who you truly belonged to.

"ooh-! sukuna! you're being too rough..." you whine, feeling the pressure of an incoming orgasm already building in your abdomen.

he only grips your hips harder, looking down at you with a toothy smile. his dick aches so badly. he's endured through so much patience just for this moment.

your mind goes blank as you forget about the fact that he's not wearing a condom, drool spilling out the side of your mouth from the pleasure you feel as his girthy dick drills in and out of you, a squelching noise happening everytime he sinks himself in. there's the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass. and also the friction from his pants, that he hasn't bothered to fully take off. the juices from your cunt has dampened them, but sukuna couldn't care less right now.

"sweetheart... my love... take- taking me s-so well..." sukuna groans, panting and words slurred. despite the deeply affectionate words, his hips move like an animal. you can't do anything but moan and cry.

sukuna feels himself getting high again. there's just something about you... god, he's so pussydrunk he can't even think properly. only the thought of breeding you is on his mind. make you his, completely. to see your belly get bigger from his seed... a powerful thrum goes to his cock and he shudders again.

he has to make it take, this time.

"i'm gonna cum," he tells you breathlessly, knowing you won't be able to stop him, this time around.

"sukuna!... wait," you protest, weakly tugging at your binds again, but you can't say anything more than that, as his lips come down onto yours, silencing you effectively. he tongue kisses you roughly, desperate and messy as you can feel his laboured breaths on you.

and the final thrust that he gives, where he pushes his dick in so deeply, tip meeting your cervix, sends you into another trembling orgasm. sukuna groans deeply against your mouth as he cums, hips stuttering against yours, eyes shut tightly as he savours you completely. you take your lips off of his, and try to say, "stop...! no- pull out," but he stops you with another kiss.

you sob, because it's over. but you're also sobbing because it feels so good.

sukuna's deep kiss trails down to the crook of your neck.

"you can't tell me to pull out... when your cunt is... seducing my cock like this..." he shivers between phrases, mumbling against your neck, mind all hazy from the way you pulse around him from your orgasm, milking his dick as spurt after spurt of his seed shoots straight into your womb.

you can't even say anything back to him - you're coming off your high as he empties his balls into you, letting out more than usual. you're done for.

"i hate you," you sob.

"i know you don't really mean that. you can't live without me," sukuna tells you, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead afterwards.

"and the same applies to me. i'll never let anyone else have you."

he begins to litter kisses down again, until he reaches your chest, while his cock is still inside you. his soft lips caress your tits, and then he begins to lather his tongue around your stiffened nipples, making you feel good again, even through the tears.

the night is far from over.

sukuna becomes much more gentle and soft after the first time, opting for slower but deeper thrusts this time around, adding plenty of little kisses in between as well, "loving" you with everything he has. you have no choice but to accept all of him, as he cums inside of you over and over again.

his cock is in its own haven, being trapped in your gummy walls without rest. and at some point, sukuna's even released your wrists, and now you're willingly making love to him with your arms around his neck, coping with the thought that resisting doesn't even matter anymore - it's already too late, and you're tired of trying to fight back.

you can't count how many times he's dumped his load into you, how many times he's said "i can't get enough of you," how many times you've kissed him back when he kisses you.

and when he finally does eventually pull out, his semen oozes out of you in a disgusting amount. you're spent, and completely exhausted. you can't help your heavy eyelids from closing up, and the last thing you hear is his soft voice.

"goodnight, sweetheart. i'll take care of everything, from now on. i promise."

he holds you so closely and lovingly that you believe him.

Masterlist

[valalice]

ꨄ︎ cw. fem!reader. smut nsfw. ab grinding/riding. sevika is a tease & a little condescending & mocking. smoking ( on sevika's part ). slight praise. begging. reader calls sevika sevi.

sevika's grip on your hips steadies you. the familiar feel of her warm calloused hand on you is a stark contrast to her coolly sharp mechanical arm. "shit. y're so wet already." she acknowledged. eyes flickering between your face of pleasure, your tits, and the movement of you working yourself on her—now—glistening abs. "needed you all day. looked s'good." you mumbled. arching into sevika, hands landing on her tits to gain leverage to grind you clit against the muscle at a new angle.

"is that so?" she teases. your shut tighter and you clamp down harder on your already swollen bottom lip, determined to reach the bliss you've starved after all day. "mhm," you muffle out. your eyes startle open at an absence of a hand on you, only for sevika's large hand to be placed on the nape of your neck, a thumb stroking your cheek. there's a hungry glint in her eye and she moves her hand to the back of your neck to push you further into her, encapsulating your lips in a heated kiss.

when the two of you disconnect there's a sloppy string of saliva that connects you with her, it only pushes you over the edge more. you push yourself back up, but with her hand still on the back of your neck, she pushes you back down once more. lips just barely touching, "tell me how bad you needed me," your glossy eyes widen at her request. "and no more closing your eyes and biting your lip bullshit." her grasp on you releases and she reaches over to grab her cigar and lighter. the shift in her hips as she reaches over and the tightening of her mechanical arm still on your hip to keep you from moving too much as she moves has you clenching your cunt as the slight friction. lighting it, throwing the lighter back onto the nightstand and inhaling the smoke, her eyes momentarily before puffing out the smoke through her nose.

you're met with the comforting grey of her eyes once more. sevika corks up a brow at you. "well? get to movin' and talkin'." her words breaking you out of the trance you were under, settling back into a position, beginning to grind your slick cunt on her tummy again. "atta girl."

the smoke from sevika's cigar filling the room adds to the cloudiness of your mind, "needed y'so bad." you repeat for probably the third time this night. "how so?" brows squinting together, your mouth falling into a small "o" shape. your body becomes hotter when you realize you're already close to coming soon. "ah— like this. me on top of you." you gasp.

"hm," she grunts, taking another drag of her cigar. the puffs of smoke exits her mouth as she speaks, "'nd what's got you all worked up, doll?" you know she's teasing you, she knows damn well what's got you so horned up. but regardless you tell her. "you. y're crop top. tummy and abs." she snickers at your answer. finding the way you're panting like a dog in heat cute.

"but, i wear the same thing everyday. what's so different?"

a loud groan erupts from you. falling forward into her once more. "sevi," you whine. "i—"

"you what?"

blinking down to glare down at her where you're met with a smirk. oh. "you're playing with me."

her eyebrows lift and the smirk turns into a grin, but it's quickly replaced by her taking her cigar into her mouth. "i wanna cum. please." the squelching noises of your cunt on her abs fills the room. you're so overworked and restless to reach your high.

"i don't know—"

you cut her off, "please, please, please." moaning out, "been so good, thinkin' of you 'nd only you all day." giving her the best doe eyes you can muster up at this moment.

sevika's gaze softens before it turns away from you. stretching out her arm to bud the end of the cigar. "sit up f'me." doing as she obeys. the hand once holding the cigar falls back into its place on your hips. she grinds you down onto her abs, "fuck, sevi." your wetness making it easy for her to continue moving your hips back and forth. she thinks there's something so raw and intimate about how you surrender your body to her, your willingness to trust that she'll take care of you the way you need. it swells something within her chest, and when you look so pretty all glistening, soft, and your chest shallowly raising and falling to contain and exhale air that you so desperately need. she can't help but give into you.

"c'mon, pretty. cum for me." she coxes in a husky lull. her harsh grip on your plush hips grinding your aching puffy clit onto her muscle tips you over. with a final gasp you shutter, whining out as sevika helps you ride out your high, still manipulating your hips to move. you slump against her, falling straight into her. curving your back so you'd be able to litter sloppy lovesick kisses across her face. "alright, stop that." you allow sevika to pull you away from her face, showcasing your dopey grin, "y'know you love it." you argue, leaning back down to give her a quick peck. "not really." she grumbles. rolling your eyes at her response you teasingly pinch her nipple. a gasp comes from sevika, sheepishly you giggle at her hardening expression. sliding off of her body to lie next to her.

"don't know why you got off. you're just—" she doesn't finish her sentence. "'m gonna what?" confused, brows furrowed as you watch her face soften. following her line of site, you're met with sevika's entire abdomen covered in your slick, traveling all the down past her belly button. you swear you see a glint in her happy trail and you know it's not just sweat. "sorry."

her dark gaze snaps to you, "sorry? you're cleaning your mess up."

[oobbbear]

I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times

Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

oral fixation but it's biting instead of sucking. toji has noticed that you like to gnaw on your lip a lot – when you're deep in thought, when you're watching tv, scrolling on your phone, in bed. it's cute. teeth sinking into the soft flesh, eyes blown wide as he works his mouth on you. he can't tear his gaze from you – you're biting down so hard, toji thinks you're going to draw blood. you're desperate, you're needy, and you need more.

he often finds you chewing on your on fingers, too. playing with the sharp canines in your mouth, toji holds back a groan before fixing himself through his pants. it's not his fault you look so good all the fucking time! and the fact that you're doing it unconsciously too, is making his head spin.

you do that in bed as well. toji has learned that you're not trying to hold back your moans – your teeth itch. you need more. he can see the marks you leave on your own skin, how you drool all over the finger that's lodged between your fangs. you bite down harder and harder with every thrust he makes and it has him wondering how much it hurts. do you like the pain? can you even feel it, or is it just pleasure in your head? he needs to know.

so, with one quick move, he pulls your hand from your mouth and pushes his own pointer finger past your lips instead. his hips never falter and he fucking adores the way you try to focus on what he's doing; you're fighting the urge to just let your eyes roll back inside your head but now that his heavy finger sits on top your tongue, you cannot allow them to do so.

your mouth is so warm and wet, and toji twitches inside you. his own lips part as he stares down at your confused expression. you close your mouth around his finger, thinking that he wants you to suck it but no, no...

"bite." his voice is more hushed than usual and the knot in your tummy tightens. "i know ya want to."

hesitation pools in your eyes but he washes it away by leaning forward and pressing a haste kiss to your cheek. it's sloppy, it leaves a stain and a whine bubbles up from your throat. he stays close, his lips brush over your jaw – and that's all it takes for you to obey.

the hiss he let's out is addicting; he pulls back from you in an instant, his mossy eyes glued to your mouth. it doesn't hurt, not really – it's perfect. the roll of his hips slows as he tries to slide his finger between your teeth (he wants it to hurt a little more), he loves the way sharp edges scratch st his already rough skin and he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. a little scared that he'll stop, that he'll tease you, but he won't. not when it feels this good.

you bite down even harder and his hips buck forward at the sensation. his own eyes grow wide, surprised by how much it's affecting him and he grumbles something under his breath before picking up the pace again. you're leaving dents in his skin and you're drooling, you're squirming and twitching. you're so fucking pretty and fucked out and cockdrunk and you keep whining around his fingers and he's going to pump you so full that you're going to taste his cum<33333

[hearts4hughes]

your camera roll if you were dating drew starkey…

[crsssie]

just right - simon "ghost" riley x reader (kinktober prompt 3: size difference)

Ghost is very much aware of his size. He stands tall in his team, taller than the average person, and with the balaclava, it seems his presence only grows scarier. Though, your gentle hands had never really done much hating, thumb brushing his cheek on rough nights, laugh on your lips when the two of you are in private. He only seems to melt into you, seemingly so small in your embrace.

He doesn't forget that he's big, though.

You catch your breath as you lay under him, dick snug inside of you as you close your eyes to breathe. He stares down at where he bulges out of you, hand gentle as to not hurt you as he brushes his thumb over the skin. You whimper at the contact, lashes fluttering as you open them slowly.

"You alright?" He breathes.

"Mhm." You nod, reaching up to where his mask's been pushed up to his nose. "You can move."

"Mm'kay." He whispers, pressing down gently on the bulge as you gasp, letting him feel himself through the thrusts, your whimpering bringing tears that he leans down to kiss away, grunting into your ear at how good you feel around him, so tight. so pretty. pretty pussy made for me.

You squirm with each praise, head turning light as your lashes flutter and beady little tears dribble down the corner of your eyes, Simon's voice rough in your ear when you warn him that you're close. He opts for biting your shoulder instead, and you cum around him with a prayer of his name, simon, simon, simon, spilling past your pretty lips as your pretty pussy grips him like a vice — whimpering as he fucks you through the orgasm. 

He's just big, you whisper into his ear, gasping as he presses impossibly further into you to have his tip kiss your cervix, his own orgasm crashing on him as he burries himself inside of you, fat gloops of cum fed into you as you whisper for him to hold you. He complies, hands gentle on the back of your head as you press your ear onto his chest, heartbeat syncing with his as you close your eyes.

"Thank you, Simon." You let him cage you in and kiss you, lips sweet his as he sighs.

"Always, love."

[ysaona]

“One day I’m gonna ride in one of those things.” — powder (s1. ep1.)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

➸ masterlist

“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it. 

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket. 

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.” 

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible. 

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you. 

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks. 

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age. 

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.” 

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him. 

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you. 

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation. 

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time. 

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes. 

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–” 

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.” 

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–” 

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you. 

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden. 

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut. 

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.” 

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw. 

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie. 

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape. 

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you. 

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist. 

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you. 

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now. 

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives. 

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

.

.

.

[the end] 

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

➸ masterlist

[aeplern]

YOUR BOYFRIEND SIMON RILEY

olderboyfriend!simon who waits for you in the parking lot of your campus, waiting for your last university class to end. a wide grin on his face as you enter his car, he leans in and kisses your forehead. “you alright, kid?”

olderboyfriend!simon who drives you back to his place, his large hand on your thigh as he listens to you explain about your day. “and then my friend dylan was like-“ he cut you off almost immediately, “wait, so is dylan a girl…or?” - “dylan is a guy, obviously. back to what i was saying.”

olderboyfriend!simon who seems to tune out the sound of your voice, his mind wandering elsewhere…thinking about this dylan guy. ‘pfft, i shouldn’t get myself worked up over this guy.’ he thought.

olderboyfriend!simon who heads up to his apartment with you, your hand in his as he unlocks the door. “so... tell me about this dylan guy, you've never mentioned him before.” — “oh— well, he's just a friend from class, nothing much.”

olderboyfriend!simon “hopefully.” he would mumble, a slightly stern expression on his face as he looked down at you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “tell me about your day, without dylan!” you smirked, looking up at your boyfriend who was getting himself worked up over a younger boy. you then wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him softly on the lips. “i can't believe you're jealous of dylan.” — “who said i was jealous hm?” he smirked.

[shouyuus]

18+, college roommate!vi cinematic universe thigh-riding, questionable vape-usage, oral (vi receiving), smut with a fluffy ending

"s-sweet fuck, pretty girl -- j-just -- just like that --"

you let out a soft whimper, rutting your hips over her flexed thigh, whining as she leans back, a palm resting on your waist, the other clutching her hot pink vape, bringing it up to her lips for a long hit before tugging you down, blowing the dragonfruit-flavored smoke into your mouth.

you suck in, tasting the bright tang of the vape smoke as your pussy clenches, your clit throbbing as you chase your orgasm, grinding down over vi's leg as she groans thick in the back of her throat, her eyes dark and hazed out as she watches you with parted lips.

"like -- like that?" you ask, your voice high and desperate even as vi bites her lips, letting her head fall back against the wall of her room, her cheeks high with color as you reach down and wedge a hand between your bodies, slipping your fingers under the waistband of her boy shorts to thumb clumsily at her clit. she keens, fingers digging into your waist as she jerks you against her, your juices now so sticky on her thighs that it squelches every time you rut your hips forwards and back.

"fuck -- yeah... mm --" she shifts, hoisting you further up just to meld her mouth with yours, licking into your mouth as your pace stutters and you groan, fingers clutching at her shoulders, her biceps, steadying yourself on her arms as she kisses a harsh line down your neck, sucking a deep hickey into the junction of your throat. "shit, you're so -- so hot, so pretty--"

"vi -- vi -- m'so close --" your lashes flutter as you feel the familiar twist in your gut, the warm already spilling through your limbs.

she chuckles, "c'mon princess --" she tugs on your chin, blowing another puff of smoke in your face, smirking when your breath hitches, "look at me -- wanna see your face when you fuck yourself stupid on my thighs --"

the tension in your belly snaps, your whole body shaking as your orgasm rocks through you. and vi -- she guides you through it, groaning out long and low as she feels you twitch over her, your cunt squeezing around nothing as you ride out your own orgasm against her. you eyes flicker but she keeps you upright, forcing you to look at her even as the edges of your vision fizz out into white sparks of pleasure.

she kisses you as you come down, grinning at the way you whine when she pulls away for another hit of the vape, opening her mouth as you press back in, your fingers finding the soaked folds of her cunt, pressing in, her kissing you as smoke wreathes out the corners of your mouths. you trade the same breath back and forth till you lose count, till you can't figure if the sweetness is the smoke or just the tingling addiction of her mouth on yours.

"mm... wow, princess -- that was --" she hiccups as you press a line of sloppy kisses down her neck, the pale, lamp-kissed bend of her shoulder, the small divot between her breasts, pausing to lave your tongue over her nipples, the piercings there cold as you suck them between your soft lips. your revel in the way she gasps then, the way her fingers bite into your skin.

you reach up wordlessly to tug the vape from her slack fingers, her eyes half-lidded and alight with a loose, liquid hunger as she watches you work down the length of her body.

"you're so wet, vi..." you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hipbone, smiling up at her as you tug on the waistband of her boyshorts. she lifts her hips, her cheeks darkening as she clears her throat.

"yeah well -- 's not like you can blame me -- oh shit --"

her head thunks back against the wall as you dig your nose into the thin trail of hair that leads to her sopping folds, the slick there glistening in the wane light. you only allow yourself a second to admire her before bringing the vape to your lips and sucking in a breath of the synthetically sweet smoke, and then you're lowering your mouth to her and pressing your tongue into her slow, moaning long and loud, your eyes fixed on her face, watching for the twitch of her lips, the slack in her jaw.

"jesus christ -- mm-mngh --!"

you fight back a grin as she whimpers, her thighs tightening on either side of your face. her fingers dig through your hair as she forces her eyes open to look down at you, an open, needy expression on her face that you doubt she'd willingly show to anyone else. but the knowledge that you can bring her to such pleasure quickens your own pulse and drives you forward as you give her clit a hard suck and she keens again -- that gorgeous, high, helpless sound even as she presses you harder against her folds and jerks against your face, guiding you into a rhythm that suits her needs.

"fuck, fuck, fuck princess --" she lets out a string of incoherent swears as you feel her shove your face into her harder and harder, and all you can do is offer up your mouth, your tongue, anything and everything you can till she shakes apart above you, her release coating your lips and dripping down your chin.

you lap at it hungrily, savoring the salty-sweet-tang even as she finally relaxes her thighs and you manage to pull yourself up for a breath. your face is sticky, and honestly, so is she, but her laughter is warm when she tugs you up to give you a lingering kiss.

your head is a smoke-filled euphoria of half-formed thoughts as the pair of you collapse, boneless, sweaty, and sated onto her messy sheets. she kicks off her boyshorts, leaving her just as naked as you already were as she curls around you, her arms solid and strong, yours curled against her chest, your fingers splayed over the smooth expanse of her skin, tracing abstract shapes as you turn to face her.

"you got somethin' on your face there, sweets," she says, rubbing at thumb down your slick-covered chin. you crinkle your nose, turning to wipe your face messily against her bicep even as she laughs.

"mm... why didn't we do this sooner?" you ask, curling into her, your faces inches apart.

"what, this like -- smoke each other out and have amazing, mind-blowing sex?" vi asks, grinning.

you giggle, shaking your head, "no! i mean -- well, yes, but like... this.." you reach out and cup her cheek, the touch so gentle it stills you both.

vi sighs, shrugging, "dunno, cupcake. i -- i guess i was caught up in..." her eyes cast about her room, the band posters and hand-scribbled workout notes tacked to her wall, "in wondering if you -- if you felt the same about me, i just..."

you purse your lips around a burgeoning smile, "you just... forgot to ask me?"

vi scoffs, rolling her eyes, "yeah, yeah, whatever. we get it -- you had to make the first move but --" her eyes soften, and so does her voice, "at least we're here now, right?"

"mm," you nod, inching closer, "and we've still got another six months left on the lease."

"six months is a long time," vi says, her voice husky as she rubs a thumb along your cheek.

"yeah... plenty, if we're trying to make up for lost time but..." you hesitate over a held breath, "what happens after?"

"after... we both graduate?"

"yeah."

for a moment, vi's silent. and all around you, the future stretches out like the moonless night, tendrils of shadow reaching like spindled fingers into the unknown future.

"after that... i go wherever you go, cupcake."

you blink, eyes meeting hers, a startled spark of uncertainty rising within you.

"you..."

vi smiles, a crooked, honest thing of lips and teeth. she hooks her ankles around yours and presses your foreheads. her hand comes up to caress the back of your neck.

"if you think i'll ever let you go again after all that... you've got another thing comin', princess."

you let out a relieved laugh, leaning in for a kiss.

"right. i guess the orgasm really was that good, huh?"

vi laughs too then, a soft, breathy sound.

"sure. but really... i mean it. i'm yours, cupcake. for as long as you'll have me."

your lashes flutter; your heart skips. then, you're the one pulling her in for a kiss, one that's sweet as it is consuming. the skin-scalding simmer of a long-burning flame, a spark catching hold on a breath of summer wind.

"i might not be a theoretical physicist, but from what i've heard, forever is a really long time," you say. and vi, to her credit, only takes a second before understanding blossoms in her eyes and she pulling you to her, crushing you in a stomach-turning embrace.

"you're my everything, princess. you know that?"

you bury your face in the crook of her neck and breathe her in. the room smells like sex and sweat and the soft perfume of your shared shampoo. you grin, a giddy heat pluming up your chest to coil at the back of your throat.

"and you're mine, vi."

vi puffs out a breath, her voice just a tiny bit shaky as she cradles your head in her palm.

"yeah. i know, sweets. i know i am."