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andypantsx3 · 19 days ago

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FILLING IN | BAKUGOU x READER ˖˚˳⊹

summary: A production assistant for an erotic arts studio, you think you've seen every ridiculous plot line under the sun. But not even porn tropes can compare to the absurd reality you find yourself in when the on-screen talent drops out, and you're asked to fill in opposite the studio's number one star Bakugou Katsuki. contents: The classic oh-no-the-porn-talent-has-gone-missing-let's-sub-a-rando-in trope, no quirks au, pornstar Bakugou, soft dom Bakugou, gn + afab reader, unrequited-requited crush, slight bondage, descriptions of afab genitalia, nipple sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, pet names used: angel and sweetheart, porn with surprise feelings, 18+, 8.2k words notes: This is my Bakugou x Reader commitment for @ficsforgaza, and I am sorry it is late enough to also count for Valentine's Day (but also Happy Valentine's Day!!) Additionally, a special thank you to my angel princess @ofmermaidstories for handing me the nerd + pornstar combo when I was worried about Bakugou's characterization. I think this is the only way I could have ever written a pornstar Bakugou that felt right to me. Love you, Mermie.

The studio was churning in chaos by the time you arrived.

The first sign that things weren’t right was Komori, one of your fellow production assistants, propped against the wall outside. Her cellphone was pressed against her ear, and she looked nervous, her foot tapping a thousand miles a minute. She had a thumbnail pressed to her mouth and was chewing steadily through the nail like a rabbit through a lettuce leaf.

You didn’t want to disturb her, so you buzzed inside the studio, only to find the hallways filled with an equally nervous energy. Yaoyorozu, one of the production managers, hovered in the doorway of a dressing room. She looked to be arguing with someone, her normally sweet expression pinched in profile. A small circle of people took up the hallway behind her, shifting apprehensively.

A shrill voice filtered out of the dressing room as you tried to wedge yourself by. “I said I’m not doing it. We’re getting married and we agreed I wouldn’t do this anymore.”

“Bibimi—” Yaoyorozu started.

“Effective immediately. Find someone else,” Bibimi’s voice replied.

You stopped in your tracks, blinking as you turned back to the doorway, peering over Sato’s shoulder.

Bibimi Kenranzaki was one of the studio’s top actresses, the very performer scheduled to shoot the production you were working on this afternoon. The shoot was a Valentine’s Day special, and had already been delayed at Bibimi’s request several times. If you’d understood Yaoyorozu’s previous concerns correctly, today was the last possible day to shoot it with enough time for it to make it through editing to post on Valentine’s.

This was not good.

“Bibimi, of course we would never force you to do something you did not consent to,” Yaoyorozu said patiently. “But you can see how having delayed this shoot many times already puts us in danger of not delivering on our commitments.”

You heard a dismissive snort issue from the room, and peered over one of Yaoyorozu’s slender shoulders. Bibimi lounged across one of the waiting room couches, arms crossed over her chest. An enormous diamond ring you’d never seen before glinted from one of her fingers, clearly the source of today’s change of heart.

Oh, production was not going to be happy.

You winced as you ducked out from behind Yaoyorozu, heading back down the hall to stuff your things into one of the vacant lockers. It was a struggle to fit everything in as today you’d come directly from a lecture—two textbooks the size and weight of cinderblocks choking up all the space in your bag. You would have thought that, considering that a wide swath of the production staff were college students—including several of the performers themselves—the studio would have had a better set up. But it was often a fight to the death to even find an open locker amongst the many other bookbags, and an equally Sisyphean struggle to get the door shut on the tiny cubbies.

Once you finally managed to finagle the door shut on your backpack, you made a beeline for the supply room. Typically, your first task of any shoot was acquisition of about a million pounds of baby wipes and lube, though you wondered if they would be needed today, given the scene with Bibimi you’d just witnessed.

You checked the film schedule posted in the staff entry to find the allotted set room. Then you made your way down the twisting maze halls carpeted with ancient olefin to the set for You Cumplete Me, the obnoxious working title Kaminari had come up with for this particular Valentine’s Day project.

The room was set up like some generic apartment, a large bed with a wire-framed headboard dominating the majority of the space. A cherry wood nightstand cluttered with fake knick knacks stood diligently at the bedside, and two fake windows with their curtains drawn shut overlooked the whole affair, red dressings fluttering slightly in the breeze from a fan.

Most of the production staff was already inside the room, the cameramen and director huddled together in the corner, whispering nervously. You spotted Mina, the wardrobe coordinator and makeup artist, fussing with her phone in the other corner, her various products and brushes spread out across a plastic folding table, looking put out.

“You know if we’re going to be able to sub anyone in for Bibimi?” you asked as you approached her, flopping down in one of the chairs set up at her makeshift dressing table. You arrayed your armful of lube and plastic packs of wipes at the corner so as not to disturb her arrangement.

Mina’s eyes flicked up to yours and she grinned, the upturn of her mouth accented with perfectly-applied hot pink lipstick.

“Komori’s called like ten other actresses so far and can’t get anyone,” Mina answered. “And Shiozaki and Kendo are in-studio but both just got off another shoot so we contractually can’t use them. I think Yaomomo is ready to start shaking people down.”

You winced. Yaoyorozu never lost her cool, but the pressure must be mounting. You knew marketing materials had already been put out on the studio’s website, specifically promising the return of the studio’s highest-grossing star—Bakugou Katsuki—opposite Bibimi.

While Bibimi might be the highest paid actress, Bakugou was the real draw of UA Productions. UA churned out projects that were largely targeted towards less traditional markets—largely women—porn that was often of higher production value, higher quality scripting, and careful coordination showcasing enthusiasm and consent. It also subsequently employed more than its fair share of beautiful men.

And Bakugou Katsuki crowned that pile of performers. Though foul-mouthed and often irascible, he was undeniably breathtaking to behold, both on screen and in person. He was the typical blend of tall, strong, and well-muscled that most UA actors were. But he moved with a singular precision and intention that drove fans wild, and came equipped with bed-rumpled blond hair, mile-long lashes, a surly, pouty mouth, and a facial symmetry that Euclid himself would have wept over.

He was also nearing the end of his doctoral and would not be filming for much longer, you were given to understand. So the studio stood to lose a significant amount of audience trust and money, should this production fall through.

As if on cue, Bakugou Katsuki himself stomped through the doorway. The expression on his face told you he was already well-aware of what was happening with Bibimi, and he was getting annoyed with the hold up. He set a direct line for you and Mina, mouth twisted in dissatisfaction.

Your ears promptly went hot, the way they always did when Bakugou was in your line of vision.

You’d unfortunately had something of a crush on him from the minute you’d become a production assistant at UA, your third year of college. Funds were tight and your masters program loomed large in front of you, its meager stipend like a slap in the face. You’d needed something else flexible, and you’d found UA through the friend of a friend—its proximity to the university, and ever changing schedule of ongoing productions offering the perfect amount of flexibility for your situation.

Bakugou had been there that first day as Yaoyorozu gave you the tour, too. He’d been tucked up on the couch of the waiting room as you passed through, blonde hair rumpled, someone’s lip gloss still smeared at the corner of his jaw. He looked like a soft, relaxed mess—clothes askew like he’d pulled them back on after a shoot and immediately migrated to the couch—though his scarlet eyes tracked intently across the page of an enormous engineering text spread across his thighs. His long fingers twirled a pen absently, tapping against a notebook peeking out from just under the textbook, headphones jammed over his ears.

He did not look up as you made your way inside, but your stomach had flared to life with a sudden flutter of butterflies. You were startled by the pretty set of his mouth, the long lashes that swept over his cheeks as he read, the flex of those long, beautiful fingers on his pen. You had never seen a person so perfect in real life, and the effect was dumbing.

“That’s Bakugou, one of our performers,” Yaoyorozu had told you, leading you through the room. She did not stop to introduce you. “He’s working on a PhD in chemical engineering, and performs once every couple of months for us. He’s—erm—not quite friendly, so we’ll skip the introduction today.”

You’d followed her, nodding obediently, leaving Bakugou behind. You’d dutifully concluded your tour and signed all the paperwork, and met several other members of the staff. It was only when you’d been released from your onboarding obligations that you saw Bakugou again, as you ran out into the parking lot to start your car.

It was raining out, a torrential downpour much worse than when you’d arrived that came down in thick, pelting sheets. Visibility was bad enough that you almost missed the tuft of blonde hair across the parking lot, ducking under the awning of the nearby bus stop.

You knew the route headed back towards your university, and subsequently your apartment, and it dawned on you that Bakugou’s would most likely be attaining his cited PhD at your same college. You felt your mouth twist, impressed. PhD tracks were notoriously difficult to attain at Musutafu University—no wonder Bakugou needed a job that was, for lack of better phrasing, quick and dirty. He probably was drowning in post-grad labs and dissertation materials.

The memory of those long fingers tapping at the edge of his text suddenly flickered again in your brain, and something possessed you as you started up your engine. Before you knew what you were doing, you had pulled your car around into the bus stop bay, leaning out to call out to him.

“Hey—Bakugou, right?” you said, watching as scarlet eyes found yours, narrowing suspiciously. His pretty mouth lifted in an immediate, reflexive snarl, and those broad shoulders squared off, like he was getting ready for trouble.

You cut in, quickly explaining yourself when you realized he had no context for the rando hanging out of their car window at him. “I’m Yaoyorozu’s new production staff. Just joined today. Are you headed towards Musutafu U and do you want a ride?”

A blonde eyebrow lifted. “You’re with UA?” he asked. His voice was a kind of low growl, not unlike the thunder suddenly echoing overhead, and the sound shot through you like a bolt of lightning.

“I—yeah. Just signed the paperwork this afternoon.”

Several spatters of rain dampened your cheeks where you had your head poked out of the window, and Bakugou’s eyes tracked them closely as he leaned in. “Then let’s get one thing straight right off the bat—I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You recoiled, horrified at the conclusion he’d immediately brought himself to. “No! That’s not what I—I didn’t mean like—! I just thought because it’s raining out, you might want—”

“I want you to fuck right off, is what I want,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms over his chest. He made a show of leaning back against the glass wall of the bus stop, its interior papered over with moldering ads. It was a clear dismissal.

You blinked at him stupidly for a moment, mind reeling that your gesture had been received so poorly. But then you realized he hadn’t seen you, in your trek through the staff room during your afternoon tour. You’d only just seen him, and you hadn’t spoken to him besides. Despite your immediate interest in and respect for him, he knew nothing about you.

And he was a pornstar, come to think of it. He probably had had a fair number of creeps proposition him out of the blue. Enough that he was suspicious now, as you might have been, were you in his position.

Your cheeks heated, suddenly ashamed. You nodded, gritting your teeth as you ducked back inside your car.

“Right, fucking off, as requested,” you said, turning your blinker on to move back out into the road. “Sorry to scare you. See you, um—see you at work sometime.”

“Oi—I ain’t fuckin’ scared,” you heard him growl, but then you were turning back out into the street. You rolled your window back up as you sped up, resisting the urge to look back at Bakugou in the rearview.

What a humiliating first impression that had been.

You'd fretted about it for another week before your first official day at UA, and for several weeks more when you didn’t immediately run into Bakugou. When you’d finally met him properly, however, Bakugou acted like he’d never even seen you before in his life, and you somewhat gratefully followed his lead. He treated you like anyone else, with the same kind of universal severity he turned on the other production staff. You discovered very quickly that he was impatient, brusque, no-nonsense. He stalked onto every set with all the latent energy of a nuclear missile strike, and never softened until after the shoot was over.

His general attitude, and your humiliating first encounter should have been enough to turn you off of him. But the occasional glimpse of him after a shoot—rumpled, relaxed, open in a way he normally wasn’t, in the way that you'd first seen him—was unfortunately enough to keep those initial butterflies aflutter.

The fact that he was smart—and annoyingly adept in the bedroom, considering the number of reshoots his costars often needed after they accidently came too early—did not help matters.

“Where the fuck is Yaoyorozu?” he demanded of you and Mina, as he approached you in the set room now.

You met his scarlet gaze, holding very still under his regard.

“She was negotiating with Bibimi just now when I came in,” you told him, cheeks heating as his eyes flicked over you. He had a very direct way of evaluating people, and rarely missed a detail. You hoped your makeup wasn’t smudged from where you’d had your head propped up in your hand, valiantly resisting falling asleep in your earlier lecture.

“Bibimi’s a waste of fuckin’ time,” Bakugou growled.

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t very well act opposite his own hand, so someone was going to have to fill in.

“Well Mina says we’re not having luck finding anyone else either so Bibimi is your best bet,” you told him.

Bakugou looked down his perfect nose at you. “Anyone in this damn studio could do better than she does.”

You felt your eyebrows raise. Bibimi was popular with a variety of audiences for her exaggeratedly dollish features—you doubted just anyone could fill in for her and look as good. You said as much to Bakugou, and he scoffed.

“‘S not about looking good, it’s about showing that you’re feeling good,” he said plainly, igniting a wave of fire across your cheeks. The flames worsened when he crossed his arms over his chest and you had occasion to notice he was in nothing but a workout tank, his bare biceps flexing enticingly in the studio lighting.

You were thankfully spared from having to form a coherent response by Yaoyorozu stepping into the room. She was tailed by Komori, and wore a troubled expression. She waved an elegant hand that encompassed both your camp in the corner and the directors on the other side of the room.

“Bibimi is unfortunately out. And we cannot use Shiozaki or Kendo. I am afraid we may have to call off the shoot this afternoon,” she said.

“So get someone else in,” Bakugou said, with his usual brisk directness. He turned to face her. You caught the whiff of something light and clean on him as he did so, laundry detergent and recently-applied shampoo.

Yaoyorozu fixed him with an expectant look. “We’ve unfortunately worked our way through the roster of available performers. Unless you know someone else?”

Bakugou stared back at her evenly, arching a blonde brow. “There’re a bunch of extras already here, aren’t there?”

A little shock went through you. Extras. As in the…people in the room right now? Did he really mean the production staff?

Yaoyorozu blinked, apparently taken aback. Then her gaze slid thoughtfully between Komori, Mina, and you. Another little thrill raced through you, like you’d suddenly missed a step. Surely they both could not actually be considering that.

“I’m a hoe but I’m a loyal hoe,” Mina said from next to you, immediately putting up a rosy palm. “Eiji is my one and only, sorry babes.”

Yaoyorozu nodded. “Of course, I would not expect you to violate any commitments you already had to a significant other.”

“I am also seeing someone,” Komori volunteered, a shy little blush sweeping across her cheeks. You smiled a bit at her obvious regard for whoever it was—until you sensed a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly turning to you.

Your stomach dropped—less of a missed step then and more of a sudden push off a cliff.

Worst of all was the pair of scarlet eyes suddenly burning with undue regard in your direction. You stared straight at Yaoyorozu, unable to meet Bakugou’s gaze. You still felt like you might burn up under his scrutiny, like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“I—uh—” you said dumbly, floundering for the right set of words to explain yourself. “Uhh.”

“You seeing anybody?” Bakugou prodded, prompting a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks.

“Well—no—”

“You clean?” he asked.

Your face burned hotter. “Yes, if you must know—-but uh—”

“Then what?” he prompted.

“Is it that easy for you? To just switch partners like that?” you asked. You weren’t exactly a blushing virgin but you still had only slept with partners you had cared for. Bakugou had worked with you for years and never signaled anything beyond dismissal and semi-professionalism—so it wasn’t like he had that same level of interest in you, despite your enormous crush on him. How could he just switch, just like that?

Bakugou uncrossed his arms to settle his hands on slim hips instead, and he gave you another evaluating once over. “Something the matter with you?” he asked. You noticed he did not ask if you thought something was the matter with him. You wondered if your crush on him was that apparent.

“No,” you said defensively. “Just—I don’t know that I’d be any good on camera.”

“You’ve been in videos before,” Mina pointed out, tugging playfully on your belt loop. “You were in Bibimi’s Christmas special a couple years ago.”

“That was different,” you said, staring at her. “I was her evil coworker who sent her running into Tetsutetsu’s muscular arms. I didn’t have to get naked.”

“We can give you time to get prepared,” Yaoyorozu promised kindly. “If you wanted to um, clean up or trim—”

“It’s not that!” you said quickly, waving your arms. Your ears burned. “I just mean I would be shy.”

Bakugou watched you silently for another long moment, his full mouth pursed in thought. His gaze dragged down your body and then back up to your face, and you felt it like a physical touch.

“Then if you forgot you were on camera?” he asked, a rasp in his tone.

You blinked at him dumbly. “If I—forgot?”

“If I made you forget,” he said, flashing a sharp smirk. The arrogance looked so good on him, zinging through your veins like an electric current. Your cheeks and ears flared even hotter, until you thought you might actually be emitting smoke from them.

You tried to form words but seemed to have trouble shaping the proper ones with your tongue, making a series of choking noises before you managed. “There is no way you could—you’re not that good.”

Something hot flared to life behind Bakugou’s eyes, and his smirk curled even sharper. “We’ll see about that.”

“What if Bakugou helps you get over your nerves, and we just try it and see how you do.” Yaoyorozu prompted gently. “Is that something you would be willing to do? Of course we won’t pressure you.”

Your gaze jerked back to her as you startled. For just a second you’d sort of forgotten there was anyone in the room but Bakugou.

“I sort of doubt—but if you really need—I mean I could—try…” you fumbled out.

Yaoyorozu nodded gratefully, looking pleased again. “Alright, then let’s at least try it. Mina please find proper costuming and help get Y/N ready. I will draw up a short contract with the same terms we promise all our on camera talent for you to look over when you’re done.”

You nodded, a little dazed. Had you really just agreed to—?

But then Mina was laughing, grabbing you by the elbow and drawing you out of the room. She marched you towards the back of the studio building where she’d amassed a respectable wardrobe, racks upon racks of clothes. “Alright, this is going to be so fun! I love dressing new talent! It’s always fun to work out what’s going to work with your coloring and style on screen.”

The mention of you doing anything on screen had all the blood draining from your veins, but Mina didn’t seem to mind. She kept up a stream of happy, easy chatter as she pecked around in the racks like a chicken hunting a grasshopper. Eventually she emerged with a robe in a deep pink, slippery and silky and glistening faintly under the overheads.

“Okay so you’re supposed to be a loving couple celebrating your anniversary and looking for ways to spice things up,” she said. “So you’ll be waiting for him to come home, looking delicious in this little slip of a thing. He can unwrap you like a V-Day present!”

Her callback to the plot of the shoot suddenly made you realize there were way more things involved in the project than just being pawed at on screen—and you did not know any of Bibimi’s lines. How the hell were you supposed to deliver any kind of performance?

“Don’t worry about it, I assure you the gears are already churning in Momo’s big brain,” Mina said when you asked as much. She peeled you out of your sweater and jeans, and ushered you into the robe. Cheeks burning, you let her look you over to make sure you were properly groomed for the camera.

Then before you could get cold feet, she bundled you up and shepherded you back into the set room and set to work on you with her various pots of paint and ointments. She worked a couple things into your hair, applied something glossy and sticky to your mouth, and adjusted the fit of your robe to her liking until she pronounced you ready.

Yaoyorozu was already leaning over you by the time Mina released you, laying out a packet of sheets in front of you. She detailed the terms to you in the professional, clipped tone you’d heard her conduct business in before, and soon enough you were penning in your own name in a shaky hand. The strokes looked almost foreign on the page, and you felt a little more than lightheaded thinking about what you’d just signed yourself into.

“So—what am I supposed to do about Bibimi’s lines?” you asked, your voice coming out kind of dry and crackly.

“We’re going to improvise,” Yaoyorozu said. “Bakugou will guide you. Try to respond as best you can to what he says, along the framework of being a couple celebrating their anniversary. It’s most important to capture your intimacy, however, so we can always come back and reshoot any dialog as needed after. You can call him Katsuki, there are no aliases for this shoot.”

You nodded, feeling even more nervous now that all the prerequisites had been completed.

That left Komori waiting for you. She was apparently assuming the duties you’d abandoned by becoming the star of this absurd alternate dimension. She led you over to what had been meant to be Bibimi’s starting mark on the bed and helped you spread your pink robe out enticingly. You almost laughed as you helped her, feeling foolish and distinctly unsexy for the deliberateness of it all.

There was nothing less romantic than half a dozen other people in the room with you, cameras and hot lights trained on you like you were an escaped convict under a helicopter floodlight. You got the impression that it was going to be a monumental task to work up the nerve to even loosen the tie on your robe, nevermind remove it.

Except then Bakugou walked in.

He’d changed, sometime in the half hour or so Mina had had you in her clutches. He prowled into the room in a dark charcoal suit, the consummate businessman home from his generic businessman job.

He looked unfairly good in it too—the close cut of it highlighted how his broad shoulders slashed inwards into a trim waist, and his pants showcased the flex of a strong, hard thigh. He’d acquired a chunky wristwatch in a dark metal, and it glinted dully under the overhead lights.

He looked sleek and dangerous, even though you’d just seen him stomping around in sweatpants not thirty minutes prior. You felt your breath escape you in a whoosh, your heartbeat kicking up as he prowled closer.

“I’m home, angel,” he said, a smoky rasp curling on the end of his voice. Despite the pet name, he sounded enough like his usual self that you almost answered him in turn.

You vaguely remembered you were obliged to playact with him, and you summoned up your nerve. “Hi, Katsuki,” you said. You hoped your voice did not sound too shaky. “Happy Anniversary.”

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes dipped down to your robe, fastening to the spot where it gaped open suggestively over one thigh. Your skin buzzed like a hive of bees was trapped beneath it.

“This my present?” he asked, stalking closer. He snagged the tie of your robe in his long fingers, toying with it speculatively.

“It should be easy to open,” you joked, then almost cringed.

Sexy. You were supposed to be sexy, not goofy as hell. And what happened when he really did try to open it?

A small amount of panic crept up your spine again, seeping into your veins. You did not feel ready to be naked before all of the eyes in this room, nevermind the roving gaze of the internet. What had you been thinking, signing up for this?

Your hand came up defensively to tug the robe tie back out of Bakugou’s hand, only for it to be captured too. Bakugou tugged you up and to him, and your face broke out in another sweeping wave of flame as you felt the hard planes of him against you. He was so warm, and smelled so good up close and you could not even begin to know what to do or where to put your hands—

Before you could ask him what the heck he was doing, however, he brought your captured hand to his mouth. You almost leapt out of your skin when you felt the gentle press of his lips on the inside of your wrist, the careful flicker of a tongue. Those scarlet eyes slid over you knowingly, near enough that you could see tiny flecks of deep purple in them.

His other hand came up to take your chin, his thumb stroking over the side of your jaw. The feeling made you shiver slightly, and it must have been clearly visible because the corner of Bakugou's mouth lifted into a smirk against your wrist. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, every inch of your skin thrilling with the feeling of your longtime crush doing something this to you.

“Think I’m gonna enjoying opening you alright,” Bakugou intoned.

You struggled to remember what he was talking about, giving up almost immediately as his mouth trailed along the inside of your arm. It traced up and up and up, until he was hovering dangerously close to your face. His fingers tightened on your chin, tilting your face up to his.

And then he bent his head, and crushed his mouth to yours.

Immediately, everything else disappeared.

Kissing Bakugou was three thousand zillion times hotter than you could have ever even imagined. You’d sort of imagined that with an attitude like his, he would be all power and impatience. And the power was there, but leashed, somehow. His mouth was hot and shockingly sweet on yours, and his fingers cupped your face to his, holding you there like he planned to kiss you for hours yet.

Your head was spinning by the time he let your mouth free, and the dip of his blonde lashes as he looked you over was extraordinarily self-satisfied.

His hand on your chin went to your robe instead, pulling the collar wide so that he could lower his mouth inside instead, kissing over your throat. You seized fistfuls of his suit, clinging to him, as he mapped a hot path across your shoulder and collarbone, one of his hands coming up to up your chest.

You heard yourself let out a soft hiss as his thumb pressed over your nipple through the silky fabric. Bakugou sucked a careful bruise into the side of your neck as he did it again, letting out a barely audible snort when you jerked in his hold, unconsciously arching into his hand.

“So sensitive for me, angel,” he drawled as his other hand came up to carefully pinch your other nipple.

You heard yourself make a small, choked off noise like a whine, and you could feel Bakugou’s lips pull into an answering smirk against your throat. You didn’t think you had been quite this responsive to a partner before—but something about the careful, purposeful way he was touching you had your blood running quicker in your veins.

Bakugou’s thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles over your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to make you groan. He teased you again and again as his mouth traced higher on your neck.

Within minutes you were panting, a slow, syrupy pleasure dripping down into your core.

Bakugou tugged your robe wider, then bent his head. You felt the tickle of his hair against your collarbone, softer than you would have thought, as his mouth closed over the point of one nipple. The draw of his mouth had you arching up into him immediately, pleasure zinging through your veins.

“Oh my god,” you said, seizing a fistful of that blonde hair.

Bakugou’s tongue teased at the nipple, and you writhed in his hold. Then he did the same to your other one, and you thought you might die. He hadn’t even touched you yet and you already wanted to crawl out of your skin with impatience.

“Katsuki—please,” you heard yourself say, almost distantly. “Katsuki—oh!”

“Please what, angel?” he said into the skin of your chest, before laying his mouth back over your nipple and giving a sweet suck.

“Oh my god—please!” you said, stupidly. Not an answer to his question but you’d forgotten how to string words together, your brain-to-mouth connection running on autopilot.

“Gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” Bakugou said, and you heard the relish in it. Your face burned, and you yanked his hair a little more firmly. He just groaned, and then sucked you a little harder.

“Touch me! Please—Katsuki,” you panted out, hips flexing unconsciously with the pull of your nipple.

“Thought this was my gift, angel. I can’t enjoy it how I want?” he asked.

You considered his words muzzily, having no idea what he was talking about. Gift? What gift was he talking about?

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes flicked up to yours, and something in your expression must have told him you had no idea what he was on about. His mouth pulled up into a self-satisfied grin, and he leaned up to kiss you again.

You flattened yourself out against his chest, all but velcroing yourself to him. You wanted to feel every inch of that hard body against you, wanted to climb as far into him as you could. Something gratifyingly hard pressed against your stomach as you kissed him, and he grunted, locking you to him with a muscled arm across your back.

“Want me to touch you, angel?” he asked.

You nodded. A smile played across his lips.

“Get on the bed for me then, sweetheart.”

It took a minute for you to process but then you were scrambling to obey, scrabbling your way onto the bed, turning and watching as Bakugou stepped nearer.

He shed his jacket as he approached, yanking off his tie too and flinging it somewhere behind him. Then he crawled over you, his fingers seizing the ties of your robe as he did. He pulled it open gently, then yanked a little harder until the silk tie slid free.

His eyes picked over it speculatively, then flashed back up to you. A look of intent interest settled over his features.

“You ever been tied up before, angel?” he asked.

You shook your head, even as it swam with the implication. Your skin prickled, somehow growing even hotter. He didn’t mean to…?

“You gonna let me?” he asked.

You rather thought you would let him do anything he wanted with you. The question was barely out of his mouth before you were nodding hurriedly. A shocked laugh punched out of him, and he gathered up your wrists, scooting you backwards until they pressed against the headboard.

He looped the silk around your wrists, gathering it into a series of complicated knots. He moved with a purpose and precision, his movements sure and practiced. You tested the give of the ties when he sat back on his haunches, finding that they held firm, even when you put a little more muscle into it.

Bakugou’s gaze blazed over you, hot like coals. His eyes traced over your body, spread out under him now, your silk robe pooling at either side of you in a pink puddle.

He bent his head and kissed you again, until you were fuzzy with the feeling once more. Then he worked his way downwards, softly biting your shoulder, licking over one nipple, pressing deep kisses into your belly and then indent of your left hip.

A shock of pleasure raced through you when you realized where he was going with this, and you let out an involuntarily little gasp as he hooked your thighs over his broad shoulders.

“Katsuki,” you began, though you had no idea what you meant to follow it up with. Bakugou didn’t wait for you to finish, ducking his head and licking a hot stripe up the cleft of you.

Immediately you arched, thighs flexing under his hands. Your face heated when he laughed again, but any embarrassment was instantly forgotten when he licked over you again, slower and more deliberate this time.

“Oh my god,” you said again, biting off into a groan when his tongue dipped deeper between your folds, flicking up over your clit.

“Yeah, angel?” Bakugou asked, his voice a heady rasp. “You like that?” He layered another open mouthed kiss over you, slow and thorough, until you were arching up into his mouth again.

It would have been evident to anyone on earth how much you liked it from the noises you made, the way you kicked and squirmed with the movement of his mouth. He sucked your clit gently into his mouth, then laved over it firmly as he pressed his fingers to you, the pads of his index and middle slowly sinking into you.

Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when he gave another slow suck, the feeling almost too much. His fingers pressed deeper into you, easily slipping in with how comically wet you were for him. The gentle suction of his mouth made everything a million times better, everything a million times worse, as he carefully curled his fingers within you. He seemed to immediately find a spot within you that felt like he was touching your clit from the other side too, and the feeling was immediately far too much.

“Holy shit,” you heard yourself say, cutting off into an honest to god whine when his tongue swirled around your clit, just as he teased a finger along you from the inside too. “Katsuki—oh! Katsuki please! Please oh my god oh my god.”

Bakugou’s ministrations grew a fraction firmer, and you heard him groan too as he kissed you messily.

“So fucking hot for me, sweetheart. So sweet,” he said, then sucked again, a tiny bit harder this time. His fingers stroked you from the inside, a firm, deliberate rhythm that had you turning your face and muffling a keen into the meat of your arm.

Your hips flexed against his face, wild and uncontrolled, wanting less, more, not enough, too much, oh my god—

“Katsuki!” you cried, as you suddenly hit the crest of your pleasure. Your wrists pulled against their bonds, and the feeling of helpless restraint suddenly made everything feel a thousand times more intense. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, so that even the air of the room seemed too harsh on your skin. You screamed as you rode out your pleasure against Bakugou’s face.

He worked you through it diligently, licking and sucking until you collapsed back to the mattress, panting like you’d just run a marathon.

“Good, angel?” Bakugou asked.

You nodded breathlessly, turning your face to his when he crawled up your body to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on him was both embarrassing and thrilling, but Bakugou didn’t give you much leeway to consider it, kissing you into a stupid, pliant little puddle against the mattress.

You could feel him hard and hot against your hip as he did so, but he didn’t make any move to get inside you yet. Instead, his hands moved over you, slowly teasing you from satiation back into want. His fingers played with your nipples again, pinching them softly and rolling them. It felt like he'd rigged up some kind of wire, leading from your nipples right to your core, that lit the pilot flame of your interest again.

A couple minutes of diligent teasing, and easy, unhurried kisses had you wiggling under him again soon enough. It was only then, when you realized you were unconsciously rocking your hips against Bakugou’s, that he finally sat back to shuck off his shirt and pants.

He was so unfairly beautiful, bared in the bright light of the room. You’d known he was gorgeous, of course, but up close he was something else entirely. He was chiseled with thick muscle, his chest and arms hard and glowing faintly with perspiration. The light and the shadows of the room played over the divots of his muscles with a deliberate care, like he was a painting instead of a man, highlighting him in loving shades. A set of perfect abs trailed down into the hard jut of hip bones over his pelvis, and his cock was just as upsettingly gorgeous as the rest of him. It was thick and full and flush with his arousal, and he wasted no time crawling back between your thighs.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice had gone even more gravelly than usual, and it plucked at your core like a string.

“Please, Katsuki,” you said, your voice embarrassingly breathy. You couldn’t help yourself though, couldn’t be ashamed with the easy way your thighs fell apart for him. Your ankles hooked across his back, trying to pull him closer still.

He groaned and surged up over you to grab a condom off the nightstand. He quickly rolled it onto himself in one practiced movement, before immediately pressing himself into you.

He sank in mortifyingly easily, you already half out of your mind with want. He didn’t seem to mind, though—you heard the soft, sibilant hiss of his own pleasure as he filled you, and your robe tugged the skin of your shoulder as he fisted a hand in it, just beside your head.

“Been dying to fuck you, angel,” he said. “Thinking about how hot and tight and sweet you would be for me. Been thinking about it nonstop.”

You made a vague noise of agreement, moving your hips with his as he drew back and pressed inside of you again. The slide of him inside you was mind-numbingly good, the pressure against your stomach as he pressed back in almost sparking stars in your vision. The flex of his abs between your thighs as he found his pace was almost immediately too much for you, and you had to turn your face away. You tilted your face up to his, watching him as he watched you.

Bakugou seemed to read your expression easily, finding the angle and pace you liked incredibly quickly. He slid an arm under the small of your back to angle your hips up into him, yanking you up like you were nothing, and the show of easy strength had your toes flexing and curling against his back.

He kissed you again, catching the sounds of your pleasure in his mouth as he rocked into you. You moved against him, hips bucking, delirious with the feeling of him. Eventually he freed his arm from under you, pressing his thumb to your slit again with deadly precision.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned into his mouth, legs tightening on him as he played with your clit. The almost-too-gentle sensation of his thumb on your clit, coupled with the relentless drive of him inside you had your vision sparking and greying at the edges. His face swam in front of yours, and all of your limbs began to feel shivery, almost too weak to lift yourself into him the way you needed, to rock against him and find relief from the friction.

Bakugou continued to tease at you, carefully pinching and petting. His hips drove into you tirelessly, slapping the bottoms of your thighs, as you strained in your silk bonds, wanting to grab him, pull him even harder into you.

“Katsuki, please please please,” you heard yourself begging. You felt him smile against your mouth, tasted his reply more than heard it.

“You want me to let you cum, angel?” he asked, doing something with his fingers that made your breath catch in your lungs.

“Unhh, yes—please!” you cried, desperation coming over you in a white haze.

You had never—never—been so desperate for anything in your entire life. You didn’t know how Bakugou was doing it, why his touch felt like so much more than anything else you’d ever felt in your life. If he didn’t let you cum you were certain you were going to die, right here and right now.

“You gonna scream for me, sweetheart?” Bakugou asked, his voice raspier than you’d ever heard it. He grit the words out, like he too was on the edge of his own climax, barely staving it off.

“Anything, I will do anything,” you babbled senselessly. “Yes—going to scream for you—Katsuki!”

Bakugou’s gaze was hotter than you’d ever seen it, scarlet eyes clouded with pleasure, glowing like banked coals. “Then you can come for me, angel. Come on, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” you cried in answer, your feet planting themselves on the bed to jut your hips up hard. Bakugou’s thumb pressed hard against your clit, then, firm and merciless, and he fucked into you harder, his pace growing faster, furious.

Your second orgasm hit you like a truck, snapping your spine into alignment, locking all your limbs up as if in rigor mortis.

“Katsuki!” you wailed as you writhed against him, clenching and fluttering around him as you sobbed.

“Oh fuck,” you heard him say, and his hips stuttered. You realized he was coming too, fucking into you sloppily and disjointedly as he rode out his own pleasure. You arched and spasmed with him, clawing uselessly at the silk that bound you, twisting in blissful agony.

When you finally came back to yourself you found yourself slumped on the bed, Bakugou’s weight pinning you down into the mattress. His chest was slicked to yours with sweat, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of it against you as he caught his breath.

“That good, angel?” he asked, his voice heady with satisfaction.

You nodded, absently turning your face back up to his for a kiss. He granted it, kissing you almost possessively. He looked soft and rumpled, just the way you'd always liked him, and something in you purred with satisfaction at finally getting to have him like this for you.

Gradually, you became aware of other sounds in the room as you came down from your high. Quiet murmuring and the sounds of shuffling met your ears, the shutter click of a camera lens slicing through the atmosphere like a knife.

A sudden shock raced through you when you realized you and Bakugou were not alone—and you were on the set of a porn film, half a dozen eyes glued to you just over one of Bakugou’s thick shoulders.

A porn film. You had been shooting a porn film!

“And cut!” you heard the director’s voice ring out, like a bucket of water dumped over your head.

You tensed up beneath Bakugou, mind racing. Holy shit, he had actually managed to make you forget, exactly the way he'd promised.

You could tell Bakugou was thinking the same thing as he went to untie you, looking extremely satisfied with himself.

“Told you, angel,” he said, flashing something of a feral grin. You hated how good the self-conceit looked on him.

You went to draw your wrists back to yourself as he let them free. But Bakugou caught them instead, carefully massaging the skin there as if to make sure things were circulating properly. It was a startling note of unexpected care, as was the way he drew your robe closed around you again against the sudden chill of the room.

You found yourself saying wonderingly, “Wow. It was just that easy for you to switch partners like that.”

The thought somehow stung, even though you’d known going into this what you were getting yourself into. Somehow, the latent care and intention with which Bakugou had fucked you had addled your brain, made you think your connection had been something more. He had felt like he had feelings, beyond those mimed for the camera.

But here was evidence to the contrary, plain and simple. There literally was a camera.

Except then Bakugou looked down at you, a frown marring his pouty mouth. “Well yeah. ‘Course it was gonna be that easy when it’s you we’re talking about.”

You blinked at him, not understanding what he was saying. “Uh. When it’s—me?”

A crease came in between Bakugou’s blonde brows. “I said it, didn’t I? While we were fucking? Wanted to fuck you for a long time. Of course it was easy.”

Your stomach dropped, like a rug had just been yanked out from beneath you. “You—have? What? Since when?” you demanded.

Bakugou leveled you with an unimpressed stare. “Since the second time we met,” he said, and your mind flashed back to the way he’d seemed not to recognize you, that second time you'd spoken to him. “Once I realized you did work for UA and weren’t actually a little fucking creep trying to lure me into your car.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline. “Then—? For years? You cannot be serious. You never acted like we were anything other than coworkers!”

Bakugou scoffed. “We fucking were coworkers. And I told you, I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You blinked again, startled by the level of professionalism couched in the crassess of his statement. It made sense, you supposed, for a pornstar of Bakugou’s caliber to have put boundaries like that in place. Probably everyone in the world would just be dying for a shot at him.

“Wow,” you said, almost to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, wondered how it was going to be possible to behave professionally with Bakugou at all going forward. It was probably obvious to him how big your crush on him was, given that he’d known all along he could make you forget you were on camera. Given the way you reacted to him embarrassingly easily.

Except then Bakugou leaned forward, putting his face startlingly close to yours. “Emphasis on were, since this is my last shoot,” he said.

You stared at him, wondering if you were interpreting the implication correctly. There was no way he meant—?

“Uhhhh, meaning what, exactly?” you prompted, heart beating just a little bit quicker despite yourself.

Bakugou’s mouth turned up into a gorgeous smirk, and he ducked his head even closer, voice going softer.

“Meaning you’re going to get dressed and I’m going to take us to get something to eat,” he said, fingers playing at the edge of your robe. “And then you’re going to give me that ride home in your car after all. And we are going to do this all over again.”

Flames erupted across your face, sweeping across your cheeks. And you were up out of the bed before you even realized what you were doing, catching yourself on the bedside table as you stumbled.

Bakugou’s laugh chased out of the set room as you raced towards the wardrobe again. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, this time.

Not when your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. You smothered a smile as you ran down the hallway.

Much like Bakugou had just done to you—it looked like your hopes and dreams were finally lining themselves up and filling themselves in.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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yanderedrabbles · 10 days ago

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Yandere Yakuza - Valentine's Special

Romance is in the air and a certain yakuza is keen to teach you all about Valentine's traditions in Japan. Word Count: 4.2k Male Yandere x Fem Reader Mini Sequel to Yandere! Yakuza

As a hostess, you've been looking forward to Valentine's Day. Guests are notorious for spending big and tipping even bigger when romance is in the air.

One problem though. Your yakuza boyfriend does not approve.

"You don't have to work on Valentine's. My Family owns the club. I should get a say."

You ignore his complaining and the arms wrapped around your waist. You're focused on your makeup and no handsome, dangerous yakuza is going to distract you.

He changes tactics. "Onegaiya de? [Please?] Pretty please?"

You sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "Of course I want to stay home with you. But I need money. If you've forgotten, my brother still owes you. And besides, the house mother told me to come in today."

He frowns. "Naze? [Why?]"

"I'm very good at my job, that's why."

You manage to finish both your lashes and your lipstick before he speaks up again.

"Kurabu ni issho ni ikimasu. [I'm coming with you to the club.]"

You aren't surprised. It seems like he spends all his free time as your customer. As though being in a relationship isn't enough. As though he wants to have you both during and after work.

You turn and plant a kiss on his cheek. You leave behind a lipstick mark that he's in no hurry to wipe off. "If you want to spend all your money on me, I'm definitely not going to complain."

He grins in that lazy way of his and loops his arms fully around your waist. "Anata wa watashi no kanojodesu [you're my girl]. Who else would I spend my cash on?"

He drives you to work with one hand on your thigh. It gives you butterflies - the warmth of his skin bleeding through the fabric of your dress, the way he sometimes squeezes the meat of your leg like he subconsciously wants to remind himself that you're still there.

When he opens the car door for you, he brushes his lips past your ear. "Got a real nice surprise for you later."

You stop and pretend to fix your heels so you can look up at him through your lashes. "Is it the same surprise as last time? Because I loved that one."

Big, scary guy that he is, you think you can still see him swallow and freeze when you look up at him like that. He takes you hand and steadies you but the eyes that trace over your body are hooded, unreadable. "Not what I had in mind this time, no."

He inhales sharply when you step past him and 'accidentally' brush your hand over his belt.

"Too bad," you say, "I love that thing you do with your tongue."

It takes him a second to catch up with you. When he does, he wraps his arm around your waist and hisses in your ear.

"Anta, ijiwaruya na. [You unbearable tease]."

You can't help but smile. Personally, you'd describe yourself as an unbearable, romantic tease. It being Valentine's and all.

You're honestly looking forward to spending your shift with him. Even though he's started calling himself your kareshi, he still doesn't talk about himself much. You're not offended by it. There are a thousand little ways you've pieced together his past. The way he likes his sake hot and the way he turns his nose up at high end sushi, the way he holds his cigarette when he smokes and the way he can flick a match on his thumb. It all tells you a bit more than he'd probably like you to know. And each date you go on, each shift that he spends entirely focused on you, is just another opportunity for you to untangle the mystery that is your yakuza.

Unfortunately, the boss has other plans. You don't even get a chance to sit down before one of the other enforcers pulls him aside. He frowns at whatever the man is saying and then quickly presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Gomen ya de, daisukinahito. Shigotoya nen. [Sorry love. Gotta work]."

He's out the door before you can even object. The house mother narrows in on your table and less than a minute later she has a client seated across from you. She's built a habit of trying to cram as many customers into your schedule as possible when your boyfriend isn't around to steal you away. You can almost admire her dedication.

The first client of the night is a salaryman already happily flushed with drink. He tips you well, buys you several rounds of expensive drinks and gives you a drunken kiss on the cheek before he leaves. A very typical Valentine's date.

You get through a few more without any issues. Mostly businessmen not willingly to go home to an empty apartment. Your wallet gets noticeably fatter after each one. It's long past midnight when things finally go sour.

You're touching up your lipstick when the yakuza walk through the door. You can tell what they are at first glance. And worse, you know these aren't the usual guys.

You expect trouble. You aren't sure when you developed an instinct for yakuza business, but you know that the newcomers most definitely aren't part of the Family.

You try and watch them as subtly as you can. One of the regular enforcers goes up to meet them and - surprisingly - leads them to the back of the club.

The group passes right next to you. You keep your eyes on your compact and lipstick like you've never seen anything quite so interesting as YSL Loveshine. At the last second you look up, and straight into the eyes of a bleached blonde gangster with a mean smile. He must have been looking at you already, because he shoots you a playboy wink.

On instinct, you bow your head. Even if they weren't your Family, it wasn't a good idea to be caught lacking in respect.

When they're finally gone, you sigh in relief. Talk about scary. Those guys looked like their favourite pastime was baseball; the faces and knee cap variety.

You're about to get up and take your break when something makes you look over your shoulder. The blonde yakuza is leaning against the wall just outside the staff-only door. And looking straight at you.

Oh, please not today. You already have one yakuza in your bed and almost constantly blowing up you phone. You want absolutely nothing to do with Mr Tall, Blonde and Evil.

No such luck. He says something to the enforcer next to him and beelines towards you. Eyes locked on yours.

He slides in next to you - not across where a client would normally sit. You shift over to make room for him and wonder if there's something in the water that makes you particularly noticeable to men with a nicotine and tattoo addiction.

"Omae, jitto mi teruyan ka. Na n ya, kiniitta n kai, kawaī ko. [I noticed you staring. Like what you see, pretty girl?]"

His voice is raspier than your boyfriend's. And meaner too.

You can just...pretend to not speak Japanese. But one look at the blond's sharp, lazy smile tells you he'll know you for a liar the second you open your mouth.

"Omaeni mo onaji ko to kiitē wa, ikemen-san. [I could ask you the same thing, pretty boy.]"

He laughs, "She's got an attitude! Not scared of a big, scary yakuza?"

"Are you supposed to be telling me that about yourself?" You lean your chin on your palm and tilt your head. "What if I'm a cop?"

"Then you can put me in handcuffs right now." He let's his eyes roam down your body. "I'll happily do whatever you want, officer."

Okay. Pervert yakuza number two added to your collection. Could you get out of this somehow? A client is a client but you don't want to be next to him any longer than necessary.

"Don't you want a girl who can speak Japanese? I'm still not very good."

"What I want? We won't really be talking if we do what I want."

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lights one with an easy flick of his lighter. He inhales deeply and let's the smoke out of his nose, like a dragon.

"You got a boyfriend?"

That really does seem to be the first question these guys ask you. What happened to 'how are you?' and 'here's a fat stack of cash, do you want it?'

"Yes." You shrug, like this is just a casual conversation with another client and not a rival with a gun under his suit jacket. "He's part of the Family."

"Wakatta wa. [I see]." He offers you a pull of his cigarette. You almost decline, but you look into his eyes - a dark hazel - and realise what a bad idea that would be.

He holds your gaze as he presses the cigarette against your lips. You pull on it as lightly as you can, the tip flaring a bright orange.

It burns your throat and you turn away from him to cough out the smoke. God, that stuff is awful. Why the hell is your man always lighting one if this is what they taste like?

When you turn back to him, the yakuza is studying the cigarette. Your lipstick left a stain on the filter. Slowly, he brings it to his lips and covers the place where your own lips were. He pulls in deeply and tilts his head back, eyes closed.

"Sweeter than normal," he breathes.

Nope. Nope. Nope. It's flattering really, but you aren't an idiot. You don't want your boyfriend's rival sitting so close to you, you don't want him looking at you with eyes like liquid honey and you most definitely don't want him calling you sweet.

If you could telepathically summon your boyfriend, you would. Unfortunately, he's busy with whatever it is they took him off to do, and you're stuck making conversation with a man who's arm keeps inching tighter and tighter around your shoulders.

You try to stand up and excuse yourself, but he wraps a palm around your thigh and pulls you back down without even trying.

"I need to pee," you tell him. He grins, cigarette casting his features in shadow.

"Perfect. I'm really thirsty."

Alright then. Ultimate host club perv discovered. It's almost a relief. You were worried your boyfriend would continue to hold that unenviable title.

You're about to say something - probably along the lines of it would go down even better with a vodka chaser - when your boyfriend finally arrives. You can tell it's him by the way he let's the door almost slam shut behind him. (You've tried working on that but every time you bring it up, he just says that you're so cute when you're bossy and won't you please take that tone with him later tonight?)

The blonde must have followed your line of sight, because his grip gets just a little tighter on you. "That your boyfriend?"

He's already heading toward your table and his frown spells trouble.

"Yep." You wonder if the blonde would listen to you if you tried to warn him away. You doubt it.

Your yakuza's hair is messy and his sleeves are still rolled to his elbows. He must have come straight from whatever job he got called away for.

He stops right in front of you, his arms crossed.

"Times up," he says simply. "Her shift is over."

The blonde takes another pull from his cigarette. "This your girl?"

Your boyfriend tenses, "Un. Kanojo wa watashi no monodesu. [Yeah. She's mine]."

You can almost feel the room getting colder. Your boyfriend flicks his eyes at the other yakuza standing at the back of the club.

"What are you doing here?"

"Boss had business with your side of things. Said I could throw back. Sample the goods." Blondie runs his palm up your thigh. "I'd have risked coming over ages ago, if I knew you had such cute pieces."

Your boyfriend narrows his eyes. "Times. Up. She's got another date waiting."

The blonde yakuza makes a show of looking at his wristwatch. "Looks like I've still got five more minutes."

"Your watch is late." Every word is bitten off and curt. You've seen him serious before, but never like this. Is this what he's like when he's working?

It's easy to forget his job when he's sprawled in your bed with his head on your chest, muttering about letting him sleep for five more minutes. It's easy to forget that he's a gangster who breaks faces for a living. That he's dangerous.

After tonight, you don't think you'll ever forget that fact. It's terrifying to be across from him, even if his glare isn't directed at you.

The moment stretches - taut, awfully tense. Finally, the blonde breaks.

"Tch. I've got shit to do anyway."

He stands up - and just when you're about to sigh in relief - kisses you right on the mouth. You jerk backwards, more surprised than anything else.

He straightens and runs his fingers over his lips. "Even sweeter than I thought."

You scramble out of the booth and grab your boyfriend's arm before he can do anything stupid. The muscles under your palms are already coiled tight and you're terrified to see what might happen if that strength is unleashed.

You bow in a quick, half hearted way. "O jikan o itadaki arigatōgozaimasu. [Thank you for your time]."

And then you're dragging your man out of the club before he can muster any objections.

It's only when the cold February wind is kissing your cheeks that you dare to look over at him. He's looking back at the club, eyes narrowed.

"How long?" he asks quietly.

"Barely even ten minutes," you half lie. "Really. He didn't do anything until you showed up, I promise."

You tug at his hand. "It's late. Let's go home, please?"

He finally looks at you, eyes flat and face blank. That scares you even worse than if he was frothing at the mouth and swearing.

"Alright," he says mechanically, "Let's go home."

Usually you take the train to work or he drives you. So when he starts walking, you don't immediately realise the streets are all wrong. His car is nowhere to be seen.

Even though Spring isn't that far off, this late at night the city is still icy. You wrap your arms around yourself and it doesn't take him long to notice.

"Koko. Kore o kite kudasai. [Here. Wear this]." He pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it across your shoulders. It smells like him - cologne and cigarettes. You aren't sure when, but at some point that scent became the one you associated with safety, with home.

It's quiet. You can't exactly ask him what work he did while he was gone and you most definitely aren't going to mention the club again.

He's the one who finally breaks the silence. "Purezento o moraimashita. [I got you a present]."

He did mention that earlier.

"Can I guess what it is?"

That earns you a half smile."Mochiron. [Sure]."

"Chocolate."

"No. Not this time."

"Hmm... Flowers?"

"They make you sneeze."

True. But what else would he have bought you for Valentine's?

"A puppy?"

He doesn't immediately reply. Eventually, "I really didn't think about that one. Do you...want a puppy?"

You first instinct is to say yes. Who wouldn't want a puppy? Despite having him, your brother, and your friends from the club, Japan is still a lonely place for you. A puppy would remind you of home.

But it would also make Japan your new home. In a way you aren't sure you want. In your mind, it still feels like you'll leave soon, be gone next week or next month, when this debt issue is settled. Even your boyfriend feels temporary. This isn't your country.

"No," you say eventually, "Not yet."

He must be thinking along the same lines as you because at your reply, his smile thins and he looks away from you.

"Nande ya, ano ko ni inu demo kattaro ka. Muriyari ore to ora setaru wa. [Shoulda got her a damn puppy. Force her to stay with me]."

You don't understand Japanese well enough to understand him when he changes his dialect. He manages a smile.

"Not a puppy either. Do you give up?"

You hate losing. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself. "...Yeah I give up."

He slows to a stop."Mewotojite. [Close your eyes]."

He takes your hand in his and lays something in your palm. You open your eyes to see a diamond necklace on a bed on midnight blue velvet. And it's definitely diamond - even in the neon soaked streets of the Red Light District, it sparkles. You gasp.

You're almost scared to touch it. It looks beyond expensive. Like something you pass in a store window and tell yourself maybe someday.

"You like it?"

You look up at him, eyes wide. "It's incredible. I've never... I've never owned something this beautiful."

He looks beyond smug. He plucks it out of the box and in one smooth move has it around your throat. His fingers brush the nape of your neck as he fastens the clip.

If you were on you own, you'd never dare to wear it out on the street. But only a colossal idiot would try and grab it off your neck when there was an armed yakuza right next to you. You shouldn't feel safer in the company of a criminal, but you do. God help you, you do.

He presses a kiss against your temple."Watashi no gārufurendo ni totte saikō no mono dake.[Only the best for my girl]."

It scares you a little - how much he's willing to spend on you. How are you supposed to repay a gift like this?

"Ie ni kaerimashou.[Let's go home]," he coos in your ear.

You laugh and loop your arm through his. "Want me to show you exactly how much I love my gift?"

"Yes." His voice is low and almost strained. "God yes."

It's only when you're halfway down the street that you remember you have something for him too.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" you spin away from him and dig through your handbag. "Ta-da! A hostess at work was telling me that it's usually the girls who give gifts on Valentine's."

You hand over the chocolate you bought him. It's a thick slab with Turkish delight in the centre. You've stuck a plethora of pink and red hearts to the box, each one with a sappy little quote in the centre.

You feel a little silly giving a gift like this to a yakuza of all people. But you also want to do something for your boyfriend, even if it is sickeningly romantic.

You picked up on him liking Turkish delight when your brother bought you a box, and it was mysteriously empty when you got home that day. Your yakuza claimed he didn't touch it, but he tasted suspiciously like rose candy when you kissed him.

He takes it from you carefully. "For me?"

You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

He's quiet for a moment or two, looking at you like he just can't understand you. Finally, he pulls you into him and buries his face in your neck. He takes a deep breath, but when he speaks his voice is just a bit unsteady.

"Of course I'll be yours. Ore wa zutto omae no mon'ya de. [I'll always be yours.]"

A man with a rap sheet as long as a CVS receipt, and somehow he's yours.

You pull him closer against you. "Thank you. For taking care of me. For helping me out when you had no reason to."

He hums quietly against your neck. "Nan demo surude, honma ni nan demo. [I'll do anything for you. Anything]."

He pulls away and something in his face tells you he's just had an idea. He peels the hearts off the box and carefully folds them into his pocket. He breaks off a piece of chocolate and holds it up to your mouth.

You're immediately suspicious of the smirk on his face, but you oblige and let him prop the chocolate between your lips. He leaves a piece sticking out of your mouth and before you can bite it off, he leans forward and does it for you. His hand slips around the nape of your neck to keep you still.

His lips barely brush yours.

He pulls away looking extremely satisfied. You've kissed him so many times already but your heart doesn't care. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears.

"Sweet," he runs his thumb across your bottom lip and then presses it against his tongue. "Just how I like it."

Damn him for a devil and a half. It's so totally unfair how giddy and nervous he makes you feel.

He nods at the building behind you. "Good thing we're already home."

"Home?" Is this his apartment? He never brings you to his apartment.

He leads you to the elevator and to your surprise has to use a key card to access the highest floor. The buildings in this part of town are cramped for space but when the elevator dings open, it does so in a broad corridor lined with heavy doors. He must be earning much more than you realised, to have a place like this.

He pauses on the threshold.

"Gotta carry you in. It's tradition."

"Only if we're newlyweds."

"Not true," He blatantly lies, hands drifting down your back. "Brings you luck for the rest of the year."

Before you can object, he sweeps his arm under your knees and scoops you up bridal style.

"Risuku wa toritakunai de. Un wa zenbu hoshī wa. [Not taking any chances. I want all the luck I can get]."

You don't get to see much of his loft-style apartment before he drops you on his bed. One knee already pressing into the mattress next to your waist.

He drops his head down to kiss the column of your throat.

"You'll be wearing nothing except your necklace when I'm done with you," he promises, voice already dropping to a slurred, needy growl.

Oh my. That's a new one. And you always took him for the lacy lingerie type.

You tug at his shirt but with one twist of his hand, he catches both your wrists. "No. You first."

"Impatient aren't we?"

His hands are already skimming down your back and unzipping your dress.

"Oh you have no idea how patient I'm being."

His lips dip past your collarbones and then lower still. You arch against his chest, breathless.

At the last second he pulls away. You practically whine.

"Move in with me."

You blink. "What?" Is he really asking you this while you're in your bra and panties? And when there are much better things to do with his mouth?

"You heard me. Maiban beddoni ite hoshī. [I want you in my bed everynight]."

You frown. Wouldn't it be dangerous? More dangerous than working in a yakuza club and sharing his bed already was?

His grip on you tightens. He isn't smiling anymore. "You're my girl. You should stay with me. Not your brother. And sure as hell not on your own."

"I-"

He slides down your body until his head is between your thighs. "Good. I'll get someone to move your things tomorrow."

"Wait, I didn't say -" He does something with his tongue that makes you gasp and arch your back.

"No more objections?" he mocks. You're too breathless to answer.

"Ēyan. Kikitakatta kotoya wa. [Good. Just what I want to hear]."

He's awake long before sunrise. You're still curled under his sheets, lovebites littered across your neck.

He didn't give you a chance to notice them last night, but there's a bouquet of roses waiting for you on the nightstand.

He leans in the balcony door, cigarette smoke curling between his teeth. Just watching you.

His girl. His to touch. His to have. His to hold and keep.

Do you have any idea how lucky you are that it was him you ran into that night? If it was anyone else sent to collect your brother's debt, they'd have just left you to drown under the mountain of interest. Let it get so bad that you couldn't possibly pay your way out and then offer you a job at a soapland. Hell, that was his plan too when he first laid eyes on you. Pretty thing like you would have made a fortune as a yūjo.

But then you went and made him fall for you. It's selfish of him to want you. He knows it's dangerous to have you on his arm. That blonde bastard from last night was proof enough. He knows, and still...

You can't expect a criminal to be selfless. You can't show him something precious and expect him to let it go.

"My girl." He exhales a cloud of smoke and leans his head back. "Gonna make you my wife someday. You just don't know it yet."

#Not 100% sold on this one chat #I'm so late but shush #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #reader insert #x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #Yakuza #Valentines #Valentine's Day #Yandere Valentine

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sugurouge · 15 days ago

Text

switch up! sylus x f!reader

explicit content, smut, mdni. ༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚ praise, pet names (sweetie, kitten, princess, dear, sweetheart, my feisty girl), manhandling, size difference, minor degradation, female/male oral receiving, creampie, rough sex, (pussy) spanking, snowballing, multiple orgasms, reader wears a dress & makeup - 4.7k words

synopsis: luke and kieran convinced you to give sylus a special gift for valentine's day! you only had to promise them not to peek inside before your special night. little did you know the harm a small booklet could cause (alternatively: sylus receives sex coupons from his beloved for valentine's day and his ego is bruised)

a/n: this pales in comparison to the actual event

It was your first Valentine’s Day with Sylus, and you could barely contain the excitement bubbling inside you. The bond you have built—filled with layers of trust, passion, and understanding—already makes every day unforgettable, though today was extra special.

As the evening arrived, the anticipation of finally being with him after a long, busy day was almost too much to bear. Sylus had sent you flowers earlier, each bouquet more perfect than the last, and presents that showed how well he knows what you love.

But now, this night was just for the two of you. No distractions. No complications. Just love and passion, the way you knew Sylus would want it.

When he arrived to pick you up, he couldn’t help but smile at you in that way that made your heart skip a beat. You were wearing the dress he had picked out for you—a deep, rich red that made you feel like a goddess; his goddess. It hugged your body perfectly, showcasing your curves in all the right places while ensuring comforting room for dinner.

Upon approaching, you could see the way Sylus’ irises widened as they roamed over you, a subtle yet intense hunger simmering beneath their surface.

─── ❤︎

Dinner had been a tranquil affair, with Sylus insisting on making the evening as perfect as possible for you. He always wanted to take care of you, especially on days like this. When the meal was finished, you surprised him by handing him a small, neatly wrapped gift—something he had not expected. But the beautifully crafted bracelets inside filled his heart with more warmth than he would ever admit.

To openly belong to you, to match with you—it stroked Sylus' ego in ways you may never fully understand. “I will treasure it for the rest of my life,” he promised with a smooth, satisfied voice as he put the jewellery on for both of you, finishing yours with a kiss to your wrist.

It was then that Sylus saw the surprise waiting underneath the box.

You managed to keep your promise to the twins not to peek inside this present, even though they’d clearly told you it was for Sylus; from you to Sylus.

"Give it to boss-man," they’d said, the mischief evident in their voices making it clear that whatever was inside was meant to tease him. "You won't regret it, just trust us!"

Has trusting the twins truly ever paid off for you?

Sylus, ever the confident figure, sat back, looking at you expectantly with one eyebrow raised. His sharp gaze lingers on you before he takes the suspisiciously thin package from the table.

"What’s this, sweetie?" he asks, his voice low, smooth—just his usual nonchalant tone. "Another present? Are you the one spoiling me tonight?"

His fingers expertly unwrap the paper, revealing a small booklet. His eyes narrow as he flips through it, recognizing the contents: sex coupons. Upon that realisation, his lips curl into an wickedly amused smile, but there is a slight edge to it—a flicker of something that almost seems offended, but not enough to break his calm composure.

Why on earth would he need something like this?

Are you trying to tell him something?

Did he not satisfy you with his love and devotion?

But he always made sure to give you everything and more …

Sylus breaks the silence after a minute of racing thoughts. "You think this is funny, kitten?" he murmurs, his eyes glinting with desire as they zero in on you.

Sylus leans back, giving you that all-too-familiar teasing smirk. “Are you trying to tell me I’m not performing to your liking?”

But you can see the challenge sparking in his eyes, the silent promise that he would take whatever ball you threw at his court and turn it into something far more unforgettable.

“I—” you start, though how are you to even explain this mess? It is also your first time seeing the coupons as well.

You are definitely going to make the twins pay for this.

"Well, if it’s a challenge you want..." Sylus trails off, his gaze locking onto yours with that intensity that makes you feel both flustered and thrilled all at once.

He opens the booklet wider, scanning the contents as if weighing each one. The sly smirk on his face grows wider with every flip.

Maybe now is the chance to make amends before it's too late. “Sylus, I had no—” but he is quick to interrupt you, his mind already too far in this little game without a care for who started it.

“You think I need these to prove myself to you?” He leans in over the table of the restaurant, reminding you awfully well of the fact you are sharing this conversation in public. But Sylus doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem faced to admit: “I live to please you, sweetheart,” while his fingers brush over your wrist to trace over your matching bracelet.

─── ❤︎

By the time you return to Sylus’ mansion, the only thing weighing heavy on your mind are impact the coupons had on Sylus. Your intention was to leave an impression with the beautiful bracelets, to have a sweet moment together with your devoted partner.

No wonder you find yourself standing across from Sylus, rooted in the doorway and watching with curious eyes as he pours himself a drink.

The leader of Onychinus makes a return once Sylus sits down at the table in the same imposing room you shared an encounter in before he took you on your first bike ride. The same room you heard witnessed him disintegrate a man for his betrayal.

With those memories in mind, the atmosphere shifts and you’re suddenly fully aware of those predatory crimson eyes raking over your figure above the rim of his whiskey glass.

Sylus watches you, clearly amused by your flustered state. His hand pats his lap, the gesture commanding you to join him. “Don’t be shy now,” he warns with honey dripping from his lips.

The moment you settle on his lap, Sylus wraps his arms around you, pressing your body against himself before reaching your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His touch is insatiable, pulling you closer and closer, leaving no space for doubts or hesitation.

The feeling of his muscles shifting beneath your touch, the growing erection pressing against you, and the heat of his body drive you to near that insatiable greed only he can bring out of you.

It all makes your head spin.

“You want to play, huh?” He chuckles against your lips, breathes a groan into your mouth as your nails graze his skin. “I’ll show you exactly what I can do, sweetie,” with that familiar predatory tone.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. His lips crash with yours all over again, taking control as he pushes his tongue past your parted lips, kissing you deep and demanding undivided attention. Your hands fist into his shirt, desperate to pull him closer, or push him away, you’re not sure once air seems to slip from your lungs.

Sylus’ fingers are already working their way up your thigh, his lips come to trace the curve of your neck to revel in the unfiltered reaction in the form of your quiet gasp once his touch slips beneath the hem of your dress, drawing so close to where you want him most.

Truly, not a second is wasted with a man like him.

Sylus’ hold on your thighs tightens, guiding you even closer, against the hard outline of his growing desire. "Is it better now, sweetie?" Sylus murmurs, his eyes darkened with desire as he watches your every reaction.

His thumb brushes against your kiss-swollen lips, and he can’t hide the proud smirk upon the sight of your already messy state. He also can’t refuse to lick off the spit he gathered from your lips, just to see you falter further.

“No,” you protest with a whisper as you fight to catch your breath. But the way you say it, so sweetly, almost as if you’re daring him to do more, has him looking at you with a quiet intensity.

"What? You want me to take you here on the table? In the room reserved for my guests? Aw... how naughty," he coos at you, exposing the whites of his teeth with an all-too-satisfied smirk as he tilts your chin with one finger.

“Can’t we just—” You pause, unable to think straight as the ache between your legs seems to only grow the longer he resists making a move. You shift in his lap, signalling in all the right ways how badly you want to skip the foreplay for tonight.

But Sylus doesn’t budge.

Why won't he budge?

He always does exactly what you ask of him.

The thought makes you act. Makes you chase, hunt. Lips searing his skin as you begin to litter his neck with lipstick kisses and demanding nips while you grind against his surely uncomfortable erection.

Sylus groans low in his throat, even if he tries to, he can’t resist you for long. His hands find your hips, halting your provocative movements just a moment before is patience runs thin. “Sweetie, you can't be serious...”

But maybe that’s exactly what you need. A night without his gentle loving to remember how nice it is to be spoiled rotten by him and the comforts you're usually surrounded. Maybe he should allow some artistic freedom tonight.

Instead of finding words, you let your actions speak and tug at his dress shirt, pull off his neck tie, unbutton his expensive clothes swiftly all to finally get to his bare skin.

Greedy little thing.

Unable to talk but still so eager to get to the good part.

With a sudden shift in position, your back meets the table quicker than your mind could process, an overwhelmed gasp from the impact all you’re able to present once Sylus pushes the straps of your dress down and past your breasts.

He attaches his lips to your exposed tits, grumbling a rough “Entertaining at is, it’s still not enough,” in regard your antics. He devours you; kissing, nipping and sucking along your breasts before popping one nipple between his teeth.

Who is in control now?

You arch your back in reaction, your lips part to let moans float through the air which only seem to grow louderr when you feel Sylus shamelessly grinding against you.

Firm hands reach around your thighs to pull your pussy further against himself before sneaky fingers find their way between your pressed hips, replacing his hard-on quickly in order to push your panties aside.

“Let me thank you for your inspiring present, kitten,” Sylus murmurs before biting into your nipple hard.

You try to find purchase on his body, nails digging into whatever fabric or skin they can find as your pretty pleas for him leave you breathless.

Your panties are snatched off your body in an near painful manner, yet it barely compares to Sylus’s mouth clashing with your pussy. Strong fingers dig into your inner thighs to spread you open for his assault. His sweet-talking tongue finally meets with your pulsing lips, mixing your slick with his saliva.

“I-I’m sorry!” you exclaim in a higher-pitched tone when the tip of Sylus’s tongue circles your clit, applying varying amounts of pressure on the little bundle to have you squirm beneath his lips. Though his broad shoulders keep you on display no matter how much you struggle.

The satisfied smirk on his lips presses against your cunt, and the vibrations of his deep hum leave you no other option but to tug on his hair, your legs struggling to remain open with every kiss and lick from your pissed-off lover.

When you finally open your eyes, you notice his intense stare that seems to have never left your face, basking in the glory he spoils you with as his tongue enters your clenching hole to feel your hips roll against his face.

Sylus’ hot breath against your skin only heightens your senses while his nose applies further pressure on your clit. His mouth is practically glued to your most sensitive parts, lapping eagerly at your folds and suckling your clit relentlessly until he feels your legs tremble in his hold.

But he doesn’t stop. Opting instead to fully drag the flat of his tongue over your pussy until his mouth latches onto your clit. The final nail to your coffin is the sudden stretch when two fingers seem to effortlessly slide themselves inside your convulsing walls.

Your makeup is long ruined, tainted by your tears and clamping hands over your mouth to stifle your frantic moans when Sylus pushes you over the edge.

The sensation has your hips lift off the table, inviting Sylus to grope your ass and push you mercilessly against him, continuing to stimulate your clit beyond your orgasm.

“Stop, stop, stop, please, it’s too much, too good…” you whine, yet your hips still move against his tongue, betraying your protests.

The mirth in his eyes is all he offers you to understand that he won’t stop tonight, that he is not done with you.

Sylus only pauses once he notices you calming down, placing a precise smack against your swollen lips like a writer sets the final words to his proudest work.

You jerk beneath him, almost thrashing in distaste upon your awfully aroused state and the delicious pain he puts on you.

It’s unfair of him to do this to you, to treat you like his toy, to do with you whatever he wishes. It’s unfair of him to unbutton his shirt in what feels like slow motion, exposing his sculpted body like it’s the best present he could ever give to you.

Your eyes roll to the back of their sockets when you hear his belt unbuckle, goosebumps decorating your delicate skin in anticipation of what’s to come.

That is until Sylus handles your body as if you’re nothing more than a feather in his grasp. His hold surely leaves traces as he pulls you impossibly closer. The head of his cock stretches your entrance with ease before he rams himself inside your already pulsating walls, spreading you open on his shaft and drowning in the way you swallow him without much resistance.

His actions steal desperately aroused cries from your trembling lips thanks to the burn he inflicts inside you. You arch up and try to get away from him, but he keeps you exactly where he wants you.

“My f-fuck, Sylus~” you wail, legs clamping around his small waist to suck him even deeper despite the pain. He is always a little too much to take for you, but the pride brimming in his eyes whenever you cream on his cock keeps you coming back until you’re formed just right to take him.

The feeling of your hot, wet cunt embracing his cock so willingly has beautiful groans clashing with your skin as Sylus’s lips attach to your neck. “So tight, so perfect for me...” he pants before his teeth graze your skin, teasing your already sensitive body further before he nuzzles his nose into the curve of your neck.

His soft affections stand in contradiction to his cock abusing your cunt like his personal toy. The way his hips almost painfully snap against your own undermining your strength difference only further.

Your arms find purchase around his shoulders, gently carding through his messy locks as his name falls from your lips repetitively.

A harsh slap to your ass rips a deep moan from you, which immediately shoots back at Sylus, as his cock twitches inside your clenched walls upon your desperate yelps and whimpers.

As your legs begin to tremble in his hold with raised moans falling from your mouth, a realisation dawns upon Sylus.

A chuckle follows, one that proves rather strained since he clearly is affected by the perfect embrace of your walls. “Are you into pain, sweetie?” a mere murmur against your racing pulse while he continously snaps his hips into you.

“And now you're cumming again already?” Sylus victoriously grins against your neck at the obvious answer to his question, your desperate clamping around his cock evidence enough for your nearing high.

Yet you nod frantically, burying your face in his silver strands while your tits bounce against his chest. “Please let me,” you whine.

“Please let you?” he echoes, with his thrusts slowing down to control your climax, bringing distance between your bodies so your fucked-out form is on full display for his greedy eyes.

Sylus takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers to he reveal your face to him. Your trembling lower lip and heaving chest are a gorgeous view, yet nothing compared to your teary eyes while your nails dig into the back of his hand.

“Let me cum, please, Sylus!” you beg in defeat.

Fuck, you've never begged before.

You wish you had the strength to smack him for his confident grin, but he leaves you whimpering instead as he pulls out from your drooling cunt, only letting the tip of his cock rest within you while he basks in your hatred.

“My feisty girl wants to cum so bad…” Sylus muses, mockingly brushing his fingers over your clit and pussy to smear your mixed arousal further. “Go on then, make yourself cum with whatever I offer you. Give it your best shot..” He whispers, the tip of his nose brushing against yours while he guides your hand down to your clit.

And you try, try so desperately to rub on your clit as you clamp around the head of his cock, cunt clearly trying to suck him back in as your hips rock in rhythm with the movement of your hands.

“Sylus,” is yet another attempt to get him to move again.

So he does.

He slaps your overly motivated fingers away from your clit to replace them with his own in the same second he pushes hmself back inside you. Hitting your sweetest spots while he painfully pinches the sensitive little nub to send sparks running through your system.

Your fingers find purchase around his wrist, digging into his skin in desperation, while you want nothing more than to finally come undone.

“You feel so good,” he sighs in exhaustion.

Sylus pushes you over the edge with precise thrusts for you to cream around his cock. You're tugging nearly painfully at his hair as your moans mix with sobs and praise to his name.

"Mh... and you sound so hot," Sylus mumbles, his scorching gaze unwavering as he witnesses your orgasm wash over your glorious body. It is only then that he allows himself to cum deep inside you, his hand squeezing your boob as his teeth bite down on your nipple to control the overwhelming pleasure of his high, his moans rumbling against your body.

And you’re so eager to milk him dry, cunt pulsing around his sensitive cock for every drop he could share. Each shallow thrust spreads his load until you hiss and whine, complaining about your fucked-out state with gentle objections.

"I'm far from done with you, sweetie," Sylus promises.

Though you shake your drowsy head, and Sylus only nods in return while ensuring your eyes lock onto his face; as if that could change your mind.

"You were the one who gave me the coupons," Sylus reminds you softly, the memory sending another rush of anger through his blood. "Now let me make good use of the inspiration."

"But those were not—” you try to interrupt, but it seems like he has little interest in your rebuke. Instead, he pulls out of you, eagerly flipping you around to press your chest against the dinner table, displaying your ass to his gaze.

His cum leaking out of your pussy is the only thing he can actually notice, tempting his fingers to automatically push it all back inside your leaking hole as you wail in despair.

"I-I can't, please!" you curse as your body tries to crawl out of his reach once he begins to scissor his thick fingers inside you. Hot kisses along your spine leave a trail up to your ear, his strong body locking your smaller frame in place on the table, open for his actions.

"Don’t tell me playtime is over already, princess," Sylus teases, "I’m sworn to please you, am I not?"

You know it's best to surrender once you make eye contact with him over your shoulder: The inquisitive glow of his right eye is a telltale sign for you to drop the act of defiance.

He knows how much you enjoy this.

So, the hard expression melts as soon as Sylus witnesses your nod, and a soft smile returns to his face. "That's right. Now take it like a big girl, will you?" The words can barely count as a question since he immediately sheathes his eager cock inside your pulsing cunt all over again—stuffing his cum back inside you with each thrust.

Sylus pulls out once more, teasing your aching hole with the tip of his cock until your hips wiggle and desperate whimpers escape your lips.

So much for not wanting to go on.

"Beg for it," he commands, taking the opportunity to slide his tip up and down your puffy lips, running circles around your clit—intentionally pulling the words from your mouth. Y

es, he definitely got a rise out of your trembling begging voice earlier.

"Please," you bite out, though the teasing stimulations make it hard to keep your dignity. "Make me feel good," you use the words as a loophole instead of begging Sylus for his cock.

But your feistiness only amuses Sylus. It earns you another harsh smack of his hand on your ass, making you topple further against the table. Strong hands squeeze the soft flesh of your thighs, kneading it while your legs are being spread wider, nearly lifting your feet off the ground entirely by doing so.

"I think you can be sweeter than that,” his raspy nearly threatens before greedy lips latch onto your back. His hot tongue licks along your spine, while crimson eyes devour the intense shivers spreading across your skin. Sylus’ body drapes over yours as his cock prods against your fluttering entrance once more.

"Sylus~,” you force his name out in a whiny tone, trying to lure him down the path of honey and sweetness.

Though your act ends the minute Sylus pushes himself further into you, the speed agonizingly slow yet so perfect to feel him spread your walls open for his thick cock once more.

You arch your back further, pressing your tits against the table and your ass against his hips, nails clawing on the hardwood.

"Aren’t you adorable when you’re being so obedient for me?” He praises in a whisper before chuckling near your ear.

Sylus’ cock twitches inside you, hitting the delicate deeper regions once you grind against his movements. Creating an addictive addition of your clenching cunt as if you never want to let him go again.

His thrusts are calculated, with the way he pulls his heavy cock out ever so slowly, pausing just a split second outside your oh-so-inviting hole before snapping his hips back.

The obscene smack of his thighs against your ass echoes through the room and mingles with your frantic moans as well as Sylus’ groans. "Creaming again, aren’t you?" he muses when your legs begin to quiver, barely managing to hold yourself up as your third orgasm threatens to roll over your body.

Your fucked-out expression meets his gaze over your shoulder, silently begging Sylus to support your body. "Oh, my dear," he mumbles like a devil on your shoulder, the grip on your body adjusting. For one hand to push against your stomach, and the other to wrap around your neck, successfully holding you in a bicep lock while aiding your exhausted form to stay up as he fucks you through your climax.

"Just let go for me," Sylus encourages, in between his aggressive lips sucking marks on your neck.

You teeth find purchase on his forearm, digging into his skin to hear Sylus hiss in sheer pleasure. Nothing is more satisfying for him than to be marked by you.

Then, your orgasm rushes through your body, overwhelming all your senses with the intense overstimulation at this point. Your moans turn whiny as Sylus continues to fuck you through it, before he finally pulls out.

"Come here," he pants, exhaustion hitting your usually calm lover as well. Nevertheless, he swirls your nearly passed-out body around and pushes you down on your knees, with such ease as if you were made of jelly. He hesitates at your sight—he’s never seen you more submissive.

Though your shaky hands clamp around his thick thighs, digging into the muscles for purchase as your cheek rests on his right leg, tired eyes meeting his gaze when he runs a hand along your neck.

"Are you going to let me cum in your mouth, hm? I think the twins are traumatized from your moaning," he teases in time with his fingers grabbing your neck to pull your face close to his cock.

You can merely follow his guiding hands while nodding to whatever Sylus says until you feel the wet tip of his shaft prodding against your lips. Near automatically, your tongue darts out to kitten-lick around the head before taking him in deeper and deeper.

Your eyes remain glued to the view above: His heaving chest and flexing muscles, the nibbling of his bottom lip, and the slightly squinted eyes with a sweet scowl on his forehead.

He is struggling.

Large hands come to cradle the back of your head, a comforting gesture that turns desperate once Sylus guides you further down his cock until your nose is pressed against his groin. "Clean me up, sweetie. Taste yourself, go on," Sylus rambles near mindlessly while drowning in these sensations.

It’s a rare sight, it’s a pretty sight, and you want more of it.

So you bob your head, swirl your tongue and hollow your cheeks until it is near impossible to deny the throbbing of his length while low groans turn to raspy moans.

Though Sylus manages to command a final warning for you. "Don’t you dare swallow without my permission."

Your hand pumps along his shaft while your mouth collects his load, desperately trying to keep it all on your tongue. It’s a futile attempt as the white fluids already dribble down your chin, though nothing Sylus’ thumb can’t fix with a swipe before replacing his softening cock with his thumb.

A moment later you’re already hoisted up to sit in his lap again, with his hand now gripping around your cheeks, pulling you down towards his face and forcing a pout on your lips. Sylus’ mouth captures yours in a searing, passionate kiss, moving with a hunger and desperation that steals the breath from your lungs, his tongue delving deep to taste you, him—everything at once.

The grip on your figure adjusts to keep you in place while the mixture of his semen and your spit flow from your mouth onto Sylus’ tongue. The moan that follows is a deep, satisfied rumble inside his chest before finally pulling back to lock eyes with you.

Shamelessly, he swishes the concoction in his mouth while his nails tease up along your back. Though the seemingly tender gesture turns demanding once his hands lock around the back of your neck as he sits up to close the remaining distance between your bodies.

Then, Sylus kisses you again, bending over your smaller frame when he returns the filthy mixture into your mouth, pushing his tongue against yours and creating the nastiest yet most exhilarating kiss you have ever shared.

The graze of his teeth over your sore lips brings the moment to an end. For him to whisper a "Swallow," with heavy eyes greedily watching you follow his request.

The guiding drag of his thumbs down your throat encourages you to swallow until nothing but your pink tongue remains. Then Sylus pulls you close against his chest, mumbling a sweet “You’re full of surprises, kitten,” with his usual tender tone while you hide your face in the crook his neck.

As if he has any right to talk about surprises after tonight’s actions.

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#lads sylus x reader #sylus x reader smut #love and deepspace smut #lnds smut #lads smut #sylus x reader #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x reader smut #lads x reader #lads sylus smut #l&ds sylus smut #love and deepspace sylus smut #about.sylus #─ .✦ winter's words

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cherry-zip · 14 days ago

Text

─ • CSC .ᐟ Tie a Cherry

› content ┆ Choi Seungcheol x fem reader ⊹ genre .ᐟ smut and cute ending ✎ word-count ┆ 2k. ⌁ summary ┆Choi Seungcheol comes home late from work, dressed in his suit and tie, to find his girlfriend waiting in pink pajamas. With a playful pull of his tie, she drags him to the sofa, ready to unwind with a sexy Valentine’s Day gift, filled with affection and desire. ⨯ content warning .ᐟ dry humping, making out, cheol is hot.

✧ happy valentine's day - here's my first even nsfw fic as a gift ✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! this is my first even nsfw fic so bear with me.

› minor do not interact, you will be blocked

It’s nearly midnight when you hear the familiar sound of Seungcheol’s key turning in the lock. You’ve been waiting for him all night, watching the clock tick steadily past the hours he usually gets home. Though you know how busy he can get with work, it doesn’t stop the small knot of worry from forming in your stomach. Seungcheol had let you know beforehand that he was going to come home late today but that didn’t stop you from waiting.

Had it been any other day you would have already gone to bed, but, it was Valentine’s Day, and you felt the need to stay up for him tonight. You didn’t mind him not being home for this special day—you knew how important work was for him, and it was something that you were okay with.

He would make it up for you. He always did.

Finally, the door creaked open, and there he was —your tired, overworked boyfriend, standing in the doorway with his suit still on. You can practically feel the weight of the day hanging around him. He looked exhausted, his broad shoulders slumped, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slipped his shoes off.

You watched him for a moment, taking in the sight of him, knowing just how much he’d been pushing himself lately. You can see the strain on his face, the last thing he needs is to be left alone with his thoughts. You wouldn’t let that happen, not tonight at least.

You approached him before he could get too comfortable, stepping softly toward him while wearing one of his shirts paired with pink shorts that left nothing to the imagination. The kind that made you feel both cozy and confident. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow playfully, but there was a hint of concern behind your teasing gaze.

"You’re late," you say, a gentle accusation in your voice.

Seungcheol looks at you, his lips curling into a tired but genuine smile. "I know, I’m sorry," he says, his voice low, but you can hear the weariness in it. "It’s been one of those days."

You know exactly what he meant. He said it all the time. But it never stopped you from worrying, especially when he’s gone all day, getting caught up in the never-ending cycle of meetings, deadlines, and calls.

"You’re always saying that," you tease, but it’s softer than it sounds. "You’re always working so hard. Are you ever going to let me take care of you?"

A brief pause follows, and you see the hint of guilt flash across his face. You hate when he feels guilty, even though you know he can’t help it.

"I promise I’ll make it up to you," he says, stepping closer as if trying to reassure you—and maybe himself, too.

And he will make it up to you, one way or another. But before he can say anything else, you act on impulse. You reach for his tie, grabbing hold of it with a sudden surge of energy.

"Hey!" Seungcheol laughs in surprise as you pull him toward the couch. He stumbles slightly, but you guide him down easily, tugging him until he’s sitting down.

“Stop laughing,” you say, smirking. “I’m trying to help you relax.”

You sat on his lap, straddling him as your hands worked on his tie, undoing it with practiced ease. His jacket was already slipping off his shoulders, but you weren’t done yet. You could feel the stiffness in his body, the tension clinging onto him even after the long day. You won’t let him stay like this. Not while you’re here. Not while he was under you.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmured, the words soft but firm. "You deserve a break."

He chuckled, but there was something softer behind his laughter. "You always know what I need," he says, his voice low, a little tired but somehow full of affection.

You look at him as you work, your fingers deftly loosening his shirt, watching the tension melt away from his face as you carefully help him strip off the layers of his workday. There was something soothing about this process, it felt grounding in a way, especially when he leaned into your touch. His warmth was comforting—like a weight you’ve come to rely on, something that was as familiar as your own heartbeat. And him, just him - looked so good.

You’re so in love with this man.

“You always look so serious in that suit,” you tease again, glancing up at him. "It’s good to see you out of it for once."

Seungcheol smiles, a little tired but appreciative. "I’m serious about work, you know that."

“And I’m serious about making you relax,” you reply, your tone playful but affectionate. You begin to unbutton his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you move down each button, carefully peeling away the layers of his day. “Just let me do this for you."

He doesn't fight you. Not really. Instead, he lets you, letting out a slow breath as he sinks into the couch, his hands resting high on your thighs. He looks like he’s falling into a peaceful calm, his posture loosening, the weight of the day falling away.

“Are you cold?” he asks suddenly, his voice soft, as he looks down at your pajamas.

You shrug, not really caring.“I’m fine,” you say with a smile. "But you—" You pause, your eyes flickering to his half-unbuttoned shirt and the tiredness still clinging to him.. "You’re not fine. Let me take care of you, okay?"

He smiles again, the fatigue melting from his eyes as he watches you work. He’s always so serious, always the one taking care of everyone else.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was yours to take care of.

And you clearly had something in mind to make him feel better.

You lean down to kiss him. He hums into the kiss, bringing you even closer to him, arms holding onto your waist tightly. He felt himself growing addicted to feeling the comforting warmth of your body. His tongue softly bit at your bottom lip, making you open up, welcoming his tongue to lick into your mouth. Your hands glide up on his chest to find the nape of his hair. He loves when your hands are in his hair, tugging at it, making him growl loudly. The atmosphere gets hotter from the kisses he gives you, you can’t help but let soft whines escape your lips.

Your reactions made Seungcheol smirk while he kissed you, but that wasn’t going to last for long. Instinctively, you roll your hips down onto him, making him groan against you. All you’ve done so far is kiss, but you both got so worked up—and you loved it.

You keep rolling your hips, small whimpers escaping your mouth as you chase any kind of friction you can get. Your hands slid down onto his shoulders, needing more support as you grinded harder against him.

Seungcheol could feel himself getting hard from the way you were grinding on him and from the way you were whimpering in his mouth. He grabs your hips tightly, shifting you right on top of his clothed cock. You don’t seem to notice at first, but when his cock twitches against your thigh, you pull away from him, staring down.

“Don’t stop moving,” he groans out, you feel his mouth on your neck, slowly biting down as he starts giving you hickeys. “Fuck, I love your moans so much, you sound so good for me.”

He pulled back from your neck so he could see how good you looked, only for him. He curses silently when he sees how much of a mess you are; flushed face, parted mouth letting out moans, and your eyes rolling back in pleasure. You could feel his clothed cock twitch under you.

“Your body is so hot Cheol, so warm, so hard.”

You were desperate in your movement and will to make him cum hard, knowing the man under you felt just as good. You felt proud knowing that it was you who was making him feel that way. You felt the need to get yourself off with him, you needed him.

His hands wandered down, grasping at your ass. He was no better than you, letting out low grunts every single time his hips rolled to meet yours. He helped you roll your hips, grinding harshly down on him.

Seungcheol could easily flip you over and fuck you hard on the sofa but he doesn’t. You had this special moment for him in mind, to pleasure him and he was more than content with where you were now. He tilts his head back, a hiss of air escaping from his clenched teeth as his fingers dig into your hips. He can't stop the little laugh that follows the exhale because you're driving him crazy. Your lips attack his throat as your hips descend sinisterly on his.

“Fuck...” he wanted to get all those clothes off but at the same time, the way you were rubbing against him felt too good. He couldn't even think about telling you what he wanted. He felt like he was going to cum like that.

“You're so hard for me Cheol.”

You hear his low laugh against your jaw before Seungcheol bites the flesh there. You were a fucking tease. He revels in the sound of your breath catching as he wiggles against your own arousal. Your trousers were soaking wet from wanting him so badly.

“You're trying to make me come like this”, Seungcheol's hand tangles in the hair on the back of your head, making you moan his name, as he pulls to look into your eyes. He laughs at the smile on your lips at his words and the feel of your hips rolling against his bulge.

“Will you Cheol? Cum with me just by doing this?” Your head fell on top of his shoulder, licking and biting the available skin.

His hands grip your hips, setting a pace for you as he grinds you harder against him. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, not when he’s holding you and letting out groans of your name. Watching you restlessly chasing your climax pushes him over the edge.

You enjoy the silence only the sound of you both breathing heavily can be heard, slowly coming down from your high. Seungcheol holds you regardless of how hot you two feel.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” he murmurs, his voice almost barely above a whisper. "I haven’t been able to relax properly in so long."

Your heart swells, and without saying a word, you shift closer to him, resting your head against his chest. You love the feeling of his strong arms holding you; you would never refuse him. The familiar rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his skin — that was all you needed to know that everything was okay.

"Yeah," you reply softly, your voice barely audible. “We can stay like this as long as you need.”

The world outside falls silent, and all that’s left is the sound of his heartbeat and your own, in your quiet home. You cherished these moments.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers after a long while.

You raise your head to look at him, your fingers gently brushing across his jaw. "You do," you reply simply, your voice full of affection. "You just need to remember how to breathe sometimes."

He smiles, a slow, genuine curve of his lips. "I’ll try to remember. Happy Valentine’s Day my love, I’ll make it up for you."

You know he will make it up eventually. It’s during moments like these—when his arms tighten around you— that you realize nothing else matters. Work, deadlines, all the pressures—those things can wait. What matters now is the peacefulness between you and the way you fit together in this small, quiet space.

For tonight, home isn’t a place. It was just the two of you, tangled together on the couch, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside forgotten.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › anonymous review form & join my taglist

@ credits┆big thanks to @kyeomofhearts for beta & proof reading the hell outta this fic ☆彡 honestly can't thank you enough, even if i have to bully you into writing more @ credits┆also gonna thank @shinysobi, @tusswrites and even the crazy @hisnowbie2 for helping me out coming up with a title ☆彡

❀ a/n┆ yes, this is real. My first ever NSFW fic is officially out

☘︎ taglist: @zozojella, @shinysobi, @kyeomofhearts

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip" 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

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