#I will say I hate him w my full chest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shoyoist · 2 years

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having horrible horny thoughts about telling best friend hanma no guy has ever made you cum so he takes it upon himself to be the first because he deserves it and wants to be your first something :,( eats you out like a starved man and his strokes are immaculate someone help 💔💔

— 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 !! : hanma shuji.

content: f!reader. college au(?). you're inexperienced, shuji is secretly in love with you. pussy eating, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, he makes you call him daddy. if this makes no sense its bec i wrote the whole thing w my clit.

an: (s)creaming this turned into a full fic lmfaoo

⠀⠀ — . ｡˚ ♡ "i dare you to tell me somethin' that'll make me laugh."

“no guy’s ever made me cum.” you’d told hanma. a not so innocent answer to a rather innocent dare, you admit. but he’s your best friend, nothing less (and nothing more). it’s fine.

and there was an awkward, momentary silence for a few seconds. he’d fallen still, holding the cigarette he’d been about to take a drag from in mid air, amber eyes flickering with an emotion unreadable to you.

“say what, dollface?” he asks — using that petname with you again, that your exes always hated — and the disbelieving tone in his voice embarrasses you, brings a flush to your cheeks and ties a knot of humiliation in your guts.

you squirm on the back of his motorcycle, as he turns his head to look at you, leaning against the fence right by you, where he’d parked the vehicle.

“i—” you stutter, flustered. “no guy’s ever made me cum before.” just something funny that’d slipped out your mouth, during a lazy game of truth or dare you’d played during his smoke break after class.

“that’s fucking funny, doll.” he does laugh, but it’s awkward. “you serious?”

“yes.” you’d answered. truthfully.

and now, you’re splayed out between hanma’s legs, on his bed in his room, his long and lithe fingers bullying their way into your cunt for the third time. “h—ah! wait!”

he’s leaning against the headboard, one arm hooked around your waist, hand firmly on your thigh and holding your legs spread apart, fingers in your pussy as he chuckles lowly at your whines.

you’d question it — question what the fuck was happening, if he just wasn’t so fucking hot and making you feel so fucking good.

“that’s it,” he smirks, as you drop your head against his chest, grabbing onto his wrist, desperately trying to close your legs as he effortlessly draws another orgasm out of you. “that’s it ... ya look fuckin’ cute when you’re cumming.”

he laughs when you try to look up at him and scowl, eyes fluttering and rolling back into your head when he uses the hand that’s not busy fucking your pussy to land a slap on your clit.

you moan again, and he laughs. “see? atta girl, so pretty when you cum. tellin’ me nobody’s ever seen you like this?”

you dont answer, too busy trying to blink back the wave of dizziness that’s washing over you with the bliss hanma’s giving you, on his fingers alone.

the inked kanji on the back of his hand flashes darkly, sin bobbing up and down between your legs, shiny with your slick, as hanma curls his fingers into your tight, clenching walls and rasps into the shell of your ear, “asked you a question, dollface.”

“nobody,” you gasp, for some reason so nervous yet so turned on, by the demanding, challenging edge to his tone. “nobody, hanma— ah!”

“tch, it’s shuji, sweetheart.” he pinches your clit, laughs when your knees jerk up at the sensation.

his voice goes a little softer as he continues, thinking you wouldn’t notice the hint of jealousy and longing in his voice with the state you’re in. “gonna keep me just your friend, just your ol’ buddy hanma-kun even after i take you on my bed, fuck you on my fingers ’n make you cum over ’n over again?”

“a—mngh, ’m sorry, shuji,” you whine, too enamoured by how he feels to argue, and his heart jumps at how sweet his name sounds off your tongue. “f—fuck, feels so good!”

“would feel better if i were usin’ my tongue. or if you were on my cock.�� he laughs when your expression visibly scrunches up in embarrassment, cooing at you and telling you how cute you are as he grips your waist and turns you around to straddle him, legs shaky with the effect of your previous orgasms. “want me to do it, yeah?”

“mmm,” you answer though you’re not sure what he means, holding onto his shoulders for support. he holds you steady, and slides himself down onto his back onto the mattress, pushing your legs further apart around him and cupping your ass, pulling you forward — and you realize what he’s about to do. “shuji, no, i’ve n—”

you cut yourself off, but hanma picks your sentence up anyway.

“never been eaten out before?” he asks, sounding both unconvinced and pissed off at the same time, and you sit there as he stares up at you, so fucking embarrassed—

“my doll’s been gettin’ treated like shit, huh?” he breathes, gold eyes tracing your figure down. “sweet lil’ thing, i’ll show you how y’should be treated, a’right?”

“mm,” you let out a sound, so shy when his voice goes all sympathetic. it makes your pussy go slick with want, your heart beating faster with anticipation. “mkay.”

hanma doesn’t hold back. he tightens his arms around your hips and waist in an instant, pulling your cunt down on his mouth, nose pressed just over your clit as he inhales deep into you, letting out a needy growl as he opens his mouth and takes you.

your hands scramble to find a hold on the headboard as he rocks you forward, trapping you on your knees with your thighs plush and warm around his face, drinking in your cunt — devouring you like a man starved. “fuck,” he slurs into your heat, muffled and hot. “shit, baby, s’ fuckin—good.”

his tongue grazes your clit, curls around it and sucks, and you cry out, squirming in his arms, one hand leaving the headboard to get down and curl your fingers into his hair and tug, stuttering his name out in a pleading chant. “shuji, shuji, shuji — fuck!”

the moan he lets out when you pull at his black and blonde locks thrums against your cunt, and when he sucks at your clit again, slurping loudly and grunting praise into you, it’s enough to make you cum again. “ah, shuji, cumming, cumming!”

“i know,” he hisses, and when you look down at him, the rise of his cheekbones, his nose and his mouth are soaked with your wetness— and his eyes are blown wide, the gold of them almost lost in the darkness of his want. “i know, baby. i know.”

“please,” you hiccup, tears blurring your vision, hips trembling as you try not to collapse over hanma’s face.

your cunt aches, empty despite the way he shoves his tongue up your fluttering hole, and you dont want another orgasm without it. “fuck! shuji — shuji please, need your cock.”

“mm — what’d you say, dollface?” he grunts, licking at your clit, yanking you back in when you try to lift yourself off him. “cant just get all you want like that. say it right f’me.”

“w-what?” you sob, unsure what he means but so needy to obey, because you just need him to stuff you full and fill you up already.

you dont know if it’s wrong or not, to want your best friend’s dick inside you so badly, but you’ve gone this far, havent you? he’s giving you what you want.

“you g’na do as i say?” he smirks, watching how you nod and keen when he tongues at your abused clit again. “then say ‘i love you, daddy, i only want you ‘n your cock from now on’.”

huh? — it takes a second or two, but the words put clarity in your head, somewhat, when you hear them.

swallowing back the shaky whine of acceptance bubbling at your throat, you manage to ask instead, “you want me to tell you i love you?”

there’s a small pause, before hanma’s grip on your hips tightens again.

but this time, he pulls you off.

it urges you back to your position straddling his hips, as he sits back up, leaning on the headboard once more — and though his hard-on brushing hot and heavy through his jeans against your messy cunt is distracting, you pay attention to his expression instead.

hanma stares at you, face wet with your slick and hair messy with your hand tangling through the dyed locks. “so you ... dont?”

it’s a sudden flipside to the multiple orgasms he’d just sent you through, and it disorients you just a little.

but the look in his amber eyes, black and blonde hair stuck to his forehead and framing his face, the warmth in your heart as you contemplate an answer — and the desperate ache in your empty cunt, it all convinces you to say you do.

“i do.”

there’s yet another damned pause, as you sit on hanma’s lap, naked and with his dick hard under your ass, your palms flat against his bare chest — if someone’d told you before that a dumb game of truth or dare after class would lead you to this situation, you’d laugh.

but — but this is shuji. he’s rough on the exterior, a major tease, a man notorious and famous on the streets; but really? he’s sweet.

he buys you coffee, takes you out shopping, takes you to the salon, pays for your takeout. he always tells you he'll fuck your exes up if they hurt you or make you cry (and they have done so, but you've never allowed him to beat them).

he goes with you to the library, even though he doesn't even care for spending hours on assignments or work. to be fair, he does leave you in there and go out to smoke after only a few minutes, but he always comes back to drop you home.

he's so nice to you, despite himself. and turns out, if you'd just ask, he'd fuck you too.

he’s your best friend. nothing less, nothing more, but you decide it now, trembling from the euphoria he’s giving you. you want more.

it’s possessive and spells desire, how he’d pulled you in here to make up for your ‘stupid shit exes’, telling you he would make you feel good if nobody else has done it before.

it’s all so sudden, but it makes sense. he’s been just your best friend this whole time, but you want more.

“i do love you, shuji.”

hanma lets out a breath, when you repeat it. “really, now?” he mutters. “not just sayin’ that so i’ll give you my cock? dont play with my heart now, doll.” he chuckles, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes.

“i do.” you mumble, shy again under the intensity of his piercing stare. “and i guess ... that’s why it never worked with anyone else. when you were there this whole time.”

“hah,” hanma laughs, steadying his hold on your waist before bringing one hand up to pat your cheek. ”y’ telling me no other asshole could make you cum, ‘cause you were busy wishin’ it was me?”

“no!” you blurt out, but when he grins wider, slides his hand down from your cheek to pinch the soft flesh of your tits, the electric shiver that courses down your spine says otherwise. it would be a lie, to say that you’ve never wanted him. “yeah, m-maybe.”

“fuck,” he hisses at that, eyes going even darker, like the dubious confirmation you’d given him was all he needed, like it was a love shot and a stroke of lust in one — and he yanks the buttons and zipper of his jeans open, tugging the fabric apart and pulling out his straining cock.

it’s big — unsurprising, but still a sight to take in, and you whimper tearfully when he grabs the length in his hand and taps his head to your clit, letting out a breathy chuckle. “biggest cock y’ ever seen, mhm?”

and you’d want to keep from boosting his ego, but the way you stare is answer enough. “n-need you in me, shuji.” you beg, and he just laughs again, rubbing the pearl of precum that swells at his tip across your slit, teasing. “say what i told you to say, then. if y’love me.”

call him daddy? “do i really have to?” you whine, pushing forward and grinding up on his cockhead. it ellicits a rough moan from him, that makes your clit throb when you hear it — but hanma remains adamant.

“you hafta, dollface.” he smiles, showing you teeth. “you’ll do it, if y’ really want me so bad.”

and god, the layers of pleasure he’d drowned you in are too sharp, too overwhelming for you to refuse and stop this right now — you want, need his cock. right now.

fine. “i—i love you, daddy.” you mumble, eyes skirting down because you cant bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “and i-i want only you. only your cock, and only you. i love you.”

and it’s like hanma has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“shit, baby,” he huffs, pulling your tits flush against his body as he grabs you by the waist and by the back of your neck, dragging you in and meeting your lips with his in a starved kiss — fuck, he hadn’t kissed you until now?

you realize it, with both a pang and a fluttering in your heart, but the thought is soon knocked out of your head, as he kisses you again, tasting the lingering essence of yourself on his tongue, tasting him, catching the scent of cigarettes and men’s cologne on his mouth and neck as you lean into him, letting him savour you whole.

“god, i love you.” he groans, as he lines his cock up at your entrance, sliding sin and punishment over to your ass again and sheathing you down on him. “loved you f’so long now, baby. d’you know how i’ve felt? ‘n now y’re fuckin’ telling me all those assholes you dated never made you cum. fuck.”

“mm, sh-shuji!” you cry, and he moans in your ear in reply. “s-slower! please, please—”

“‘m too big for you?” he rasps, voice hoarse with pleasure. god, he’s wanted this forever. your tight, velvet walls clenching around him, wet and hot and your body on him, so pretty and all his.

“cant slow down, sweetheart.” he hisses. “consider this your punishment. for playin’ with my heart like that, for so long.” you’ve got your arms wrapped around hanma’s neck, trying to control the pace at which you sink down on his cock, but he rolls his hips up and pushes all the way into you anyway.

“a—haah! shuji!” your moan is saccharine in his ear, and he swallows back a curse, knowing that it’s not going to be long before he’s cumming, filling you all up.

“say sorry, baby.” he growls, pulling out before shoving back in you again, putting stars into your eyes with the sharp slap of skin against skin, the harsh kiss of his tip against your cervix. “really didn’t think i loved you, even when i was fuckin’ knuckle deep in you? callin’ you my dollface and telling you y’re pretty ‘n driving you around, and sucking on that sweet lil clit?”

you cry out, when he bites at the side of your neck, feeling even more embarrassed, feeling stupid — because god, you were stupid to miss the signs. to think he was just like that. when he only ever was that way with you. “‘m sorry, sorry. please, i’m sorry.”

“hmm,” he lulls, kissing the marks of his teeth that he’d left on you. “cant be mean with you, can i? too fuckin’ sweet for your own good.”

your mouth is on his cheek, lips sliding down his jaw in desperate kisses, needing him more even when he’s right here, when your body’s pressed to his and his lips are on you and his cock is all the way in your cunt. “mmngh,” you try, too dizzy to answer properly.

“now let’s teach ya how it feels to cum on a big, fat cock, yeah, dollface?” he says, starting up a hasty rhythm with his cock, up and down into you as you struggle to stay sitting up on his lap. “poor lil’ doll’s never even done this before?”

“never.” you keen, lost in the way his cock is so long, so thick, reaching all the sweet spots deep in your cunt in one fucking go. “n-never came on a cock before.”

“yeah, i know.” he says, all sympathetic again, and it sends heat rushing to both your face and your core. “g’na beg daddy to let you cum all over his cock?”

“mhm,” you moan, and he smiles, brings you in for another kiss as he speeds up. “then say it, baby. say what y’need to say to have your way.”

“mm, daddy, daddy—” you sob, trying to kiss him back as he hums into your mouth, forgetting your embarrassment at having to call him that, because fuck, it was starting to feel fitting. “please let me cum on your cock, please, please—”

“only if you’ll let me fill this pretty pussy all up.” he stutters, voice turning all raspy as he goes even faster, bouncing you up and down so hard as he nears his high.

he loves the way you beg. loves the way you call him by that name. so cute, and almost pathetic, for him. it’s a fresh change. one he wants to hold on to. “yeah? you’ll let me do that, baby? let daddy fill your cunt up with his cum?”

“yes,” you gasp, vision going cloudy with both tears and pleasure as you feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter all over again. “fuck, anything! anything, daddy, just please.”

“please what?” his laugh is now hoarse, as he looks at your blissed out face from under his lashes, eyes lidded and heavy with lust and pleasure.

the bedsheets under you are soaked, but neither of you can care — you moan again, sucking in a breath and falling into hanma’s chest, tired but so, so desperate to cum again. “please, shuji. please. need to cum on your cock. need you to cum in me.”

and he does.

hanma watches, vision hazy as his cock slides out of your cunt milky and drooling, and pushes back in — pushes in so deep he hits your cervix again and he cums, leaking hot, white ropes of seed into your tight, wet cunt — and it makes you cum, too.

“fuck, tryna milk me all up, huh?” he heaves as he maintains his pace, gritting his teeth and grabbing your hips when you try to meet the rhythm, pussy fluttering and sucking him in like you’ve needed him as much as he’s needed you. “pretty, pretty lil’ pussy — all mine, yeah?”

“all yours, shuji.” you sob, and he stares as your head tilts up, eyes rolling back in your head as they fall shut, drowning in the pure heaven of cumming while stuffed full of his big, big cock. “a-hnngh, all yours.”

“yeah, that’s right.” he growls, wrapping punishment around your throat, hauling you back in to kiss you, sloppy and open mouthed, as sin slips down between your bodies — pressing into your pulsing clit with his thumb as he continues fucking up into you, pace relaxing slowly. “that’s right. y’re all mine now. forever.”

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ NYCHTA.#hanma smut #tokyo revengers smut #hanma shuji smut #hanma x reader #tokyo revengers angst #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers drabbles #hanma angst #hanma drabbles #hanma headcanons #hanma x y/n #tr smut #tokyo revengers headcanons #hanma shuji x you

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osachiyo · 6 months

Text

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 by anonymous user ꒱. . . hello ! I really like your works, could I please request an insecure!reader with chuuya? and him fucking some sense into her? don't feel pressured to do this btw and feel free to ignore :D

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 note ꒱. . . here u go, nonnie ! I really liked this idea and sorry for taking so long on this request 😭 anyway, hope you enjoy ~~

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 c/w ꒱. . . (18+) n/sfw content, mentions of insecurities, body worshipper chuuya, praise, lowercase intended, hints of dumbfication, overstimulation, fingering, mirror sex, cunnilingus, chuuya eats it from the back !! 🗣️🗣️& more + not proofread

summary. . . you've been feeling insecure about your body and started to wonder if you were really good enough for someone like chuuya? but no worries, your lover doesn't mind reminding you how much he loves your body and more importantly, you.

you sighed, staring at your reflection in the fancy full-body mirror in front of you; god, you looked horrendous. you didn't know how chuuya, one of, if not the most beautiful man you've ever met, love someone like.. you.

what you also didn't know, though, was that your beloved chuuya had been standing in the doorway the entire time, slender figure leaning against the doorframe as a dull pain throbbed in his heart while he watched, heard you pick apart your body like it was the ugliest thing you had ever seen. he watched as you ran your fingers up and down the parts you hated the most, a frown tugging at your lips as you muttered something about "not being pretty enough". he didn't understand why you'd say such things about your body− all of those beautiful parts of yours that he cherished wholeheartedly.

you whipped your head around hearing the sound of the once slightly ajar bedroom door shut, your boyfriend entering the room. "hey doll, what're you up to?" chuuya's voice was heavy, laced with something you couldn't exactly put a finger on.

"hey, chuu," you smiled, though the action didn't meet your eyes. and chuuya could tell.

his eyes narrowed, gloved hands found their way around your waist, tugging you closer to him− your back flush against his chest. when did he walk all the way across the room?

"y'know, I heard everything right?" he muttered into your neck, strong arms tightening around your figure as you gulped nervously. "chuuya I−" "you're fuckin' beautiful. so don't say hurtful shit about yourself 'cause it for sure ain't true," he cut you off, now pressing soft kisses on the back of your neck to your shoulders, gloved hands reaching up your shirt to knead and gently caress your soft skin.

a whimper caught in your throat as chuuya's hands found your breasts− pushing your bra up to grope them under your shirt. "i love all parts of your body. fuck, you're so pretty. i'll fuckin' prove it to you if i have to."

"you see that, baby? see the way this pussy sucks my fingers in?" chuuya mused, now bare fingers plunging in and out of your sopping cunt as he had you spread in front of the giant mirror. "mm-! fuck, chuu−!" you were cut off by your own moans, beads of sweat forming on your forehead, making the little strands of your baby hair stick to your skin. "shh, baby. just focus on the way i finger fuck this pretty cunt, yeah?" your lover's voice was muffled by the soft kisses he was busy pressing all over your nape and shoulders, moving your hair out of the way to make it easier.

you could see everything in the mirror, from the way chuuya's slim fingers disappeared inside of your pussy to how much of a mess you've already become− glossy lips parted as loud moans and whines escape from your throat, the way your tits bounce and jiggle with each thrust of his digits. and hell, was it embarrassing. you jolted up when the tips of his appendages rubbed against that one spongey spot inside of your gooey walls− your jaw slacking as your eyes shut. only to receive a gentle but firm slap on your face from chuuya, "nuh-uh, baby. you're gonna watch how I please this beautiful body of yours," he growled lowly in your ear, fingers speeding up their pace as you twitch and whine in response. your vision was blurry− but you could still make out the way your face contorts to one of pure bliss in your reflection.

"yeaah− cum on these fingers, sweetheart," the ginger groaned as you soaked his fingers− your slick running down his wrist and staining the bed sheets underneath, soft curses and his name spewing out of your mouth as his fingers slowed down, aiding you to ride out your orgasm.

you gasped when he abruptly pulled them out of your still sensitive cunt− only to pop them in his mouth as he moaned from the taste of your juices melting on his tongue. "fuck, doll− I gotta taste you, need'a make you cum on my tongue−" he pushed you on your hands and knees before even finishing his sentence− a large hand pressing your back to a perfect arch, face down ass up.

"such a nice fuckin' ass," he groaned, fingers digging into the soft fat and spreading them as you whimper, pitifully clawing at the bed sheets. he playfully bit one of your globes, earning a whine in return which made him chuckle. chuuya's greedy hands ran down from your ass to your thighs, only to go back up to knead at your ass, "and these soft thighs− god, I could kiss 'em for hours."

and as if to prove himself, he started littering kisses all over your inner thighs, hands still kneading your ass before giving it a firm spank, making you jump. "hah, and of course−" he smirked before making his way to your pussy, "this pretty fuckin' pussy− prettiest one I've ever seen," he growled before diving in between your legs− hungry lips wrapping around your clit as you gasp out from the feeling.

"fu−ck! chuuya−!" you babbled, pussy still sensitive from your orgasm from earlier, his nose bumping against your slit as he runs his tongue in a zigzag motion across your clit. his fingers were spreading your ass apart for him, to get easy access to your sweet pussy that he wanted to devour so bad.

shamelessly nasty slurping noises came from between your parted thighs. your slick was already dripping down chuuya's chin as you tried your best to keep your gaze on the mirror, watching yourself getting eaten out from the back. fuck, your hair was a mess− your bare figure covered in bites and bruises that your boyfriend gave you, claiming it was his way of showing you were his. your makeup had been completely ruined; mascara running down your cheek in inky streaks, lipstick smudged− you looked utterly debauched, chuuya's favorite look on you.

a gurgled moan came out of your mouth when two fingers pushed inside of your sloppy pussy, the mafia executive's tongue now writing his name on your clit. a deep groan rumbled in his chest when you tried to run away from the feeling of his tongue and fingers on you− pulling you back before harshly cracking a palm down on your left globe, before curling his fingers further into you. tears were falling freely from your eyes at this point, mouth dropped to an 'o' as you chanted his name like a prayer− "chuu− please, fuck! s'too much−!" you cried out, if it weren't for chuuya's death grip on you, you'd already have fallen face first into the matress.

"you can− fuuck− take it, sweet girl," chuuya moaned into your pussy, the vibrations of the sound making your toes curl and apparently that was the last straw for you− "fuckfuck! 'm cummin'− cummingg−!!" your eyes rolled back into your skull as you squirted all over chuuya's face, his own hips rutting into the mattress as his eyes widen− he wasn't expecting you to do that.

chuuya gave your messy cunt a few more licks before kissing your clit, then pulling away. you looked back to see his face completely drenched− him licking his lips as he gave you a lopsided grin. "holy shit, baby. that was..." he muttered, still dazed as he ran his clean hand through his sweaty orange locks. you were still panting, chest heaving as you tried came down from the euphoric high before looking away in embarrassment, fingers fiddling with the sheets− then suddenly, you got slammed back against the bed. face down, ass up, again.

you heard a metal clink− likely his belt. the sound of expensive leather hitting the floor snapped you back into reality, he must've tossed the belt somewhere. it wasn't long before your thoughts got quickly cut off, chuuya's heavy tip slapping against your clit a few times as you whined, begging him to give you a rest but no− he wasn't gonna stop until he was sure he fucked all those negative thoughts out of your mind− wasn't gonna stop 'till all thoughts but his left that pretty little head of yours. you just had to sit still and take it, like the good girl you were.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

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nanamiluvs · 2 months

Note

lactation link with nanami please

honestly i had to sit and ponder for a moment when i received this request because DUDE i can and i will make this man lactate but that's for another day ig

having his fill !

pairing : husband!nanami x reader

rating : explicit

wc : 1k

tags : reader is afab but no pronouns used, reader is called "wife" once, nanami and reader had a child, lactation kink, breastfeeding, oo nanami wants you so bad, nanami is a little shy when it comes to things like this

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

husband!nanami whose eyes linger on your chest for a moment too long. husband!nanami who thinks you haven't noticed.

husband!nanami whose eyes are on you as you're feeding your little baby. he smiles with fondness, the two loves of his life together in a single picture. he adores the sight, really, as much as he adores you. even as your hair disheveled and your eyes heavy, he thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world.

but what he feels bad about is the moment you shift, parting the little mouth of your daughter from your nipple as you place her back in her crib. he can't help how his eyes linger at the exposed skin, leaking a few drops of milk, swollen and oh he wants to latch onto it so bad and he's going to jump out the window if he gets hard at the sight right now.

it's not like it didn't happen. nanami knows of the few times his dick hardened at the thought of sucking your tits, so full and ready to give him milk as much as he w-

husband!nanami who clears his throat and offers you a smile, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips as he tells you dinner is ready, so come eat.

well, he has, for sure, had his mouth on your chest before- just not during the latter part of your pregnancy and after the baby was born, who was now two and a half months old.

this weird pattern of his behaviour has been going on for quite some time, you knew that much. you had a guess on what the hell that was all about, but you could never be sure when it came to the man named kento nanami.

you two ate dinner, chatting as usual with your laughter and his occasional chuckles filling the room. you were going to get to the bottom of this...but how? how could you possibly start the conversation? so, you decided to delve right in as he finished washing the dishes.

"kento, is there something you want to say to me?" you say, halting your movements to look at him. he stopped in his tracks as well.

husband!nanami who coughs when he feels your chest press against him as you asked, eyes oh-so innocently staring up at his.

husband!nanami who blames himself for feeling a rush of excitement when he shouldn't have. you were probably doing it on purpose, but what if you weren't? he'd hate to be such a degenerate for someone like you.

husband!nanami who confirms his suspicions when you place his large hand on top of one of your tits, making him grope the flesh. "if you want to ask something, just ask, kento. i'm your wife."

husband!nanami who has you laying on the couch as he towers over your smaller frame, his lips kissing yours with fervor. your shirt is off and he's completely clothed as his mouth trails down to your neck. his hands cover almost the entirety of your breasts, separated by the layer of your bra. he shifts the weight in his hands, caressing them, and you feel his bulge shift against your thigh.

husband!nanami who looks at you before he takes your bra off, eyes then immediately captivated by the way your tits move when they're set free. his eyes focus on the darkened tips, mouth parting like he was going to say something.

"can i..."

you laughed at his timidness, scared of asking whatever he was going to ask. "can you what, kento?"

"hell." he buried his face in your chest, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "can i," he pulled back to meet your gaze, a desperate look on his handsome face. "my love, i apologize if this sounds weird, it's just- can i...have a taste?"

you smiled and nodded, shifting to rest your back on the pillow on the side of the couch. "see, that wasn't so hard." cupping his face in your hands, you pulled him closer and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "just make sure there's some left for the baby."

husband!nanami who might have misheard your last sentence by the way his mouth sucks on your buds, shy licks of testing the waters turning into harsh sucking that made your milk flow out. you grabbed his hair, whining, saying something about how he's too rough, which falls to deaf ears.

husband!nanami who realizes, once he had a taste, that he's probably getting addicted.

husband!nanami who can't help but toy with your breasts as he fucks into you, watching the milk squeeze out and then reach down to lick the drops. he's mesmerized by both the taste and the visual. while he had always liked your chest, he was particularly obsessed with them after your pregnancy. you let out high-pitched moans as his teeth bit into your nipple, playing with it as if he was the baby.

husband!nanami who likes the taste way more than you would have expected, begging for more with his eyes when you tell him there's probably no more coming out. and he's always right, too, he makes more come out.

husband!nanami whose mouth latches onto one of your nipples when you two are fucking, just needy for you as his hand rolls and kneads your other tit. his eyes take a glance at the way milk comes out squirting, thinking about what a waste it is.

husband!nanami who still feels embarrassed to talk about his newfound kink but is eager to indulge in it.

husband!nanami who has found yet another thing about you to love.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader smut #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader smut

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skzdarlings · 2 months

Text

chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call. You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom. You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends.

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces. Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis. You don’t know what you would do without them. Just the thought has you sniffling despondently.

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other. Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears.

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails.

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces. At least you think so. It is hard to see through your tears.

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says. At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it. You sniffle and pout.

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.”

“What?” Hyunjin asks.

“Huh?” Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly. They are the very picture of concern. They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips. Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic. Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you.

You drop your face and cry some more. They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down.

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed.

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs.

“Me too,” Hyunjin says. Their sour faces speak volumes.

“What!” This distracts you from yours tears for a moment. “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says. He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head. He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you. “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says. He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter. He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically. “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says. “You’ve always got us.”

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head. He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves. Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face.

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life. They are still looking at you with concern when you surface.

“Sorry,” you say. “The point is, my mom would ask about him. You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.”

You love your family, you do. You do not regret using visiting your parents. The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight. You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city. You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends. Your parents are proud of you.

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement.

You are not in a relationship. You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious. You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern.

You try to show grace. Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night. Which is not true. Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed.

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit.

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while. After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says. Hyunjin grimaces. Yeah, your friends know you well. They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going.

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say. “My mom invited me out here for their summer party. They throw one every year to start the season. They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids. It’s huge. I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do. Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?” Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow. Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine. “It’s not funny. I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control.

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say. “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me. I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!”

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly. “What did you say exactly?”

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say. “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up. I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.”

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says.

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal. “That’s the problem! And also—” A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again. “I know it’s so stupid. We’re all grown-ups now. But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along. My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it. They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.” You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving. It makes you feel like that little girl again. It only worsens your angst. “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say.

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says.

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says. They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt.

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds.

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed. “At least a little bit. I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says. At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.” They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other. It makes you laugh through your tears. You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say. “I just have to face it. It’s my own fault. Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison. It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once.

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat. “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says.

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says.

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases. “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice. Jeongin sticks his tongue out.

Their antics make you laugh. You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen.

“Okay,” you say. “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

They both smile at you. They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else. They are your boys. They are all you need.

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

That smile is gone the next day. You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning. Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety. Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises. You claim he is still working but you are optimistic. You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would.

At least you look pretty. You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish. If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully.

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them. You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think.

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests.

They come in waves. Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends. You greet everyone pleasantly. There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else.

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend. Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group.

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says. She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying. It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions. This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party. “Is he going to be here?” she asks. “I can’t wait to meet him! He’s your first boyfriend, right?”

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth.

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress.

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say.

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat. You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house. You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it. You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath. Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on.

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips. It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision. Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him. His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look. It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket. A silver chain sparkles around his neck.

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself.

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says.

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush. You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down.

“Oh, wow,” you say. “You shouldn’t have. But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots. He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body.

“Yeah,” he says on a breath. “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him. It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled.

“Stop that,” you say. “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me. And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here. I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.” You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard.

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good. Okay?”

You very literally fall into the yard. Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright. You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest. He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave.

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn. She immediately starts hollering for your father.

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you.

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin. “Oh, I’ve heard so much. No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything. Tsk, crazy girl. Always with her secrets. But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome! Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail. “Stop pinching his cheeks!”

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt. It is the girl from before and she is grinning. He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you. You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not. Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin. A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up. You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes.

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again. You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts. “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair.

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself. He takes her hand and pats it affectionately. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you. Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile. You refrain from smacking your forehead.

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse.

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile.

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you. “Your boyfriend is here! Everybody, this is Hyunjin.”

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago. Now, it freezes solid. It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut. You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you.

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father. Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket. He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin.

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you. Hyunjin looks at you. Your mother looks at you. Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting. And why is it so hard to swallow? Where is your tongue again? Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up. Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him. He blinks at her. Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight. His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity. Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother. He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one.

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two. No, not even, because they are fake. You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends. That must be a feat.

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence. She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce. “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you. Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle. “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically. “Oh, that’s just like her too. You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact. Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university. You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time. You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin. He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks. They watch as your mother takes your hand. “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details. But it’s a brave new world. There’s all sorts of different loves out there. I’ve been reading books!”

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party. “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say. This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people. “Thanks,” you say.

Your father is holding barbeque tongs. He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says. “Who’s hungry!”

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin. It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard. Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom.

You slam the door shut.

“Seriously!” you shriek. “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!”

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet. They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door. You cover your face with your hands. “This is insane. My life is a joke. Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.” You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered. You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong. When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table. He smiles nervously. “Sit down,” you say, unamused.

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time. They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom. Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy. The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on. It’s not. No. No. You refuse.

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says. “We should have checked first. With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head. “I feel really embarrassed. You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense. You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology. It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you. The complete opposite. Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do. From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything. No task has ever been too big or too small. If it’s for you, they will do it. You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.

They are your boys. You are their girl.

“I’m sorry too,” you say. “In fact, I’m even more sorry. This whole thing is my fault, after all. I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says.

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds.

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him. It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins.

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it.

It’s no good. Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless. The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you. When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering.

“Come here,” he says.

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them. You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower. Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek. Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face. Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower. Your toes even curl.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says. He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?”

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.

There is a moment of tense silence after this. You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door. Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor. Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised. You sit straighter. Hyunjin groans and rubs his head.

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night. But right now we have company. Come spend time with the guests. Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool. Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer. She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came.

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?”

“Ow,” Hyunjin says. “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets. When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty. Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it. You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows. You smile affectionately.

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting.

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.

You giggle but also drop your gaze. Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys. Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display. When did he get so damn fit? He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now.

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow. He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean. His hair is also damp. You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears. He really is absurdly good looking.

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets.

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers. His foot nudges yours under the water. “Is that them?” he whispers.

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there. A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction. It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about.

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly. You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water. You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys.

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod. You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you. You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile. “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?”

“Oh,” you squeak. “I suppose that’s true.” You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin. Your heart is pounding against your hands. The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy. “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice. Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends.

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets.

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question. Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy. Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him. It is a teasing expression. It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water.

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface. And it is a grab. Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover. He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things. But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes.

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck. Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control. Your mouth falls open with surprise. Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in.

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not. His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm. He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips. You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his. That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder.

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong. You melt between them, all heat and need.

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire. His eyes are dark, lids heavy. You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face.

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about. “Get it girl!” someone shouts.

“Oh my god,” you say. Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed. Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him.

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively. “We’re all making out in a hot tub. Of course I’m hard.”

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss.

You look over your shoulder. Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry.

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply. “Are you saying you’re not turned on?”

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head.

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him. He just smiles at you. “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?”

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever. You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you. He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again.

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh.

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day. The guests have all gone home. Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight. You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility.

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt. They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear.

You did not bring much sleepwear. You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room. You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone. Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten.

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference. You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say.

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light. The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards. Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position. You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence.

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow. You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head. There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it.

“What?” you ask.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says. You feel him roll onto his side, facing you. “You didn’t kiss me.”

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment. But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again.

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say. “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says. You look at him. He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin. “Only because that’s fair.”

Jeongin does not hesitate. He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be. Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head. He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips.

You quickly lose yourself. Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling. Yes, falling helplessly head over heels. You have been for a long time.

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds. Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours.

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass. Your breath catches and the kiss breaks. He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours.

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder. Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised.

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back. You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin.

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body. His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest. You arch your back instinctively. Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts. It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you.

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing. You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality.

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you. But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging. You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap. He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you.

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel. He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used. You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness. But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there.

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass. Your shorts are riding up from your position. He could get an eye-ful at the right angle.

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice. It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity.

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again. Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant.

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him. It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled. You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh? Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer. You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator.

“Hyunjin!” You cannot help but scold him. “I told you to stay out of there!”

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead. “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face. He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape.

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile.

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks.

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest.

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk. He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes. “If you think about us,” he finishes.

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s normal. I think about you.”

“Hyunjin,” you gasp. You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is. You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed. Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up. He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth.

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry. I bet you’d look pretty.”

You swallow hard. Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy. You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin.

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases.

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him. He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently. “Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand. You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them.

“My friends are perverts,” you say.

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch. Jeongin is sitting upright behind you. You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks. Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye. He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick. They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh.

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back. You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband. You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear. You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile. “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.”

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands. He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise.

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck. He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective. You squirm a little. The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close.

The boys shuffle quickly. You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest. Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture. You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast. You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this. Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time. You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up. You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm. He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks.

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy.

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops. You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom. Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight. He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now.

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly. He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour. Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down. They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear.

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his. When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again. Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips. Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in.

You are caught by surprise when you come again. Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms. A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms. Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy.

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face. You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek.

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says.

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth. It goes easily. In the end, they follow your lead. You know your boys. They would do anything for you. They would start. They would stop.

You do not want them to stop.

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence. Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet. Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin.

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks. He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them.

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer. “Please.”

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple. He smiles at Hyunjin. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You all tumble over, laying on your sides. Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you. Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist. You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere. Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin. You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside.

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs.

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him. Hyunjin shoves him back.

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick. “I’ll get her ready.”

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you. If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there. You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you.

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves. It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back. Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you.

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest. You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand. He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him. He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead. He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off. You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed. He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin.

“Your turn,” he confirms. They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you. You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in. He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations. It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan.

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands. You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly. You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it. But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future.

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you. Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes.

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out. Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back. He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed.

“You can swallow,” he says. His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it. But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs. You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy. Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations. Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time.

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting.

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard. “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this. Two boyfriends is no joke.”

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel. When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep.

Your parents return at lunch the next day. While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish. She is practically beaming at you.

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says. She kisses your forehead. “I heard you on the phone the other night. I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!” You look at her with alarm and surprise. “But – but you didn’t say anything! You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says. “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend. Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog. Easy. Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her. And you found two.”

Your mother wraps you in her arms. You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says. “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone. But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up.

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh.

“I knew it,” she says. “Sometimes fate just needs a hand. Maybe two.”

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away.

“You are glowing this morning. Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #hyunjin x reader x jeongin #hyunjin x you #jeongin x you #hyunjin x you x jeongin #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

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wannabeschyulersister · 9 months

Note

Clingy Carmen?

It had been a week and a half since you last saw Carmy. Your best friend from college was getting married in Maine and you wanted to be there with her to finalize any details and of course on her big day. You took your maid of honor duties very seriously.

You missed Carmen everyday. He would text you during the day to check on you but it wasn’t very often. You knew he was extremely busy so you didn’t take it to heart. He did FaceTime you once right when he got home one early morning. He looked exhausted so you didn’t chat too long.

On your last day in Maine, you got a text from Richie.

Richie: next time you go out of town, take my idiot cousin w/ you. He’s been a fuckin nightmare.

It was around nine in the evening when your flight got in. By the time you made it out of the airport and got a cab, it was close to half past ten. You knew it was still early and Carmy wouldn’t be home anytime soon.

To your surprise, he was already sitting on your sofa when you walked into your apartment. When he spotted you, it was like you could see the stress leave his body.

“Carmy? What are you doing here?”

He stood up and made his way towards you without saying a word. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him, “I missed you so fuckin’ much.”

You returned the hug without a second thought. He smelled of your body wash and cigarettes. A weird but familiar scent. “I missed you too.”

Carmy held onto you tight, but not painfully, as if he were scared you would slip right through his arms. “Richie sent me home. Said I was being a dick.”

You laughed a little. Your head resting on his chest. His heartbeat soothing you in that moment. “If Richie said that then you must’ve really been a dick. He texted me saying that I should bring you with me next time.”

“That dick.” He mumbled as he rested his head on top of yours. You rubbed his back softly and for the first time in a week and a half, Carmen felt at peace.

When you left, he felt this knot forming in his chest. It seemed to get bigger and bigger as the week went on. He felt restless and irritable. Now, with you in his arms, it felt like that knot was gone. He felt like he was finally able to breathe.

“I need to shower and get this airport smell off of me.”

Carmy reluctantly let you go but grabbed your hand in one and your luggage in another. He brought you to the bedroom and watched as you gathered clothes for a shower.

He sat on the toilet seat as you bathed and told him about the wedding. He wanted to hear all of the details about the week.

As soon as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself with your towel, he was up and hugged you from behind. His head resting on your shoulder. You reached back and touched his hair softly, “You really missed me, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He mumbled as he kissed your bare shoulder.

He watched as you did your skin care routine and helped brush your hair. Carmy was delicate with it in a soothing way.

“Did you eat somethin’? I should’ve asked when you first got here.”

You nodded, “Yeah, I grabbed a sandwich at the airport.”

Once you were dressed for the night in your favorite pajamas, you made your way to the living room when Carmy right on your heels. He had a movie playing from before but he hadn’t been paying too much attention to it. He had been antsy for your arrival.

You sat down on the sofa and he sat right next to you. Arm around your shoulders and he pulled you closer so you were resting against his chest. He breathed in the scent of your floral shampoo.

“How has things been at the restaurant this past week?” You asked him as he trailed his fingers up and down your left arm.

He sighed, “Horrible. We only have six weeks until we open and it seems like everything is shit.”

You hated leaving Carmy in the middle of the restaurant’s renovation. You had a full-time job that made you unavailable to help during work hours. The second you were off for the day, you made your way to The Bear. Carmy appreciated you being there for him to help with any decisions where he needed the opinion of Sydney or you.

Sometimes, you just being there to give him a quick kiss or a comforting touch on his arm made a world of a difference. He felt safe whenever you were near. Like he could handle any shit that was thrown his way.

“You know I’m here to help with anything that you need.” You told him softly.

Carmy kissed the top of your head, “I know. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x (y/n)#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear x reader #carmen berzatto

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drewstarkeyslut · 3 months

Text

THE WAGER💋ᡣ𐭩

SUMMARY: you make a bet w/ your stepbro!rafe. if you win, you get to take his bike out for a ride whenever you please but what happens if he wins? (idea from the movie cruel intentions)

WARNINGS: stepcest, mdni 18+, smut (p in v), oral sex (female receiving), some lowkey degrading, choking, possessive!toxic!rafe

“Are you saying that I, Rafe Cameron, wouldn’t be able to win her over? Is that it?” Rafe scoffed, pointing his fingers towards his chest and giving you a dim look.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say. I mean come on, you truly think Sofia, little miss perfect princess, is going to give up her virginity to you? Pleeease, what makes you so special?” You snort.

“Oh y/n. You know me by now, don’t be so naive” Rafe laughs.

“Okay then, Rafey, how ‘bout a wager then?” you propose, taking a seat on the bed.

“You did not just call me that. I swear y/n, if you call me that one more fuckin’ time, I swear I’ll ruin you and you know exactly what I mean. Y’know I don’t play that shit.” Rafe booms as he glares you down.

You just loved pushing his buttons by calling him Rafey. He hated that nickname ever since he was a kid. “Relax there hothead, it’s not even that serious, just fuckin’ round with you, having some fun.” You jested.

“So, anyways, the bet..you really think you can get Sofia to fall for you in a week? You sure you’re capable of seducing her in such a short time?” You ask, curiously.

“I won’t even need the full week babe, give me a few days and she’ll be at my mercy and on her knees for me” He grins and sends you a wink while walking towards you.

“I’m just that irresistable… I mean, shit, even you want me y/n, I know you do. My own step sister. What would your mom think about her precious daughter getting fucked out of her mind by her own step brother? Huh?” Rafe laughs and just shakes his head.

“Shut up, you’re so full of yourself” You retort, rolling your eyes. He wasn’t wrong.

“So that wager of yours….” Rafe continued.

“If I win, I get to take that really nice bike of yours for a ride whenever I please” You beamed.

“And if I win, hmmm?” Rafe questions. His arms caging you in as he hovers over you.

“I’ll give you what you’ve been obsessing over ever since our parents got married” you stare into Rafe’s eyes batting your lashes.

“How ‘bout you be more specific y/n” Rafe instructs.

“In simple terms…. I’ll fuck your brains out” you emphasized, smirking at him.

“What makes you think I’ll go for it? That’s my one and only bike and you know I like to take care of my shit. Not even the bitches I’ve fucked ‘round with have taken a ride on that bike.” Rafe replies, making his way off the bed.

“Because, I’m the only person you can’t have and it kills you.” You reveal, walking after him with a cunning look in your eyes.

“Seems to me, that you, my bratty little step sis wants to ride my cock just as bad as I want to ruin that pussy of yours, yeah?” Rafe grits, his face just inches away from yours.

You both start to get flustered as your lips nearly touch, you could feel his hot breath on you. The sexual tension so thick in the air.

Rafe’s starts to palm himself, trying to keep his dick down. He knew what you were trying to do and it drove him insane.

“Looks like next week I’ll be riding that fancy bike of yours” you tease.

“The only thing you’ll be riding is me” Rafe taunts.

“Whatever you say, Rafey” you shoot him a wink before you skip out of the room.

You were getting ready for the day when you receive a text. It was from Rafe.

“That pussy of yours better be ready for me and waiting in my bed tonight slut” a photo attachment followed the text, catching your attention. The slut in you was hoping it was a picture of his dick.

You open the text thread and click on the photo. Your eyes go wide when you see Sofia with her hair and makeup a mess, obvious she was completely fucked out. He sent the photo as proof, but he was also being petty. He knew it would make you jealous.

Rafe did what he does best. He added her to the tally of girls he’d gotten what he wanted from. He was honestly a little too good at putting up this “real gentleman” facade that no one actually knew his true intentions. It never failed to fool every girl he sought after. They would give themselves to him just to never hear from him ever again.

You were sincerely the only one that knew the toxic fuck boy that was, Rafe Cameron.

For as long as you could remember you were always attracted to your step brother and you weren’t afraid to make it known to him. You knew it was bad but did you care? No, you were no saint, probably no better than Rafe himself.

You sat there thinking how Rafe was right, and it pissed you off. Just a few fucking days and Sofia was all over him, trusted him with her virginity, it disgusted you. It drove you mad that he was right and it drove you insane that he fucked her.

Tonight, things between the two of you were only about to get spicier, and little did you know what you were getting yourself into.

“Oh, my. god. Fuck! Rafe, right there! Don’t fucking stop” You scream. Rafe’s face was currently lodged between your thighs, his tongue lapping up all your juices.

“My sweet, sweet step sister. Shit, you taste so fuckin’ good, who would have known?” Rafe moaned. He proceeeds to suck on your clit and slips a couple fingers into your soaked cunt.

You squirm above him trying to pull away, clit getting way too overstimulated. He agressively shoves his fingers in and out of you. You’re a moaning mess screaming his name, coming to your sixth orgasm.

“It’s too much Rafe!! I can’t t-take any m-more” you whine.

“Stop fuckin’ movin ‘round. Just behave and try to stay quiet, yeah? Can’t have our parents hearing us and finding out what were up to now can we?” Rafe scolded, grabbing your thighs to keep you grounded.

“No, I guess not. Please… I don’t know how much more I can take” you cry.

“Come on stop being such a damn brat, I don’t know how much I can take” Rafe mocks, laughing at you being the most vulnerable you’ve ever been with him. It genuinely just turned him on more.

He ignores your cries and continues licking and sucking at your clit, adding in a third finger.

“I’m gonna cum again Rafe. I can feel it…Oh god I-I’m cumming!” You moan as you squirt all over his tongue and face. You lay there trying to catch your breath, your mind went fuzzy, you swear all you could see were stars.

“Such a good little slut f’me, now come and ride this cock until I cum in that pretty pussy of yours” Rafe orders.

He pulls his boxers off in one swift motion, his hard cock throbbing just for you, precum already dripping from the tip. Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets at the sight of his long, thick and veiny cock. You’ve never seen one so big and so pretty, it made you drool.

“Like what you see?” Rafe smirks.

“It’s s-so big, never seen one like it… I’m scared Rafe, will it fit?” You ask nervously.

“I’ll make it fit baby. Relax and sit on this dick like a good girl” Rafe mutters.

You hover above him, your hands using his chest for support as you line yourself up to his cock. You slowly sink down, gripping him tight like a glove.

You start finding your rhythm and ride him like your life depended on it, sending Rafe into complete ecstasy. His hands automatically reach for your throat, squeezing your airways. His tongue clashing into your mouth.

“Atta girl, that’s it y/n, god you’re so fuckin’ tight, going to make me fuck a baby into you.” Rafe grunts. His hands travel up to your hips grasping you hard, moving you up and down his cock with brutal force.

“Oh, fuck! Fuuuuckin’ f-feels sooo good r-rafe!! want you to use me like a toy and ruin this little pussy with your big cock” you sob.

Rafe didn’t think his dick could get any harder but your words…those words had an effect on him.

Rafe flips you, switching positions so you’re now on your back. He gives you no warning as he rams his dick into you. His hands are squeezing your tits as he drills into your cunt with brutal force stretching you out.

“Want you to watch your pussy get fuckin’ wrecked baby” Rafe grinned. His hands grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head down, folding you, making you watch his cock devour your pussy.

You’re watching as his length slams in you at full length, you’re creaming all over his already drenched cock.

“Doing so good f’me like the obedient slut you are, love takin’ your step brothers dick, hmmm?” Rafe teases.

“Yes, yes! The only cock I need. Oooh fuck! Please, need your cum inside me Rafe!!!” You moan, so loud he has to cover your mouth. His thrusts get faster and sloppier, you know he’s close.

“Holy shit, this pussy is s’gooood! Gonna fill you up to the brim. Oh fuck, fuck, here it comes! Ahhhh I-I’m cumming baby! Yes, yes! Take it and be a good little cumslut, the only thing you’re good for” Rafe screams, profanities and moans filling the room.

He was shooting warm ropes of cum into your cunt while still fucking into you until he pulls out, his cock springing up, sending cum flying towards you and landing on your face.

“Oh my—that was, um that was hot Rafe. Why didn’t we do this before?” You ask breathlessly while putting your clothes back on.

You were just about to walk out of the room when Rafe violently grabs your hair and pulls you up against him, his big arms locking you in, your back against his chest.

“You know, y/n, if you wanted to fuck me you could have just said so. You belong to me now, understand? I will use you whenever and however I please.” Rafe snaps so close to your ear that you wince in his grasp.

“Y-Yes, I understand R-Rafe. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good.” You stutter, knowing you were completely and utterly fucked for the long haul.

#rafe cameron #stepbro!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron imagine #mdni divider creds: hitobaby #divider creds: cafekitsune #divider creds: saradika-graphics

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bokutosbiceps · 10 months

Text

look at you

jealous!dazai osamu x f!reader | smut | 1.7k words

summary: dazai finds you, a drunk mess, flirting w chuuya while on one of your rare date nights. dazai comes up with a way to show you who you belong to.

warnings: drunkenness/inebriation, sex in front of a mirror, vaginal sex, cockwarming, thigh riding, cream pie, dirty talk, degradation, mild cursing, possessive behavior

a/n: oh, how i wish to be in this situation 🥺

18+ MDNI

Dazai tapped his foot against the carpeted floor of the jazz club, watching you from where he sat in the booth that he reserved for just the two of you. You were across the large, dimly lit room, at the bar, your hand lightly touching the red-head’s arm and your breath, undoubtedly stinking of the wine that Chuuya had sent over to your table, fanning across his face. Chuuya indulged in your touches and breathy whispers, truthfully only to piss Dazai off, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love the attention from a beautiful woman such as yourself.

Dazai narrowed his eyes at his former partner in crime as he watched him place a hand on your hip and trace an unknown pattern down your thigh. Dazai got the memo. You were drunk and Chuuya was trying to piss him off, but that didn’t stop Dazai from feeling a bit jealous. And he hated that he let himself feel this way.

Chuuya smirked once he noticed that Dazai was watching, moving his hand down your hip and to your ass, all while nodding sincerely at what you were saying.

“And he’s just so cute, y’know?” You whined softly, “Sometimes I just wanna take his stupid, beautiful, dumb ass face in my hands and kiss him all over.” You pouted once you realized Chuuya was looking elsewhere. “Can ya listen to me? ‘M gushing about my feelings, over here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know how much you love that bastard.” Chuuya’s smirk deepened. Oh, if only Dazai knew who you were talking about while pressed up against another man. You turned your head to follow Chuuya’s line of sight but Chuuya quickly and smoothly reached to cup your cheek, successfully bringing your attention back to him.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Your pout seemed to be cemented to your lips. Chuuya snorted a wry laugh and leaned in closer to you, letting his eyes flicker back over to where Dazai was sitting. Where Dazai had been sitting. He was now up and strolling over to where you and Chuuya sat at the bar.

“Listen, doll.” Chuuya lowered his voice to a whisper, demanding all of your attention. Your eyes were wide, cheeks rosy, and lips parted in anticipation. For the first time in his life, Chuuya felt a spark of envy for Dazai; he truly was a lucky bastard. “You wanna know how you could show Dazai your affection?”

You nodded vigorously.

“Head home with him right now. I’m sure you’ve got a fun night ahead of you.” Chuuya released his hold on you and leaned back onto the bar just in time for Dazai to appear at your side. He cradled his wine glass, bringing it up to his lips to sip.

“Chuuya.” Dazai regarded the red-head, a smile on his face but eyes full of threats.

“Y/n was just gushing about you.” Chuuya drawled once he had finished his sip of wine. “Weren’t you, darling?”

“Oh, pet names! How cute.” Dazai quipped, wrapping his fingers around your waist and easily bringing you up to a standing position. “Honey, I fear you’re far too drunk to be around Chuuya. We’re going home.”

You let yourself be squeezed into Dazai’s side, laying a hand across his chest and peering up into his eyes. They were calmly looking back at you, but a part of you felt like you were in danger. The thought alone sobered you up in an instant, although your head was still swimming from the alcohol, and you felt your face heat up.

You squeaked out a farewell to Chuuya, which Dazai did not reciprocate, and you were out into the brisk evening air, which did its job of completely sobering you up. The cold threatened to nip at your skin, but Dazai had already taken off his coat and draped it over your shoulders, quickly moving to replace his hold on your waist once you were warm.

The walk to your shared apartment was silent, save for the taps of you and Dazai’s shoes against the pavement.

“Are you mad?” You tested the waters once Dazai had slid the key into the keyhole of your door, hoping your voice was just soft enough to bring out any sort of affection from Dazai.

“Why would I be mad, sweetheart?” He held the door open for you to walk into your apartment first, before letting himself in and shutting the door behind him.

“Because I was drunk and may or may not have gotten too close to Chuuya.” You shrugged off Dazai’s coat and laid it carefully across the bed. The silence that enveloped you while you took off your shoes made you nervous, and your fingers trembled as you struggled with the zipper of your dress.

Dazai moved over to you and gently moved your hands out of the way, unzipping your dress in one languid motion.

“You were drunk?” Dazai accentuated the past tense.

“I mean, yeah, couldn’t you tell?” You laughed lightly, hoping to brighten the mood. You moved over to the full length mirror in front of the bed, getting to work on taking off your jewelry. Dazai once again brushed your fingers away and took it upon himself to undo the clasp of your necklace, and then your bra, and set them both on the bed.

You watched Dazai in the reflection of the mirror, shivering as two of his fingers hooked themselves in the hem of your underwear and brought them down your legs to pool at your feet. He placed a searing kiss to the nape of your neck, fingers lingering just below your navel.

“What a pretty little thing.” Dazai murmured against your skin, in between kisses. “I wish something as pretty as you could belong to someone like me.”

You rolled your head to the side, closing your eyes and indulging in the feeling of Dazai’s teeth scraping against your skin. “I’m yours, Daz, you know that.”

“Do I?” Dazai moved his fingers to your pubic bone, lightly caressing the skin there. Even though it was the slightest of touches, you couldn’t help but moan. “A reminder wouldn't hurt, hm?” Dazai mused. He moved his fingers lower until they were skimming over your clit, eliciting another moan from you. Dazai continued to run his fingers over your clit, gathering as much of your arousal as he could, while he worked on unbuckling his pants and letting them hit the floor.

He sat down at the foot of the bed, guiding your waist to make you sit down on his thighs. He hooked your legs around his and spread his legs so that yours spread to, exposing you to the cold air of your apartment.

“Look at you, my little slut all opened up and leaking for me.” Dazai moved your chin so that you were facing forward completely, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. He brought up his fingers, webbed with your arousal, in front of your face. “This belongs to me.” He spread your pussy lips to show your clit and the pink of your vulva, as well as your leaking entrance. “This too.” He placed another kiss to the spot between your shoulder and neck, sucking for a bit before pulling away.

The teasing was getting to you, and the only thing on your mind was getting fucked by your lover until you couldn’t walk anymore. You tilted your pelvis down and began to slide your pussy against Dazai’s thigh, softly whimpering at the pleasure from the contact.

“Is my little slut desperate for my cock?” Dazai smiled sickly at the jolty movements of your hips grinding against his thigh. You managed to whine out a confirmation. “You know I can’t resist my needy little whore.” Dazai grabbed your hips and coaxed you to stand up before bringing you back down on his cock.

You hissed at the sensation of being stretched out by him, your walls squeezing around his cock to try and find some stabilization.

“The way you’re squeezing me, honey, that belongs to me, too.” Dazai’s hands moved up to your chest, squeezing and pulling at your nipples while allowing you to warm his cock.

“Daz…” You huffed out. “Please…move.”

“You want me to do what, sweetheart?” Dazai continued to pinch at your nipples with one hand and moved his other hand down to start rubbing at your clit. Your pussy squeezed down on his cock from the stimulation and it was his turn to moan; he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold out.

“Fuck me, Daz. Please.” You begged, opening your legs to allow Dazai’s fingers as much access as possible to your clit. You dared not look at yourself in the mirror, since you could imagine you’d only see the desperate mess that you currently were.

“Only if you can tell me who you belong to.” Dazai panted, trying not to focus on the feeling of your arousal running down his cock and leaking out around it.

“Yours. I’m yours, now please—” You were cut off by a strong upward thrust from Dazai, immediately seeing stars as the tip of his cock bullied your cervix. You had nothing to hold onto as Dazai thrusted in and out of you, and you briefly wondered if the vigor of his thrusts was going to make you fall down. The slight pain you felt on your hips from the bruises that Dazai’s fingers were undoubtedly going to leave reminded you that he wouldn’t let you fall off his cock. Not while he was fucking you like this.

The only sounds in the room were the squelches of your pussy milking Dazai’s cock, and your huffs combined with Dazai’s, until a loud moan finally broke the monotony when Dazai came. The feeling of sticky, wet warmth covering your walls had you cumming right after.

You were both silent as you caught your breath, Dazai’s cock still inside of you. You chanced a look at yourself in the mirror, unable to look away from Dazai’s cum leaking out of you. Movement behind you caused you to look up and your eyes met Dazai’s in the reflection of the mirror as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Look at you, you pretty little thing.”

“Your pretty little thing.”

#dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu smut #osamu dazai smut #dazai smut #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut

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seonghwaddict · 3 months

Text

falling and sleeping — choi jongho

in which falling in love with you felt like falling asleep; natural and unnoticed.

best friend!choi jongho x fem!reader. genre. fluff, crack, friends to lovers. warnings. cursing, none he's just a little nervous. wc. 1.5k. rating. pg-13

lilo’s notes. hiii here's a fluffy little jongho fic because i love him. this isn’t proofread btw i’m sorry for any errors! also, my upload schedule is now on saturday's :3

listening to. from the start, laufey

masterlist.

“hyung!”

jongho burst into the living room of his shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. hongjoong was nowhere to be found, likely at the studio or something, and wooyoung sprawled on the couch, watching a drama on the tv, scrolling through his phone, and taking occasional sips of his comically large coffee cup simultaneously. at the sound and sudden appearance of jongho, he looked away from the screen.

“something wrong?” he yawned, turning his phone off and dropping it on his chest.

“yes. i figured out my problem-“

wooyoung snorted, eyes drifting back to the television screen. “yeah? which one?”

“shut the fuck up, i’ll strangle you,” jongho paused what was supposed to be his dramatic monologue to glare at the dark haired fox-resembling man on the couch. he waited a second before sighing. “my y/n problem. i figured it out. so-“

“you have a problem with her?” at the mention of jongho’s best friend’s name, wooyoung’s attention was captured. if he had a problem with you, that meant something terrible must have happened. truthfully, wooyoung would hate that. he’d been rooting for the two of you for years, even if neither of you were aware of how perfect you were for each other.

“hey! stop interrupting me,” jongho kicked his shin lightly before continuing, “well, no, we don’t have a problem but things felt weird for some reason and i have come to a conclusion.”

“okay… and…?” wooyoung gestured for him to continue, his dramatic pause putting him on edge.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“… excuse me?” it was then that he decided to turn off the tv, giving his full attention to his younger friend.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“oh, for the love of-“ wooyoung groaned and threw himself back on the couch, screaming into a pillow, “CHOI JONGHO YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HER!”

a confused expression crossed his face as he watched his friend’s dramatic antics and jongho sat down, forcefully pulling the pillow from wooyoung’s face. he should’ve found hongjoong instead, maybe he would’ve been more helpful.

“no, no, don’t be silly,” he tossed the pillow aside and spoke, hands flailing around to emphasise his point. wooyoung was on he verge of banging his head against a wall, “lately when i go near her my stomach itches and i feel all warm and sometimes it gets hard to breath and…”

the realisation that spread across his face was a picture wooyoung wanted to take and print out, plastering it on his wall and also adding it to his resume with the caption ‘i’m literally cupid.’

“… and oh my god i’m in love with her.”

a loud cheer left wooyoung as he sprang up from the couch, going on a five minute rant about how long he’d been waiting for this and how he always knew there was something. “you should go tell her right now.”

“w-what- no! i just figured out i’m in love with my best friend and you expect me to just… go and tell her?”

“that’s exactly what i expect,” he nodded, crossing his arms and leaning his weight on one leg, “didn’t she tell you about how she overheard someone say some guy from her workplace wanted to ask her out for valentines?”

“well, yeah… but-”

“no buts!” he held his palm up, silencing jongho. “you can’t let that home-wrecker ask her out before you. so, get your ass off that couch, change into something nice and go tell her you love her. and buy some flowers in the way.”

“it’s not home-wrecking if we aren’t even toge-“

“that’s besides the point, now do as i say if you ever want a relationship with her.” wooyoung rolled his eyes and turned on his heels, walking to where his jacket hung on the coat rack. he pulled out his wallet and, surprisingly, fished out his credit card to give to jongho. “this is for flowers and some chocolates only.”

and so half an hour later he was walking down the hallway of your floor of your apartment building, wearing an all-black ensemble of slacks a shirt and a trench coat, holding a bouquet of various flowers he didn’t know the names of in one hand and a small box of your favourite chocolate ms in the other. he could still abort and leave without you ever knowing he was there in the first place. you’d given him a key to the building a while ago, trusting him with it since your apartment was practically his second home.

he considered doing just that again, but the bought of you going out with another man who wasn’t him had his heart aching, giving him some courage to finally step in front of your door. he practiced what he wanted to say to you under his breath as he stared at the familiar dark grey door. when he thought he was ready, he reached out to ring the doorbell.

only to pull away at the last second and begging pacing back and forth nervously. eventually, he stopped, clenching his eyes shut and forcing himself to ring your doorbell. there was no going back now.

when you opened the door and you looked at him with your bright eyes and enchanting smile, he felt the nervousness in his stomach melt away and get replaced by butterflies and a soft pink tint on his cheeks. “oh, hey, jjong-“

“i love you.”

you blinked at him, not noticing the very obvious items in his hands, eyes fixed in his face. not quite understanding, you chuckled lightly, “you know i love you too.”

“no, you don’t get it. i mean, i in love with you. i fucking love you and i’m not sure if i’ve ever felt so strongly about someone in my life. i smile when someone mentions you, my heart flutters when i’m around you, fuck, when i see your smile it feels like all my problems have been solved and… your presence, god, it just fucks me up in the best way possible. i can’t believe i didn’t realise this sooner, but i’ve fallen for you, y/n. though, i suppose i didn’t realise it because falling felt like sleeping and sleeping feels so natural and easy that i never realised it until now.”

you stared at each other. he stared with all the admiration he could muster and you stared with mild shock and, under that, relief. “you… you love me?”

“oh my god, i… i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have- i’ve made things awkward, haven’t i? just- just forget that-“

you soft palm covering his lips drove him to silence, looking at you with wide eyes as you pulled him into your apartment, closing the door with your unoccupied hand. his heart skipped a beat as you grinned and whispered your next words.

“jongho, i love you—in that way—too.” you dropped your hand from his mouth slowly, looking down at the flowers and the chocolates, giggling, “you really didn’t have to get all this.”

you took them out of his hands slowly, avoiding his gaze, flustered as you placed his gifts on the marble counter of the kitchen behind you. he hadn’t said anything since your confession, cheeks burning and jaw dropped slightly. he couldn’t believe it. he couldn’t believe you liked loved him back.

he drew your attention to him, breathing out your name. “you… you love me too?”

“yes, you dense cabbage, i love you,” your laugh was melodic as you took both his hands in yours, nodding, “now shut up and kiss me.”

jongho’s expression finally changed into a giddy grin as he pulled his hands out of your grasp to hold your waist, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours. when you didn’t protest, not that he expected you to, he deepened it into a proper kiss that he hoped conveyed his need for you. he felt like his knees would go weak as your delicate hands trailed up his torso to his head, brushing his hair absentmindedly as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

eventually, you had to separate to catch your breaths and jongho mentally cursed the human need for oxygen. he liked kissing you, your lips slotting together like puzzle pieces. when he felt like the tension had gone completely, he leaned forward to press repeated pecks to your lips, basking in the way you giggle and tried to meet each one of his quick kisses.

“i think i have a tiny crush on you,” you muttered once he decided he kissed you enough (it was never enough, really, but he wanted to let you breathe), fighting back a stupid grin.

“you think?” he snorted, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your jawline and eyes full of affection.

“yeah, a teeny tiny one.”

he laughed heartily, giving you one more peck “i paid with wooyoung’s card, by the way.”

“in that case you should’ve gotten at least five more bouquets.”

network. @cromernet

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

#cromernet #ateez x reader #ateez #choi jongho #jongho x reader #jongho fluff #jongho headcanons #jongho oneshot #jongho drabble #ateez soft hours

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princessbrunette · 4 months

Note

rafe bringing you along to a party where he’s supposed to be selling n you’re sitting in his lap looking all pretty but these girls keep flirting w him and he doesn’t even dismiss them?? keeps insisting it’s just for business but you’re all pouty, turning away from him and ignoring him until he’s had enough n just carries you to the nearest room w a lock

literally gripping him so tight because of the girls flirting with him he’s convinced you’re gonna tear his clothes or start biting them, so soon he’s marching you off to an empty room, hand clasped on your shoulder, lecturing you.

“jesus fucking christ, you’d think i was there with my tongue down their throats from the way you’re acting.”

“you wasnt even shutting them down! just letting them disrespect me!” you fight out of his grip brattily, tears welling in your eyes at the genuine hurt.

“i’m tryna sell them a product, jesus — that’s— that’s what you do, you let ‘em think they can have whatever they want ‘til they show some money. you seriously think i give a fuck ‘bout those girls?” he squints, locking the door angrily once you were both in the privacy of an empty bedroom.

you cross your arms over eachother, lip wobbling as you look away. he sighs, running a hand over his face. he really hated upsetting you, especially in public, especially when he’s on the job.

“look,” he approaches you a little calmer, turning you to face him by the shoulders before moving his hands to cup your face. “i’ll tell ‘em to fuck off. yeah?” he tilts his head, trying to catch your eye. “yeah?” he repeats and you nod.

“tell them i’m your girlfriend and i’ll kill them.” you sniffle, and he resists an eye roll, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“yeah, yeah. you couldn’t kill a bug let alone some random coked up whore.”

you pout, arms still crossed loosely over your front. “dont say whore, s’demeaning.”

his smirk is full out now, tilting his head to capture your lips, muttering a “terribly sorry.” as he closes in on you to do so. he presses you to the door as the kiss intensifies, large hands travelling to grope at your chest through your top.

“gonna be loud for me? let everyone know who’s girl you are?” he rasps into your mouth.

“mhm!”

“good fuckin’ girl.”

#anon #rafe cameron prompt

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belovedmusings · 7 months

Text

“You have to trust me.”

18+ Explicit Smut 🚫Minors DNI🚫

You and Satoru get into an argument before he heads off to face Sukuna. You worry for his safety since the incident of his sealing is still fresh in your mind, begging him to let the others help, but he insists he has to do it alone. Hot, emotional sex follows.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader w/minimal gendered language, reader with no defined characteristics for inclusivity and realism, angst, hurt/no comfort, before Ch 236, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary/mating press, intentional baby making

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Privilege (The Weeknd), lovely (Billie Eilish), Lo Vas Olvidar (Billie Eilish, ROSALIA)

A/N: I have a follow-up to this where he survives the fight so that you can have some comfort after this hurt. I’ll link it at the end :’) for now enjoy some angst.

Expand to read:

“Satoru, please,” your voice tapers off at the end, the ache in your heart stinging with its intensity. “Please, don’t do it alone. You can have help. Yuuta—”

“This isn’t his fight,” Satoru insists, “I don’t want to involve innocent kids in this if I can help it.”

“So you’re just gonna go off and get yourself killed instead?”

His brows furrow, eyes frozen on your face. His lips part in disbelief, and after a moment of being stunned, he laughs incredulously.

“Seriously?” He asks you, “Do you really think that lowly of me? You think I’m marching off to my death right now?! You think I’m some weak little twerp or something? That’s all I am to you?!”

As he raises his voice, you start to feel guilt rising up in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it like that. Here he is, about to fight for the sake of the world and you’re belittling him and undermining his strength. You’re telling him you expect him to lose, even if that wasn’t your intention. You’re supposed to be his support pillar—he doesn’t just let anyone in.

The anger fizzles out of you like ice water on hot coals. Instantly, you feel cold.

“No, Satoru,” you shake your head, remorse bubbling up so violently tears spring to your eyes. This is the love of your life, the man who has been nothing but sweet, patient, and kind to you. Sure, back when things were normal, he used to tease and get on your nerves, he had to work a lot and his time was stretched thin as a result, but he always made time for you. He always thought of you, brought you your favorite treats from his missions, latched onto you when he came back because he missed you.

Apparently you started sobbing at some point while you thought about all of that, because the next thing you know, he’s wrapping his newly thickened arms around you and pulling you into his sturdy chest.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” his voice is subdued now, full of guilt. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It’s just that—”

“That’s not…” you sniffle, shaking your head as you try to find the strength to get a full sentence out in the midst of your break down. “I believe in you, Satoru, I do, I didn’t mean—didn’t mean to say that…”

He hugs you tighter, rubbing up and down your arm. You continue.

“I’m just so fucking scared, Satoru, I’m scared.”

More sobs wrack your body and he can only sigh heavily, trying to hold you as close to himself as he can.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” his voice is thin, like he’s trying hard to keep it even. “I hate that I can’t give you a normal, easy life with me.”

You huff, wrapping your arms around him. “That’s not…I wouldn’t trade what we have for the world, Satoru, for the world…”

“I just hate that this is causing you so much pain,” he replies. “I’m supposed to be taking it away, not making it worse. God, I really am the worst, aren’t I?”

You shake your head in disagreement, planting a kiss on his neck to protest his statement. His breath hitches, and the next moment, he’s raising your chin up with his index finger, ducking to connect your lips. You make a small noise in the back of your throat and kiss back, arms winding around his neck to draw him closer. You feel him hug your waist, and go willingly when he backs you up.

The backs of your legs meet the edge of his bed, the one that you’ve become so familiar with it’s more comfortable than your own at the place you rarely sleep anymore, and you realize that this might be the last chance you ever get to share it with him.

Another sob escapes you before you can stop it and you grab the collar of his shirt tightly, pulling him down with you. You fall onto the mattress, Satoru catching himself so he doesn’t crush you as he kisses you passionately.

You trail your palms down his chest, down his abdomen, over the tight black shirt he has on, then back up again just to feel him. Satoru is here right now, in your hands, on top of you—you need to cherish this while it lasts.

You break the kiss as your crying worsens, unable to stop lamenting the fact that you can’t freeze time in its place right now.

“Shh,” his sugary voice hushes you, “Shh, focus on me. I want this to feel good for you, okay? We can’t have you crying your way through it, silly, then you won’t remember a thing.”

You sniffle, trying to wipe at your eyes. “I don’t want to just r-remember you…I need you to be okay.”

“I am okay,” he says, pecking your brow bone sweetly. “I’m right here. Just feel me. Nothin’ else. Don’t even think right now, thinking’s not useful.”

You huff shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his mouth go for your neck. He scrapes his teeth over your jugular to shock pleasure into your senses, successfully distracting some of the anguish right out of you.

“That’s it,” like this, his voice sounds almost like a purr, and you shiver, arms wrapping around his shoulders to grip at his back. He leaves a wet kiss where his teeth were and swipes his tongue over the spot, starting to suckle. You give him a soft noise in response, relishing in the fact that you know he’s leaving a mark on purpose. It’ll be there at least for a few days, or more if he really tries.

“Make it dark,” you breathe, “Give me as many as you can, please.”

“You don’t have to beg me,” he murmurs below your ear, sending heat pulsing downward. “I’ll give anything you want from me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. “Anything?”

At your eager question, he chuckles lowly, lifting himself up to meet your eyes. “Hmm. You have something specific in mind, don’t you?”

Your face heats up involuntarily, but the urgency of the situation has you forcing your bashfulness down. This might be the only time to ask. You had wanted to wait until the two of you were settled, maybe married if that’s what you agreed on, but now there might not be another moment. This could be it. And you know that if you don’t tell him what you want now and something happens, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.

With that thought, you take a deep breath and raise your hand to cup his face, brushing a few strands of his fringe away from his eyes.

“I want your baby, Satoru.”

You see the moment the words register in his brain. His eyes light up with something you’ve never seen before, and he smiles as if you just gave him the sweetest, most sincere compliment he’s ever heard.

“Yeah? A piece of me forever, huh?”

You nod, a grin tugging at your lips even as droplets continue to spill down your cheeks. “Yeah. Our love personified.”

He chuckles wetly and you think you see his eyes turn glossy, but he’s kissing you again before you can confirm it.

“It’s yours,” he says against your mouth. “All yours.”

You lose yourself in the long kiss that follows. All you can feel is him moving on top of you, tongue dancing with yours so intimately it would have the angels in the room blushing.

You raise your hips when he tugs at your pants, taking your underwear with them. He sits back on his haunches to slide them off your legs, eyes gentle as he gets between them and pushes his hands up underneath your shirt.

Sitting up quickly, you allow him to lift it off of you, discarding it behind himself. Now, you’re completely naked, but he’s still clothed.

“No fair,” you say, eyeing his shirt like it’s offensive, and he laughs.

“Say no more, say no more,” he replies, “Just lay down for me.”

Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you do as he tells you, looking up at him kneeling between your legs. You watch as he crosses his arms to peel his tight shirt off of his sculpted muscles, smooth, fair skin coming into view. He’d put a Greek god to shame, you think. He’s so tear-jerkingly beautiful it threatens madness in your mind.

“Like what you see?” He taunts mischievously, standing up to untie his pants and push those along with his boxers down his hips. His reddened erection springs free and you stare unabashedly at it, never having got used to the sight fully. He’s huge, both long and thick, all smooth skin except for a prominent vein on the underside. You used to joke with him early on in your relationship that it was the main reason for his cocky attitude, that you’d probably act the same way if you had a dick like that, and it always made him laugh. You love making him laugh. God, you love Satoru so much.

“Oh, you definitely like what you see now,” he snorts, climbing back onto the bed. “Gotta admit, it’s hot as hell to see you objectify me like that.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I’m nothing but a glorified sperm donor, mistress.”

You make an incredulous face. “What? I’m not—you don’t even—”

“Shh, I’m just teasin’,” he grins at you, leaning down to peck your lips. “I know you love me.”

You blow out a puff of air like a deflating balloon. “Satoru, I swear to god.”

He chuckles, shutting himself up by kissing you again. “That’s just how I show love.”

You chase his lips, hearing his words for the ‘I love you’ they truly are, threading your hands in his hair.

His big palms find your hips and he centers them for himself, lining up and grinding his stiff member against your wet core.

“Mmh,” you moan, moving with him, “Satoru…”

He sighs shakily, grabbing the crook of your knee to push it up, giving himself more room to move. His grinds become more forceful and it has you stuttering little gasps, nails digging into his back.

“Already scratchin’ me up?” He asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But I haven’t even put it in yet.”

The laugh you reply with is half-assed, need distracting you, and you find his eyes. “What’s stopping you?”

“Oh? Someone’s impatient,” he chuckles, stamping a kiss to your nose. “All right, all right. Better give you what you want.”

He takes ahold of himself and lines up, breathing a heavy sigh as he sinks into you. As soon as he does, you make a noise in the back of your throat, hugging him closer to you. As he bottoms out, you can’t help but press more chaste kisses wherever you can on him—his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. You just love him. You love the feeling of his body on top of yours, the warm weight unique to him, how he fills your arms up, tangible and strong. You breathe in deeply, the sweet musk of his skin filling your senses. It’s your favorite scent in the entire world.

He pulls back and rocks forward again slowly, taking care to get you used to his size. So much has happened lately that you haven’t been able to get intimate a lot, so you have to let him ease you back into it.

As he works you open on his cock slowly, you take to caressing the smooth skin of his back, eyes closed to revel in the sound of his heavy breaths, strained with the effort to control his movements so as not to hurt you. You love how solid he is under your palms. You could touch him forever. If he survives this fight, you swear that you’ll never let go of him again. You plead mentally with any deity that may hear you to protect Satoru.

You kiss the soft underside of his chin and hold him closer, holding onto that thought. Protect him. Keep him safe. Keep him alive. I love this man so much, just please don’t take him away from me.

He chooses that moment to start picking up the pace, the dull ache it gives you enough to thankfully keep you from spiraling further. You sigh, bending your knees further to give him more room. Your legs then wrap around him, ankles crossing at the base of his spine, and he responds by going faster. The room begins to fill with the sound of your bodies meeting over and over, his length molding you to his shape with every push of his hips into yours.

On a particularly hard thrust, you gasp, tightening around him, and it causes him to groan right after you. His voice is so sweet. It was one of the things that stood out to you about him when you had first met him—the way he always seemed to have perfect control over it. He speaks with ebbs and flows to contour the meanings of his words, to give them his special nuance that perfectly colors in his personality. He’s just so animated when he speaks. If he’s annoyed, you’ll hear it. If he’s playful, you’ll hear it. If he’s happy, you’ll hear it.

Right now, as he works through stuttered breaths and hitched moans, delivered exhales of your name weaved into declarations of his bliss, you hear the pleasure you’re giving him. That control starts to slip and words start tumbling from his lips, voice thin and shaky, a tone reserved just for you.

You turn your head to lay a kiss on his lips, landing on the corner of his mouth, but he understands what you need, sweeping you into a languid, passionate make out session as he rocks in and out of you. You hear him make a sort of wet noise before he doubles down on his efforts, pushing deep inside of you and starting to roll his body.

“Satoru,” you hiss in surprise, mouth falling open as his abdomen grinds against the sensitive bud above the place he’s buried inside of, heightening the goosebumps that break out on your skin. Your head falls back and he takes the opportunity to start making as many marks on your skin as he can with his mouth. Like this, you feel yourself getting close, and that has you remembering what comes after this.

He’s going to leave, and he might not come back.

This might be the last time you ever get to have him.

“I love you,” you say, just needing to get the words out, needing him to know. “You’re so important to me—thank you for everything, Satoru.”

His breath catches in his throat and he finds your gaze, reaching up to cup your jaw in his palm.

“Thank you for everything,” He replies sincerely. “Thank you for loving me. For dealing with all my bullshit and sticking by me.”

“Always,” you shake your head, eyes filling with new tears. You sniffle, feeling that choked desperation start seizing your chest again. “Always, Satoru.”

He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those beautiful luminescent oceans only reflect the deep sadness the both of you feel, and to see it glaringly obvious in his gaze breaks your heart. He can’t fake his happiness this time, not even for you. He’s human too, and being here with you like this in what might be the last time threatens to undo him.

Satoru swallows thickly and concentrates on his movements to distract himself, forcing himself to focus on the noises you make as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. He wants this to last forever just like you do, but you both know he’s needed by more people than just you.

Your climax approaches and with it, your emotions swell up inside of you. You remember meeting him for the first time, you remember when he started pursuing you, how happy he was when you agreed to a date, how hard he’d tried to win you over yet how effortless he made it look. Every time you two shared a laugh, every time he was there while you cried, how he always managed to put a smile back on your face. How sweet of a man he is to his students, how proud you can tell he is whenever he talks about them, and how his eyes light up whenever he eats a treat he’s fond of. God, you just love him.

“Satoru,” you whimper, orgasm hitting you abruptly. “Oh god, I love you so much.”

He exhales forcefully as he feels it, managing a few sloppy thrusts before he’s cumming as well pushing as deep as he can go in effort to fulfill your earlier request.

As you start to come down, the fear and despair come back tenfold, overtaking you in a fit of sobs. He wraps his arms around you and buries his nose in your hair.

“I’ll win,” He whispers to you, “I will. I’ll come back and we’ll raise the little shit we just made together, okay? They’ll probably grow up like me but I hope they’re more like you, baby.”

You hiccup loudly as you cry harder, clinging to the image of a happy family with him for dear life.

“It’s gonna be okay. You have to trust me,” He insists, inhaling slowly. “I have to go now.”

You hold him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut to commit this to memory before he’s pulling away, lifting himself off of you and grabbing his clothes quickly.

He dresses in silence, your cries the only thing echoing around the room. All you can manage to do is put on one of his button-ups from the foot of his bed, wiping furiously at your eyes.

Too soon, he’s clothed again, and it’s time for him to go.

He walks over to you again and takes your chin gently in his hand, tilting it up so that your eyes connect. He smiles softly at you.

“You know that I love you, right?”

A deep ache seats into your chest. He’s said it in a million ways before but never in its original form, those simple, crater-heavy three words. You nod, sniffling as another wave of lament threatens to pull you under.

“I do,” you confirm, forcing it out in a strained voice. He nods to himself, leaning in and pressing his soft lips to your forehead.

You feel the moment that he uses his technique to flash himself out of the room, because his warm presence that naturally takes up a lot of space vanishes and leaves absolutely everything feeling cold and sterile.

You break down again, head falling into your hands.

Shoko had told you where everyone would be watching the fight take place. You want to be there, and you will go, but you need to be alone first.

You just hope with all of your might that you won’t be left alone with only a piece of him to succeed his legacy. You want him to be there too. You need him to be there.

You need him to be okay.

—-

A/N: i gave myself an ouchie on the heart while writing this. whoops. also wow is he gorgeous in that picture at the top?? anyways here’s the second part where he survives bc i should be gege instead so he’ll be okay :-)

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #gojo smut #gojo x reader

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twoidiotwriters1 · 5 months

Text

Three times Luffy fell for you (Monkey D. Luffy x Fem! Reader)

A/N: So fucking cute! Send more requests and help :v - Val

Words: 1, 763

Warnings: Spoilers of anime/manga One Piece! Mentions of death, and I think that's all.

Three times Luffy fell for you.

Luffy wakes up in the middle of the night, but this time, it’s not because of a nightmare or a noise, he just feels weird.

His first thought is to go to the kitchen to find some food. Of course, he couldn’t get anything, thanks to Sanji’s tramps. He whines, but a noise interrupts his thoughts. He realizes it’s someone crying.

He gets to the Sunny’s deck, and he finds you sitting on the stairs. “Y/N? Are you okay? Why are you crying? Are you hungry too?” He quickly sits beside you.

You look at him startled and feel overwhelmed by the rain of questions. It only makes you cry more. He panics and decides to hug you instead of trying to keep talking.

As you feel his body around you, you melt against him hiding your face on his chest. He stretches his arms around you many times to hold you tighter and rest his head over yours.

The two of you stay like that until you stop crying, you can control your breathing and you stop hiding. He loosens his grip but still holds you.

“I had a nightmare,” you say with a broken voice. “I lost all of you and I couldn't do anything to stop it.”

Luffy hums. “I had that kind of nightmares too,” he sighs, “I can’t blame you, they’re really scary and it feels real.”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“But you know who hates them the most?” You lean back to look at him. “Zoro,” he giggles. “When I have those nightmares, I have to make sure everybody’s okay, but the first person I see it’s him, so I wake him up every time. And it’s hard to wake him up and, he’s never happy,” Luffy makes a funny scary face that makes you giggle.

“And sometimes the others wake up too, so they all start to scream at me, but it’s okay. At least I know they’re fine,” he smiles.

“That’s a good solution,” you say sarcastically, but Luffy doesn’t get it.

“Right?” His chest starts to feel funny when he sees your smile again. “See? You’re not the only one with that nightmare. Everybody’s okay. And I’m here with you, and I heard the others snore, so they’re okay too!” You giggle again.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Thanks, Luffy.”

Now Luffy feels funny in his stomach, so he remembers.

“Oh, right! You know, this could be a great moment to have a sweet!” He pouts. “But, bad news, Sanji locked the fridge again,” he whines.

You laugh at his childish behavior, but you move a little to lose more of his grip and turn to the side to pick up a small blue box.

“Here,” you offer the box. “You can have the honor to eat my last cookie.”

Luffy’s eyes sparkle. “What? The last one? Really?” You laugh and nod. “Thank you!” He squeals grabbing it, but then, he stops to look at the cookie and then at you. He frowns when he still sees your teary eyes, pink cheeks, and tired smile. “I want to share it with you,” he says breaking the cookie in half.

“What!?” You exclaim. “You never share your food with anyone. You just take it all!”

He laughs at loud. “But I want to share with you! C’mon, captain’s orders” he says with a playful authority.

You giggle. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” He smiles.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re welcome!” He turns his sight to his half of the cookie and eats it in one bite.

You take a moment to see the details on Luffy’s face, his skin, his rebel and raven hair, some freckles, his nose, fine lips, and his eyes, always full of excitement. Without thinking much, you lean forward to kiss his cheek.

He raises his brows and looks at you with a confused face.

“Why did you do that?” He asks curiously.

You shrug. “I wanted to,” then you panic. “I—is that okay?”

He smiles. “Only if I can kiss you whenever I want,” he says without any sign of flirtation.

You blush. “W-what?”

“It’s only fair, right?” He says with a chuckle, so casual and calm while you’re a mess. “Deal?”

“D-Deal!”

He nods and looks at his ship, but there’s still something he can’t figure out. The funny feeling in his stomach increased and now it’s on his chest too. Maybe he has to ask Chopper about it… or eat more.

Every year, on the same day of Ace’s death, Luffy gets so quiet that it feels wrong.

Sometimes, Luffy’s complicated in other situations, but this is another level. Nobody knows what to do. They’ve tried to ask him, but he doesn’t talk all day and he rejects any help from his crew.

He’s sitting in his favorite spot, he’s been looking at the horizon for many hours, just until he hears someone’s steps and groans.

“Shit,” you say grabbing another part of the Sunny’s head as you keep trying to climb it. There’s a reason why this is Luffy’s spot. It’s hard for someone without a devil fruit.

Luffy leans to look at your struggle. He frowns, stretches one arm to grab you by your waist, and pulls you to his side.

“Uff… thanks, Luffy!” You smile gratefully.

“Why do you want to climb?” He asks. His voice’s raspy.

“Oh!” You act like you’re not worried about his state. “I-I know you uh, you don’t like anyone else to sit here but...”

“No,” he interrupts you. “It’s okay. You can.”

You smile blushing.

“Thanks, uh...” you move on your place “I just—I Just don’t want you to be alone for so long,” you whisper. “I mean, I can go if that’s what you want, I know it’s a hard day for you but...” You look at him. “You don’t have to face it alone.”

He doesn’t answer, he just moves and lays down with his head resting on your lap. Then, he reaches for your hand, and when he finds it, he puts it on his hair. You catch what he wants and start brushing the tufts with a soft giggle.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

It’s a tradition for the straw hats to throw a huge party after a tough fight and this isn’t the exception.

Zoro and Nami are betting about who can drink more sake while Usopp’s singing with Brook and Franky since they lost a bet, Robin’s watching them dancing around. Chopper and Luffy are eating all Sanji’s making.

At first, you celebrated with the same enthusiasm as your friends, but now, you feel like your body’s finally giving up. You return to the Sunny, directly to your room.

As much as you want to take a shower to wash off the party’s sweat, your body aches so much that you think it wouldn’t work on your own and you don’t want to call Robin or Nami for help.

“Just the pj’s then,” you say out loud. You leave the weapons on the floor and grab your shirt to pull it up, but the pain of your wounds stops you. “Fuck!” You groan.

“Are you okay?” says Luffy arriving at your room.

You turn to him scared. “Shit, Luffy!” You yell at him, and he smiles.

“Sorry,” He walks up to you. “Why did you leave the party?”

You chuckle. “Shouldn't you be... you know, turning into a big ball full of food and having fun?”

“It's no fun if you're not there,” he says like is nothing, but you’re blushing, and your heart pounds. “So, why you don’t go back?”

You shake your head. “I’m exhausted, Luffy. I can’t even put on my pj’s,” you laugh.

“Oh! Do you want me to help you?”

His eyes tell you that his offer is pure and innocent. You’re 100% sure that your captain has no other intentions. But you can't help feeling uneasy and nervous.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He smiles and you nod.

He grabs the end of your shirt and gently pulls it over your head. You hiss a little and then throw the shirt away. When you look up, Luffy’s eyes are on the bandage around your waist.

“Luffy?” You almost whisper.

“You fought great,” he grins and he feathery touches the bandage. “You’re an awesome fighter,” he nods.

“Thanks.”

“Sometimes… I forget that you and I are different in battle.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He returns to your eyes. “You can't last as long fighting as me, you get exhausted sooner and you heal last,” then he smiles. “But no matter how strong your opponent is… you always find a way to win,” he giggles. “You always surprise me with your smart brain.”

“Really?” You smile.

“Definitely.”

You realize the proximity of your bodies, Luffy's breath mingles with yours and your noses almost touch. You can’t help but lean a little up and kiss his lips sweetly. It lasts a few seconds, and you move away, waiting for his reaction.

He frowns. “Wait! I’m feeling funny again!”

“What?”

“It’s like—I dunno. When I’m with you… in my belly—and chest—and then you kissed me, and it got worse!” He steps back. “It’s all your fault!” He points at you.

You think for a while about all his words and his reaction, then, you figure it out. You blush with a smile. “I feel the same, Luffy.”

“You do? Are we sick? Are we gonna die?”

You giggle stepping closer to him. “No. It means that you like me and… I like you.”

“I don’t get it. I like everyone in the crew but with you it’s different,” he pouts.

You nod and take his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Luffy,” you whisper leaning to kiss him again. This time the kiss is longer, and he reciprocates following the movements of your lips against his.

“I’ll explain it to you, I promise...”

“’Kay, but does it mean that we can keep kissing? It feels nice.”

You giggle. “Yeah, we can do that, but...” you flush looking down, realizing you’re just in a bra and jeans. “Can you help me with my clothes? I’m still tired.”

“Oh, right!”

He undresses you, leaving you in your underwear, and then helps you with your pajamas, and cuddles up with you in your bed and so it starts a make-out session between whispers, laughter, and love. At some point, you fall asleep, resting on his chest as he hugs you without hurting you.

#twoidiots writing #one piece luffy #one piece #fluff #monkey d luffy x reader #straw hat luffy #monkey d. luffy

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captain-hawks · 6 months

Text

THE LINE BETWEEN LUST & CONTEMPT

♡ — kento nanami x f!reader

As you glance down at the skimpy, khaki skirt and blue shirt that’s missing far too many buttons on the top end, topped off with a silky, patterned yellow tie and heels that may actually kill you, you find yourself wondering again who in their right mind let Gojo pitch Secret Santa-style costumes for the Halloween party.

18+ ONLY

wc — 5.5k

content — enemies to lovers speed run, protective Nanami, soft dom!Nanami vibes, "fucking it out", gagged with a tie, oral fixation, spit kink, spitting in mouth, fingering, squirting, handjob, choking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, washing machine sex, wall sex, praise kink, Nanami’s big dick

— AKA what if nobody went to Shibuya and everyone went to a Halloween party instead?

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“You’re joking, right?”

There’s a familiar chuckle that rings out over the phone, one that often signifies nothing good is to come when you’re on the receiving end of it.

“Does everything fit?” Gojo asks coyly, as if he’s incapable of hearing the thinly-veiled threat in your prior question. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You glare at your phone where it’s perched atop your dresser before returning your gaze to the mirror in front of you, readjusting the blue button down shirt once again in an attempt to keep your chest at least modestly covered—it’s a lost cause.

“Well, this shirt’s somehow missing half the buttons from the top,” you respond dryly, moving on to fix the silky, yellow tie with black spots that’s secured loosely around your neck.

This is a disaster waiting to happen.

“And?”

“And my ass is basically hanging out of this skirt,” you continue, roughly tugging the khaki-coloured material down in vain, as if that will persuade it to extend past its otherwise permanent resting place against your very upper thighs.

“I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Kicking at the precariously tall pair of heels sitting on the floor waiting to wreck your feet, you grumble, “I can’t even walk in heels.”

“Shoko’s house is small. You’ll be fine.”

You walk over to your bed, eyeing the gift bag that Gojo had left sitting on your desk at the school earlier this morning. Something still remains neatly placed at the bottom—a lacy, red lingerie set.

“Should I ask why you bought me lingerie, too? I don’t see how that’s part of the costume. Unless Nanami likes wearing thongs on his days off.”

There’s that fucking chuckle again.

“Nanami-kun loves the color red, don’t you know?”

An unwelcome flash of heat flares white-hot in your gut at the implication behind his words, and you’re mortified. “You’re aware we hate each other, right? Have you been living under a rock? He’ll probably turn around and leave as soon as he walks in and sees me wearing this.”

Gojo’s chuckle turns into an outright laugh, and you can practically hear him shoving his stupid blindfold up to wipe away the tears of amusement prickling at the corners of his ridiculously blue eyes.

“Hate? Yeah, sure. Alright.”

Asshole.

You hang up on him.

–

You had the (dis)pleasure of becoming acquainted with Kento Nanami just over a year ago, shortly after Gojo roped him back into the world of jujutsu sorcery, despite his best efforts to avoid it during his stint as a salaryman. Given that Jujutsu High isn’t exactly brimming with a large roster of full-fledged sorcerers, the two of you have—naturally—been paired up on your fair share of cases.

To say that you don’t work well together is an understatement.

Nanami’s straightforward and calculated way of operating in the field is a direct contrast to your fast and loose approach, one that relies heavily on acting on your feelings in the heat of the moment, rather than calculating precise, measured ratios that guarantee a critical hit.

You’re too reckless.

Too emotional.

Too spontaneous.

Too sentimental.

You grate on him much in the way Gojo does, but whereas there are years of friendship that give Nanami the patience to put up with the strongest sorcerer’s antics, he has no reason to extend that same courtesy to you.

Needless to say, he’d outright balked when Gojo happily announced that you were a grade 1 sorcerer as well, something that never fails to ruffle his feathers as he watches you flirt with dangerous situations time and time again just for the thrill of it, saving your finishing blow of cursed energy for the last possible moment.

“I can’t work with someone who’s actively trying to get themselves killed,” you’d overheard him snapping at Gojo after your second mission together. “She’s worse than you.”

“She always gets the job done, doesn’t she?”

“At the cost of my sanity, I can’t say it’s worth it.”

Admittedly, you may or may not exacerbate the issue on occasion, exaggerating the aforementioned behavior that you know gets on his nerves just to further get a rise out of him in your attempts to try and dislodge the perpetual stick that’s lodged up his ass.

–

When Shoko opens the door to her apartment later that evening, the sounds of music and laughter spilling out onto her front step, she takes one look at your costume, eyes wide, and laughs, “Oh, Nanami is going to love this.”

You exhale dramatically through your nose, though the exasperated gesture is thrown off by the way you then proceed to shiver, your meager outfit doing little to protect you from the crisp October air. “Tell me again why we didn’t veto Gojo’s Secret Santa Halloween?”

She shrugs, stepping aside to let you in as she offers you a knowing glance. “I seem to remember you saying how fun it would be to surprise each other with costumes.”

“That was before he picked my name,” you lament, glancing down at the outfit that you’ve now begun to refer to as The Slutty Salaryman.

“Guess I’m lucky you picked me, then,” she winks, waving a hand to show off the far more modest and fun rendition of Principal Yaga that you’d put together for her, complete with a faux cursed corpse seated on her shoulder with large googly eyes glued to its little bear face. “If it makes you feel any better, someone with a sense of humor clearly got Gojo.”

Careful not to trip and fall to your death in the heels as you head through the entryway to the party beyond, which is bustling with a mixture of familiar faces and strangers alike, you scan the room for a tall head of white hair. True to Shoko’s words, you’re not at all disappointed when you catch sight of Gojo dressed as Gakuganji, looking completely ridiculous with fake facial hair, crudely drawn makeup to add decades to his appearance, and loose-fitting pants that are amusingly unflattering on his lean frame.

It’s not quite revenge, but it’ll do.

–

Two hours pass without a sign of the man you’re dressed as, and for a moment, you’re relieved at the thought that perhaps you’re off the hook. Every little smug, knowing grin Gojo’s been tossing your way will have been for naught.

But perhaps just to spite you, the front door swings open the moment you take a celebratory swig from the glass of wine in your hands, leaving Shoko to pound on your back while you start choking on the liquid at the goddamn sight standing before you.

Nanami’s dressed as Gojo.

Sort of.

His blonde hair can’t quite disobey the laws of gravity like the other sorcerer’s stark white locks, so it hangs soft and loose over the white blindfold on his face, which is lifted just enough over one eye so he can actually see. Rather than don Gojo’s typical uniform, Nanami’s in an all-black suit (save for the tie he never goes anywhere without), the well-fitting material leaving little to the imagination as it snugly hugs his muscled arms and thick thighs.

You’re too distracted to respond to the way Shoko’s snickering in your ear, and when Nanami turns around to talk to someone—thus offering you a view of the outfit from behind—you choke again.

Naturally, you spend the next hour doing everything in your power to avoid Nanami for reasons you’re not quite ready to examine, utilizing an excessive amount of mental gymnastics to justify the way you keep dipping out of conversations every time you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. The confusing mixture of feelings you’re experiencing has sent your fight-or-flight response into overdrive.

Your concerted efforts take a nosedive when a far-too-observant Gojo manages to wrangle the two of you into a conversation before you can find an excuse to be somewhere else. It’s disastrous at best, Nanami offering a blunt, disinterested list of every poor decision he felt that you made when Gojo asks how your joint assignment the other day went.

And just when you’re about to lay into Nanami about how difficult he made that mission, Shoko grabs you by the hip, resting her head on your shoulder with a smile as she turns to him and asks in a calculating tone, “Nanami-kun, doesn’t her costume look great?”

He glances at you with a gaze full of disinterest before turning to Gojo with an unimpressed look. “I’d never wear such a cheap tie.”

Nanami walks away to get another drink before you can think of a good comeback, though admittedly, the tie is a terrible knock off.

—

“Shit, sorry!”

Cold beer splashes across your chest and soaks the front of your shirt as a man trips and stumbles in your direction, and you groan in annoyance at the feeling of the sticky liquid dripping down your skin. Despite the fact that you wave him off, heading toward the kitchen in search of paper towels, he follows you, spilling out a string of apologies as he himself scrambles for a pile of napkins.

It’s an awkward shuffle of you trying to clean your chest off without flashing him and the man getting entirely too close as he awkwardly makes an attempt to dab your shirt dry. To your relief, he doesn’t make it that far, the fingers now wrapped around his wrist halting his arm midair.

“She’s fine.”

Nanami.

The blindfold is long gone, leaving behind the rare sight of him with no glasses and soft, tousled hair. Internally, you scramble to rustle up the familiar feeling of annoyance that always weighs heavily in your gut at the sight of him. Instead, it’s all you can do to try and keep the hitch in your breath inaudible as you feel your stupid heart trip over itself.

“I’m just—”

“Do you need his help?” Nanami interrupts the man’s slightly slurred words, directing his steely gaze to you.

For all of the endless comebacks you can normally conjure up to hurl back at him between one breath and the next, you’re temporarily rendered speechless in confusion as to why he’s helping you. So instead, you just shake your head.

“She doesn’t need your help,” he repeats, nothing friendly in the way he says it.

The man apologizes again as he drops your arm and scurries from the kitchen, and you turn away from Nanami, leaning against the counter as you attempt to catch your breath and school your expression into something that doesn’t scream, “Why the fuck was that so hot?”

“Are you alright?” he asks carefully, the tinge of concern in his voice sinking into your bones.

Hand coming up short from the now-empty paper towel roll, you let out a sound of frustration, though it’s moreso due to the infuriating way your body’s been reacting all night to a man you normally can’t even be in the same room with without arguing about something.

“Like you said, I’m fine,” you tell him sarcastically, spinning around and pushing past him to grab napkins from the table instead. When all else fails, deflect.

Unfortunately, spinning in heels is arguably one of your worst decisions of the evening, because you instantly lose your balance on the smooth tile floor. When you try to right yourself mid-step, the room tilts as the heel on one shoe cracks under the pressure. Your hands fly up to break your inevitable fall, but it never comes, a pair of arms wrapping firmly around your body and catching you.

Body momentarily on an angle as Nanami holds you against his warm, solid frame, you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression. If he did this in the field, you’d have jumped out of his hold with a snarky remark about not needing his help.

But right now?

Right now, you don’t know what you want.

He stares down at you, nonplussed. “You can’t walk in heels,” he observes.

You blink.

“I can’t walk in heels,” you concede, for once not brimming with the fire to argue.

“And you’re still dripping wet.”

Nanami lifts you back into a standing position, napkins clutched in one hand as he stands on your side with the broken heel and wraps an arm around your waist, helping you to walk. You desperately try to ignore the way it feels to be tucked against him.

You hate him.

Right?

He has you facing the short hallway that you know leads to Shoko’s laundry room instead of the living room. “Should I ask where you’re taking me?”

He looks at you, sighing and shaking his head as he walks you toward another door, flicking on the light before he suddenly hoists you up without warning. You yelp at the feeling of something cold touching the backs of your thighs, short skirt and thin tights doing nothing to protect you from the metal surface you’re now sitting on. Glancing down, you realize he’s put you on top of the washer.

“Here,” he unceremoniously drops the pile of napkins into your lap. “I thought you might want to clean yourself up somewhere more private, given that you seem to be missing most of the buttons on your shirt.”

Is that fucking sarcasm in his voice?

He waves his hand in the direction of the damp blue button down, as if it’s not meant to be an imitation of his trademark outfit.

“And what are you going to d—”

You’re cut off by your own gasp at the feeling of Nanami’s hand wrapping around your ankle, the gentleness of the gesture a stark contrast to the way he’d nearly manhandled the stranger in the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow, holding up the broken-off heel in his other hand.

“Can’t have you limping around Shoko’s house the rest of the night, can we? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

You can’t bring yourself to argue, too mesmerized by the way he drags a hand through his blonde hair to push it out of his face, the stubborn locks fighting their way back across his forehead as his brows furrow together in concentration.

You want to card your own hands through it, to see what kind of expression his face will morph into.

No.

“I think they’re a lost cause,” you sigh, leaning forward to take them off and admit defeat. You’re sure Shoko has a pair of slippers somewhere.

You get a face full of Nanami’s hair instead as he beats you to the punch, his long, deft fingers making surprisingly quick work of the tiny buckles as you try not to make it too obvious that you’re now purposely inhaling the scent of his shampoo for whatever fucking reason has compelled your traitorous body to do so.

This entire night is a write off at this point.

Head elsewhere, you belatedly realize that your legs are spread far too wide for the microscopic length of your skirt, which may be why Nanami’s gaze has remained dutifully trained on your feet, rather than the bright red thong you know is staring him in the face. You try not to make it too obvious as you inch your thighs back together.

Putting your shoes on top of the dryer, Nanami goes to leave, turning his head to the side once he’s facing the door, “Do you want me to get Shoko?”

You should say yes.

You should say yes and watch him go back out to the party, letting the door swing shut on this strange, baffling detour in your contemptuous, stormy relationship.

You’ll go home and sleep off the tightening of your throat and the pressure in your chest, these hazy, confusing feelings sure to fade in the night, long gone after sunrise like the evaporation of morning dew.

But you’ve never been one to make things easy for yourself.

“So that’s it?”

Nanami turns around fully, eyes meeting yours. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“You’re just going to go back out to the party?” You’re not sure why you’re pushing him.

He takes two slow steps back toward you, hip brushing against your knee when he comes to a stop. “Are you incapable of getting off of the washer without hurting yourself, too?”

There’s an unfamiliar, teasing lilt to the way he says it, and you shift in place, blood prickling hot beneath your skin. What’s wrong with you tonight?

“You really have nothing to say about my costume?” The words are out of your mouth faster than you can take back the idle thought that’s been nagging you since he walked in the door.

Since you caught him looking at you from across the room several times after his initial biting remark about the tie, his expression unreadable.

Nanami scoffs quietly, the scent of his cologne licking its way up your nostrils as he leans one hand atop the washer, just beside your thigh. Veins bulge against his forearm, and you find yourself wondering when he rolled his sleeves up.

Electricity shoots down your spine as a caress of hot breath tickles the shell of your ear. “What do you want me to say?”

You stare straight ahead, not turning to face him. “How much you hate it.”

The air in the small room is thick with the tension that hangs heavily in the scant space between your bodies. Nanami’s quiet for a moment.

“I do hate it.”

Why do you feel so disappointed by the response you knew you’d get?

Then, his dress shoes scuff against the floor, his right hand coming to rest on your other side as he slides over and cages you in entirely.

“I hate how badly it makes me want to fuck you,” he breathes out.

Suddenly, you feel far too hot and dizzy to be perched atop Shoko’s washer. “What?”

He chuckles darkly. “Don’t act stupid, princess.”

The air feels like it’s rattling in your chest as you inhale, your increased intake of oxygen doing nothing to clear your clouded brain. “You hate me,” you say dumbly.

His thumb twitches, brushing against the outside of your thigh where there’s a small run in your sheer stockings. The contact is so minimal, you barely feel it, but it leaves a burning hot brand echoing through your nervous system all the same.

Despite the fact that he has you caged atop the washing machine, he’s barely touching you, his body arched just enough to avoid the idle sway of your legs. His tie dangles in the space between your bodies, and you have to fight the urge to wrap your fingers around it and tug.

Nanami stares at you, an odd expression on his face. “I hate the way you make me feel,” he corrects you.

Oh.

“But you—”

“You’re reckless.”

“I’m—”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well—”

“You’re too fucking smart to be risking your life in jujutsu sorcery.”

“You’re one to tal—”

“Too talented—”

“Well that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever—”

“—you have no regard for your own life in the field.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“You infuriate me to no end—”

“Are you hitting on me or trying to hurt my feelings I really can’t te—”

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps, chest heaving.

You stare at him, blinking slowly. “The feeling’s mutual.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. “I can’t stand it.”

You can hardly hear the sounds of the party anymore.

“Then do something about it.”

Nanami’s lips come crashing into yours, and every flickering ember in your body flares to life.

There’s a dizzying precision to the way Nanami kisses, mouth claiming yours so thoroughly that a moan crawls its way up your throat before he’s even begun to skirt the seam of your lips with his tongue. Your lips part for him, and he deepens the kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head as his tongue slides over yours.

He explores your mouth like he wants to devour you, and you let him, already dangerously addicted to the taste of his saliva mixing with your own, keening when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

His hand drifts from your thigh to your shirt, and he grunts as he feels the still-damp material. Without hesitation, you begin to undo the few buttons Gojo hadn’t torn off before giving it to you, overcome with the need to feel the pressure of Nanami’s large, callused hands against your bare skin. He slips the loose tie over your head as you toss the soiled shirt aside, a groan escaping his mouth when he finally takes in the unhindered sight of your bright red bra.

While the straps are lace, the cups are thin and sheer, leaving your peaked nipples on display. You almost hadn’t worn it after realizing how little it left to the imagination.

But now, seeing the way Nanami’s jaw ticks as he stares down at you, fingers twitching where they’re resting against the tops of your thighs, you don’t regret it one bit.

Your breasts feel heavy and tender under his rapt attention, and the coil nestled in your gut tightens.

Nanami looks like he’s holding himself back, and you feel a surge of arousal drip between your legs as you watch him teeter at the knife’s edge of his restraint.

“You don’t need to be gentle with me,” you tell him, overcome with the need to feel exactly what it is that he wants to do to you.

He cradles the side of your face, fingers curling behind your ear as he slots his mouth against yours. The kiss is thorough but brief, and soon he’s dragging his lips along the curve of your jaw, mouth blazing a trail down the side of your neck, tongue exploring the dip of your collarbone.

While you know where he’s headed, your entire body still arches hard into him when he finally cups your breasts with both hands, leaning in to wetly mouth at one of them through the material of your bra. He licks and sucks, the sensation making you tremble, and you throw your head back and moan, one leg hooking around his waist to pull him in as you scoot closer to the edge of the washer.

You’re about to take off your bra, but Nanami beats you to the punch, fingers easily flicking open the hooks and allowing your supple breasts to spill out before him. He dives back in, groaning as his lips close around your bare nipple, tongue dancing along the sensitive skin that surrounds the hard bud. His mouth is hot, and slick saliva coats your breasts as he goes back and forth between the two, kneading and sucking.

With both of your legs now wrapped around his waist in the haze of your arousal, you inadvertently begin to rock into him, your short skirt hiked up around your hips and rendered useless. You moan at the feeling of the sizeable shaft that presses hard into the heat between your legs, his erection straining against the zipper of his slacks. Nanami groans as you start shamelessly dry humping him, and your panties dampen further at the feeling of the sound vibrating against your tits. He gazes one of your nipples with his teeth, teasing it a final time before he straightens, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Nanami stares at you intently, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, eyes tracking the way your pupils dilate in turn. He does it again, and your tongue darts out, grazing the tip. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, he presses the tip of his thumb just past the entrance of your lips, eyes darkening as he watches how easily you welcome the intrusion. He drags his thumb down the side of your chin, pulling down your lower lip with his pointer finger, and your lips part.

A small, eager thrum flares in your gut as you take his finger into your mouth, tongue wrapping around it as you coat it with saliva. Your panties are slick with arousal as you continue to chase the friction of his cock, moaning when he puts another finger in your mouth. You begin to bob your head on the digits, sucking on them so eagerly that you can’t bring yourself to care about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans, wiping off the stray saliva with his other thumb and licking his finger clean.

He’s said the same thing time and time again before, but it’s far more preferable in this context.

You whimper in relief when he finally slides that hand down your body, bringing it to rest at the apex of your thighs. The sound is muffled by the fingers still shoved in your mouth, and a sound of amusement rumbles in his chest as he watches you desperately keen and writhe for him.

He drags a finger down the length of your wet pussy, though the contact is muted by your stockings. You begin to shift your hips, a plea for him to tear them off of you, but his impatience wins out as he outright tears them open to gain access to the plush, dripping warmth of your cunt.

“More red,” he murmurs in approval, running his fingers over the matching sheer material that covers your mound, one digit sliding up to firmly tug at the thick, lace waistband that sits high against your hip bones.

“You like red?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

But he surprises you, still. “I like you in red.”

Nanami uses his thumb to push your thong aside, steadily dragging his finger down your soaking wet slit now exposed to him. The digit slides right through your sensitive folds, and he smirks before sliding one long digit knuckle-deep into your tight hole.

You gasp, toes curling as you buck into his touch, already greedy for more. Greedy to be filled.

“More,” you pant out as he slowly pumps the finger in and out of your cunt.

“Open for me,” he tells you, voice low and rough.

You don’t hesitate, lips falling open, and your body radiates with tremors of pleasure as Nanami spits directly into your mouth. Swallowing it down, you moan, drunk on the feeling of submission as he slides in another digit and continues fucking you on his fingers.

“Good girl,” he breathes out heavily. “So pretty like this.”

You shudder under the weight of his praise, something unlocking inside of you as you begin to realize maybe you’ve wanted this from him all along. Needed this from him all along.

“Fuck me, Nanami. Please.”

“Kento,” he corrects you, hair tickling your neck as he leans in, licking and sucking at the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Fuck me,” you moan, loosening his tie as your fingers trail their way down opening each button of his shirt. “Kento.”

He bites down hard at the sound of his first name on your lips, his gravelly voice like fire against your skin, “Come for me first.”

He picks up his pace, fingers squelching lewdly in your cunt. Your mouth falls open as you try to temper down the loud moans of pleasure you want to give him, aware that all that separates you from the partygoers is the closed door a few feet away.

Kento roughly spits into your mouth again at the same moment that he brings his free hand between your legs to tease your clit, the fingers buried inside of you curling as he strokes your sensitive, spongey wall. A choked out sob leaves you when you come, and he swallows it down with a messy kiss, meeting your muffled cries of pleasure with his own rough moan as he feels you squirt all over him, clear liquid spraying his shirt and pants.

“Fuck,” he groans, the wavering loss of his composure now evident in his voice as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm on his hand.

Overcome with the desire to feel the large erection tented painfully at the front of his pants, your fingers fumble with the button and zipper, a sigh of pleasure leaving you when you finally wrap your hands around his long, thick cock. Kento kisses you filthily, moaning into your mouth as you begin pumping his cock, thumb sliding over the precum dripping from the head.

His large hands grasp your thighs, pulling you as close to the edge of the washer as possible. Kento wraps his own hand around his dick, firmly dragging the head down your creamy slit. You rock forward, chest heaving, muscles clenched tight with desire and need, only to be met with a sharp burst of pleasure as he slaps his cock heavily against your pussy. You whimper for him.

Placing a finger over your lips, which have been far from quiet throughout this ordeal, Kento goes to grab the tie left discarded beside you. However, after his fingers close around the material, he raises a brow and shakes his head, letting it drop to the floor as he begins to loosen his own tie instead.

You make no effort to hide the shameless need on your face as he smirks at you, shaking his head before wrapping the tie around your mouth and gagging you with it.

“I like seeing you desperate,” he murmurs against your ear, before finally sheathing his thick cock inside of you.

His dick is so big, your tight pussy throbs from the stretch while he splits you open, flooding your body with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Suit jacket already discarded somewhere along the way, your fingers tug off his unbuttoned dress shirt, leaving your hands free to explore the firm expanse of his abdomen.

The washing machine begins to shake loudly with each thrust, and Kento grunts, arms wrapping tightly around you as he lifts you, choosing to fuck you up against the wall instead. The continuous push and drag of his fat cock through your slick channel leaves your mind begging for more.

Your lewd moans are quiet and muffled against the gag, but he can still hear it when you beg, “Harder.”

He obliges, the shelf leaning against the wall beside you trembling ever so slightly when he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your cunt. His cock relentless plunges in to the hilt, your pussy greedily taking every long, thick inch as he fucks you deep. One of his hands runs down the side of your neck, and you find yourself leaning into the pressure, whimpering against the wet material blocking your mouth.

“Should have known you’d like this,” he rasps, hand sliding to the front of your throat as he tightens his grip and starts to choke you. “Now come on my cock.”

The pleasure that erupts inside of you swipes every remaining bit of air from your lungs, a choked out sob crawling its way up your throat as you tremble and shake in Kento’s steady grip, cunt squelching wetly around his dick.

He looks down between your bodies, the sight of the creamy ring you’ve left around the base of his shaft drawing a rough, aroused noise of appreciation from him.

Kento goes to pull out, but you shake your head, a small whine slipping past the tie, and he groans heavily, forehead falling against yours as he slams his cock back in to the hilt. It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming, too, shaft pulsing and throbbing within the tight grip of your slick cunt as he dumps rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you to the brim.

When you’re finished, Kento sets you down carefully, his fingers tender as he undoes the gag and leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, tongue swiping along your lower lip.

“Are you alright?” He asks, thumb stroking your neck.

You don’t answer him for a beat, and his mouth curls downward in concern, meeting your gaze only to find the deceivingly innocent pout of your lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already?” you say.

You should be exhausted from how thoroughly he just fucked you, but instead, you’re already thinking about feeling the thick stretch of his cock inside of you again, and your cunt flutters and aches with a need that’s yet to be sated.

Kento laughs, the sound deep and rich, and you think you could get used to hearing it.

He pulls up your underwear, along with your now-ruined tights, lowering himself down on one knee before you as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your cunt while his thick, sticky cum begins to soak into your panties. You exhale shakily, already far too close to undone just from the sight before you alone, and he smirks, standing back up.

Kento takes your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, teasing your bottom lip. “We’re not done, we’re just going to go somewhere where I don’t need to cover your pretty lips next time.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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