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cinnamorollcrybaby · 9 months ago

Note

I really loved your career day fic and I was wondering if you could do a Shut up mom fic with the same lineup with nanami tho if you write for him🥺 👉👈

Shut up, Mom!

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, mostly crack, cursing, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: I would be delighted to write this anon :) my requests are open, loves. If you want me to write a specific idea, definitely ask and I’ll try to deliver on it! also, if anyone wants to be on a taglist please let me know. So, I gave Sukuna a kid in this one because I didn’t really see Yuji calling you mom or him dad. Yuji calls you two unc and auntie :)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

“Aoi, did you take out the trash?” You ask your nine-year-old son while trying not to giggle. Aoi has recently discovered pranks, and he suggested playing one on Satoru. You couldn’t help but think that was an amazing idea.

Your husband was leisurely sitting on the couch, playing a game on the console he and your son shared. He was able to see you from his peripheral vision while you and Aoi were in the dining room. He didn’t seem to be too intrigued by the conversation, but Satoru is a chronic eavesdropper. He can’t help it with his technique and all.

“No, mom. Why can’t you do it?” Aoi plays his role perfectly, even throwing in an annoyed groan at you. Gojo cut his eyes towards you two, but he stayed silent for a moment. He knew this was your battle to face, and he wasn’t usually the disciplinary parent anyways.

“Because I told you to do it, Aoi. It’s your chore.” You say, putting on a serious voice as you would if he had really been sassing off to you.

“Ugh. Shut up, mom!” Aoi yells with a dramatic eye roll.

Immediately, you hear the game console cut off. It seems like you two had garnered Satoru’s attention. Footsteps carry into the dining room, and your all too tall husband leans against the doorframe.

Aoi sees his father, and his eyes widen. Your little actor. He then tries to walk off, but Satoru easily put his hand out against Aoi’s chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Woah, woah, woah, there little man. Who do you think you’re talking to there?” He interjects as his hands slowly unwrap his bindings from around his eyes, letting you know that he’s about to get serious.

“She’s getting on my nerves, dad!” Aoi continues to play the role, even though you can tell that he’s scared shitless.

“Hey, look at me.” Satoru says as he bends his knees to be eye level with Aoi. Your son complies with his dad’s order. “I don’t give a shit, okay? Never, and I mean, never tell your mother to shut up unless you intend on fighting me afterwards. She says to take out the trash, you say yes and take out the trash. Do you understand me?” Satoru says as he holds his son’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit so Aoi knows he’s not fooling around.

“Because I don’t think you want to fight me, do you?” Satoru questions. His blue eyes beam in the light, making your son nervously sweat.

“Baby, it’s just a prank.” You quickly interject with a laugh as you gently nudge your husband away from your son.

“Yeah dad, I was just acting!!” Aoi’s nervous gaze flutters into an adorable smile.

Satoru rolls his eyes and playfully laughs along. “You two are too silly, makin’ me turn off my game for this.” He shakes his head as he wraps his eyes back up.

“You were like gonna hollow purple me!” Aoi shouts with an excited laugh, and he reenacts Satoru’s cursed technique.

“Yeah, I love your mom a little too much.” Satoru responds with a grin up towards your direction.

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako are coming into their teen years, and recently, they’ve been obsessed with the idea of TikTok. After seeing the “shut up mom” prank all over, they knew that they had to play it on Suguru.

You, of course, agreed to help them pull off their little shenanigan.

“You two are not going out. It’s a school night.” You chide at the twin girls, giving them a small wink as Suguru was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting at the breakfast bar. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, reading the news or something like that.

“Mom, please. Everyone’s going.” Nanako pled and even threw in a small pout.

“Yeah, who cares if it’s a school night?” Mimiko chimed in.

“Girls.” Suguru warned as he normally did when you were having to deal with the twins. He didn’t like the idea of the girls ganging up on you.

“I said no. I bet you two didn’t even do your homework yet either.” You carry on, eyeing the two girls as if they were really in trouble.

“Ugh! Mom, shut up!” The girls somehow managed to say in sync. The two had obviously practiced their lines.

The tea glass hit the counter, and Suguru a stood up from his seat on the stool. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language in this house, especially not to your mother. Got that?” He said as he eyed your daughters.

Your husband was a bit of a strict father to the girls. He really just wanted them to turn out good, so he was the main disciplinary figure in the house.

“Dad! She’s-“

“Aht.” He cuts Mimiko off, and starts to walk up to the girls. “I didn’t ask. Apologize to your mother this instant. Then, go upstairs and do your homework. You two are grounded from going out for at least a month.”

“Sugu, it’s a prank.” You say as you can’t hold back a laugh from how angry he got that quickly. “It’s a prank, sweetie.”

Your two girls were nodding quickly, holding their hands out in surrender. “We saw it on TikTok!”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the three of you. “That app is no good for you.” He quietly chides. “Did you two do your homework?”

Mimiko and Nanako exchange nervous glances, and they both run up to their rooms to get it done.

Your husband laughs quietly and shakes his head before sitting back down on his stool. You walk over towards him and card your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a long exhale of contentment while leaning his head into your touch. “What are we gonna do with those two, hm?”

“Love them and try our best to teach them.” You softly respond before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TOJI

Toji is a pretty laid back dad. He lets you take the lead on a lot of the parenting aspects, since it comes to you more naturally than it does with him. However.. he has his moments.

“Megumi, come help me do the dishes.” You say to your 13-year-old son. He’s in that weird stage of puberty where you’re his best friend one day and his worst enemy the next, which means he sometimes agreed to play pranks with you.

“Busy, mom.” He mumbles at the table as he’s trying to learn the hand signs for one of his shikigami. He was left learning this stuff on his own since Toji wasn’t a sorcerer, and you weren’t apart of the Zenin clan. You had no idea how to do the hand gestures.

“You can do that after you’re done helping me, Gumi.” You say as you turn on the kitchen sink. Your son doesn’t even acknowledge that you said anything.

Toji eyes him from his seat at the dining table, waiting for his son to comply.

“Gumi. Get in here.” You finally say after a minute of him not responding to you.

“Shut up, Mom!” He raises his voice at you, and immediately, Toji is on him quicker than you could respond.

“What did you just say to your mother, brat?” Toji grits as he stares down at his teenage son. Megumi looked back up at him mortified. “I brought you in this world, and I will take your ass out of it if I hear you speak to your mom like that again.”

“Baby, baby, baby, it’s a prank!” You say as you rush over to Toji. Megumi cracks a nervous smile, and you gently nudge Toji back.

“It’s a prank!” Megumi shouts as he leans back away from Toji slightly.

Your husband lets out an annoyed grunt. “You two play too much. Gonna make me kill my own son.” He says as he releases Megumi’s shoulder. He walks back over to his seat at the dining table and smacks your ass on the way back.

SUKUNA

“Ryu, come take out the trash!” You yell to your son. He recently brought up the idea of pranking Sukuna by yelling at you to shut up in front of him. You had urged your son that this was a bad idea, but he was persistent.

Sukuna was sat at the dining table, eating whatever Uraume had prepared for him. Usually, Uraume handled the trash as well, but you distinctly told them to leave it.

There’s no response.

“Ryu! Trash now!” You call out again in a more frustrated tone.

Sukuna is biting his tongue at this point. There is nothing that he hates more than insolence, especially towards you. You’re his queen, and he demands for all to respect you, including his son.

No response.

“Ryu!”

“Okay mom! Shut the fuck up!”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes widened, and he put down his fork. “Domain expansion. Malevolent-“

“It’s a prank!” You shout as you spin to look at Sukuna quickly. Your son is standing behind you, quite literally trembling in fear.

“Yeah- it’s a p-prank, dad.” Ryu stutters out.

Sukuna narrows his gaze, and he looks between the two of you. “Foolish.” He grunts. “Boy, come have a seat.” He commands, and your son reluctantly complies.

“If you ever pull some shit like that seriously, I’m not afraid to start over and make a new kid. I got nothing but time on my hands.” Your husband says while eyeing your son.

“Ryu’s a good kid, Kuna.” You assure him as you walk over to your husband and rub on his shoulders a bit.

“Mmm, for now.” He mumbles, and he nods his head to the trashcan. “Take the trash out.”

NANAMI

Your husband was sitting in the living room, enjoying his “lazy Sunday” as he called it. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the life he was living right now.

He had everything he ever dreamed of: a stable job, an amazing wife, a small family in a loving home.

You were sitting next to him, casually rubbing on his thigh through his pajama pants. You and your daughter had been texting about playing a prank on your dear husband, and it was finally going to happen.

“Hana, did you fold the clothes like I told you to?” You call out to your daughter as she’s in her bedroom. Nanami turns a page in his book, still not paying too much attention.

“Mom, I’m doing something!” Your daughter yells back.

“Hana, get in here and fold those clothes!” You shout back, getting a bit more serious. Nanami lets out a small sigh as he places his mug on the coffee table. He’s normally quick to nip Hana’s attitude in the bud.

“I’m busy!”

“Hana!”

“Okay mom! Just shut up already!” She finally yells as she storms into the living room. Nanami shuts his book and immediately stares down your daughter.

“What did you just say?” He asks as he sits up from his cozy position. His jaw tightens a bit as he glares at Hana.

“I just told her to shut up. She’s being overdramatic.” Your daughter continues, playing her part perfectly.

“Who’s her? Your mother? You’re telling my wife to shut up?” Nanami says as he starts to stand up.

“It’s just a prank, Ken!”

“Dad, it’s a prank-!”

You and your daughter both shout nervously, and Nanami looks at both of you confused for a moment. It then clicks in his head. “God, don’t stress me out like that.” He chides as he relaxes back on the couch. He wraps his arm back around you and picks up his book again.

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hjpsdiary · 3 months ago

Text

“bella, i think you dropped something—my heart.”

- theodore nott x reader

you were sitting in the common room, tucked in your favorite armchair, legs folded underneath you, book open in your lap.

it was unusually loud tonight—blaise and mattheo were throwing crumpled parchment balls at each other from opposite ends of the room. enzo was half-laughing, half-snoring on the couch with a chocolate frog wrapper stuck to his cheek. draco was pretending to read but absolutely not pretending to eavesdrop.

you were just trying to stay invisible.

until he walked in.

theodore nott.

his hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times. tie loosened, sleeves rolled. and that smile—lazy, but shy, and just barely tilted in your direction.

“she’s here,” blaise whispered loudly to mattheo, nudging him with his elbow.

you looked up, immediately wishing you hadn’t.

theodore was coming over. casually. but definitely not casual.

“bella,” he greeted softly, that slight lilt in his voice curling around the word like honey.

you blinked. “hi…”

his hands were in his pockets, shoulders a little tense. he wasn’t usually nervous. not like this.

mattheo was grinning like a menace behind him.

“so,” theo started, and paused. “i was thinking… you’re not going to the yule ball with anyone, right?”

you blinked again. very smooth. very articulate. classic you. “um… no?”

he smiled, one side of his mouth tugging up, voice lowering just a bit. “buona. i mean—good. that’s good.”

you could feel the stares of every other boy in the room digging into your back.

blaise mouthed “oh my god” while fake-fanning himself. enzo coughed something that sounded like “simp.”

you wanted to disappear. theo glanced at them, then rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath in italian.

“ignore them,” he said, now fully focused on you. “they are idiots.”

you bit back a smile.

“anyway,” he said, trying again. “i wanted to ask… maybe—if you want—would you go with me? to the ball?”

his voice was softer now, almost shy. the italian dipped into his tone like a secret. like he didn’t ask girls this sort of thing often. or ever.

you looked at him. really looked.

his eyes were warm. hopeful.

you smiled, fingers fiddling with the corner of your page. “okay. i’d like that.”

his whole face lit up—quietly, like sunrise. not dramatic. just warm.

“grazie, bella,” he said, under his breath, like it was just for you.

mattheo groaned obnoxiously from the couch. “someone put a silencing charm on them before i vomit.”

“shut up,” theo muttered, barely holding back a grin, reaching over to smack mattheo’s arm on the way out.

you sat there with your heart doing something weird and fluttery and fast in your chest, book completely forgotten.

when you looked back toward the stairs, theo was still watching you.

and he winked.

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys fluff #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #slytherin x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott fluff

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8lyme · 10 months ago

Text

Heat Rises

Logan Howlett x f!Reader

SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot

WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.

a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men

It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.

You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.

The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.

You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.

You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.

Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.

"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.

"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.

"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.

"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.

You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.

"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.

"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.

"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.

"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.

It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...

And torso.

Fuck he was shirtless.

Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.

Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.

All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.

A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.

He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.

You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.

"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.

These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.

You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.

"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"

He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.

"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"

Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"

"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."

Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.

"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.

"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."

"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.

"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."

Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.

Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.

Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.

This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.

He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".

And then he almost tripped over his own feet.

You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -

Logan just about stopped in his tracks.

Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.

"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.

"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.

Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"

Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.

He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"

Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.

The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.

You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.

"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.

"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."

You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.

"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.

"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.

You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.

"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.

"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.

"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.

Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.

---

He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.

It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.

He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.

You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.

He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.

The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.

You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.

You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.

You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.

You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.

You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.

Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.

He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.

You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.

Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.

You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.

Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.

"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."

You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.

"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"

"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.

Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.

---

He huffs at you when you reach his side.

"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.

"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"

You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.

You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.

You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.

"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.

He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."

"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.

"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.

He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"

"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.

"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."

Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.

"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "

"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.

"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.

"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.

"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.

It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.

"You're cold," he states.

"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.

"You look cold," he once again states plainly.

"I'm not, stop talking to me."

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.

He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.

"I don't hate you," he says quietly.

"You're acting like it."

"I don't."

The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.

"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.

"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.

"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."

He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.

"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.

"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."

"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.

"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.

He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.

"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."

Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.

"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."

"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.

"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.

"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."

"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.

"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.

"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.

"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.

"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.

"Oh, come on!"

You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.

"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."

"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."

"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.

"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.

"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.

Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.

"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.

"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.

You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.

One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.

You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.

He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.

"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.

"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.

The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.

The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.

"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."

"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.

"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.

"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.

You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.

"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."

"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.

"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.

He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.

More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

#Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x you #Wolverine x you #James Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett imagine #Wolverine imagine #James Logan Howlett imagine #deadpool and wolverine #fluff #Logan Howlett fluff #Wolverine fluff #one shot #Logan Howlett one shot #logan howlett drabble

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Losing Control Now

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual tension, eventually explicit sex, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing - lowkey Yandere fkn Gojo hehe. Light angst, some fluff, heavy smut, lots of teasing. This part- Lots of plot. drinking, making out, oral sex (M recieving) swallowing, fingering, some choking, light angst, sexual tension, whipped Toru- WC this part- 8.2k wc

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X, divider be @cafekitsune, based on Satoru from Pour it Up (Sukuna's story) -set right at part 6 of that fic- You can read it alone, but I think it enhances this- Reblogs//comments appreciated if you enjoyy!

<<<part two - masterlist - playlist- Part four>>>

Part three

“They’re ready for you.” You hear your friend’s soft voice even over the blaring music, as you’re mixing up a drink. Sukuna’s girl now, they were just about inseparable, she is smiling brightly at you. “Satoru really has it bad.”

“No, you think so?” You flush a bit as she nods, helping open a couple of beers for the rest of the patrons sitting, entering numbers on the screen for you.

“Oh I know so, he’s pouting that you’re not there already.” Through all your exhaustion you can’t help but feel excited. “Also… talking about Mei.”

“You know now?” You ask her, frowning, while she takes your hand gently, pulling you away from the bustling bar as someone else takes over.

“I do, and I am so sorry, I didn’t know it was that bad, baby.” She has tears glistening in her eyes, even under the strobing red lights of the club, and you shake your head, brushing a hand on her bare arm.

“I wasn’t ready to tell you. But Satoru… I don’t even know him but…”

“You feel safe with him.” She finishes, and you smile, nodding then.

“That. Can you find if they have any drink orders? I’ll whip a couple up before I walk in. I know Satoru’s mix already.”

“Yeah, you know his flavor hmm?” You giggle and shake your head. “No way, not yet?”

“He wanted to… be very giving.” She’s grinning big, nudging at you now.

“Sukuna is too, my gosh though I owe him. My kid kind of…” She leans closer, conspiratorily holding a hand up. “I got off but… well…”

“Oh no!” You laugh just a bit, and she sighs.

“Mhm. He’s mad. I’ll get drink orders and help bring them!” She bounces off, before running back and helping you mix a few up. “Sukuna just likes to sip on whiskey, Toji it’s beer. Suguru is a little fancy, he likes a nice cosmo - Satoru loves anything that will give him diabetes as you well know. Now Mr. Choso…”

“Who is he?”

“He’s new. He said anything, so I’ll let you whip up something special.” She takes the shot for Sukuna and the beer for Toji and winks. “See you in there, baby.”

“Got it!” She’s giggling as she runs off, someone so upset before you remember, now she’s glowing being with Mr. Sukuna. Seeing the two of them just fuels how badly you want to have that with Satoru, but it seems insane. It seems too fast, but the man had just drank you an hour ago, how can you not go insane?

You mix up a classic rum and coke for Choso, grabbing his drink, Satoru’s and Suguru’s, heading into the huge VIP room, Satoru’s eyes light up bright when you walk in the intense atmosphere. You hand him his drink, smiling, then handing Suguru his, which he winks up at you.

“Thank you, love.” He murmurs, sipping and sighing. “So good.”

“You must be Mr. Choso?” You ask the other man in the room, who smiles sweetly at you, nodding, he’s without a girl in his lap like the other men, a little out of place you notice. “I made a rum and coke, is that okay?”

“It’s perfect, thank you pretty.” You flush at the sweet words from the man, but Satoru is standing and yanking you, making you gasp as he throws you on his lap, to the laughter of the room.

“My pretty bartender.” He grumbles, pulling you close, and you can’t help but giggle as your arms wrap around his neck.

“All yours hmm?” You whisper, he just nods, big hands taking over your waist as they begin talking, it’s constantly impossible for you to focus on shit when you’re in his arms, and he’s taking a blunt from Toji, inhaling it into his lungs, making even that action look sexy.

His lips around a blunt addle your already exhausted brain, reminding you of where they’d just been, making you heat up and shift. “Do you smoke, sweetheart?” He asks softly, coughing just a bit, and you shake your head.

“I haven’t before.”

“You little goody good. Girl scout.” You glare a little, just earning his pretty white grin across his handsome face. “Want a hit?”

“I’ll try.” You inhale the smoke barely, coughing out, and you hear Suguru and Satoru chuckle.

“You’re a horrible influence Satoru.” Suguru teases, you hand him the blunt as he smiles at you. “Don’t end up like him.”

“Excuse me!?” Satoru scowls at his friend, while he inhales the blunt, blowing it into the dancer’s mouth on his lap with ease. “Shit, why didn’t I think of that?”

“It’s hot.” Satoru glares now, and you giggle. “If you did it, I mean.”

“You better mean that. I’ll get jealous.” He pouts as you brush a thumb over his cheek, the scent of marijuana, cigars and Satoru’s cologne filling the air, swirling around you both, so heady.

“I mean it.” You press a kiss on his cheek as Satoru tenses, while Sukuna begins to speak.

“We deal with Mei, she’s likely collecting debt for the Zenin.”

“I want to deal with her, personally.” Satoru says then, his jaw locked as he grips you so tightly squeezing your ribcage, you can feel his fury at her, making your brows knit with worry.

“Satoru, you can’t go running around provoking everyone without backup.” Suguru says, in between another hit, and Satoru scoffs now, as you feel the eyes of everyone on the two of you in the room.

“We have history.” Satoru mumbles, and Sukuna laughs then, shaking his head, as his girl scowls at his next words.

“Well who hasn’t fucked Mei?” Sukuna says amusedly.

Fucked Mei…

“You fucked Mei!?” You hiss, and Satoru flushes a bit, pulling at the knot on his black skinny tie.

“Maybe?”

“I did too, I think I was eighteen.” Suguru admits next to you, as Satoru stares at them all with an open mouth.

“I fucked her with Shiu Kong, threesome.” Toji says as he shrugs, sitting across from you all, a big hand on each stripper in his lap as they’re holding another blunt to his lips, and he’s exhaling, smirking with that scar on his lip stretching just a bit.

“Okay so everyone fucked this Mei lady, so can we make her stop being a bitch to my friend?” Your friend’s words touch your heart, and you feel Satoru relax just a bit, looking at her and nodding.

“We sure will, pookie, don’t worry.” Satoru says to her, before looking back at you and cupping your face. “But I wanna go alone.”

They try to argue about it, you even try to talk him out of going alone, but it’s no use, when Satoru wants something, he clearly will do it. He’s running his fingers up and down your back when it’s bare, sipping the fruity concoction as the plan to deal with who you’re hearing is the Zenin, which you know a bit about in stories, but it’s all so clearly real.

You had no clue your mom was in with such scary people, shit you didn’t even realize Mei was as scary as she was, and apparently… had slept with the entire room of men aside from Choso. The thoughts that she’s had Satoru make you burn with anger, not at him, but that she had him at all, possessive wild thoughts you shouldn’t be having yet, right?

But how can you not, when he’s fast becoming everything.

You were all alone before he brightened your sad, gloomy world.

“You alright baby girl?” Satoru murmurs to you softly, you blink just a bit, nodding. “Zoning out?”

“I’m just thinking about a lot.”

“About me?” He grins, and you bury your face against his neck, making him chuckle a bit, when the next words make you tense.

“We should take him the fuck out.” Toji’s gruff voice speaks of Naoya Zenin now.

“Let’s take Mei out too.” Satoru says, making you pull back with a gasp, eyeing his feral, insane grin and eyes that are too bright.

“Satoru!” You admonish, earning his cute little pout, like he’s some sweet baby and not speaking of murder. “No killing.”

“Do you know what a mafia is, baby?” You sigh, shaking your head.

“The solution can’t be taking people out.” Choso chimes in, Satoru sighs, leaning back and faking a yawn.

“Boring.” He mumbles, to the agreement of the room. “Let’s try to threaten them.” Satoru says then, and the room all reluctantly agree. “I’ll deal with Mei, Choso can deal with the Zenin before we get Sukuna involved.”

“What why!?”

“You’ll kill him, that’s why. Not that I disagree.” Toji says with a chuckle, and soon the room is dispersing, leaving you and Satoru again, just like that first time, and he’s eyeing you curiously.

“Do you mind if I kill her so much?”

“Oh god!” He’s grinning again, looking batshit insane, as you turn in his lap, straddling him now, watching his expression shift as he holds you in his lap, pressing you against his length. He’s feeling your heat, remembering the sweetness of your arousal all over his mouth, dying to fuck into you. “No killing.”

“For now.”

“Satoru!”

“I’ll try not to?” You sigh then, but that sigh turns into a gasp when he pulls you down further, and you’re grinding against his cock, whining out, his huge hands gripping your hair, lips hovering an inch from you. “I’ll try to negotiate first.”

“D-don’t pay for me, promise?” He frowns then, shaking his head.

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Please, I can’t take charity f-from- mnh…” He’s kissing you again, as you’re grinding on him, and he can’t think of anything but killing anyone who’s ever fucking touched you, your mom included, he doesn’t care.

He needs you to be his.

You’re soaking his slacks, earning his little smirk against your lips, hands slipping up the curve of your waist and hips. “Just trust me baby girl, can you?”

“I do.” You whisper, watching his snowy lashes lower, when his timer starts to go off from his pocket, and he winces.

“Can you get it for me? I hurt.” You laugh breathless, hand slipping into his pocket, making your cunt lift off him for just a moment, as his cock is pulsing, ready to fill your tight little cunt so good he can’t take it. You hand him the phone as he curses under his breath. “I have to go, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, of course!” You go to get up, but he’s pulling you back down, your arms wrap his neck, a hand brushing his snowy locks back then. “What is it, Satoru?”

“A date. Can we go on a date?” You feel your heart race at his words, god when is the last time you have had a date? And with Satoru!?

“Yes! I mean… yes.” He’s got a big grin on his pretty face, cupping your face with his long, slender fingers.

“I’ve never been on one?”

“What!? How!”

“That’s a story for the date, hmm?” You nod shyly, so fucking adorable Satoru can’t take it, the excitement making your tired eyes glitter. “Perfect, then I’ll have it all set for tomorrow, after I… take care of the situation.”

“Without killing.”

“Psh.” You nudge at him, and he rolls his baby blues. “Oh fine, yes. But, a date, you’re really down for it?”

“How couldn’t I be? I’d love to.” You feel a blush heat on your cheeks as he stands you up then, bending low and cupping your face with his huge hands, your own hands grip his wrists, looking up at him, seeing his pupils dilate, feeling the intensity of your emotions overwhelming.

“You deserve a good night’s sleep. And to relax, to have some fun, shit to just… live, okay? I want you rested up for the date.” He kisses your lips so sweetly, before it’s more passionate, and he barely resists picking you up and slamming you right against a wall, fucking into you until you pass out from how hard he’d have you cumming.

“I’ll need my energy, huh?” You tease against his lips, but he’s very serious as he pulls you against him in the room, still cloudy with smoke, but all you can breathe or feel is Satoru.

“You’ll need all your energy, baby.” He tilts your chin up, pressing another kiss, swiping off his phone when he pulls back. “You have yummy drinks to make, don’t you pretty?”

“I do!” He walks you towards the bar, the club is filled to the brim with men everywhere, women dancing, smiling, serving drinks, but Satoru’s eyes are only on you when you take back over the bar, and he leans forward.

“If you need me, you have my number, any time. Okay?” You nod and tuck your hair behind your ear, making his heart ache with affection. “You’re so cute.”

“You’re too sweet.” He leans forward, kissing you again, in front of curious eyes of the club goers and workers, murmuring about the notorious head of the Gojo family with a pretty bartender. You feel just a little frisky, yanking on his tie, deepening the kiss, and he moans into your lips. “Taste sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you.” He’s sighing when he pulls back, he doesn’t want all these stupid responsibilities, he wants to spend every moment with you.

Inside you.

Fuck his dick hurts, and he did it to himself.

“Will you text me when you get home safe?” You ask softly, so caring and sweet you melt him, he brushes his cool thumbs under your eyes carefully, watching you sigh in relief.

“I will. Good night, pretty bartender.”

“Good night Mr. Gojo.” He’s walking outside then, finding Suguru waiting on him once more, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the building.

“Gonna admit you’re obsessed now?” Suguru asks, and Satoru snorts, shrugging a broad shoulder.

“I am, okay, so what? But… Mei…”

“Yeah, I know you want to go alone, but let me at least wait in the car tomorrow when you see her?” Satoru nods, as his friend flicks the cigarette and puts a hand on Satoru’s shoulder.

“I would appreciate it. You really fucked her too?” Suguru has the grace to blush in the dark night, while the two of them lounge in the back of the limo now.

“Right at senior year.”

“Shit me too.”

“Have you two…” Suguru wiggles dark brows, and Satoru grimaces, pulling out a water bottle from the limo cooler and gulping the cool liquid, sighing.

“She tried to suck me and I turned it down.”

“You turned it down, a bj? You!?”

“Yeah.” Suguru’s chuckling, and Satoru glares. “What?”

“You’re down bad, shit.”

“Fuck if I don’t know that.” He swipes a hand across his face. “Blue balls like a mother fucker.”

“Satoru, having feelings, this is a new development.” Suguru gets a smack from Satoru, and smacks him back, as the two of them head to their destination, and for a moment it’s like it was back in school, before the two of them took on so many responsibilities.

Suguru was Satoru’s left hand, without him he couldn’t do all of this. “I do have feelings, I wanted her to just… feel good.”

“I taught you well.”

“Pshh, you’re younger than me? I knew how to eat pussy before you.” Suguru rolls violet eyes, leaning back and pulling out his phone then.

“You asked me for advice, I’ll never forget.”

“Oh whatever Suguru, you asked me for advice.”

“Pshh. She looked… pretty happy though.” Gojo grins big then, patting himself on the back big time.

“Yeah she did. I want her to… always look happy? I know, I know. I’m down bad.” Suguru just smiles, saying nothing, but seeing his friend lit up for the first time in seven years was something he enjoyed. “You’ll help me with Mei?”

“Of course, anything you need.”

“Good.” Satoru starts plotting in his mind then, hoping he can hold back just a bit of the terrible things he wants to do.

He’d do anything for a girl who he barely knows, but wants so badly to know every little part of.

*****

That night, you never get a text from Satoru, it’s late and you shouldn’t call him, right? You’ll seem clingy or weird or…

But you’re worried.

You’re laying in bed, exhausted as you pull out the phone, dialing his number, hearing his hushed whisper. “Hey baby girl, sorry we’ve had a situation.”

“Anything bad!?” You whisper in fear, heart hammering in your chest.

“We’ll be fine, it’s about Sukuna’s girl. But I’m okay, don’t worry about me, you get some sleep.”

“I wanted to know if you were fine or… I’m sorry I…” You’re turning on your side as Satoru leans closer to the phone, stepping away from his friends.

“No, no please. Thank you for checking on me? It’s really sweet and… you can’t bother me, okay?” You exhale in relief, in your past you’ve always felt like… a burden, an annoyance, and just his soft words of reassurance make you tear up.

He makes you ache for him.

“You know what I wish?” You say then, and Satoru’s own heart is pounding at your sexy little voice.

“What is that, pretty bartender?”

“That you were here, in bed. Shirtless.” His cock aches again, and he still hasn’t taken care of it, making him curse softly, hearing your breathless giggle.

“You’re torturing me, cruel, cruel woman. Shirtless hmm?” He’s walking further away, until he’s locked in the bathroom, hopefully out of earshot. “Why do you want me shirtless in your bed, what would you do?”

“I’d kiss and lick every part of your body. Slowly.” Satoru moans then, rubbing his cock over his slacks.

“Shit… You’re gonna kill me, y’know that?” His hoarse voice just brings out more from you, making you feel so daring.

“I’d kiss him too.”

Fuck.

“You brat.” You’re giggling once more, the sound making him smile alone, as he pictures you in that bed of yours. “Just kiss him?”

“Every inch, lots of kisses.” Satoru’s head falls back on the door, as you torture him with images of your pretty lips all over his length, your mouth open wide for his cum, before he fills every hole you have.

“You’ll be making this up to me tomorrow.” He whispers out, lost in the thoughts of you, and you’re snuggling under your blankets, he brings something out in you, this is not something you’ve said or acted like. But with him? It’s like he makes you want to have fun again.

“I sure will make it all up to you.” You’re picturing it, what does Satoru’s body look like, his cock felt huge and…

Fuck.

You’re torturing yourself too.

“I’ll hold you to that you know, all that talk, are you going to be a good girl?”

Good girl, shit, he’s fucking with you right back.

“Y-yes. I will. I can’t wait.”

“Then get some sleep, missy. You’ll need energy. Remember?”

“Got it. Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night sweetheart.” He hangs up the phone, longing to be with you, but he has to push you deep in his mind for now, focusing, while you fall asleep, not realizing the impending danger surrounding you both, nor how willing Satoru is to fix this for you.

*****

“Gojo, what an unexpected surprise.” Mei’s voice practically purrs the words, sauntering over to him in her fancy office, decorated with the finest gold and blues all over, every inch of it oozing wealth, too much wealth, even Satoru does not go on such a display, and he knows he’s richer than anyone in this city.

“Mei, how are ya?” Satoru puts on an easy grin, he knows how she moves, how to play her, even though disgust fills his stomach at knowing what she’s done to you, he shuts the door behind him with a resounding click, perching his signature Gucci shades down his straight nose just a bit.

“Been a long time…” She perches on her desk, crossing her legs and tossing back her light blue braids, slightly falling in front of an attractive face. Surely eighteen year old Satoru was all for Mei’s attention, but now it feels wrong to even act as he’s going to, when all he wants is you.

But he knows how to play this bitch.

“Aren’t you looking good, shit.” He whistles a bit, earning her flattered laughter, throaty and full, while Satoru waltzes in, hands in his pockets, until he’s right between Mei’s spread thighs in her business slacks. She raises a thin brow, slipping a hand up and down his tie then.

“You look pretty good yourself.” Mei brushes her hands against his cheek, and he tries to keep a calm demeanor, his own hand sliding up her back, watching as her barriers lower for him. “Miss me so much?”

“I’m here on business, I fear.” His hand entangles in her hair, as his lips hover an inch from hers, his other on her waist, watching as her expression changes, her hips shift just so.

“Just business?” She teases, pulling him closer.

“I need to know about a girl you’re getting money from, Mei…” He’s slipping a hand further up her waist, looming over her on the desk, as she gets visibly turned on from him, nipples pressing against her thin blouse, as he palms her under that dark blue blazer.

“A girl, hmm? Should I be jealous, Gojo?”

“I need you to stop the interest, cut her a break, as a favor for me, hmm? Could you do that sweets?” Satoru asks, voice humming softly, she blinks long light blue lashes, her hands slipping to his belt buckle then.

“A personal favor, what’s her name?” Satoru speaks it then, your name off his lips, making her pause a bit. “What’s she to you, is she so special?”

“I’m asking you to back off. I’ll pay off the interest, just don’t charge anymore, can you do that, hmm? For me?” He pouts at Mei, but her expression shifts then, to one of irritation, her body tensing now.

“You wanna pay her interest? No, sweetie, that won’t do. Her mother owes the Zenin a massive debt and that interest goes to me.”

“Then you’ll get it in your pockets quickly, don’t you love lining them?” His words turn to a low hum, grinning as he brushes fingers down her neck, and she sighs then, eyes icy as they stare daggers at him.

“Who is she to you?”

“A girl I’m taking on a date that’s so tired she can’t keep her fucking eyes open, and so much red bull she’ll have a goddamn stroke.” Mei laughs then, and Satoru loses it, squeezing her throat and cutting the laughter short. “I didn’t joke here, did I? Let me rephrase this shit, I’ll cut off any money from the Gojo family, if you don’t at least back off the interest. Got it?”

She’s pulling at Satoru’s wrist, but he’s squeezing harder, leaning over her now, and seeing a file with your last name right on her desk. But not your first. He pulls the file as he keeps squeezing, blue eyes narrowing as she’s sputtering for breath, not that he could care less. He smirks while she struggles, but then releases her, letting her cough shakily.

“Shit…” He whistles, as he reads through a gambling addiction that makes Toji Fushiguro’s look casual. Mei pulls a knife on him, which he casually knocks out of his hand with a little flick of his wrist, grabbing her wrist then as he bends it behind her, earning her grunt of frustration. “Ah, ah, you’re getting sloppy, what happened?”

“Oh fuck you.” He sighs, clicking his tongue as he holds her down with ease, like it’s nothing when he stumbles further on your file.

Twenty-Five.

Born right here.

How’d he never see you? Three years older than you, he wonders what your life was before, pursuing further to find you had just shy of a full psychology degree. What were you… doing here then, working some admin job and bartending? Did you give up college for this woman?

A woman with a rap sheet that makes him whistle, ignoring Mei’s struggles until she starts disturbing his reading, making him glare. “You’re lucky she is a sweet girl, or you’d be dead.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“Promising. Take the interest or I'll take care of this.”

“It’s not just me, you know it.” He lets go of her then, rolling his eyes as he snatches your files up for himself. “The Zenin-”

“The Zenin are on their last leg.” He smirks then, pulling out his phone, flashing a picture of their leader for her to gasp at. “Did you fuck him too? Aw…”

“What have you all done?” She demands, with horror affixed on her face, a face Gojo did find pretty before, but now it’s all you, and he can’t find an attractive feature on this woman’s greedy body.

“It’s none of your business, but considering the Kamo’s are now with us, you may consider a change of employer, hmm?” He grins now, as she takes off her blazer in a huff, throwing it on the back of her enormous desk chair.

“You’ll pay all her interest right now?”

“Give me a number.” She does just that, it’s nothing for Satoru but he knows you don’t want him to pay…

But he hopes you’ll forgive him for that too.

He needs to buy time.

“She’s not protected as some girlfriend, she’s not your wife or a member of the Gojo family, so they can keep coming after her.” Mei says then, while he transfers the obscene amount of money to her over the phone, and she plops down in her seat, lips curling up a bit.

“Money gets you so wet, doesn't it.” She glares, opening her mouth, he snorts then, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna know, actually. What do you mean by that?”

“If you actually want her left alone by others, not just me, then you’d have to marry the girl, or she’s not in your family.” Satoru falters at that, earning her nasty little smile. “I was the least of your problems, lover boy. But, she won’t hear from me or get more interest on my end.”

“They want her mom. I get that, but why her?”

“Collateral damage.” She says calmly. “It’s what you do too, don’t be mad because it happens to be some girl you want in your bed.”

“That is not all I want.” She blinks a little, standing up once more, coming up to him and trailing her fingers down his body, humming a bit.

“Maybe hate sex would be fun?”

“Not with me, sweets. Maybe one of my friends, I heard you were really catching these high school seniors like Digimon.” He shoves her off him with a grin now, slipping his sunglasses back up, while Mei looks at him furiously. “Kinda creepy, the barely legal thing Mei.”

Her face contorts into a scowl. “Oh just get the fuck out. Go have fun with your little girlfriend, she still will owe us the rest though.”

“For now. Pleasure doing business, Mei.” He winks and dodges a flying projectile, which shatters against the wall, exhaling as he leaves and shivering with disgust with having touched her.

What is this feeling?

He feels like you already are his, and you have a date tonight, it’s brand new, but he loves it, this feeling, the one where he wants to protect you, learn you, and make you feel so good you forget you ever had these problems. He would have paid the entirety of the debt, but he knows that’s too far for you right now.

He checks the time now, meeting Suguru in the car, handing him the file, which Suguru studies for a moment, whistling, his dark brows lowering. “Shit, this is her mom, huh?”

“Yeah. We have a lot more trouble than Mei.”

“How’d that go?” Suguru’s flipping through the file curiously, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as he reads about you.

“As good as it can be, paid the interest, gotta hope she’s not mad about it, she told me no money…”

“Like you listen to shit.”

Satoru shoves Suguru, but the laughter dies as Suguru pulls up a particular page, where he sees your brother, who Satoru hadn’t made it to yet. “Shit, look at his criminal record. And he owes debts, is she paying them too?”

“Not that I know of. I know she said he begs for money.” Satoru’s jaw locks, studying them further.

“You can’t just kill her mom and brother, Satoru.”

“It’s tempting, they’re trash. But no, a conversation is all I’m thinking, hit the brother, offer him some money, figure out more what’s going on, how they got on the Zenin’s radar.”

“Surprisingly smart.”

“Hey now!” He scowls at a smiling Suguru, as his phone starts blinging, and his face gives it right away.

“She text you?”

“Yes.” He can’t stop his dopey grin. “Almost time for our date.”

*****

“Don’t be mad, pookie, mmkay?” Is the first thing you hear when you step into Satoru Gojo’s limo, and his eyes swoop down your body, hugged in a form fitting dark red dress, showing far too much of your perfect breasts, making his mouth drop open, cock already straining.

“Mad at what, Satoru?” You ask, but he’s staring at your body, exhaling then, pulling you against his hard frame, making your mind go haywire. “Satoru?”

“Shit, you’re gorgeous. Fuck, this dress…” He’s running fingers down it, swiping the soft velvet, having you trembling in moments.

“Mad at what?”

“Shit…” He’s kissing your neck, a hand gripping your breast, eliciting a cry as his other finds purchase at your waist. “Taste yummy, smell good, look fucking-”

“Thank you, very much but… mnh, mad at what?” He pulls back then, frowning just a bit. “Did it go bad?”

“I mean, as good as we can hope.” He’s taking a breath, pulling back just so, trying to remember what he even meant to say. “Well, I paid your interest-”

“You can’t do that!”

“Baby it’s nothing-”

“But I… you… why…” You’re sniffling then, so touched but also you feel horrible he’s had to do this. “I’m too complicated for you, Satoru, I-”

“Complicated is good. I don’t want boring, yeah? Don’t want perfect. I want this pretty little mess right here, who looks so beautiful I can’t stop thinking of ripping this dress off.” You’re melting, breasts heaving, only making his hands grip them again, you bite your lip not to moan out loud. “I want all of you.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this. It’s not okay. It’s not fair.” You’re shaking your head, and Satoru cups your face now, leaning over you, it’s all him.

And you’re falling for him, so hard, so fast, it’s like falling off a cliff, a free dive with no fucking gear. Feeling more than you have in your entire life, for someone you’re not sure you deserve. Who is little you compared to Satoru Gojo?

“It’s not fair what happened to you, and I’m going to fix it, but for now, it gets that part gone, and that’s something, yeah? I didn’t pay it all, enough to get them all the fuck off you for now. Please, you never have to give it back. Ever.”

“Oh, Satoru…” You’re so exhausted then, it all hits you, all you’ve been dealing with alone, as you lean on him, on Satoru, and he’s pulling you into his arms so tightly, wishing to never let go. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You deserve so much more than what you have. Okay? I wanted to help, please don’t refuse it.” You’re kissing him, over and over, until your back is on the limo, and Satoru could take you then and there.

You’ve never wanted anything more, eagerly yanking on his shirt, deepening the kiss, while you feel his length hot and heavy against your inner thigh, even under his slacks. He gasps a bit for a breath, cupping your cheek, watching your eyes flutter shut in pleasure when he’s got his cock snug against your clit, hearing your every whine, cry and whimper.

“Thank you, Satoru.” He exhales in relief, shaking his head.

“Don’t thank me. I also… may have had to flirt?” You look away a bit, making him turn your face back. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I hated it. Disgusting.” You can’t stop the flush creeping from your cheeks, the fullness of your heart, how he looks at you, with those endless azure pools he calls eyes, so dilated now.

“What all did you have to do?”

“I flattered her, acted like I wanted her.”

“What now?”

“Aw, you’re jealous baby girl?” Satoru whispers, husky toned while his sweet cool breath brushes against your skin, and his hand slides up your collarbone, resting right at the base of your throat.

“That you touched her, yes.” Your admission is so soft and genuine, but you can’t help but express it.

“I choked her.” You glare and he grins. “Not sexually, she wishes, shit.”

“Sexually?” He sees it then, the curiosity in your pretty expression, in your lidded gaze and dilated pupils, while his free hand slips down your body, the other tightening its hold on your delicate neck.

“With you, it would be slow, deliberate…” He’s trailing off as he squeezes just a bit, pressure on your beating pulse. “Get you fuzzy and lightheaded, but never enough to hurt your pretty neck.”

“Mnh!” You’re crying out as you feel it, the pressure increasing, all while Satoru looks at you under those snowy lashes, licking his lower lip when he presses his fingers against you now, slick pooling so quickly it’d be embarrassing- if you could think right now.

“Feels good, hmm?” You nod just a bit in his hold, while his fingers gather all your sticky arousal, and he’s slipping them between your lips, up and down until he finds your hole, aching to be filled. The combination of his squeezing of your throat and his finger now curling inside your cunt are too much, your every sense heightened.

“Ah!” You’re crying out while he works your spot, increasing that pressure, vivid eyes watching your every movement, you’re clinging to him then, arching your hips while everything gets faded, fuzzy.

“You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s murmuring more to himself than anything, watching the flush of your face as he squeezes, as he hears the clicking sounds of your soppy little pussy, just for him, releasing you for a moment. He sees his hand prints as you gasp for breath, pretty breasts heaving from your dress.

“That was…”

“Intense?”

“Yes but, I’d like more.” You’re burying your head against his chest as you whine out, while he crooks that finger up again, chuckling.

“Adorable, I swear. Want it a little more?” You nod eagerly, neck already sore, and he slips another finger inside you now, curling just so in gummy walls so slick, muscles so tight you’ve got him like a fucking vise. “Cum f’me, would you? Let me watch you.”

You shatter as he squeezes your throat tighter, fingers working you so good, you see fuzz all over, it’s black damn near, like a circle closing on a picture perfect face, with Satoru’s feral face hovering, fading. You scream out silently as he presses your throat so tight, you’re gasping for air while he chokes you through it, making you feel like you’re floating in the back of this limo.

“Gorgeous little neck, so tiny compared to my huge hands, huh?” Your eyes roll back as he thumbs your clit with his two fingers in, feeling all your aftershocks, finally releasing you bit by bit, until you eagerly suck breaths in. He’s pecking kisses all over your forehead, as your numb hands flex, trying to get life to them. “Oh, you really like that.”

You cough gently, rubbing your throat. “I’m apparently freaky.” You look up at him with a pout, and his grin just grows wider, easing his fingers out then with a wet pop.

“Open.” You do just that, sucking your sweet, tangy taste off his thick digit, watching as his nostrils flare from the sight. “Do you think I’m freaky?” You nod, as he kisses your lips softly. “You really haven’t seen shit yet, baby.”

“More freakiness hidden, hmm?” You’re so wet against the thigh that now presses between yours that you can scarcely function, blinking rapidly as your senses are skewed, engulfed in him. “Will you show me?”

“When you’re ready, yes. Are you not very…”

“No, not really.” You admit, you’ve done things but the way Satoru consumes you, touches you like he knows you, it’s hard to compare anything prior.

“You’re not a-”

“No, not that innocent. Do I give virgin vibes?”

“Kinda. It’s cute though.” You huff a bit then, pushing his chest, moving under him and making him groan out.

“I have done things, just they were… nothing like with you.” Your words make his heart hammer, as his cock is straining against his slacks, dying to be surrounded by your heat. “They weren’t anywhere close to what you did the other day.”

“I’m the best at eating pussy.”

“Clearly.” You both laugh, as he kisses down your body, over your dress, nipping and licking your breasts, then lower, feeling your thighs tremble on either side of his narrow hips, your hands entangled in his hair.

God he needs you.

“I want to please you, too.” You say as he’s slipping up the dress high, until it’s up on your hips, and he’s breathing against the pale blue lace of your panties, with a growing dark spot by the minute.

“So eager to suck me off?” You’re a little blushing mess again, when he licks your inner thigh, pressing a kiss on it. “Words, baby.”

“Yes, I want to.”

“And have you?” He’s kissing your other thigh, pulling your panties up so the lips are revealed on either side, making you squeak.

“No, but I’ve watched a lot of…” He pulls up a bit, grinning.

“Go on.”

“Oh man.” You’re covering your face now, hips jerking as he breathes against your pussy, making it pulse.

“Nuh- uh, spill.”

“A lot of porn clips, okay?”

“Naughty girl. Were you doing that before our call?” You refuse to remove your hands, until he bites your panty clad cunt, teeth sinking in until your hands drop, gripping his hair as he smirks up at you. “Gonna answer me?”

“Maybe.” He laughs softly again, tickling you to no end, you’re so sensitive and needy you almost cum from his damn breaths on you, releasing his hair just a bit, trying to calm your breathing.

“Got horny from porn then called me?”

“Got horny from you, then watched porn. Then called you.” He moans then, leaning back over your body, as the limo stops at a light, watching as the leds dance across your skin, your face, making his breath catch.

“You can suck me any time, I just wanted you to relax, not put in more work.”

“Is it gonna be so much work?” You tease, raising a brow, Satoru’s smirk speaks for itself. “It will be fun not work.”

“You’re underestimating him.”

“I am not, I am sure he is…” You’re giggling now as the car moves again, and he’s sitting you both up, brushing a thumb on your lips. “Huge.”

“Come find out then, so eager, huh? You’re slutty just for me?” His whisper excites you, and you can’t help but nod, when his hand entangles in your hair. “Get on your knees then, baby. We have a few minutes before we get there.”

You eagerly do just as he says, fuck you’d do anything he asks, the way he speaks, the way he looks at you, tilting your chin up, his blue eyes bright under his snowy lashes. You unzip him carefully, he watches as you do, as you slowly pull out a thick, veiny cock, so long it makes you nervous now, curved up with a blushing tip, leaking precum.

“You’re-”

“Huge?”

“Pretty.” He blinks then, women have told him how big he is, certainly, he’s a little conceited about it, but the way you look at it, touching his sticky tip with the milky precum and rolling little circles around the ridge, he bucks up in your hand from that.

“Pretty?” He murmurs, as you lap your pink little tongue along his slit, tiny hand trying to wrap his length, eliciting a soft cry from him that makes you ache more.

“Very pretty.”

“Shit…” He’s pulling your hair gently, watching you circle your tongue around his tip, just a bit unsure, torn between fucking into your throat and taking it easy on you, warring as his hands tense, your mouth sucking his tip in. “Oh my god… can you take more, baby?”

You just exhale, slipping more of his thick cock into your open mouth, eyes looking up at him, so sexy his cock twitches against your tongue. He’s leaned back for a moment, eyes fluttering shut, whispering filthy words as he guides you down further, your drool pouring down every vein, wrapped around his pretty cock.

Pretty, yes it was pretty.

“That’s it, sweetheart… f-fuck… t-take it, please, s-so good.” He’s whimpering now, a sound that surprises you from a six foot four mobster, one so conceited and sure, but he’s letting go while you suck him deeper and deeper. Your cheeks hollow when you suck hard, pulling up, and his hips thrust. “Fuck you don’t need lessons, you suck it so good, perfect f’me- ah!”

Satoru’s lost now, in your motions, of a cock he’s been stroking to the thought of you since he met, watching as tears form in your pretty eyes, as your nails press against his thighs, making him hiss when you go deeper. As you all hit a bump his cock is shoved even deeper, while you’re balancing yourself, he feels it, the back of your tight throat.

“Oh f-fuck… there, baby, you’re taking me so well… can you take it if I… fuck this tight little throat?” You pull back with a pop, shifting your thighs, the friction alone eliciting a cry of pleasure that just makes him crave you more. “It’s okay if not yet.”

“I want it.” He’s lost then, sitting up and forcing his cock in your throat so deep you choke for a moment.

“Breathe out your nose, relax baby.” You do as he orders, Satoru Gojo still in that suit with a pretty cock slamming up your throat, stretching and burning, you feel him thicken inside your throat as the tip hits your uvula, you’re clinging to him, struggling to take more. “That’s it, not even gonna be able to talk, that throat is mine.”

Satoru descends into madness when you’re gagging just a bit, drool making his cock slicker and slicker, while the sounds of you sucking him wetly fill the limo, and he’s so close. The car stops and soon he hears it open, but it’s already too far, one or two more sucks and he’s busting, and you also have no intention of stopping, even as pretty tears smear that mascare.

“Where do you want it, baby?” You pull back as the door has a rap of Kiyotaka’s knuckles.

“We’re here Mr. Gojo.”

“I’m coming…” He chuckles as you giggle, covering your mouth with your palm as you do, and he’s brushing drool off your chin. “One sec.”

“My mouth.” You whisper, so daringly, he blinks before he’s got his cock back in your mouth, and you’re sucking him eagerly, swirling your tongue along every ridge, vein, every bit of him.

“You are going to be such a naughty girl f’me, look how pretty you fucking are like this.” He’s fucking your throat fully now, sitting up as your knees press into the soft mats of the floor, and you’re struggling to act calm, when you’re so nervous. “Pull back a little.”

You do as he says, earning his soft moan.

“Good girl, m’gonna cum, f-fuck can you… take me baby?” His voice is just a quiet whisper, and at your answer- sucking him deeper, he busts his creamy load so much it’s hard to swallow it all. “Oh m-my… that’s it, drink it all, like a good girl.”

You’re drinking Satoru’s milky cum down your throat, bit by bit, gulping him down while he pulses from aftershocks, biting his own lower lip to muffle his guttural groans and soft whines. He’s murmuring your name, over and over, you’re easing back just a bit, licking the rest of him up, saliva and the remnants of his sticky ropes dripping from your lips.

“God, look at you.” Satoru’s pulling you up then, yanking you to sit on his lap, as your eyes lower shyly. “Perfect, fuck I’ve never felt that good.”

“Really?” You ask softly, and he exhales, nodding, cupping your face.

“Is it normal to keep thinking how pretty your eyes are during it?” He’s speaking more to himself than you, brushing his thumbs in circles over your cheeks, which are burning.

“I thought it when you ate me out.”

“Yeah?”

“Your eyes… surely you know how beautiful they are. Also… you came a lot, you know- that was a lot to swallow, Sir.” You’ve got him laughing then, as he kisses your lips, tasting himself on them, and you shift just so, over his cock that’s still glistening with you.

You’re worth every bit of money in the world, worth it all, to have this moment with you, not just cumming - and fuck he needed it - but your laughs, your blushes, your cute little motions. Worth any fight or anything Satoru will have to do in order to keep you safe.

For the first time since he took over at age eighteen, he feels light, he feels so good, to think he’d do anything but spend time with you makes his heart clench. “Think I’m falling, shit.”

“Satoru… please don’t say that if you don’t… it will hurt if you don’t mean it.” You say, tears swimming now, while you press your lips against his again, softer, and he’s slinking a hand up your waist. “Because so am I.”

Satoru’s heart thuds now, gulping, throat dry at the sincerity of your words, not a woman who wants him for his money, his power, his looks, position… no you want him. And fuck he wants you.

“It’s insane.” You say, and he sighs, eyes darting back and forth across your gorgeous face.

“It is, but baby I’m insane, don’t you know?” You bite that lower lip, making him tut, pulling it from the grip. “I won’t say anything I don’t mean.”

“Neither will I, ever. I mean every word… of how much I feel. How my mind is racing, however… well it’s dirty.”

“Is it now?” He’s wiggling his brows, as you laugh softly. “The thoughts?”

“Um…” You’re whispering in his ear, like it’s a secret. “Could you choke me again, when we…”

“Oh… oh. Fuck yes I can. You liked it so much?” You’re nodding against his neck, he pushes your chin up to face him. “Choke you harder?”

“Yes, please.”

“Fuck do we need to go on this date? I can take you home, shit.”

“But you’ve never been on one!”

Satoru sighs, adjusting his cock now, and you eye it, seeing it’s already getting hard once more. “I want to go, I just also wanna fuck this perfect pussy.”

“We have time. No work tomorrow, remember?” He’s sighing, pulling you close against his chest.

“You deserve many more days off. Now, let’s go hmm?” You nod eagerly, ever curious where he’s brought you, when he finally opens the door, the cool breeze hitting both of your overheated bodies when you step out, eyes taking in the beautiful marina, along with a giant, beautiful boat bobbing up and down the water, lit up in the evening with soft white lights.

“What’s this? It’s beautiful.” You hold his hand then, as the breeze gently blows your hair back, and for a moment he forgets all the danger, forgets anything but how you look in that moment.

“It’s my boat. Just bought it.”

“Huh?”

“For the date.”

A/N- hehe- yes he bought a boat for that dattee. Still a lot more to go with these two, but Toru got some relief. This ties heavily into Pour it Up part 6 but I tried not to copy it verbatim and show a diff POV. I hope you all enjoy!!

Taglist #1- @thejujvtsupost @moonchu @thikcems @yenayaps @luvmichu @antisocialinlw @sukunadckrider @gojoslefttoenail @genticcs @sukuxna0 @saitamaswifey @monster-effer @gradmacoco @bounie1 @bestelizabeth1 @alygator77 @arabellasolstice @naina326 @1satoruu @silvarys @feliaeae @jkslaugh97 @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @simp-plague @ladyneisa @distractionforyourthoughts @erintaro @ninikrumbs @yesdere @stargirl-mayaa @wstaley2 @just-lilita @lady-of-blossoms @genshingeeksworld @yaoishipper19 @angryflowerwitch @strawberrysluttt @emochosoluvr @bluebrry05 @trishiepo0 @gina239 @bunheadusa @hazelll-trisk @simperisksksk @jud3thedude @breadsbasket @shhhhhhxoxo125 @gojosoups @starpachinko

#satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru smut #mob gojo #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x female reader #satoru gojo x f!reader #satoru gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader

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shouyuus · 5 months ago

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more college roommate hcs?? maybe reader tries to tease vi back for bein shirtless all the time which eventually leads to them getting together??

18+ (no sex, just a$$ and tiddies), mdni, college roommate!vi cinematic universe

you have taken to walking around in your underwear.

and at first, vi wonders if she's losing it a little bit, because she's pretty sure you haven't always been like this. no. if anything, in the past couple of months, you'd been strangely... jumpy. and sure it'd been fun to tease you (walking around with her top off all the time just to get a rise out of you made something warm nudge at the base of her belly) but she doesn't think you're the kind of person to hold a grudge.

(she's been wrong in the past though, and vi thinks that it wouldn't be the worst thing to be wrong about this either.)

at first, it looks like an accident, her waking up to you humming, making breakfast like you do, an earbud tucked into your ear, barefoot in the kitchen, sprinkling salt onto the scrambled eggs. but her eyes skate down the length of your body and her breath dies in her lungs as she realizes you're in nothing but a thin spaghetti strap top and baby blue panties. her eyes catch on the lace trimming against the soft of your skin and she swears her thoughts melt into something akin to tv static.

"uh --"

"oh! hey! breakfast is almost ready -- you don't have morning practice today, right?"

"no... i uhm -- i don't..." she blinks several times before tearing her eyes away from your very bare legs, fighting the urge too shake her head like a dog trying to clear it's ears of water.

"cool! oh, i think there's some orange juice left in the fridge, can you grab it?" you turn back to the pan with a bright smile, humming to yourself.

vi swallows, "yeah sure, princess --" she turns toward the fridge, feeling oddly robotic as she opens it to grab the juice jug. all her hairs startle to attention as you lean over the counter, reaching up into the cupboards for a plate, the motion making your already tiny tanktop ride up, a sliver of skin winking at her from above the waistband of your panties.

she nearly drops the juice jug.

three days later, she comes home to the damp cling of steam in the air. frowning, she drops her duffle and wanders towards the bathroom, where the shower's clearly just been turned off, but the door's wide open. and there you are, standing in the steam-ridden bathroom, in nothing but a bra and panties, toweling dry your hair.

"whoa -- sorry --"

"hm? oh! you're home! nice -- i was gonna ask if you wanted to come out to dinner -- i think mel found a really cute wine bar she wanted to try --"

vi stares; she can't help it. you're in a matching set, and even though it's nothing fancy, it still makes her brain feel oddly liquid as she watches your tits bounce slightly in the semi push-up bra.

"wine... bar?" vi asks, her voice slurring slightly even to her own ears.

your eyebrows hitch, a tiny smile tucked into the corner of your mouth as you cock your head.

"yeah, it's pretty close to that one hotdog joint you like so i figured i'd ask."

you make no move to cover yourself up, and distantly, vi thinks that a few months ago, you would've never showered with the doors open.

"sure i -- i'm down -- uh -- is anyone else coming?" vi asks, somehow forcing eyes away from your cleavage. you reach up to hang the towel by the door, dropping back down on your heels.

vi's eyes snap back to the way your tits just bounced.

(what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?)

"-- probably jayce, but other than that no one... vi?"

"huh?" she jerks back slightly, eyes slingshotting back up too meet your gaze. and this time, she sees it -- a flicker of something so very much like mischief caught in the light there before you're laughing, light and airy.

"nothing just... you seem a little out of it. everything okay?"

you squeeze by her into the hallway and she barely catches the way her own eyes trail the shape of you towards your room, the round of your ass cheeks caught in the simple black panties you're wearing.

"yeah -- just..." she swallows, her mouth suddenly very, very dry.

"a long day?" you offer, twisting around to glance at her over your shoulder half a second before you bend down to rummage for a dress in your chest of drawers.

vi feels a curse bubbling out of her --

"holy fuck --"

"hm?"

"no, nothing! i -- i'm gonna shower before we go."

"sure! i washed your towel for you today, so it's fresh," you say, seemingly unperturbed as you finally disappear into your room, though you still make no move to close the door.

"great, t-thanks princess! really... appreciate it..." vi lets her voice trail off into a soft grumble as she nudges the bathroom door closed with an arm and tugs her sweaty practice clothes off. her foot catches something by the bathtub, and she looks down to find a lacy thong with a bright pink butterfly ribboned in the front.

it takes her four whole seconds before she's reaching down to pick it up and hold it to the light. it's not her's, and it's been months since she's brought a hookup home (not since she's started to imagine you between her legs every time she tries to get off with someone else), so -- by elimination it has to be --

yours.

"sweet fuck."

it only gets worse after that -- she'd come home to find you sat on the couch in a veritable fortress of notes and textbooks, in a crop-top and heart-patterned undies, or walk by your room just in time to catch you tugging off your top, your back to the door (thankfully, vi doesn't know if her heart could take it if she saw you fully with your top off --)

"is our ac broken or something?" she asks one day, frowning at the wall controls. you look up, frowning slightly, a highlighter caught between your fingers, as you sit cross-legged on at the dining table, one of her shirts sloping off your shoulder (but you've tied the bottom up with a rubber band so it sits above your abdomen, cutting off right above where a pair of dark red lacey panties is oh so visible underneath).

"hm? no -- why?" you sound distracted, your eyes falling back to your notes.

vi blinks at you.

"you never wear pants anymore."

you freeze, your fingers poised over a line of miniscule text, the highlighter hovering above the page.

when you look up again, there's a fox-fire gleam to the dark in your irises, and a grin that would've made the god of trickers himself puff with pride slung crescent-moon sharp over the shape of your lips.

"what was it that you told me last time?" you ask, your voice sweet enough to slick the skin, "i just always run... hot?"

vi's expression flatlines. she closes the distance between the pair of you in three quick strides and before you can stutter out her name ("v-vi --?"), she's hauling you out of the dining table chair and onto the sofa, pinning you beneath her, one of your wrists caught beneath hers, her other hand skating down the length of your body to tease at the waistband of your panties.

"you little tease..." she murmurs, but there's no poison in her words, only a bone-deep wanting. it rumbles through her to you, shaking shivers down your spine as you whine beneath her.

"mmm you started it," you say, eyes flickering between hers and the shape of her parted lips; the tiny scar there makes your mouth water.

vi narrows her eyes, giving your wrist a warning squeeze as she leans in just a fraction closer. like this, you can almost taste her breath against your tongue.

"so what... are you gonna finish it then, princess?"

"i-if that's what you w-want --" you stumble over your words as vi presses a knee up between your thighs.

"yeah? you're gonna do what i want?"

you let out a pitched whimper; vi delights in the way your pulse jutters in the triangle of your throat. but you nod, a bit frantic, as vi digs her nose into the junction of your neck and breathes.

she lets out a thick groan, an ever-familiar warmth pooling at the base of her belly as she thinks about sinking her teeth into your skin, about seeing the shape of her teeth inked into your skin for days and days after.

it's nearly enough to drive her off the edge.

"but nothing's gonna happen if you don't ask for it first, pretty girl..." she pulls back, grinning when you immediately try to tug her back, the hand pinned beneath hers curling into a loose fist.

"vi... please --"

desire pulses deep in vi's gut. she wonders if things will ever be the same after tonight (it won't) but she also wonders if she still wants them to be the same after all this (she doesn't).

"yeah? please, what?"

you blink up at her, your lashes almost star-lit in the dim light of the dining room.

"kiss me," you say.

vi's breath comes out shaky, her pulse threading through her like some desperate, fluttering thing. she watches you beneath her, thinks to herself that if this is her undoing then so the fuck be it.

"is that what you want, princess?" she asks, and her voice is honest, the edges frayed with all the uncertainty she's ever felt when you've pressed in a bit too close, when she's lingered over the afterimage of your smile, cast against her eyelids at night.

you nod up at her, and in your eyes, she finds something akin to absolution as she leans down to graze her lips over yours, the touch so soft it's almost a memory.

"fuck, vi --" you groan, jerking her down with your free hand fisted at the throat of her shirt, "kiss me, kiss me, kiss me."

she lets out a debauched moan as she tips herself into the heat of your mouth to kiss you, and kiss you, and kiss you.

#⛈ monsoon season #i always say this and it's always true -- i have NO CHILL WHY DID THIS GET SO LONG #vi x reader #vi x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #college roommate!vi #vi smut #arcane smut #it's not actually smutty but there's a lot of talk of cute lil undies and an obscene amount of ghey panick #arcane vi x reader #♨ steamy #arcane #vi fluff #arcane fluff

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slutzforbueckers · 2 months ago

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can you do y/n who went viral/famous for how good she played in high school and how insanely pretty she was meeting the uconn girls for the first time since she committed to playing their and Geno introduces them to the girls and they ask her a bunch of questions ( basically fan girling) and one of the girls ask her if she’s dating anyone which she the tells them that she’s gay and that catches them off guard which makes Paige start liking her and the more they get too know each other they both have feeling for each other leading to smut

once in a lifetime

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: paige takes a liking to you after you join the team, slowly but surely.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you had been to plenty of campuses- visited, toured, played in their gyms— but none of them had felt like this. UCONN was different, the moment you stepped foot in the practice facility, your stomach was burning with nerves. you had dreamed of playing here your whole life, becoming a husky is what motivated you to be as great as you are now.

geno met you in the lobby, already sipping coffee and smirking like he could spot your nervousness a mile away. “you sure you’re ready for this?”

you tilted your head with a nervous laugh. “i think so.”

his grin widened as he nodded, slinging an arm around your shoulders like you were already one of his own. “good, because they’ve been talking about you since december. i’m not sure if they wanna play with you or date you.”

you choked out a laugh, cheeks warming. you could already feel the butterflies in your stomach disappearing, hearing that they already liked you made things a lot easier. “that bad?”

he held the door open for you, snickering before he spoke, “worse.”

the sound of sneakers on hardwood stopped as soon as the doors opened and you stepped in—the echo of dribbling died, a team of the most talented women’s basketball players in the country were staring at you like they had just seen a celebrity. which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

you had gone viral more times than you could count—crossovers that made people drop their phones, game-winners that left crowds screaming, and that one video of you pulling up from half-court and winking into the camera had something like 8 million views. everyone knew you were good at basketball but they also knew your face, a face that could probably have you a successful career in modeling if you weren't interested in making people trip over their own two feet.

geno cleared his throat, gesturing to you. “alright, alright. no need to act like she’s beyoncé.”

your ears perked up and you held back a laugh as you watched kk nudge ice and whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, “she kinda looks like beyoncé.”

"okay, i'm leaving her in your hands. welcome her and try not to scare her off." geno shook his head with a sigh and patted you on the shoulder before heading back to his office.

that's what broke the ice— the court exploded with chatter and movement, the team crowding around you like fans after a game. they all spoke at once and it was hard to keep up.

“hey girly! im kk, the best player on the team. i'll teach you everything i know.”

“you mean how to miss layups?” another voice chimed in. you turned to see azzi smirking, arms crossed. “hi, i’m azzi. don’t listen to anything kk says—any of them for that matter.”

"thanks for the heads up." you smiled, laughing as more girls introduced themselves. it was fast and chaotic, but somehow you already felt like you belonged. after the introduction came the questions, they were all curious about your stats, how you got so good. you looked past the group to see paige—standing a little apart, cool blue eyes on you, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

you knew who she was, obviously. everybody did. the face of women's college basketball. you had followed her on social media, followed her career. she played with swag, control, talent—and somehow, she looked even better in person. her blonde hair was tied back, a light sheen of sweat on her temple, eyes steady and unreadable.

you met her gaze and smiled. she didn’t smile back, not quite, but the corner of her mouth twitched. she turned away, grabbing her water bottle from the bench like nothing had just happened. before you could think too long about it, kk threw an arm around your shoulder. “so, who's the lucky guy?”

you laughed, not expecting the question so soon. “i’m gay, there will be no lucky guy.”

dead silence. twelve stunned faces looked back at you like you’d just dropped another game-winning buzzer beater. paige had turned around, her brows furrowing as she looked at you.

"well that was unexpected,” ice muttered. “never would've thought.”

laughter broke out again, and a few girls high-fived you. you rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was beating a little faster—and not just from the attention but because you felt eyes on you. one pair in particular. you turned slightly, scanning the room. paige was looking at you from across the court again. this time, she didn’t look away. something flickered in her expression, curiosity, interest, maybe something else. then she grabbed a ball and started shooting like nothing happened.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you adjusted quickly—your game fit right in with theirs, fast-paced, sharp, aggressive. the girls respected you instantly. it wasn’t hard making friends— jana and azzi basically adopted you, dragging you to every team hangout, movie night, and post-practice snack run. sarah kept calling you “future,” morgan taught you every ridiculous tiktok dance she knew, and kk kept giving you flirty little side-eyes like she wasn’t totally kidding.

but paige? paige was… different. she wasn’t cold, she just wasn’t as easy. she’d joke with the others but was quieter around you. she’d pass to you perfectly during drills but barely speak to you after. you caught her looking sometimes—quick glances when you weren’t supposed to notice—but whenever your eyes met, she’d look away.

it should’ve annoyed you, you weren’t used to people being indifferent—especially not when they looked at you like that—but something about it hooked you.

one day after practice, you lingered in the gym, getting up extra shots. you were mid-three when you heard the squeak of shoes behind you.

“you’re always the last one out,” paige said. you turned. she was leaning on the wall, arms folded, sweaty from practice but still somehow effortlessly composed.

“you stalking me?” you teased.

a small smile pulled at her lips. “just wondering what you’re trying to prove.”

you arched a brow. “you think i’ve got something to prove?”

she walked closer, picking up a ball and rolling it in her hands. “you play like you do.”

“i play like i love it.”

she nodded, looking at you again, really looking. “you ever stop moving?”

you stepped toward her now, slow, deliberate. “you ever stop watching?”

that made her blink, she dropped the ball, and it bounced away. for the first time, paige bueckers looked flustered.

“…i’ll see you tomorrow,” she mumbled, turning quickly and heading toward the locker room. you watched her go, chest buzzing with a strange mix of pride and something you didn’t want to name yet. the next day, paige passed you the ball a little harder, guarded you a little tighter, smirked at you when you sank a shot in her face.

it wasn’t much but it was something.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you weren't sure when things changed exactly. maybe it was that late practice when everyone else had cleared out and it was just the two of you. maybe it was the way she had started passing to you with just a little more trust. or maybe it was in the locker room—when you caught her watching you as you peeled off your jersey, her gaze lingering for a second too long before she quickly looked away, cheeked tinged pink.

but something shifted.

the distance between you and paige didn't feel cold anymore, it felt like a string was burning between you, pulling you closer to each other, like you were circling something inevitable. it started with small things, she started sitting near you during team meetings—quiet but present. when you cracked a joke she laughed, not loud like kk but still a laugh.

one night, you stayed in the gym late, a airpod in, hoodie up, working on your footwork with no one but your reflection and the sound of squeaking soled to keep you company. when you you missed a step and cursed under your breath, a voice behind you nearly made you jump out of your skin.

"try slowing down."

you turned, startled. paige was leaning against the wall, arms folded over a white tank top damp with sweat. “you watching me again, bueckers?”

she just shrugged, walking toward you. “just thinking you’re too good to end up on the bench.”

you rolled your eyes but handed her the ball. “then show me.”

she did, effortlessly. her steps were sharp, deliberate, her pace controlled. you watched her every movement—not just how her body moved, but how she looked at you while she moved. there was something different in her eyes now. you switched spots, trying to mimic her timing. she stepped close, fingertips grazing your waist as she adjusted your stance.

“don’t rush the pivot,” she murmured. “let it come to you.”

you exhaled slowly. her voice was soft, closer than it needed to be, and it made a shiver run through your spine. “didn’t know you gave private lessons,” you said, voice lower than usual.

she stepped back with a small smile. “guess you're special.”

your breath caught—just for a second—but it was enough. the look in her eyes was different now. not guarded, not shy, just there. honest. wanting. you tossed the ball aside, watching it bounce across the hardwood. “so what happens after the lesson?”

she hesitated for a second, like she wasn’t sure if she heard you right. then she moved toward you again, steps slow, deliberate. “that depends,” she murmured, standing close enough now that you could feel the heat of her body through your hoodie. “you still want me watching?”

“i want more than that,” you whispered.

you weren’t sure who moved first—maybe it was you, maybe it was her—but suddenly her mouth was on yours, hungry and searching, and you melted into it. her hands found your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your hoodie, gripping your hips like she’d been dying to. you kissed her back with everything you had, all the tension, the teasing, the heat that had been building between you for weeks pouring out in that moment.

she pressed against you fully, tongue sliding over yours as she deepened the kiss. her hands slipped lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, and you got the message quick—jumping up, wrapping your legs around her like you’d done it a thousand times. she carried you to the edge of the court, setting you down on the bleachers with a groan. her lips never left yours for long—just enough to pull off your hoodie, eyes raking over you like you were something she’d been craving.

her fingers slipped into your waistband slightly, fingers brushing just enough to make your hips twitch. she pulled back, eyes meeting yours. “you want this?”

“yes.”

she didn’t hesitate after that. her fingers slid down—firm, controlled, just like her game. her touch was confident, knowing exactly where to press, how to build the pressure. you groaned, back arching slightly, but she kept her free hand on your thigh, grounding you. her name slipped from your lips like prayer, over and over.

“look at me,” she said quietly.

you met her gaze, and it nearly undid you. her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling, but her focus was locked entirely on you, watching you fall apart for her. her fingers moved faster, deeper, her thumb circling just right, and your body started to shake—your breath coming in short, messy gasps. “paige—“

“i got you,” she whispered. “let go.”

you did—your head dropped back, a broken moan slipping from your mouth as the wave hit. she didn’t stop until your thighs were trembling, until you had to push her hand away with a shaky laugh and a whispered curse. she finally stood upright again, eyes full of something quiet and wild all at once. she leaned in, kissing you softer now, almost sweet.

“1v1 me?”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

#m speaks #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x fem!reader smut #dallas wings

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rafesangelita · 8 months ago

Note

hiii i might’ve sent this in already (you can just ignore this if i have) but i was thinking dealer rafe + sex pollen (like maybe a new drug he’s selling or something) possibly with dubcon?

warnings: dealer!rafe, kinda mean!rafe, reader is a stripper (you could read her lore here), brother’s best friend trope, dubcon (rafe drugs reader without her knowing), implied enemies, slut shaming (?), bratty behavior lol, rafe calls reader a bitch, rafe walks in on reader humping her pillow, manipulation, blackmail, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, dumbification, hair pulling, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, finger sucking, pull out method

a/n: i made a fic not too long ago with rafe on viagra lol, so this one will have the tables turned <3

wc: 3.3k

“are you sure this stuff even works?” rafe looked down at the little pink pill barry placed in his hand. “trust me, it does.” he winked, pulling the neckline of his shirt down to reveal the assortment of hickeys littered across his skin. “my girl nearly ate me up, country club.” rafe sighed through his nostrils. at least one of them was getting laid. rafe had been so busy lately, he felt like he couldn’t catch any downtime. between selling with barry and dealing with his own shit at home, having sex was the last thing on his mind. surprisingly.

“so.. what? we’re supplying this now?” rafe placed the pill in a small bag, his business partner shaking his head. “i’ll tell you what; you could try it out yourself and decide if you want to make a little bit of pocket change off of it.” barry winked. “and who the hell would i give this to?” just then, you walked through the door, your heels clacking with each step. you looked up at rafe and rolled your eyes. “does he not have a home? why does he always have to be here?” you walked past him, your perfume intoxicating rafe more than any drug him and barry had laid out on the table.

“nice to see you too.” rafe watched you walk down the hallway, your hips swaying deliciously in that mini skirt of yours. “watch those eyes.” barry nudged him. clearing his throat awkwardly, rafe pocketed the pills, knowing exactly who he was going to have the pleasure of trying them out on later. “look, i got some money waiting for me on the mainland, i was wondering if you could break all this stuff up and bag everything while i’m gone? i’ll throw you a few hundred if you do.” rafe nodded, not having anything else planned for the rest of the day. “thanks, man. i’ll be back in a few hours.”

with that, barry left, leaving you and rafe alone in his trailer. you had changed out of your outfit and into a pair of sleeping shorts, fuzzy slippers adorning your feet as you pulled a pink crop top over your head. rafe could hear your music playing from your room, the mere presence of you making it impossible for him to focus. “where did barry go?” you walked out, opening the fridge even though you knew it was empty. rafe looked back, swallowing thickly as he eyed your bare legs. “uhm— he said he needed to get some money on the mainland, so it’ll be a while before he comes back..”

you noticed the way rafe’s voice lowered at the last part of his sentence, his suggestive tone making you raise a brow. “oh, really?” you took a seat across from him, leaning forward as he glanced at your chest. he hummed, his leg bouncing as he tried his best to distract himself from the curves of your breasts spilling out of your top. “yeah.” he weighed out some blow before putting it in a small baggie. the only reason why rafe felt on edge around you was because he knew he couldn’t have you. you were aware of this, and in turn you made it really hard for him to resist you.

“so, uhh— how was work last night?” rafe needed to make conversation or he was going to become stuck fantasizing about those pretty nails of yours digging into his skin. “since when do you ask me about my job?” you giggled, twisting open your water bottle before taking a sip. “well i have to form some sort of imagination of the place since barry said it’s off limits and all.” rafe met your eyes momentarily. “so? is barry is your daddy or something?” you watched as rafe’s jaw ticked. he didn’t think hearing the word ‘daddy’ would sound so enticing leaving your mouth til’ now.

“no, but i wonder where yours is.” he shot back in an attempt to put a wall back up. “that makes two of us.” you laughed. rafe shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “seriously though, i think you would like to see me perform..” you scooted closer to him, making rafe draw a sharp breath. barry would kill him if he tried to make any kind of move on you, let alone go to the club where you danced at. “yeah, right. your brother would really have it out for me if i did that.” rafe scoffed. with the way you were looking at him right now, he was starting to think fighting barry would all be worth it.

“what if i invited you? what would he say then?” you were dangerously close to him now, your breath fanning the side of his neck. rafe’s fingertips itched to touch you. just as rafe was about to fall into your trap, you whispered in his ear; “too bad i would never do that, though.” you got up, nudging his shoulder with a laugh. rafe glared at you.“that’s real funny, is that how you trick those poor old men into giving you money down there?” rafe snarked. “no. unlike you, they might get a kiss on the cheek.” you winked, getting your phone from your room.

rafe made sure you were out of sight before he took the pink pills out of his pocket. throwing a couple in your water bottle, rafe shaked it until they fully dissolved. maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but you did have a point in what you said earlier. what if you came onto him, and not the other way around? “how long are you going to be here?” you came back, chugging the water bottle before plopping down on the couch. well, that was easy. “just until i’m done with all of this.” rafe muttered, the sight of your ass peeking out from under your shorts making him wet his bottom lip.

for the longest time, you had always been the forbidden fruit, the one thing he could never have. and he hated it. “well get on with it.” rafe swore you had enough sass for the entire island to have some. ignoring your comment, rafe got back to work, the sound of the tv providing background noise for the two of you. about fifteen minutes passed, and rafe could see you squirming from the corner of his eye. you looked bothered, your thighs rubbing together as rafe fixed his attention on you. “you alright over there?” you sighed, flashing him a look as you crossed one leg over the other.

“m’fine!” you were so sexually frustrated right now, it was like a wave of lust had just washed over you. rafe watched the way your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rising and falling with every breath. “are you sure?” rafe spoke again, and this time the sound of his voice made butterflies swarm your tummy. opening your eyes, you leaned the weight of your head on one hand, inspecting the man who sat not too far away from you. while there was always a tension there between you two, you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was. blue eyes, sharp features that made him look rough, his shoulders..

you shook the thoughts out of your head. leaving the living room with a sigh, you threw yourself on your bed. with each aching minute that passed, you only grew hotter for the man in your living room. you cursed under your breath, making sure the blanket you had hung up in your doorway was blocking all view from the outside before you grabbed your small pillow, tucking it between your legs as you grinded your hips into the soft material. with your shorts and your underwear in the way, it was hard to get any of the friction you needed. “fuck!” you whimpered in frustration.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’ you cried, feeling the most neediest and horniest you’ve ever felt in your life.. and that’s saying a lot. you continued rocking your hips on the playboy logo of a pillow, sitting up so you could rut against it shamelessly. your fingers dug into your sheets as your clit barely grazed where you needed it most. a moan slipped from your lips, the sound catching rafe’s attention. he paused all movements, his cock stirring in his pants when he heard another moan, this time followed by a whine. rafe listened to you until he couldn’t sit there any longer.

creeping up to the entryway of your room, rafe swung your makeshift curtain out of the way, revealing the sexiest sight he’s ever seen. there you were, shorts and underwear long forgotten on your bedroom floor as your teeth pulled on your bottom lip. “what the fuck are you doing?” you gasped, your eyes shooting open as you rushed to cover yourself. “what the hell, rafe!” you shrieked, scrambling underneath your bedsheets. “humping a pillow, y/n? how pathetic do you have to be to do that?” you glared at him, your lips parting slightly at the erection in his pants.

“i—” you couldn’t find your words, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. “what would barry think of this if i told him?” rafe stepped closer, “he already thinks you’re a slut for being a stripper, imagine if i told him you were humping your pillow like a dumb bunny while i was just in the next room? he’d hate you.” your heart dropped at his words, panic settling in the pit of your gut. “no, please, don’t tell him!” you sat up, tears pricking your eyes as rafe took a seat at the edge of your bed. “i don’t know what’s happening to me, okay? i’ve never felt like this before!” you cried out.

“what do you mean?” rafe acted coy, as if he didn’t just drug you with enough horny pills to keep you soaked and needy for days. “i’m just— ugh, you’re the last person i should be explaining this to!” you rested your head in your hands, the wetness between your thighs making you shift uncomfortably. “tell me,” rafe urged, “or you’ll be stuck explaining this to your brother..” he shook his head, resting a hand on your blanket-clad thigh. the weight of rafe’s hand made a shiver run down your spine. “okay, okay..” you sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “one minute i was fine, and then the next.. i’m like this.”

rafe watched the way you shrunk in on yourself, your eyebrows etched in embarrassment. the way you were acting right now was such a stark contrast to your usual bitchy attitude. “like what?” rafe pushed forward, wanting, begging you to confide in him to help you out with your little problem. your lips parted, your gaze shooting down to the adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. oh, how bad you wanted to kiss it. “like..” your voice was barely above a whisper as rafe slowly pulled the covers off of you, “like i need to be fucked.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together, your words making his cock twitch.

“sucks to be you.” rafe stood up, about to leave your room before you stopped him. “wait!” you cried out, “where are you going?” you crawled to the edge of your bed, fisting the back of his shirt. rafe smiled to himself, internally singing before he turned around to see you on your knees, your eyes wide and needy as you gazed up at him. “what? i’m leaving.” rafe pulled away, in which you shook your head. he was having way too much fun right now. “no!” you pulled him down, “please stay..” you looked down at his lips, running your nails across the back of his neck. “help me, help you.”

rafe leaned in first, taking your lips with his own as you moaned against his mouth. “you’re gonna help me, alright.” he pulled you on top of his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his waist as he fought to take off your baby tee. lifting your arms up, rafe groaned when your tits fell softly out of your top. tossing the garment aside, you let out a moan when rafe attached his desperate mouth to your sensitive bud, his tongue circling your nipple as you held him close to your chest. you moaned with every stroke of his hands against your skin, your hips grinding on his erection.

“holy, fuck!” rafe pulled away for a moment, looking down between the two of you where you grinded on his shorts. you were so wet, you left a wet patch where you rutted against him. leaning back on his hands, rafe watched as you used him to get yourself off, your glossy cunt sparkling underneath the light of the setting sun filtering through your blinds. you were so pretty like this, rafe felt like he could cum from looking at your pleasure filled face alone. “does that feel good?” rafe groaned when you picked up your pace, his length just throbbing to get out of the confines of his underwear.

“mm, fuck— yes, rafe!” you kept moving until your hips stuttered, your first orgasm hitting you pathetically as you whimpered and whined for something more. still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you got down on shaky legs, not wasting any time in getting rafe’s shorts off. you were so desperate for his cock, rafe smirked when he saw the way your eyes widened when his length sprung up against his stomach. just as you reached for what you needed most, rafe stopped you by grabbing your hand. “nah, you don’t get it that easy,” he shook his head, “lay down.”

those were his last words before he had you laying flat on your bed, your head hanging off the edge as he fucked your throat mercilessly. “thought you were just gonna get what you wanted, huh? fuck no.” he said through gritted teeth. tears were streaming down your face, the noises bouncing off of the walls right now were nothing short of obscene. “always walking around here acting like a spoiled brat, fuck you.” rafe spat, the tip of your nose hitting his pubic bone. he held your hands in his, not allowing you to have any leverage as he fucked your face.

your tongue was dancing around his cock, the sensation bringing him closer to that glorious edge. “o-oh, fuck..” rafe sucked in a breath, stilling as you swallowed around his tip. pulling out to give you some air, you managed to gasp before he slid back in, a mixture of spit and precum connecting you two together. “m’gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours until you choke..” his hand snaked down to the apex of your thighs where he gave your soaked folds a harsh slap. you squealed at the stinging sensation, his cock continuously hitting the back of your throat.

sure enough, you gagged around him, his hot cum painting your tongue. rafe doubled over with a hiss, his mouth falling open as you took every last drop. “that’s perfect. yeah, fuckin’ take it.” rafe slapped your cunt once more, eliciting a whine from your lips as he pulled away. you were breathless, your wrists burning from the unforgiving grip rafe had on them. in one swift movement, rafe flipped you onto your back, using his large hands to pin your thighs to your mattress. “beg for it, you fucking slut.” rafe teased your entrance with his glistening tip, your eyebrows knitting together at his cruel ministrations.

“please! i need you so bad, ray!” fuck, you were a mess right now. with your lipgloss smeared all over your chin, those tear stained cheeks, and disheveled hair.. rafe couldn’t help but admire the sight. everything rafe wanted was so close, yet so far, he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. who knew when you would be so needy and pliant for him like this again? “really? i don’t think so.” he quipped. letting out a shaky breath, you reached down between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance before sliding him in with a pierced gasp.

rafe’s eyes screwed shut, his hips moving on their own accord as he finally gave in to you. the man on top of you was in a daze. you were so warm, and so wet, he didn’t know how he was going to pull through with the way you were sucking him in with every thrust. “fuck.” he leaned down, taking your lips with his own. he tasted so good on your tongue, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he fucked into you. his pace was brutal, his toned stomach smacking against your clit as you moaned in his ear. “oh, my god!” you couldn’t help your nails from raking down his back.

“look at you..” he pulled away, grabbing a fistful of your hair so you can meet his eyes. “you’re just a bimbo whore with tits for brains, you know that?” you whimpered at his words, the degrading statement only making you clench around him tighter. rafe groaned, he should’ve known you’d be into that shit. unpinning your thighs from your bed, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he caged you between his arms, his biceps on either side of your face. he was a lot closer like this, the intimacy of it making your heart flutter in your chest. “i always thought you were h-hot.” you managed to mewl.

“yeah?” he inserted a thumb between your lips, your tongue circling around his finger. “mhmm— yes!” rafe watched with dark eyes as you started sucking on the digit. “why the fuck didn’t you said anything then? we could’ve done this a lot sooner, baby.” he tsked. pulling his hand away from your mouth, he replaced his thumb with his lips, swallowing all of your pretty sounds. cupping his face, you pulled away with a bated breath, your orgasm beginning to simmer in your core. “rafe?” your face morphed into one of full blown pleasure, your eyebrows knitting together as rafe stared you down.

“you’re close?” he could tell by the way your thighs trembled at his sides that you were about to hit your peak. you nodded weakly, your eyes meeting his as he watched you come undone beneath him. you paused, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lips parted in a silent moan. rafe knew as soon as you were able to get a breath out you were going to be in hysterics. sure enough, you gasped, a sob ripping from your throat as your body shook. from your head to your toes, you were buzzing in pure bliss. rafe stroked your face, bringing you down from your high with whispers of praise.

“so fuckin’ pretty.”

“shhh, i’m right here.”

you embraced him once more, pressing a kiss to his neck before he pulled out, using a hand to fist his length until he spilled onto your folds. you pouted, your teary eyes gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “why didn’t you stay inside?” you whined, the man on top of you breathing heavily. “w-what?” he panted, his cock twitching with sensitivity. “i wanted you to cum inside me, why did you pull out?” rafe did a double take at your words, his mind reeling with ideas of filling you up. “you’d be okay with that?” a hint of a smile played on his lips when you hummed in agreement. “wanna go again?”

you two were so busy building up foreplay, that neither of you heard the front door open. “i forgot my stupid wallet!” barry shouted. you moaned, your hips chasing rafe’s hand as he buried his fingers in your cunt. “did you hear that?” rafe froze, looking at the doorway of your room. “it’s nothing, i left the tv on, remember!” you turned his attention back on you, both of you laughing against each other’s skin. “y/n, have you seen my—” you and rafe jumped when barry barged in, a scream escaping you as you scrambled to cover yourself.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, country club!”

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mytherapyisreading14 · 6 months ago

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Magic Tricks

Summary: You are celebrating Henry’s birthday but when Spencer shows some magic tricks, his hands quickly become a distraction to you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Fluff, Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, kissing, dirty talk, hand kink, praise kink, choking, oral sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe y’all)

Word Count: 3,5k

Authors Note: This is the first time I wrote smut, so please let me know if I forgot any warnings/ if there’s anything to improve! Hope you enjoy :)

It's a sunny afternoon, the garden is full of life and everyone came to celebrate Henry's birthday today. Henry is currently sitting on a small wooden bench surrounded by his friends while Spencer shows them his favorite magic tricks. He lets cards slide through his fingers, pulls handkerchiefs out of the air and amazes the children - especially Henry, who sits there with his eyes wide open almost the entire time.

"What do you think, Henry? Ready for something you've never seen before?" Spencer stands in front of the boy and raises his hands, which start to intertwine in a fluid movement. “Yes, definitely!" Henry says enthusiastically.

Spencer quickly brings one of his hands down and pulls a glittering ring out of the air, which immediately appears in his other hand. "Look here, Henry, it's really easy,” Spencer says with a wink. “Wooooow!" the children shout in unison and Henry claps euphorically.

You, sitting next to Penelope on another bench, are also completely fascinated - but you're not just looking at the ring or the tricks. Your gaze keeps wandering to Spencer, to his hands to be precise, which performed the magic with such precision. It's not just the art of magic that captivated you, but also the man himself.

How skillfully his fingers move, how naturally he juggled the small objects - all of this makes your thoughts drift away. The fact that you’ve been in love with him for years now makes it even worse. You imagine how his hands would touch you, how he would hold you when...

You suddenly hear your name and flinch. You didn't even really hear him talking to you, as your thoughts were far away from the magic trick. "Are you even listening to me?" Spencer asks. "Why are you staring at my hands all the time?" You freeze. Suddenly you are so aware of the situation that you almost feel like everyone in the circle is watching you.

Your cheeks turn red. "Uh... I... I just wanted to know how the trick works," you stammer. Penelope, who is sitting right next to you, couldn't help but giggle and whispered to you: "Sure, that must have been the reason..."

"Yes! Exactly," you answer way too quickly. "I... wanted to find out how you did it!" Spencer looks at you for a while, then nods. “Sometimes, it's better if you don't understand the trick," he says with a mysterious smile. "Otherwise the real magic is lost." You try not to blush any more. "Of course, that's true," you murmur and try to relax. Penelope, who is watching the whole situation with a grin, giggles quietly.

Spencer turns back to his magic tricks, but his gaze keeps wandering over to you. You try to look away from his hands now, but unfortunately it's all to no avail. You find yourself looking at his hands and your thoughts wandering in another direction, and Penelope, noticing this, nudges you teasingly with her elbow. "Looks like our genius is enchanting you even more today than usual," she says.

To get out of the situation and keep a clear head, which is never possible around him, you stand up. "I'll get a drink," you mutter. "Good idea," Penelope says with a cheeky grin as you walk towards the house. The other children are busy watching the magic tricks again, but you can't shake the thought of Spencer.

His hands, which unleashed the magic so precisely and elegantly, preoccupied you much more than you would like to admit. You wonder what else he could do with those hands - if it wasn't just about magic tricks.

Spencer, who is busy with the children and their enthusiasm, casts a quick glance at Penelope, who looks at him with an amused smile. He goes over to her while the children continue to marvel and chat. Spencer casts a glance in the direction you went and then wonders if he missed something. “Tell me, Penelope,” Spencer begins, “do you also think she was acting a bit strange just now?”

Penelope laughs. "Oh, come on, Spencer. She was completely distracted." Spencer raises his eyebrow. "By my hands?" he asks, now slightly amused and curious. "Why?" Penelope looks at him and then grins widely. "Well, because she... watched pretty closely how you used them. She was completely fascinated," she explains.

“Fascinated?" Spencer repeats, now even more confused. "And what's so fascinating about that?" Penelope shakes her head and laughs softly. "Come on, you genius, do you really have no idea?" She clicks her tongue and looks at him with an expression that was almost too good-natured to be serious. "Um... no, not really," Spencer replies, looking at her confused. "Explain it to me."

Penelope raises her hands in an innocent gesture. "You're a genius, you should be smart enough to figure that out on your own." She winks at him and then stands up. "I'm going over to the others. Use your clever head properly," she says and then walks towards the house. Spencer ponders, the explanation has triggered something in him, but he still can't quite figure out what exactly Penelope meant.

Then he decides to tell Morgan - who is standing on the other side of the garden - about the previous conversation. He had no idea what had just happened, but something told him that he had to understand it. He walks quickly towards Morgan, who is just getting a beer from a cooler.

“Hey, Morgan," Spencer says, stepping next to him. "You didn't happen to notice what just happened, did you?" Morgan looks at him with a grin when he hears the question. He laughs quietly and takes a sip from the bottle. "Yeah, I noticed. She couldn't take her eyes off you the whole time.”

Spencer suddenly feels a little embarrassed. "What exactly do you mean by that? She was just a little distracted by the tricks. That's all." Morgan raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head, still grinning widely. "So you're really the only one who doesn't notice, huh?" Morgan asks. "Notice what?" Spencer replies. "Well, if you don't understand..." Morgan says, laughing again. "She's in love with you, pretty boy. That's what's going on."

Spencer is so surprised that he just sits there speechless for a moment. "You really think she's in love with me?" Morgan laughs again. "Um, yeah? Have you never noticed how she acts when you're around? How nervous she gets?" Spencer blinks as he thinks about it. He actually hasn't noticed that you sometimes act differently around him.

He thought about the tricks and the magic all the time, but never about the fact that you might be interested in him for another reason - something much more personal. He tried to push the thought away, but something inside him wouldn't let it go. He wanted this - you - for years and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up now. This has to be a misunderstanding, there is no way you are actually interested in him like that.

Deep down, he's wondering if he was really that blind. And what if Morgan was right? What if you actually feel more for him? He looks around again, glancing at you. Spencer puts the thought aside for now - but he knows he can't shake it off so easily. He feels like he can't ignore the whole situation any longer. After talking to Morgan, he realized a lot of things, but he really needed to talk to you to understand them. He has no idea how you would react.

You, on the other hand, try to avoid Spencer for the rest of the evening. You can't be near him without imagining what his hand would feel like around your neck or between your legs. But since Spencer is so popular with the kids and they can't get enough of him and his magic tricks, it's fortunately easier than you think to avoid him. But you still often feel his gaze on you and it makes you nervous.

Later that evening, after most of the guests have already left, you help JJ bring in a few glasses and bottles. You are just about to go back outside when Spencer comes towards you. "Hey," he says, but before you can even reply, Spencer pulls you aside and into the small guest room at the end of the hall. The door closes behind you and the atmosphere in the room is suddenly much more intimate.

“What's wrong?" you ask, still a little confused because he took you aside so suddenly. "You avoided me today," he says. You avoid his gaze so he doesn't see that you are blushing again and start babbling. "Henry and his friends were so impressed by you and your magic and it's his birthday, I didn't want to disturb you. JJ also needed help and I agreed to do that. We were both busy, so it's clear that we don't run into each other that often," you explain hastily.

“That's not true. You deliberately avoided me. And your mind was somewhere else. As if something was distracting you,” he says, taking a step closer to you. “Why don’t you want to tell me what distracted you today?” he asks, looking down at you. Your heart is beating faster and faster and you are a little overwhelmed by the whole situation.

You didn't expect Spencer to confront you with it. "Now you’re quiet. That's uncharacteristic of you. I think I'm making you nervous," he says. "I...uh," you start, but you're unable to form a sensible sentence. "I was just talking to Morgan and… now I know why you were looking at my hands like that." You look at him questioningly. "What?"

"You were looking at my hands," he says, "because you're in love with me." A laugh escapes you. Your reaction leaves Spencer startled, his voice suddenly uncertain. "Why are you laughing?" he asks, and for a moment he looks as if he's not sure what to make of it. "Is it because I'm wrong? I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable -"

But before he’s able to continue, you quickly grab his arm and pull him towards you. Your lips meet his, and for a moment everything else is forgotten. The kiss is gentle and at the same time full of emotions - as if you want to tell each other everything you never put into words. When you pull away from him, you look deep into his eyes and whisper “Morgan is right... I'm in love with you."

Spencer stares at you for a moment, as if to make sure he heard you correctly. But before he can say anything, you quickly add, "But that wasn't the only reason I was staring at your hands," you tell him. "No?" Spencer raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What was the other reason?" he asks, and you can see in his eyes how eager he is to know. "I want to know."

You can see the sparkle in his eyes, the mixture of relief and curiosity, and for a moment you feel your heart beating a little bit faster. There's something you haven't told him yet, something you need to explain to him. But the look in his eyes melts your nervousness.

"I was looking at your hands," you begin, "because you use them in a way I've never seen before. Your movements are so precise, so... controlled. It's not just magic, Spencer. I want to know what else they can do." Spencer is silent for a moment, and then you see a slight smile appear on his face. “So, you're looking at my hands because you want to know what else they can do?" he asks. "Yes," you answer quietly, "but also because I just can't get enough of you."

“I don’t want you to get enough of me. Ever. Because I am in love with you too. For quite a while now. Since the day you sat down on the jet next to me and challenged me to play chess, to be more exact,” he says and leans forward to kiss you again, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer.

A gasp escapes your mouth and Spencer takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss and explore your mouth with his tongue. You can feel the heat rushing through your body and you press yourself even closer against him, reaching for his hand. His eyes follow every move with a curious look. You take his hand and slowly guide it to your neck.

His mind slows for a minute and then he finally understands. “That’s what you‘ve been fantasizing about earlier. My hands exploring your body. Me choking you. Haven‘t you?“ he asks and you nod. His eyes darken and you can see the lust sparkling in them.

His hand now wraps around your neck entirely and he squeezes gently. “More,” you whisper. “You tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Spencer says with a concerned look on his face before he tightens the grip on your neck. “Yes Spence, of course,” you breath out before getting distracted by his hand sliding up your inner thigh.

His hand is now under your skirt, running over your panties. “Can I touch you?” Spencer asks and you pull him down by his tie to whisper in his ear. “Of course you can, Spence. I need you to touch me. I’ve been dreaming about this since forever. I’m all yours.” You kiss slowly down his neck, then nibbling on his skin to mark him with a hickey.

That’s all Spencer needs to hear. His hand pulls your panties to the side and he grazes your clit with his finger to tease you. “Spence, please. Touch me,” you whimper and he chuckles. “Someone’s eager. Fantasizing about my hands got you worked up, am I right, sweetheart?” he asks, finally touching your clit with his thumb. Your only respond is a moan and you press down on his finger to show him you need more.

“I barely touched you and you’re already soaked,” he says as he runs his finger through your folds. “Only… only for you, Spence,” you manage to say and slide your hands up to his shirt to open the buttons, taken off guard when he pushes a finger inside you. Your knees are trembling and you have to hold yourself against his body in order to stay up.

“Spence, that’s so - it feels so good… I - I need more, please,” you whine and he pushes another finger inside you. He reaches all the spots you never could and you’re a moaning mess, rocking yourself against his hand. “Good girl,” he praises you and it takes you off guard. You clench around his fingers and he chuckles. “You like that, didn’t you? Me calling you a good girl. So praise kink and hand kink, let’s find out what else you’re into.”

You didn’t expect to hear such words from him. He is always the sweet, gentle and unassuming genius when you are around him, but now, that both of you snapped, finally giving in into your desires, he shows you a completely different side of him, one you’re more then excited to discover. It turns you on immensely.

He squeezes your throat more and pumps his fingers faster, rubbing your clit in circles with his thumb and it doesn’t take long for you to come on his hand. You hold yourself steady against him with trembling knees while he is busy running his hands down your shirt, tugging at your bra and squeezing your breasts. You help him taking off your shirt while he’s guiding you to the bed.

He unclasps you bra skilfully and pulls down your skirt and underwear in one motion, before he pushes you down onto the bed. His gazes wanders over your body and he licks his lips. “You are gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says before he leans forward to kiss down your neck to your breast. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth while squeezing the other one.

You arch your back and slide your hands up to his shirt again to go back to unbuttoning it, after you got interrupted earlier by Spencer giving you so much pleasure that you were unable to continue your actions. You pull his shirt off and run your fingers over his body.

Spencer slowly kisses down your tummy now, reaching your inner thighs where he sinks his theeth into the sensitive skin, sucking the spot to leave a hickey there before he gently kisses it and leans back to admire his work. It earns him another moan from you and he and grins. “So you like marking me, huh?” you decide to tease him back. “You are in no position to tease, darling,” he says with a mischievous grin before he presses his mouth against your cunt, licking a strip up your folds.

Your hands reach for his hair immediately, pressing him closer to you while he devours you like a man starved. Your whimpers are music to his ears and he can’t get enough of you. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he says before he dives back in. You lift your hips to press more against his mouth but he holds you down with his arm. “No, you have to stay still and take what I give you, do you understand?” he asks and you nod.

He shakes his head in disappointment. “Words, sweetheart,” he simply says and you need to concentrate to form a sentence. “I - oh… yes, I understand,” you manage to breath out and he goes back to eating you out, his grip firm on your hips to keep you still. You never felt this kind of pleasure and when you look down and see him devouring you completely, it becomes too much, you come again moaning his name.

Spencer comes up between your thighs with a satisfied smirk on his lips and you pull him down to kiss him again. You taste yourself on his lips and he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hand slides down to his pants and you open them with shaky hands, pulling them down. “Need you now, Spence. Please,” you tell him. “You need me that badly?” You nod. “Yes, I want to feel you inside of me.”

He takes off his boxers and your eyes widen, he is bigger than you expected. You watch as he pumps his cock a few times before he lines himself up at your entrance, sliding through your folds a few times to tease you. Then he pushes in and you moan his name. He claps his hand over your mouth to shut you up. “Shh, as much as I enjoy hearing you moan my name, you have to keep quiet,” he says.

From the lack of movement you are feeling right now you were sure he’s giving you time to adjust. When you feel ready you lift your hips to show him. He starts to slowly thrust in and out of you, hitting your G- spot with every thrust. “You feel so good, so warm and wet just for me,” he says and feels you clenching around him.

It feels even better than you imagined. He’s big, but it’s not uncomfortable and you want more. “Harder. You can - you can fuck me harder now,” you say and he chuckles when he hears how eager you are. He starts thrusts in and out of you faster, his hand wrapping around your throat again.

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you imagined every time you looked at my hands?” he asks, squeezing until you see stars. “Yes, oh god - Spence. Feels so good,” you moan, already feeling another orgasm building up, gripping the arm around your neck for support.

Spencer, who can feel how close you are increases the speed and thrusts even faster and deeper inside of you. Your body is on fire and when Spencer starts to apply pressure to your already sensitive clit, you feel like you’re going to explode. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come around my cock,” he says and his permission is all you need to let go.

Spencer fucks you through your orgasm, also close to reaching his own now. “Fuck, I need to come inside of you. Can I, Sweetheart?” he asks, his thrusts getting sloppier. “Yes, in- Inside me,” you say and he finishes a few thrusts later. When he pulls out you can feel his cum dripping down your thighs, but you don’t mind. He collapses next to you on the bed and pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss on your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks you while he plays with your hair. “Yes, that’s was amazing,” you say and give him a peck on the lips before you cuddle closer to him, gently stroking his hair. He looks down to you. “Do you have to get the morning after pill? I can get it for you,” he says and you smile. “I’m on the pill, Spence, but thank you anyway,” you say and give him a kiss.

You stay in bed cuddling but after a while you speak up. “I would love to cuddle with you all evening, but I think we need to go back out soon, the others are probably already looking for us,” you say and he nods. “A few more minutes. I don’t want to let you go just yet,” he says and you smile. “I love you,” you say and he smiles back. “I love you too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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yieldtotemptation · 7 months ago

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NOVEMBER ft. Somi

somi x male reader smut

9k words

"It's this challenge I'm doing. One whole month—thirty days—without having an orgasm," you're explaining, failing spectacularly at keeping things professional. Something possesses you to add: "No nutting. Hence the name."

Somi just stares at you. Flabbergasted.

Leans forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her palms; tearing your entire existence apart with her eyes.

"Can I just say, and I genuinely mean this in the nicest way possible—but that’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard."

—

Here's the conclusion you've arrived at from the one hour you've spent with her: Jeon Somi is some kind of demon.

It’s not a joke, it’s not some painterly metaphor you’re drawing—Somi has clawed her way out from the depths with nothing but a ponytail and an alarmingly tight pair of leggings; arriving on Earth, in the flesh, to make your life a living, breathing, sweat-drenched hell.

So, yeah.

Somi, the succubus. Or something close to that.

It's the only explanation for it really.

See, you're a photographer. Of women, specifically.

Beautiful women in intimate settings, sparse aesthetics. That’s your whole deal. Just homing in on the subject, capturing something ‘real’ without any distractions. Get the essence of who they are when there’s no one looking.

Pretentious, sure, but it’s what’s kept you in demand with the glossy magazines and the avant-garde galleries and the starlets desperate to convince the public that they’re more than just the pretty robots their agencies have programmed them to be.

So, suffice to say, you've met all the types.

The innocent idols that need a mountain of coaxing to come out of their shells. The stone-cold divas that barely acknowledge your existence, yet somehow still expect you to anticipate their every demand. And the flirts, willing to do just about anything for the camera with a wink and a nudge, if it means getting an edge on the rest of the industry.

But Somi? She just is.

Pure temptation incarnate, from head to toe, without even trying. Thighs that threaten to strangle your self-control, a waist that makes sinners out of saints, tits that would have physicists reconsidering the very nature of gravity, all topped by a dangerous smile that could melt a fucking igloo with its sheer wattage.

Somi’s hot.

She knows it, the world knows it, the public crucifies her for it. And she just takes it all, all of it. Melts it all together and forges it into armour.

And now she’s here, in your private space. None of the usual entourage of make-up artists, managers, whatever. Just herself and an absurdly sweet frappé. Looking so comfortable that it’s making you feel like you’re intruding.

She’s leaning on your table, ass flush against the wood, arms crossed, and her eyes—those fathomless dark pools—land on yours, holding them hostage.

Barely has to make any effort when she laces her words together, piles on an unhealthy dose of insinuation, cocks an eyebrow and asks—“So, how do you want me?”

Naked, preferably. On all fours, ass to the sky. Or maybe on her knees, mouth hanging open, tongue out, elbows squeezed together to make her tits sing.

Yeah, you're already composing the perfect shot in your head.

Fuck.

You rub your eyes. Maybe thirty days of self-imposed abstinence has finally broken you, and this is all some kind of feverish hallucination driven by your libido.

But no, Somi is still there, lounging in your studio, all curves and challenge. Just being insanely hot.

You cough, clear your throat. Put on the mask of someone far more professional.

“Anywhere you’d like,” you’re answering, keeping your expression decidedly blank. This isn’t the first time you’ve been the only outlet for a young sexpot desperate to let off some steam. You have the experience. But again—fuck. Thirty days is far too long. Somi is far too much. “Just keep it natural. Like I’m not even here.”

Somi just laughs, sweet and sinful, her whole thing. Pushes off the table with a grace that seems almost supernatural (again, see the demon theory), before adding a thought, like it just sprung up in her pretty head— “Easier said than done.”

Distractions aside, all things considered, she’s the perfect subject.

Gets what you’re going for immediately, makes herself at home amongst your studio's chaos. Glides around the room, runs her fingers over your equipment strewn about—the lights, the lenses, the negatives hanging in the corner.

The sway of her hips, the flex of her back. The dip of her brow and purse of her lips when she asks, "What's this for?", and the genuine interest when she listens to you explain about aperture, and light metres, and so on and so on.

(Snap a photo of her silhouette when she's by the window, leaning against the glass to spy on the passers-by.

Snap a photo of her smile, when you say something that's really not that funny, but she laughs anyway.

Snap a photo of her legs, when she finds a couch to lay on—stretching herself out, showing off their length, the tone of her thighs, the promise kept hidden by her leggings being pulled tighter and tighter.)

Another hour passes quickly, and you take a break there, more for your sanity than her endurance. Leave her to her own devices while you flick through the shots you’ve managed to get so far.

Only, when you scroll through your laptop, scan through the dozens upon dozens of rapid-fire photos you've taken—it's a horror show.

None of them work.

Not because of her, but because of you.

The way you've shot her. Far too revealing—you've put too much of yourself in these pictures. Turned them from images to confessions. Each one a fucking love letter to her body—her legs, her tits, her lips, her ass, her tits again—everything about her that makes you ache.

It's not art. It's borderline pornographic.

And yet, Somi's still just lying there.

Drinking down another pick-me-up that she's had delivered, this one with enough caffeine to take down several horses, chatting away so casually while you try to stitch your soul back together. Sipping and talking about who-knows-what, throwing out feelers, smiling easily, laughing sincerely, utterly oblivious to the havoc she's wreaking on your self-control.

An effortless grace when she lifts herself off the couch, saunters over to you and leans in far too close, gets far too familiar, lays on far too much charm when she asks, “Mind if I take a look?”

Yeah, you do, but you still force a calmness into your voice that you’re certainly not feeling when you turn the laptop so she can see.

“Wow,” is her initial review, and now she’s touching you, hand on your shoulder, tits pressed up against your arm and you’re certain that none of this is accidental, like an oh, just trying to get closer so I can better appreciate the photos you’re flipping through, never mind that you're getting a precise estimation of my cup size just from the feeling alone.

Do your best—ignore the pressure, the warmth, the softness. Watch her face, see all the tiny details; her eyes lighting up when she catches something she likes, her thoughtful hum at a particularly good shot. The smacking of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the recognition as you scroll.

One by one, with each photo, her expression morphing from curiosity to understanding.

She notices.

“You’re good at this.”

You wait for it. “That’s all?”

Her eyes glint, “None of these can be used though.”

“I know.”

The screen’s frozen on a particularly compromising shot: there’s Somi’s face, barely in it, just the bottom-half, her lips pouting out and looking all plump and delicious. Camera angled up high, pointing down the dip of her tight, sheer top and the shadowy valley that makes up her cleavage. Scanning down to her legs, folded to the side beneath her, the squish of her ass cheeks over her heels, spilling into the corner of the screen.

Sin, captured in fifty megapixels, barely contained inside a four by six frame.

A submissive dream.

“These for your personal collection, or—” and when she catches the heat rising up the back of your neck, changing directions, “—not that I mind, as long as I get a copy.”

Clearly finding all this much funnier than you are—that smile’s a knife to your chest. So sharp and knowing; it would have you gasping for air, if only you’d look.

Keep it cool, play it off with a shrug, “We’ll try again.”

“I doubt we’ll get any different results,” Somi’s predicting, bouncing on her toes now, getting closer and closer until she doesn’t need to make much of an effort to make herself heard. Close enough that she could feel you now, if she wanted to. Just brush her fingers over you and get a good idea of the reason why this photoshoot is going so far off the rails.

She instead leans her chin onto your shoulder, breath hot against your cheek. Like throwing a match on gasoline.

All the power of this girl, this woman, wrapped up in a single gesture. Wielding it so freely, so innocently, so easily. Heat that's self-aware, that knows just how much it's burning.

You caution, “Keep it professional.”

“Doesn’t that run counter to the whole aesthetic. I thought we were going for raw?”

“Natural.”

“What’s the difference?”

You need to stop yourself, shut the laptop, end the session right now before it’s much too late. Before you’re turning to her and realising just how close her lips are to yours, just how tiny her waist is compared to your hands, and you're saying the words that will end all semblance of propriety and professionalism— “With you, I don’t think there is one.”

“Well as long as we agree,” and Somi’s turning away, striding back to the couch, leaving you to breathe again. Making you thankful for the space, but missing the suffocation of her heat all at once.

Plopping herself down on the cushions, one leg folded under the other, leggings so thin you can see the shape of her underneath. Natural, just like you asked—looking like she's the only one here that’s exactly where she wants to be.

You’re thinking you’re off the hook.

Maybe you can get back to work.

Only, “So, it’s been a while, then?”

“Somi,” you’re saying her name for the first time, officially, and it’s coming out far too strangled. Far too needy. She loves the sound.

“Come on, humour me.”

“Somi,” again, you’re trying, clearing out the cobwebs from your throat.

“Sir.”

What the fuck.

She doesn’t move. Waits patiently for your answer.

You give her the inch, knowing she’ll take the mile.

Raking a hand through the back of your head. “Thirty days.”

The look on Somi's face is apoplectic. You're glad you have the wherewithal to capture it.

"It's a—" and you're feeling quite stupid as you explain it to her in detail; the abstinence for a month, the purpose of it all, the supposed benefits, "challenge."

That sends Somi ranting, hands flailing in the air. Incredulous, at you, at this challenge, at the idea of putting yourself through this self-imposed torture. “Stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

And then, when she sees your face.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But seriously. Thirty days? And not once.”

Your voice is dry. “No.”

“Not even by accident?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Wet dreams, nothing? No jerking it? No sex? At all?” Somi’s bursting out laughing, hand flying to cover her mouth, barely even able to breathe. It’s so absurd to her.

And it doesn’t take long before she puts it all together. Processes the information, sees the picture she’s painted of you. The sad, desperate artist, with nothing but a dying hunger and a camera. Realises the predicament you’ve put yourself in just by having her here.

She’s not laughing any more.

“And so you chose today, November 30th, to schedule me?”

You’re very, clearly frustrated. “Not my choice.”

“I see.” She bites her lip. Angles herself just so.

“Dial it back.”

“Tell that to your boner.”

You look down. Pants distinctly flat.

Somi’s grinning. “Made you look.”

“Are you done?” You ask, forcing yourself to look away from her, busying your hands by screwing on a different lens, as if it’ll somehow make her appear any less distracting, like it’ll blur out all your worst intentions and bring back some actual decorum to this whole fiasco. “We don’t have much time left.”

Turning back to her, raising your camera, aiming straight and true and—

Somi, unzipping her heels, kicking them across the floor with a dramatic flourish.

Snap.

Somi, lifting her top up and over her head, stretching her arms up high to push her breasts out forward; making them tight, outlined, so obviously pebbled against the cotton of her bra.

Snap.

Somi, digging her thumbs into the waistband of her tights, pointing her legs up in the air so she can peel them off without getting up, thrusting her hips up off the couch to yank them over her ass.

Snap.

“Somi,” you’re saying again, because apparently, you’ve forgotten how to make other words.

“Just doing what feels natural,” she says, smile turning wicked, reaching behind her back to unclasp and oh, now she’s completely naked. Rearranging herself into this pose. As if she isn’t already the centre of your universe.

Thirty days, flushed directly down the drain.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

—

You’ve found it, the perfect photograph.

Somi, kneeling on the couch, hands folded on her lap, staring down the barrel of your camera with her tits out. Unreal. Works of art, both of them. Miracles of flesh, gravity be damned.

“You’re not taking any photos,” she points out.

You swallow hard. “I’m taking it in.”

Her hands come up to cup her breasts, giving them a bounce. For fun. For you. For the look on your face. You capture the jiggle. "Good, because I'd hate to think all this was going to waste."

It’s a little fucked up, how right Somi is. You wanted raw, honest—here it is, Somi as she kneels. Just being herself, being the woman everyone accuses her of being—the sinner, the whore, the slut.

Being the woman she knows she is, with everything that it implies—the confidence, the appeal, the fucking powerhouse of magnetic attraction. Not an image being projected, not a role she’s playing, but the reality of her, shooting straight into your veins, raw sex personified—as natural as breathing.

And before you know it, you’re capturing her lips with yours, an ‘mmmph’ slipping out from her as your mouths collide and your tongues meet.

It’s not intentional, it just happens. You lean in, she’s hot, she smells like heaven and sin wrapped in a neat little bow and you’re kissing her.

Tongue finds hers, attacks, retreats, joins and intertwines, and it’s everything you imagined it would be turned all the way up—sweeter, hotter, and so much more fucking dangerous.

Lips head south, tongue sliding along her neck, teeth on her shoulder, kisses into her collarbone; and finally, you’re at her breasts.

Softer than a dream, tasting like pure addiction; you kiss the tops of her breasts, lap up all the sweat that’s beaded down in between. Drag your tongue down, follow the curve, the dip, and ending at the hard little points poking against your lips. Filling your mouth with as much of it as you can—licking, suckling, making a complete mess of spit on her chest, and then biting, just a little, just to make her moan.

“So this is what denial does to a man, hm?” Somi slithers into your ears, under your skin, hands at the back of your head and holding you in place.

She arches into you, pushing herself closer, letting you taste, indulge. Feast on what you’ve been missing out over this long stretch of days.

And fuck, maybe it is the abstinence, the pent-up need, or maybe it’s the fact that tits in general are just fucking incredible things. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that it’s Somi, in all her outrageously perfect glory, so happy to be the one that gets to ruin you, that’s making you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Not that it matters one bit.

Not that there’s any thoughts at all in your head; there’s just Somi’s tits and your tongue. Lapping it up like you’re trying to drink her in, memorise every contour, every curve, every little goosebump you induce with each swipe of your tongue.

Somi’s tits; a canvas, and your mouth’s painting the picture of a lifetime.

“Baby,” Somi coos, hands on the side of your face, lifting you up off the cushions of her breasts. She’s giggling, her fingers wiping at the strings of drool that you hadn’t even realised you’d been leaving behind. “Remember what we’re here for?”

Right.

The camera. The art. The job. The no-touching rule.

But your mind is a blurry mess of tits and need, and all your blood has headed south for the afternoon, and it's making you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

“Let me give you a hand.” Somi’s gentle with you, like you’re a stick of dynamite with a frayed wick, just the slightest touch and you’ll blow.

She takes your hand, fingers brushing against yours, little sparks of electricity making your hairs stand on end, and lifts your camera up to point directly at her.

And then, she smirks. As if to say, yeah, she’s read all your thoughts; seen straight into you and has discovered the vault where you’ve kept every one of your deepest, darkest impulses locked up for thirty long days.

Somi repositions herself. Poses her body, determined to bring every single filthy, desperate, starving fantasy of yours to life.

Reclining back into the couch, thighs apart, spreading her legs wide.

Showing off her cunt.

Bare and gleaming. Shaven clean—just this perfect, pink, wet little pussy calling out to you. Open like a fucking invitation.

You’re staring.

She waits for you to catch up.

“Now would be a good time to start using that camera.”

You take a step back. Heart racing, hands shaking; you’re usually so much better than this. Take a deep breath, lift the camera, do your job, make your art, capture as much as you can while you have fucking perfection putting herself on display for you.

The click, the shutter echoing through the studio.

It makes Somi sigh.

Her eyes find the lens, locking down her target. A fucking miracle of biology, that’s Somi. Born to have cameras on her, as in love with them as they are with her.

Her fingers dip, trace down over her ludicrously tiny waist, her abs, her bellybutton, stopping short of her mound. Dancing over her pussy, light as a feather.

Fucking grinning as she asks, “Like what you see?”

The camera’s flash answers for you.

Touching herself, stroking, circling, pressing down. Building a crescendo that you can see painted on her; through the tensing of her abs, the heaving of her breasts, her cheeks going pink, her breaths getting shorter, and her lips parting to moan.

You’re barely conscious of the fact that you’re talking under your breath, a singular demand— “Keep going.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thirty days of denial has turned you into a starving man, only for Somi to show up and make herself a full-course feast. The perfect model, but also the worst fucking thing possible for your resolve.

You take a deep breath, grip the camera tighter.

If you’re going to crack, you might as well go out with a bang.

Guiding her, as if she was any other client, and this was just another photoshoot— “Open your legs wider, Somi. Show me everything.”

Her eyes widen, pupils dilate. Sparks, excitement, lighting them up. She does as she’s told, pushing out her knees further, sinking down into the couch cushions.

Thighs quivering, pussy sopping wet and pulsing. All for you. For your camera.

Another click, the shutter again, like a time-bomb ticking down to your doom.

“Play with your clit. Tease it.”

Her hand obeys, delicate, slender fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, hips bucking slightly with each pass. The noises she makes are obscene. Harsh, breathy whispers that make you throb; moans that get caught in the back of her throat.

It’s a rush of blood straight to the head, an almost dizzying sensation, having Somi so eagerly following your every command. Her face says it all, this slut positively loves being told what to do.

“Keep it light. That’s it,” you say, stepping closer, hitting your marks, your angles. “Turn to me. I want to see your face.”

“Like this?” Somi breathes, turning to face you fully, her hand still playing with herself, stroking in a way that's almost cruel—so gentle, so teasing, so obviously designed to make you lose your mind. “Getting the pictures you’ve been dreaming of? Someone like me all spread out for you?”

You nod, jaw clenched, keeping steady. Or at least, you think you are, considering how good Somi’s making this for you.

Making sure you get the right shots of her—her pussy, swollen and puffy, dripping down a puddle onto your couch. Her tits; pinched until they’re hard and sensitive, a vivid red against the stark white of her skin. Her eyes, wide and wild and looking straight down the lens, communicating her arousal in a million different heated ways without saying a single word.

Let it be known; Somi knows exactly what she’s doing.

Knows when to sigh, knows how to arch her back, knows in which direction to pout her lips. Knows how to make every click of the camera count.

“Good girl,” you’re telling her, praising her, and it’s enough to make her keen.

“Am I?”

“Of course,” you say, leaning in closer, close enough to feel the heat of her body, a furnace against your skin. See the sweat dripping down her thighs, tiny little droplets shimmering against the muscle, begging to be licked away. “You’re doing so good, Somi. So, so good.”

You’re getting closer now, kneeling. All for the sake of the perfect shot.

Seeing her fingers work, spreading herself open, exposing her folds, glistening. Her clit standing tall and proud. Her entrance pulsing, waiting to be filled. It’s like watching a masterpiece come to life, a photo that’s been taken a thousand times before but never quite captured right. Until now. Until Somi.

Somi's smiling down at you, all knowing, all tempting, making your mouth water, and it takes all your self-discipline to not drop the camera and replace your lens with your tongue.

She laughs, low and throaty. “Looks like you’re enjoying the view.”

“You have no idea, Somi,” you answer, adding, “But you can make it better, can’t you? Make it wetter. Hotter.”

“Mmhmm,” she agrees, getting to work at making your instructions real. She’s a professional too, after all. A master of her craft. Her other hand snakes down to join her first; one hand pressing firmly down on her clit, the other plunging two fingers up into her cunt. Pushing in, curling, until it’s hitting that sweet spot that makes her preen.

“Perfect, Somi.”

You’re transfixed, as Somi starts to fuck herself in earnest, the camera almost forgotten in your hand. She’s so drenched that every stroke is accompanied by a wet, slick sound; and the way she’s creaming around her digits, dripping down her wrist, it’s far beyond a simple performance being put on for the sake of a photograph. It’s the real deal.

Somi’s breaths come faster, her eyes glaze over, and she’s biting down on her bottom lip, trying to keep from crying out too loudly.

You know you’re getting the best of her, can see it across her face: this is what she truly enjoys. Being watched, being desired, being told what to do all for your pleasure.

“Oh, baby,” she’s barely managing hushed, strained whispers, “Oh, oh, oh…”

You feel like you’re in a trance, your own hand wandering down, needing to adjust lest you rip right through your jeans. The sight alone is devastating enough, but it’s making you swell, until there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.

“That looks so,” Somi’s licking her lips, seeing the state you’re in, seeing the desperation in your eyes, the strain down below, “Nice.”

The camera is your anchor, your north star in this whole mess. You keep it steady, even as Somi’s breaths grow shallower, turn to pants. Losing herself to you, to the moment, to being captured in all her vulnerability.

She’s fucking herself even faster now, fingers sawing in and out of her pussy, wetter and wetter still, knuckles turning white with the force she’s applying.

“You’re doing so good, Somi, such a good girl for me,” you’re reassuring her, unable to hold back your own need, your own desire from leaking into your voice. It’s a battle, a war really, against your own urges, your innate desire to just drop everything and dive into her, feel her tightness around you, make her scream out your name.

But it’s too soon, Somi’s too close, and it would be a fucking crime to stop her.

“Baby,” she gasps, the word a prayer and a taunt in equal measure, “Baby, I don’t think I can last any longer.”

You’re grinning now, heart racing, camera at the ready. “Good.”

Somi’s on a knife’s edge, balancing on the precipice of climax. You can see it in how her body’s seizing, how she throws her head back, exposing her neck to you—needing your kiss, your bite, your claim. But you resist, intent on capturing every moment of her unravelling.

Because you want to know. Want to capture it. How she cums. What sounds she makes, what noises she can’t keep in. What she looks like when she falls apart.

“Cum for me, Somi,” you’re telling her, “I want to capture it all.”

Somi trembles. She wants it too.

Her eyes screw shut, her breath hitches, and she’s there, sinking back into the couch, letting out this sweet little gasp of anticipation.

The studio goes silent except for the sound of her fingers in her cunt and the shuttering of your camera.

In, out, snap.

Fucking herself. Fucking you with her very existence.

And then—“I’m going to—”

Her body arches off the couch, a scream ripping from her throat, her hand working furiously, pussy clenching so sweetly around her fingers. It’s the type of photo people spend entire careers never getting to capture, the most beautifully obscene sight you’ve ever been lucky to witness—Somi, in the throes of pleasure, wracked by her own orgasm, all for the sake of your camera.

It hits her hard and fast and all at once, turns her body into a bow, taut and tense, before it’s released, snapped, melting her down into a boneless puddle.

You watch in awe as Somi cums, writhes and wriggles, and she makes these noises that you’ve never heard from a woman before; crying out so loud you’re surprised the neighbours aren’t banging down the door to see what the commotion is about.

It’s only when she finally relaxes, is released from her orgasm, that you lower the camera, out of breath from the sheer exertion wrought by just watching her.

You’re both near devastation—Somi sprawled on the couch, chest rising and falling, eyes closed and an elated smile on her face, and you, knees threatening to give out, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of her satisfaction.

“That was—” Somi tries shaping the words, but they don’t come. She just lies there, lazy and sated, catching her breath.

Moments pass before she can open her eyes again, only to find you, standing over her, jeans vanished, cock out and level with her parted lips.

“That was just the beginning, Somi.”

It's just the sight of you, but Somi’s delighted. Seeing you like this—exposed and so ridiculously hard. All because of her.

She slides off the couch, kneeling at your feet.

“Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Anything at all. Just make sure you capture it.”

“Then suck.”

Wet, hot heaven. Somi’s mouth is heaven.

Tongue darting forward, swirling around the tip, teeth grazing the head, and you’re groaning, hips jerking forward involuntarily until you’re falling into her mouth.

Somi’s got a way about her, a finesse that’s unmatched in everything she does. So, so good for you; opening her mouth nice and wide, hollowing her cheeks just right, pursing her lips to make sure you feel it when she sucks.

Just gleeful when your hand finds purchase in her ponytail, when hers wrap around the base of your cock, and you push. Inch by inch into the sweet heat of her mouth, taking it all, making sure you can see it, see how thankful she is to be granted the privilege of swallowing you whole; of having you completely filling her throat.

Holding herself there, nose pressed up against your stomach, eyes looking up, watering slightly around the edges. Not even gagging, just warming your cock with her throat, pulsing, tight, unbearably hot.

She raises her brows.

Ah, that’s right.

Snap.

Pulling off you, dragging her lips, her tongue up your shaft, leaving behind a choked, drooling mess that she’s so fucking proud of.

Giggling around a mouthful of your cock, laughter vibrating across your skin, and it’s a wonder you don’t lose yourself right then and there.

But somehow, you hold on; brace yourself against Somi massaging your balls, tickling the underside of your tip with her tongue. Playing with you, taunting, enjoying every second. Popping your cock out of her mouth so she can truly take measure of you at your achingly hardest, so she can breathe onto your cock in wonder, “Just look at you.”

Balancing your length in the palm of her hand, barely able to wrap her fingers around your girth.

“So big, so hard,” she’s rapt, talking to you, to herself, making sure the ghosts haunting your studio know exactly what she’s dealing with her. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

“Darling,” you’re calling her, making her swoon, “Take it all.”

And she does. Somi, eager, opens her mouth wide, and lets you fuck her face. Getting you deep, so deep that you can feel her throat clench around your tip, slurping, moaning, choking now, but never, ever stopping. Just drooling down your thighs like the good little slut she knows you need her to be.

You’re back at it, taking photos, trying to get the perfect angle, but it’s proving a big ask when your knees are wobbling and your vision’s growing blurry. You’ve got Somi’s eyes in the viewfinder, all wide and blown with lust, looking straight through the lens of the camera and at you, daring you to break first.

But there’s still so much more of her to capture, so much more of her face to fuck.

Her red lips against your skin. Her cheeks bulging with your length. The line of her throat as she swallows. The tears in her eyes when she gags.

Somi’s arms loop around your back, cupping your ass, pulling you closer, urging you deeper.

Winking, giving you all the right cues; a muffled, “Here,” she says with her eyes. “This angle.”

And she’s right. It’s perfect. She’s got a talent for this.

Taking you deep, feeling like your cock’s never going to be able to leave her throat, only to pull back so you can see just how much she’s enjoying herself. How much she’s into this, so grateful to have you capturing every moan, every gag, every little sound she makes as you fuck her mouth like it’s the first time—and after a whole month it might as well be.

“Fuck, take it, Somi, you’re doing so well,” you tell her, knowing what it does to her—the praise, the adoration. Absorbed straight into her bloodstream, making her work harder, suck better, choke a little more. “Such a good girl.”

She loves it. Her eyes brighten, she squeezes your thighs, nails digging in. She loves it all.

You’re getting so close, you can feel it—thirty days of denial are about to come to a head, and she's going to be the one to bring you there. And yet, you still haven’t gotten nearly enough pictures to do her justice.

Somi sees it too, she can tell, knows just how close you are, but still, she's just lie you. She wants more.

She pulls back, an idea hatching in that filthy mind of hers, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Wait,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, cleaning herself of her spit, her drool, your leakage. “I want another photo. For comparison’s sake. Just for my memories.”

You’re not sure what she means, but you don’t ask questions. You just keep your camera at the ready, watching her move, watching her lean closer.

Your cock hovering just above her cheek, tip bumping up against her nose, leaving a wet streak across her face. She holds herself there, your length atop her face, and it’s all in view—her eyes fluttering closed, the tip of her tongue poking out to catch a taste of your precum, the way she’s breathing, deep and heavy, smelling the scent of you, inhaling it like it’s oxygen.

Somi—her face, her tits, her waist, her thighs.

Your cock.

All in view.

That’s the photo.

And when it’s done, you’re backing off, relearning how to breath, how to stand on your own two feet without crumbling to the ground. Somi’s tongue chases you but you’re out of reach, setting the camera down on the floor.

You need to get in on this. Fuck silly challenges. Fuck being a passive observer.

You’re done just watching. You need to feel her.

Somi looks at you all smug and satisfied, on her knees, awaiting your next instruction. “Finished taking pictures?”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you start peeling off your clothes, each layer like a heavy weight of your shoulders; until you’re just as bare and needy as she is.

Back to Somi, cradling her face, letting her lean into your palm. Running your thumb across her jaw, dragging it across her lips, stamping it onto her tongue.

She sucks.

Christ.

Thirty days of hell, given up for one moment in heaven.

Fuck it. She’ll make it worth it.

You tell her in simple, clear terms. “I’m going to fuck you now, Somi.”

“Please.”

It’s your turn now.

You relax into the couch, legs spread wide, cock throbbing in the open air, beckoning her to come closer.

Somi reads the room, your posture, your need, and she rises to the occasion. Joining you on the couch, back on her knees, thighs gripping on the outside of yours. Hands planted firmly on your shoulders, and the whole time, her eyes don’t leave yours, not even for a second.

Appreciate her, this woman, giving herself over to you.

Untying her ponytail, sending honey-brown hair cascading down her face, caressing her neck, her shoulders, meeting the tops of her breasts, perfectly rounded and waiting for the return of your teeth. Her waist, her abs, tensing and releasing, with every hot breath. And her pussy, already there, shimmering, dribbling down your cock, waiting.

Somi’s waiting for your permission.

So, taking her by the back of her neck, pulling her close, kissing her hard. Forcing this whine into your throat as your cock bumps up against her folds, sets off fireworks down her spine.

It’s a translation. Your need, from your tongue to hers, telling her that it’s only her that can do this you. Can rip you from responsibilities, from sanity, from all the shit that’s been keeping you going for the last thirty days.

Telling her that it’s worth giving it all up for just a taste, because maybe that’s the point of the challenge in the first place. Not a matter of self-control but a way to save yourself for something—someone—so potent, so powerful, so fucking irresistible that you just have to surrender to.

You pull apart, breaths hot and ragged, tongues still connected by strands, your hands already at her waist.

“You’re going to ride me, Somi. You’re going to cum on my cock and I’m going to watch it all.”

Somi nods, understanding.

Letting you guide her by the hips, sliding her fingers between her legs to take hold of your cock, aiming it at her entrance.

Lowering herself down, slow, so fucking slow, like it’s a brand-new form of torture, until your cock is nestled at the entrance of her heat, and you’re both vibrating with the anticipation of it, the gravity of this moment.

You take a harsh breath. “Ready?”

Somi presses her forehead to yours. Teasing, “Are you?”

And then, inch by inch, dragging her cunt down your shaft, making you feel every bit of her wetness, her tightness, every bit of her heat, Somi takes you in.

Pussy tightening around you like a fist, walls pulsing, massaging your cock, like she’s already trying to milk you dry. This moan that’s torn from her lips, deep and primal, something she’s been holding in for far too long, this needy, unholy cry that takes the shape of your name.

And when she’s bottomed out, when you’ve filled her until all she knows is you, Somi looks down in your eyes, nothing but pure, unfiltered lust strewn across her face. “Everything you were hoping for?”

You try, but fail, to form coherent words, just manage a grunt of pleasure, a nod of your head, and she laughs—it's the sweetest, most evil sound you've ever heard. She's got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“Good to know,” she says, and that’s all she needs to start moving, to set the rhythm that’s going to shake the walls, send them crashing to the ground until all that’s left is the two of you fucking amongst the rubble.

Her thighs tighten around you, hips start to roll in a way that’s just too fucking good, too fucking perfect. The friction is everything, makes the world narrow to just the two of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the drenched slick of her pussy, the heavy scent of her filling the air.

“Baby,” she repeats, each time her thighs slap down against yours, each thrust all the way up into her guts. “This cock is so perfect for me, so fucking—”

A snap of your hips into her, pulling her down hard, making her tits jump at the force of it, making Somi wail. There’s her cunt, spasming around you, tightening, trying to hold you in, trying to keep you there, but you’re not letting up.

You take over, holding by the hips and fucking her, like you’ve been waiting for, like you’ve been so fucking desperate for, like she needs so badly.

“God, you’re really—really fucking pent up, aren't you?" Somi's words are chopped up by the relentless thrusts of your hips, making her stutter, her voice all strained and breathy. Bouncing on you now, letting you set the pace, eyes screwed shut, just giving herself over to you. “I’m so, so lucky. So lucky that it gets to be me that breaks you. That takes you. That gets all this cum you’ve been saving this whole time.”

You’re gritting your teeth, unable to do anything but just fuck. Driven mad by it, by every impulse coming right up to the surface.

Everything you’ve been holding back, it’s all here, being unleashed onto Somi.

Fuck her, fill her, make her scream—‘Please, please, please’. Those are the only thoughts in your head now. Forget about the job, the photographs, the responsibility—just be yourself, a man on the edge, ready to jump off the fucking cliff.

“Baby,” Somi’s repeating, as your fingers find purchase in her ass, as she lays kisses on your shoulder, marking you up along your neck and down your jaw. There’s other words too—filth, all of it; whining to you about how you’re filling her up so good, about how she’s so wet for you, about how you’re going to make her cum so hard. But it’s all just noise to you. Noise that can be summarised in the simplest of requests, right from Somi’s lips—“Please, fucking use me.”

It's the perfect way to come apart—have someone like Somi, with her heavenly tits in your face, and her greedy, greedy cunt soaking up everything you’re willing to give. Begging, wanting, needing to be ruined.

“So fucking tight for me,” you’re kissing into her chest, finding your voice somewhere between her breasts. Telling her, “Fuck, Somi, your pussy. It’s so good for me. So fucking perfectly wet.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Somi sighs back, arms barely hanging on, holding at your neck, unable to do nothing but whimper and bear it. Bear this fucking you’re giving her, your cock invading her cunt, making her pussy tighten around it like a vice, making her abs clench, her tits jump, her throat swallow—making her sweat.

It’s like she was made for this—cunt made for your cock, body made for your arms. Somi, perfectly designed to be used by you. To moan and whine at your mercy; to be fucked, to be filled, to ruin you and to be ruined all the same.

“I can’t, I’m trying but I can’t hold on,” Somi’s teary-eyed, kissing at your face, your neck, her breath hot and sweet against your ear. “Baby, please. I need to feel you. Need more of you.”

And you’re only too eager to oblige.

Lifting your head, pulling her body closer. Catching her left nipple in your mouth, sucking hard, nipping at the peak until she’s gasping, until she’s arching her back, pressing her chest closer. Feeling the flesh flush against your lips, hitting your chin with each hard thrust.

Fuck, her tits. You could suffocate between them only to claw your way out of the grave just for another taste.

Her nails dig into your scalp, demanding more—more attention, more adoration, more worship. You give it to her—switching between each of her breasts, suckling and licking, making her whine and buck against your teeth.

“Just like that, you’re so good at that, so good with my tits,” she moans, short, tiny sighs that send your hips jerking upwards. Fucking her faster, quick, staccato thrusts that hit her just right, make her walls quiver around you. “They’re yours, all for you. All of me is yours.”

Her orgasm builds; it’s palpable, a storm brewing in the studio, sweeping up everything in its path. Each breath she takes is a hitch, a little cry, a whine. So tight around you, fucking her so hard, so deep that you can feel it coming from the inside out.

“Filling me so good, so, so good,” she mewls, and there’s still some fight in her left, a burst of energy in her thighs, allowing her to grind down harder, drop her ass on you—an up, down, up, down that echoes through the studio with each smack.

“You’re going to cum for me Somi,” you’re telling her, detailing exactly how she’ll come completely apart. “You’re going to cum all over my cock, you’re going to scream for me when you do it, okay? Tell me how good it feels.”

“Yes, yes, yes, tell me what you want—anything—I’ll do it, I’ll be so, so good for you—”

“You’re going to beg me for my cum, Somi. Going to beg me to give it to you until you can’t take any more,” you’re growling, your teeth sinking into her tits, your tongue pushing up against her flesh, making her sing.

You’re fucking her apart, tearing her in two with your cock. This girl you've only just met, who only just walked into your life; nothing but sex in a pair of high heels, and you’re already rearranging the furniture of her soul.

Now she’s the one that can’t make sense of things, can’t form full sentences—just incoherent whines and cries, each one stacking on top of the other, until the foundation’s all tilted and it’s going to collapse any second now.

Just waiting for you.

Separate from her chest, take a fistful of her hair, pull her back so you can look in her eyes and see. See just how badly you’re ruining her, how terribly she’s falling apart.

Make sure she can see you, has her attention on nothing but you when you tell her, finally, “Cum. Cum for me, Somi. All over my cock.”

She’s breaking.

“Now.”

“Please, I—” Somi’s words live and die on her lips, barely making it out before it hits her, seizes her entirely, forces her cunt to strangle your cock as she shatters.

It’s all there, her pussy tightening, pulsing, clenching, releasing in this quake of bliss that feels like a sucker punch straight through your gut.

When she cums it hits her, hits you, waves of heat washing over your cock, splashing down onto your thighs. It’s the sensation. So overwhelming, so undeniable, grinding down her orgasm onto you, pleading, over and over and over again, “Don't stop, don't stop, please!”

Writhing in your arms, needing to be held close to stop her from falling off the couch completely. Eyes rolling, head thrown back, exposing her neck, the perfect arc of her throat. Her body jolts, jerks, twitches, and it has you fucking hypnotised.

And all Somi can do is say, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

She keeps going, until each thread is unravelled, until you’ve fucked loose every last bit of control she’s got, until she’s nothing but a trembling mess in your arms.

But it’s not over, not yet.

You’re still hard, so fucking hard. Bursting at the seams. And Somi’s looking down at you, pulling herself back together. Seeing your cock, buried inside her. Seeing the mess you’ve made of her, her own pussy. Seeing everything.

And she’s smiling, because she knows what comes next.

“Use me.”

You lift her off your cock, so easy to carry; her tiny waist in your hands, she’s so light. Still shivering, these tiny, little aftershocks quivering through her, it’s like she’s clay in your hands, ready to be moulded at your discretion.

Somi gasps when she’s laid out on the couch, her legs spread wide, her cunt leaking down her thighs, all cream and cum. She adjusts herself, makes herself comfortable, presentable. Putting herself in the best possible state to be used by you.

“Use me, baby,” she repeats again, that sweat plea that’s going to be you’re undoing. She’s so, so needy, practically whining for more, for everything, for anything as long as it involves your cock and her.

You stand over her, cock at the ready, eyes on your next target, the natural stage for the grand finale, the pièce de resistance of this whole fucked up photoshoot—Somi’s breasts.

She follows your gaze, realises, “You want to fuck these tits, don’t you?”

You find your voice gravelly, deep. “Yeah.”

Somi giggles, hands at her chest, taking either side of her breasts, pushing them together with her palms and creating this gorgeous valley, just waiting for your cock. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to beg.”

Somi blinks. Once, twice. Sees the look on your face, sees how hard you are for her, how desperate you are to let go.

But she knows how much you need to hear it. Knows how much she wants to say it.

“Please. Baby, please. Fuck my tits. Cum all over me. I need it.” Somi’s licking her lips, massaging her breasts together, showing you just how soft they are, how ready they are for you. “I need to feel your cum on me. All over me. My face, my neck, my chest. Everywhere. Let me do this for you.”

That’s it.

You’re back on the couch, straddling her stomach. Knees on either side of her waist, cock between her tits. Soft, warm, inviting.

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that,” you manage, each word a mountain of effort as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts.

It’s a gentle push, that’s all it takes, and Somi starts to move, making her tits jiggle around your dick, squeezing it from either side as you slide your cock up and down. So focused, eyes on your cock, then back to your face, studying your every reaction, waiting for that moment when you crack.

And it’s coming so soon, you’ve been teetering on the edge since Somi first walked in—fuck, on edge for thirty days—and now you’re hurtling towards the fall.

You’re not going to last, not when Somi’s got you like this. Her hands moving with you, her tits bouncing in time with your strokes. The cushioning of her breasts around you; this gentle, sweet, torturous pressure that has you grunting, has you smearing drops of yourself all over her chest.

“Fuck, you look so good between my tits. So hard. Doesn’t it feel right? Like this is where your cock fucking belongs. This is what my tits were made for. For you,” Somi’s whispering, stringing these words together like a spell. “You can go faster, baby, I won’t break. Just let go and use me like the slut I am.”

Pleading for it, so desperate for you. Sweet words, encouragement, filth, like a drug, pushing you close and closer to the brink.

Just obey, pump faster, fuck her tits quicker, watch as your cock slices through her cleavage, the gloss it leaves over her skin. See Somi, licking her lips, devouring you with her eyes, just waiting for you to join her on the other side of oblivion.

“Cum for me, baby. Please, please. I need it—I need to feel it—please!”

Her tongue stretches past her lips, flicking out to catch the tip of your cock, making you groan. Leaning in, breath hot on you, cock hitting her lips with every thrust, every drive through her tits. So fucking greedy, so eager to taste, so needy to be the one responsible for your total ruin.

“Oh, oh, oh, baby—yes—yes—yes—yes—”

She pinches her nipples, twists them just right, moans—

You feel it immediately—your balls tighten, your cock swells, and then—release.

Intense is the only way to describe it.

So fucking intense.

White hot jets of cum spurt out, firing everywhere, making a mess of her, coating her chest, her neck, her chin, her lips, her nose—splashing down all over her.

It’s a frenzy, a natural disaster, a hurricane that’s been building for one long fucking month, and now it’s here.

The way her eyes widen, the way her mouth opens, gasping for air, the way she shakes—she wanted this, but there’s no fucking way she was prepared for it.

And when you back up, she dives forward, hand seizing the base of your cock and pumps. Wrists twisting in this aching motion, winding up and down your cock, wringing you out until you’re just a slave to her fingers, her tits, her touch.

“Keep going, baby, keep cumming for me, give me everything,” she begs, sending shivers all the way from your shaft down to your spine as she works your cock.

You do, you have no choice, no say in the matter. You give her everything.

You're coming apart, torn from your own body in sticky, hot waves that leaves you absolutely breathless.

And she’s a fucking mess. All of her—her face, her neck, her tits. So beautiful covered in you. So utterly used. So utterly yours.

It takes a moment for the tremors to stop, for the world to come back into the focus. You sit there, panting, feeling like you’ve just done a triathlon and then climbed a mountain. Somi’s just smiling at you, looking at you through her lashes, glued together with your cum, her own little giggles escaping every now and again.

She looks like a dream.

“Fuck, Somi—”

“Mm?” She looks so content, so at peace with the universe. Wearing your cum like fine jewellery. As if she’s the one that just had the best orgasm of her life.

“You’re—” But what the fuck do you say? That she’s ruined you? That she’s shattered your world? That you’ll never be able to look at a camera again without thinking of her?

Ah.

That’s what you’ll do.

You lean down, pick the camera off the floor, and then—snap.

Somi, looking so sloppy and obscene. Looking like everything you never knew you needed. Looking like she belongs to you.

She wipes away at her eyes, collects the cum on her finger, before dipping it into her mouth. Sucking, tasting the flavour of your need.

“Get the shot you wanted?”

You let out a long, heavy exhale, sliding off the couch, off her, sitting on the floor next to her. Resting your head on her thighs while Somi just lies there, sprawled out, utterly wrecked.

“You weren’t kidding,” she says. “One whole month.”

You remember to inhale. “Thirty days.”

She’s fighting a losing battle, cleaning the endless fountain of cum you’ve covered her with. Looking like she just streaked through a fucking snowstorm.

But she tries, collects as much as she can, smearing it into a sticky mess. Playing with it on her fingers, rolling it around her tongue, enjoying this way too much.

You raise the camera, aim it at her. The way she’s looking at you, the way her hand moves, so fucking casual—like it's her natural state of being. Making you believe that Somi should be covered in cum, all the time. It's only right.

You just can’t help yourself. You click.

“I haven’t been fucked like that since,” Somi starts, clearly not minding being the subject of your post-coital art. “Since ever. That was—"

“A trainwreck,” you’re saying, and then finishing when you catch the look on her face, “Not like that. It was insane. Intense. Really, thirty days or not, it was fucking life changing.”

Somi smiles. “Good to know I didn’t disappoint.”

“Just. These photos. Completely unsalvageable. None of that can be sent to your agency.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Somi says, so easily, so carefree, as if she didn’t just obliterate every single professional boundary you’ve ever set. “Let me have a look. There must be some photos at the start that are useable. From before you… lost focus.”

You pass her the camera, let her scroll through the shots, see all the pornographic filth the two of you have created. She flicks through, each click another photo, another reminder of what you’ve done, what she’s done to you.

And she’s enjoying it. These little smirks, the nods of approval. Fascinated by these photos of her, of her body in these stages of ecstasy.

“Ah, yup. No. Nope. Definitely not. Oh, and that one is just… yeah.” Somi’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of awe in it. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“It’s what you do to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, continuing until she gets to the last of the photos. “That’s pretty fucked. These are pretty fucked up. But, like. Beautifully fucked up.”

“Thanks,” you say, throwing your hands up, letting one fall on Somi’s thigh. It rests there, draws a circle over the smooth warm, skin.

It’s a good feeling. Having her here, like this. So relaxed, so comfortable. Knowing her in the most intimate ways possible, yet still not knowing much about her at all.

She sighs when your hand moves higher. You throb.

Yeah. After thirty days, only one time is not going to be nearly enough.

You already want to dive back into the land of debauchery with Somi, bring up more of those repressed fantasies you’ve been waiting to realise, even though you’re still knee-deep in the aftermath of the first round.

It’s in Somi’s eyes as well, you can feel it in the air, from the heat radiating off her skin—she's not done with you either.

Far from it.

You're going to ruin her again. You're certain of it.

“So,” she says, making a show of cupping her tits, raising them up to her mouth. Licking them clean.

Your response is swift. Immediate. “We’re going to have to reschedule.”

Somi’s laughter is pure gold. “How does thirty days from now sound?”

You blink. Stare at her, unamused.

She raises your camera.

Snap!

#kpop smut #somi smut #male reader

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