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acid-ixx · 2 months ago

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you are the only exception. (yandere! damian wayne x gn! reader drabble)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; discord server !

tw: implied s/h, bullying, and self-esteem problems.

ngl i'm thinking of damian — who's well past his childish tantrums and haughty behavior, once a child who has bloomed into a fully mature individual who can hold back his irritation towards his blockmates, courtesy of being raised dutifully by his family — paired with a pick-me reader who's the complete opposite, one so insufferable to everyone, to every professor, to the people who sit beside them, but most especially him.

you who loves to run your mouth off, talking in woes and poor attempts at prose to earn sympathy point: at how nobody ever likes you at all, how your friends are all unsupportive trash, how nobody ever chooses you as a group mate for class projects — not because you were some loner, no, your loud, grating mouth guarantees it could be heard from beyond the four walls encasing the suffering class; you were just lazy, cynical, someone who depends on others to achieve your goals yet somehow, some way, you'd end up with passing gpa — and when your professors would beg for anybody else to just pair up with you, while you sulk some corner and throw out some more venomous words to everyone else; it's oddly damian who has to stand up and just take one for the team, no matter how much he wants to shove a piece of paper down your throat to shut you up, no matter how much he sees his old self in you but denies it at every accusation.

at first, he actively despises you, because you're every bit of a liability under his responsibility whenever you're grouped with him.

and worse yet, he's the only guy around who can ridicule you without any sympathy for how you may have felt at the moment when he's degrading your poor attempt at your part for a project, he's the only one who can match up with your heartless statements, reduce your arguments with an equally unyielding drive to back you up to a corner when you realized he's the only one who wouldn't fold to you in defeat, when he wouldn't take your excuses at being late or absent to another group meeting. people around him praise him for how he handles the situation, somehow, even his professors, who'll greet him by the hallways, happy, smiles reaching past their ears, like the boy's a miracle granted by the world, and thank him for another job well done.

but he's also the same guy who breaks past your shell of false pretenses, who sees a misdirected sense of self-hatred in your widened eyes when he brings up another point to bring you down. who, as much as he pretends to hate you, hates it worse when you run off and past the double doors whilst the people in the background would emerge in celebration at another one of damian's win in your losing arguments; the boy could only drown out their pats in his back and invitation to treat him to lunch, he could only focus in the way your eyebags have been progressively worse, in the way bruises would appear more and more on your once, pristine skin, and how you'd just about avoid everyone else now— fear, he knows that emotion like he does the back of his hand, an undeniable weight swimming in your eyes when his "group of friends" would throw mockery in your way.

he's ultimately the only one to track you down afterwards.

actually, he's the only one who ever searches for you.

and then he finds you sobbing — without your normal bravado, without your fabricated, laid-back smiles — by an unlocked restroom. your cries were loud enough that you don't even flinch back at the sound of the stall's door opening, whilst he sees you emptying the contents of your empty stomach, witnesses you cry, and cry, and cry, unaware of his existence from behind you, as you beat at your heart endlessly, cry some more, scrape your bleeding knees against the tiled floors while he watches in utter dismay.

you mumble incoherently, in silent stutters through bitten, skin-peeled lips, yet somehow his sharp ears hear it.

— or maybe he's trained himself to always be the one who hears your voice, who recognizes it from a far distance when the people in your vicinity would groan at the sound of it; who knows its vibrato, its little quirks, how it wavers and how it quivers, all memorized by heart and by mind—

and he says it's part of what being born and raised as an assassin would do to you, but he's integrated into a seemingly normal life during the daylight, he knows when to block out people's voices, knows when to mind his business and knows when to carefully stay silent to analyze the surroundings like what a vigilante could do— and you're not villain, you're just a nobody to everybody, especially to damian, especially to him.

so it's strange, truly, how he knows you better than any person would, knows you better to the point where he knows your cries weren't a product of crocodile tears, to know that his words, how he called you "useless, a classless waste of air, pollution in the minds of like-minded, actually intelligent individuals," in a class of over thirty students, where all eyes are plastered on you; they did more than hurt you, they did more than just stinging your already crumbling persona— broke your rotting confidence, sliced it in half, sliced your heart in half at how everybody else laughed, agreed with his sentiments all mustered in a momentary whim.

even damian knows he doesn't mean those words, yet he also knows that everyone's perception of you is what he's stated— he knows the damage he's done.

he knows the sound of your heartbreak, feels the same pit of doom trembling in his heart as he watches you, watches your fingers dig deep into your battered skin, the high pitched scream rattling far beyond your parched throat.

and you are his business, you are his responsibility, even if you weren't, even if it wasn't his business to look after you after he's said all those cruel, degrading words.

he hears your legitimate woes: your undeniable self hatred, how it's your fault that everyone really does hate you, and it's your fault, it's your fault— that the only friend you could consider to be yours, that him, damian wayne, the same person who'd put you down, broke you with the simple truth, to the point where everyone else thought it as an invitation to destroy you even further; you hate yourself for leading him to hating you.

the only guy who's willing to share a desk with you, who listens to another wave of your superficial rambling, who sat beside you on the cafeteria table when you're all alone because all your old friends have cut you out of their lives, told you you were too draining, too attention seeking, too fucking annoying to be with and you know you are— and yet damian somehow managed to conceal his bubbling irritation at yet another one of your statements, talking about how, "people just can't get me, dami. they just can't."

and he listens, he listens because he's the only one who could, whose patience never wavers amidst your terrible display of affection; when your laughs sounded like crackling fire, which only burns brighter and warmer, when you'd slap his shoulders way too hard at another unfunny joke of yours, when you belittle your ex-friends because they can't handle your true self, or whatever you call it.

he does it with an air of coolness, until he couldn't anymore.

he slammed his fists on the plastic desk, and told you to shut up, insulted you, spewed venom towards you in front of everybody else after days, stretching past weeks 'til he couldn't handle the months of being forced to hear you rambling about yourself during a lecture, always yourself, that he loses it.

heartless as it is, you know his words were true.

you know you're hated by everybody, why else would damian be the exception to that hatred for an individual so unwanted like you?

it's shameful of you, it's terrible of you. you're a waste of space, a waste of air, a waste of life that you scream: about wanting to die, about wishing you were never born in the first place because everyone hates you.

damian, whom you thought made you an exception, hates you.

he hates you, he hates you so, so much and he admits to only tolerating you, everyone only tolerates you.

and he hates you.

— he doesn't.

it doesn't take much for him to drag you out of that stall, pin you down on the floor when he sees a blade on your dominant hand, inches away from drawing out blood from your wrist, from landing on a vein and slicing mercilessly like your life doesn't matter.

— like you don't matter to him.

it doesn't take much to shove that piece of metal away and onto another empty stall, far away from your reach, as he finds himself heaving on top of you, his arms pinning down your wrists to stop you from hurting yourself, legs locked on your waist to ground you even further, as he finds unfamiliar panic rise in his throat at— at that.

at your disregard for your life, at how he could've been the reason he's lost you.

when he returns to his senses, when he sees your disbelief on your poor, sunken eyes, hollowed, tear-stricken cheeks. when your attempts at kicking him, at the muscles on his thighs wouldn't do you any good, you're forced to return his heartbroken gaze towards you, forced to feel every shiver racking from his body.

how his fingertips would press deeper on your wrists, how he gulps in a patterned succession, how you never really see someone like damian be so utterly wrecked, even more-so than you that another tear escapes your waterline, your eyes closing in resignation, ignoring the way his head has slowly been lowering itself to you.

until the tip of his nose touches yours, nuzzles against it even, until you open your eyes and find his face so intimately close with yours, his warm breath hitting your skin clashing with the cold feel of the clean tiles. you can see every imperfection littering his skin: the split on his lips, the slit at his brows, those brilliant eyes greener than emeralds; wide, imposing, looking at you and only you.

"wh—!"

"don't you even dare do that again, (name)."

his right hand releases its harsh grip on your wrist, making way to cup your face whilst his face only moves closer, so close you could almost feel his disheveled hair touching your forehead, his lips nearly slotting with yours, almost feel your chest fuse with his— hear the thumping in his chest match your own heartbeat. when his palms move to touch your chin, thumb nimbly pressing itself on your cracked lips, he releases a tsks, swiping away at the blood as he brings it up to his lips to taste it.

you can only watch in breathless awe as his tongue licks away at the remaining blood, his eyes still plastered on you, glaring, squinting as he waits for your reply in bated breaths. the fingers from his other hand pinning you down eventually tangles with yours, calloused palms warm, refusing to let go; his other hand, meanwhile, returns to your face,

you can't comprehend the gears churning on his otherwise stoic expression, but you can tell from how his brows subtly furrow, that he's probably irritated, or nitpicking you like some specimen. you don't know, you can't tell, you're still... still experiencing the withdrawals of your wasted tears easlier, unable to understand the brewing desperation in damian's chest.

(and you can't exactly imagine the exact process going on in his mind. you can't picture someone like damian trying his damned best to not kiss your pretty face while you're on the floor with him right now. how he wants to feel your chapped lips pressing deeply against his own moist one, for you to taste the chapstick on him that you lovingly complimented him using one day; what it would feel like for his face to fuse so closely with yours until he could feel his eyelashes batting on your own— he can't, not while the restroom's doors are unlocked and he wouldn't want to share that intimately passionate moment with anyone else but you, and not while he can see the fading colors of yellows and blue splotched on your eyes that he once clumsily dismissed as imagination).

"tell me what happened," he bluntly demands, a grunt reverberating from deep in his throat. he's becoming more and more like his father these days, he notes to himself, but he can't deny how effective the intimidation factor is when he sees your eyes widen, knows he's gotten you right where he wants you to, when those precious orbs would flitter somewhere else in hesitation—

"(name)," this time, he calls more domineeringly, shifts in his leaning position just so that his face would be even closer to yours than it already possibly is — to the point you can smell peppermint and hints of that tea he loves to drink during early morning break time — yet you refuse to share eye contact with him, looking away, drowning out the sound of his heavy intakes of air; afraid, possibly, of the consequences if you were to confess how those friends of his loved to torment you in more ways than one—

no, you'd rather nobody knows about how truly weak you were, not even the person you proclaimed as your own friend.

those people would push your body to the walls of the campus' main building, uncaring if it inflicts bruises all over your body. they'd take your belongings, record you begging on your knees that they won't hurt you, and they'll fucking bash your face against the surface of the nearby garbage bin once they discover you're short on cash to pay enough for a day where they won't bother you.

you don't want him to worry about someone like you, who already caused him enough irritation. and if it means masking this stupid weakness of yours with artificial confidence, then you'll fake it 'til you make it.

that's what you're good at, that's what makes you survive in this world.

at least, that's what you thought until damian eventually had enough, clamps his thumb and index fingers on the sides of your face to force you to look him straight in the eyes, still unyielding from his position. you can't exactly move, you don't have anything else to distract you from damian nearly breathing down on your neck, and you don't know why he's so insistent on finding out what's wrong with someone he oh-so obviously despises.

"i—" he sighs before you could get a word in, like he's predicted an excuse to befall from your tongue, warm fingers gently grazing your cheeks, eyes still focused on your befuddled face.

"... fine, if you wish not to tell me..." his fingers stop mapping your face, thumb settling on the marred bruising on your right eyes, feeling the way you wince at even the slightest of contact. he can feel his adrenaline spike, the anger boiling right beneath the seams of his fingertips, ready to inflict pain and suffering on whomever dared to touch you.

because with just how avoidant you are of discussing the issue with him— that means it's someone else who caused these injuries on you, someone idiotic enough to mess with him of all people.

"... i will find out myself, and i will impose the proper punishment on those... those sub-humans who dared touch what is mine."

"wh- what do you mean—?" it's the first time he hears you talk without that grating pitch in your voice, the first time he hears that airy disposition that comes out in your most vulnerable moments; shit, he swears by the world that he'll protect this side of you from anyone who dares it away from him.

"i mean what i said. you are mine."

"so do not take my previous words to heart, i never meant it, i never meant to hurt you, habibi/habibti."

you're frozen in place as he sighs again, shakes his head, moves up so that his lips could kiss your temples, then it trails down to your cheeks, all the way to your heated ears. he mutters an apology in his mother tongue, you know because he mutters it with a pout during the times when his strength was too much, when he'd accidentally deliver an all-too powerful strike on your body that one time when you'd attempt to wake him up the first time you witnessed him sleeping in classes; and you can't tell the exact words, but it sounds like poetry, like silken honey dripping down on your thoughts.

all you can do is nod, which garners a kiss on the shell of your ears, before he ultimately shares another stare down with you.

"i am your boyfriend now," he declares, like it's some unbreakable law with no loops to escape from, "and because i am yours, and you are mine, that means i have every right to find the people who hurt my beloved, i have every right to deal the necessary pain towards anything that hurts you."

"you do not have to pretend around me anymore, do you understand?"

somehow, some way, the only thing you can plaster up right now is a shaky hum and your own fingers cupping his cheeks — the action alone caused tingles to erupt from his spine, and he swears it's like magic, your touch — afraid to reject him after he's practically confessed to you... which was enough.

enough for him to seal the deal, to finally slot his warm lips on yours, eyes closed, on the clean, restroom floors, sealing the deal.

you can only return the passion ten fold, when you realize just how devoid you are of human contact.

and that's when it clicks— how much he means it, how much he's deeply in love with you, with this persona of yours and the real you.

how he's willing to make an exception as long as it was you.

damian never expected already having planned his wedding vows to the likes of someone like you, someone so terribly foul-mouthed, that in some strange, twist of the world, he ends up falling in love real hard for you.

day by day.

he ends up falling for you when he's the only one you show your true colors to: someone vulnerable, someone who reflects the past him, someone who didn't have anyone to correct your mistakes.

he loves that version of you, he loves it when he is your exception, too.

to the point that when you eventually returned to your old persona, when you go off into another insufferable tangent— when someone rolls their eyes at you, or when someone opens their mouth to rebut and tell you to, for once, shut your fucking trap; somehow, this guy who used to glare daggers at you during chem classes, who would dig his fingers on your shoulders as a warning that it's not even the time to talk—

he was now actively defending your statements with all his passion, no matter how ridiculously ear grating, unrealistic, downright egotistical it may sound. those people would end up with dirt dug up on them, suspended, sometimes even expelled. his old "friends" were no exceptions once he realized they were the reason for your bruises, from when they pushed your body and beaten you black and blue from behind the campus' main building; they were thoroughly dealt with, efficiently, silently.

they were no more.

and just as quickly as he defends you, you're both now renounced as the gotham u's most untouchable couple. professors couldn't possibly attempt to expel any one of you because your behavior conducts, paired with damian being oddly professional with dealing the people who'd talk you down, doesn't truly disrupt anything.

... or at least, that is what everyone convinces themselves out of fear that they'd tick you off and they'll be victimized by another one of damian's threats.

'cause in the end, you did end up being chosen by, quite possibly, the worst contender for your own attention seeking method of gaining affection.

in the end, you're the only exception.

no matter how insufferable you may be.

a/n: if this flops, i will cry and then disappear some more /j also, june 16 is again & again's one year anniversary, and i have writer's block 😭🙏 that's the worse nerfing in one of my most special occasions. anyways, don't mind the subpar writing, i wrote this on a whim since i just got a random burst of inspiration but it's not the best i have so far because again, writer's block. apologies for this 😔✊ it's genuinely so bad but it's what i can only produce rn.

#🌷... yael's works #🧁... yael's misc.#yandere damian wayne #yandere robin #yandere dc #yandere dc comics #yandere batfam #yandere damian wayne x reader #romantic yandere #soft yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere angst #yandere fluff #yandere #yandere x y/n

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thetxtdevil · 3 months ago

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Pediatric Surgeon *TXT's Anatomy*

Doctor!Soobin x Doctor!Reader

summary: Dr. Soobin requests your assistance on a case, prompting you to prepare for the surgery in a different type of way.

content: smut, hospital setting (if you don't like anything correlating to blood and anything medical don't read), descriptions of surgery, female reader, perv.reader, perv.dom.soobin, wet dream, degrading, mutual masturbation, panty fucking, fingering, panty stealing implied

word count: 2.7k

The early morning sun glowed with an orange hue through the hospital’s corridor windows as you stepped into the bustling building. The scent of antiseptic is thick in the air, yet with a deep breath, you take in a rich, comforting scent from the coffee shop built within the nook of the entrance. Like a moth to a flame, the roasted beans lead you to the cashier, ordering your mocha latte. As you pull your wallet out, a hand is roughly placed on top of yours, “Can I get an iced americano, and I’ll pay for hers too.” The warm, husky tone of the voice makes your head tilt your head up to see a man whom you unfortunately don’t see often, Choi Soobin, a Pediatric Surgeon. He shyly glances at you while taking back his credit card. A slight turn of his lips causes a cascade of his cute features to show, dimples indenting his blushed cheeks, pushing up his dark eyebags, which were almost covered by his thick-framed glasses. Irises that couldn’t help but glance down at your lips, which also turned into a smile. “Thank you.” The man opens his mouth to say something, but only a huff of air comes out. He avoids eye contact with you, hands reaching out for both freshly made coffees, handing one to you. “What? What is it?” You say walking with him up to the surgical floor.

Soobin sips his cold drink, his eyes jumping everywhere except you, deep in thought. “I-I bought your coffee to ask you something. Well, because I am a nice guy, but—” You quirk an eyebrow, watching him fidget with the fluffy texture of his coat, “I have this patient, and I want your opinion.”

You nod. “I’ll take a look after my rounds, is that okay?”

“That’s perfect. Thank you so much, Dr. y/l/n.” His eyes light up. Soobin was so respectful to you, even though he’s been in the field longer than you. You wondered if he was like this to every co-worker or just to you.

You situate the stethoscope around your neck and scan the patient list on your tablet. The digital clock above the nurses' station read 7:47 AM, it was getting to the time to check on your patients, as the nurses line up to give report, and other occupations stand and wait to speak if needed. You take note of new information about each patient, keeping tabs with every word the nurse says to you. Focused on the pile of charting and prognoses, you lost track of how many patients you had. “Alright, who else?”

“Doctor, those are all your patients.” A social worker says.

“Oh… really?” You look back at your notes, and you see that your schedule has enough free time to fit in Soobin’s patient, if needed. “Well then, let’s get back to work.”

You’re also surprised when you tilt your coffee cup up to only receive a few lukewarm droplets from the lid. That's when you see the tall man turn around the corner, his brown fluffy jacket switched into a white lab coat. Soobin’s clean dress shoes squeak as he stops in his place, noticing you staring. Blush creeping on his face, the color of a rose gets darker the closer he gets to you. “Hello again,” you say in a sultry tone.

“H-hi, here is the patient’s chart. She’s darling, she can’t talk as much, but she already is so kind and calm.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach while listening to Soobin talk about his patient. He shows how good of a doctor he is with his patient care.

Memories flood your mind, thinking about your days as an intern. Soobin was a few years ahead in the program, already working on his specialty. You remember fellow surgeons giving him shit for being shy and wanting to be in pediatrics. Small-minded fools underestimated the specialty, thinking it’s just child’s play. That is, until everyone had a rotation on the floor getting yelled at by multiple parents, then to work on miniature anatomy. The thing that really changed your classmate’s perspective on Soobin was his argumentative skills; everyone hates family confrontation, but Soobin knew how to put parents in their place when questioning their child’s diagnosis. You’re happy that he’s well-respected these days, yet still has that shy demeanor.

However, you’re currently finding yourself having a hard time reading the various numbers from the blood test as you feel his eyes lingering on you. Usually, doctors will continue to talk or take the time to close their eyes for a power nap while their colleague looks over their work, but this wasn’t the case. In your peripheral vision, you could feel his eyes taking in your form. The strawberry flavor from your gloss doesn’t help your habit of biting your lip, concluding the child's prognosis.

Soobin’s intense stare falters, and he lets out a sigh. “I don’t like the way this is going,” he mumbles. You hum in confusion, urging him to explain, “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

You stare into the man’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Soobin. She needs a heart transplant.” You click out of the patient’s files.

The tall doctor lets out a heavy sigh, eyes for the first time off of you, now closed as a sign of thought. His shoulders were tense, body leaned against the desk. The weight of his stress filled the air; you so badly wanted to hug him. “I’m going to have to call the organ transplant company,” his head tilts, eyes meeting yours again, “you’ll join me for the surgery.” Stunned at his assertiveness, he’s not asking, he’s not wanting help, he just wants you.

“I’ve never worked on small hearts, only… big hearts.”

Soobin chuckles at your comment, “Don’t worry, I’ll do most of the work, but I can teach you.”

Your eyes light up, you were never one to let down a learning opportunity, especially if the teacher is as hot as Dr. Soobin. You stop to admire the doctor before you blurt out, “Am I out of line to say that I can not believe you’re not married with a bunch of kids?” A blush burns across your face, realizing what you had just said.

Soobin’s eyebrow furrowed, head tilting, trying to digest what you had said, “If you were still my intern, yes. However, you are my fellow attending, so all I have to say is, that’s a weird thing to say.”

“I mean, come on, look at you, you’re—“ you pause.

“Pretty?” He grins.

“Yeah, it seems like you know that already-” this is going way out of line, “You'd think taking care of all those sick children, you wouldn't want to do anything with making one..." Pressing your lips shut, imagining them to magically lock into place before you get yourself into trouble.

Soobin stands there a bit, his usual soft, round eyes now glaring at you. Shaking his head slightly, he walks closer to you, whispering in your ear, “Sweetheart, you couldn't be more wrong."

Watching the doctor walk off, you shake your head out of disbelief, “I need to take a nap after all that.”

%%%

Your heart beats loudly in your ear, nerves fill your senses as you scrub your arms until they hurt from the sterilizing. Warmth hits your face behind your surgical mask with your one last sigh of confidence. Staring at the operating table through the window, you open the door to the room.

“Alright, everybody, we have a patient here for a heart transpl-” stopped mid-speech, you’re struck with an empty bed before you, “where’s my patient?”

Rushing into the dimly lit operating room, you don’t question the quiet surroundings. Worry bubbles up in your stomach now, noticing you’re in a completely deserted room. “What the hell?” Have I gone crazy? Is there a room full of workers waiting for me in another room? Or is there even a surgery scheduled?”

You stood there like a fool, breaking the sterile field as your hands grazed the lonely table. Suddenly, a heavy weight encapsulates you, arms on your sides, pushing you against the surface in front of you. “Glad you could make it, Doctor,” said a familiar, warm, husky voice near your ear.

You gasp feeling the man’s hips grind against your ass. “Soobin w-what are you doing? I need to get to surgery.” His lips trail hungry kisses along the exposed part of your neck. Your warm sighs made it harder to breathe in your mask, ripping it away and turning towards the man, capturing his lips against yours.

“You have no surgery,” Soobin tugs harshly at your scrub gown, tearing away your pants with it, “however, I’m going to keep you busy.”

You were fully exposed while the other doctor kept his protective gear on. He holds you up, putting you on top of the operating table, then he pulls your legs apart. You could feel your juices dripping down your slit, causing a predatory stare eluminate in Soobin’s eyes. The once cozy, shy guy you knew him as was gone. His teeth bite his bottom lip as his gloved hand runs down your shaking thigh, dipping his fingers into your folds. Whipping your head back, you whine from the weird sensation of the smooth texture of the glove touching you. Playing with your folds, teasing your hole, you jerk your hips out of agony.

Soobin’s work of breathing is fast, warm against your lips, “What a little slut,” a finger slides into you, “but you know that already,” another finger, “you don’t think I notice how you stare at me?” Three fingers slip inside your cunt painfully stretching you out, each drag was smooth yet loud from your arousal. Tears are prickling in your eyes out of pleasure.

“Please, Soobin, please, please…”

Tightly shut eyes relax to flutter open, expecting to see the scrubbed pediatric surgeon and his fingers inside you; instead, your vision clears up to a dusty, dimly lit on-call room. You groan, fist hitting against the firm bed, losing that addictive sexual pleasure. Cursing yourself for coming up with such a lewd dream. Turning in your bed to reach for your work phone, you catch a silhouette of someone across from you. He sat there, still, yet his breathing looked a little erratic. Your eyes trail down, the sparse lighting from the window highlights the prominent veins on his arms, down to his grip on his bulge.

“Soobin, how long have you been there?”

The man shifts in his seat, the grip on his cock tightens. Spit builds up in your mouth, noticing the outline of the head underneath his trousers.

“I came in to get some rest before our surgery, but-“ his plush lips parted, eyes taking in your form lying pretty on the cushion. “I got preoccupied.”

You look at him funny, not knowing how much of the dream was revealed in reality. “What now?”

Soobin once again sighs, head tilting back as he lets his hand go under his pants. You swear you were drooling like a hungry dog watching the scene take place. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple, eyebrows scrunched up, perfect heart-shaped lips releasing whimpers. If he’s going to play dirty, you will too. You slide your hand under your light blue pants, snaking your fingers past the lacey hem of your panties. The tips of your digits push into you, collecting your wetness to come up and circle your clit. Soobin’s sharp eyes watch the way you roll back in pleasure, his dick twitches at the sight. “Shit-” he curses to himself, he was warned about you and he was falling for it. Your eyes wince over to him, your fingers tented your pants, movements evident. “Let me help,” Soobin says in a huff.

“Mmm, I don’t know… You watched me sleeping like a perv.” You say with a smile, all while you lift your hip into your hand.

Soobin launches himself from his chair towards your bed. Head hovering over yours, you couldn’t help but get turned on by his warm breath fanning over your face. “You don’t realize that I know you were having a wet dream,” your movement comes to a halt, “about me.”

You side-eyed the man. There’s no way he’d know unless you—“Soobin, please, Soobin.” He mocks you. The room was dark, but you both knew how red you’ve become. The doctor’s hand cups your face, thumb soothing your blushed cheek. Leaning down to your ear, and whispers, “Now can I help you?”

Your slow nod signals Soobin to go forward with his intentions. Sounds of rustling movements and creaking of the cheap cot had your hair standing on your arms. Light breaths paired with hums from the man get closer to your lips. The plush flesh molds into you; it was warm and addictive, just like in the dream. Deepening the kiss until the point where all the air rushes out of each other's lungs. Although he was battling with himself, Soobin breaks apart from you, “Let's do something more.” his fingers curl around your waistband, tugging down your pants to reveal your cute panties. A sigh slips from his pink lips, big brown eyes studying the detail of lace outlining the light pink material. You gasp feeling his thumb rubbing your sensitive cunt causing your wetness to soak through the material. Watching the man’s eyes glued to your pussy and play with it, you lean up to leave trails of kisses down his neck. Unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers trace his abs, this only caused you to become impatient, “Soobin, please,” you pause, realizing he was teasing you just like in the dream, “please do something.”

The man pulls down his trousers along with his underwear, fully exposing his fat cock to you. Every vein stuck out, pulsating in desperate need to be touched. Fat tip, red and covered in precum, showing that he teased himself too. His fingers never stopped playing with you, for some reason, your everyday underwear put the doctor into a trance. “C-can I fuck your panties?” The giggle you let out made Soobin blush for a second, but it told him to continue.

He guided his tip inbetween your cunt and the material, you arousal coating his dick made his whole body shiver. Slowly, he thrusts his tip against the fabric, hitting your clit every time. Soobin’s eyebrows knit together, looking at you falling apart, your mouth gaping, a sheen of sweat collecting at your neck. A jolt of electricity, resulting in your thighs twitching every time your sensitive nub gets hit with friction. Both of you turned on not only by the sensations but how his dick poked out from your ruined panties, the bulge was wet and delicious. Both moaning loudly, you know you were going to get caught again doing your “special naps” in the on-call room.

Soobin pants, pecking your neck before stuttering out, “D-does this f-feel nice? Do you want more?” Before you could say anything, you feel the man’s long fingers venture under your panties, tracing your hole. The drag of his digits paired nicely with the attention he gave your clit. He curled his fingers searching for gummy spots, making you squirm underneath him. Once he had you drooling, going dumb to the point of your climax, his movements sped up. Built up pleasure released, harshly clenching around the man’s cock. He twitched, thrust becoming more erratic, Soobin’s whole body clenches, emptying his load, making your panties useless.

You whine, “Soobin- look what you did.” The man lying on you shakes his head, basically telling you that he didn’t care. You roll your eyes, your hands grooming his soft, dark locks. He kept his obsession with playing with you until you got whiny again. Head lifting from your chest creeps down to your pussy, ridding the fabic. Soobin’s big eyes look up, “Call one of your roommates to get you new ones because you’re not getting these back.” He smirks before shoving his face into you, tongue lapping up your juices and cleaning up the mess he left on you.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🩺

taglist: @blue-moon-514, @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman, @izzyy-stuff, @biteyoubiteme, @saejinniestar

#txt devil #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin fanfic #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #choi soobin smut #choi soobin x reader #medical txt #doctor!txt

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bluebnny · 2 months ago

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Make it up to you

trafalgar law x gn reader

contents: law finding you after a fight, G/N reader, hurt/comfort, it gets super sweet at the end, established relationship, but implied to be recent

warnings: angst, a lot of mentions of fighting, emotionally constipated law (but you clicked on this, you know what you're getting yourself into), kind of toxic dynamic (nothing specific ig, hints of Law withholding affection, stuff like that)

a/n: this was originally meant to be part of my relationship headcanons for law, but ended up being way too long so i decided to make it its own post (and thereby have an excuse to make it even longer lol). Also this is a little messy, since i've rewritten it like 3 times, but it can't stay in my drafts forever. Dividers made by me. I really hope you enjoy, this was a lot of fun to write! <3

word count: 3.094

It’s just past lunchtime on the Polar Tang, and everyone is going about the submarine, finishing their tasks for the day. Everyone except for you, that is. You are in the crew's shared dormitory; a place you had also inhabited until not too long ago. Even though you practically live with Law in his captain's quarters, you never officially moved, meaning much of your stuff is still here. Initially, you had found it annoying to not be able to fit all your stuff into Law's already crammed room. But you will admit that it’s nice to have a place to go when you need some space. You're certainly thankful for it now, lying on your side, with your face pressed into the mattress you used to sleep on to muffle your cries.

You and Law had just had one of your rare fights. Between his snappy attitude and your quick temper, small arguments aren't out of the ordinary. You’re both stubborn people, so some amount of conflict is to be expected. Truth be told, you usually quite like bickering with him. It's fun when neither of you is actually angry, plus, you find Law incredibly cute when he loses his composure because of you (although you would never tell him that). You like knowing that you can get him all worked up in an instant, and you know he can't mind it that much either, if his crazy smile and fiery gaze are anything to go by.

But it’s rare for one of your minor daily disagreements to get out of hand. Especially like this. Law is fiercer in his arguing than you are, and far less likely to back down when met with resistance. Therefore, you’re usually the first to back off when you had let out your frustration, and he had always respected that.

Not today though.

Today had been your first time seeing Law livid. It was nothing like his usual exasperation when you teased him, where the glint in his eyes would betray how much he secretly loved it. Today, for the first time since knowing him, you had found no warmth in his grey eyes, detected no hint of excitement in his voice, no playfulness in his stance. For the first time, you had looked at Law and felt afraid.

Law hardy ever made you cry, and especially not this much. You’re not usually the type to let things get to you, so this reaction came as a bit of a shock even to you. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up, nor from running down your cheeks and dripping from your chin.

You had truly hated seeing him like that. Furious, hair messy from running his hands through it all day, eyebags heavier than you had ever seen them, and clearly at the limit for how much more pressure he could take. Law’s usual overworked, nerdy vibe had a clumsy sort of charm to it, and you had never missed it as much as you did then. But today, everything from his stance to his voice had screamed aggression, and although Law would never lay a hand on you, you hadn’t been able to stop the icy rush of panic root you to your spot.

Law had noticed, and had stopped arguing mid-sentence, body language easing up slightly and looking as though he was contemplating how to react. But before he had the chance to speak, you had taken your chance to leave, your legs suddenly willing to listen to you again.

That’s how, unsure if by choice or by instinct, you had ended up going straight to the crew’s quarters. Where you are now, still attempting to calm down the last little sobs your exhausted body can manage.

"Thought I'd find you here." Law is standing in the doorway. His voice is back to its usual level tone, carrying none of its earlier rage. You stay quiet, not meeting his gaze. Part of you is worried you might feel another rush of fear at the sight of him, even though he had obviously calmed down. Another part is simply still angry.

He takes your silence as permission to enter the room. Not that he needs it, being the captain of the ship. "Let's not fight anymore, ok? I didn't mean it like that, I was just angry." He sounds exhausted, and you don’t miss the slight impatience in his voice. You've been avoiding him for half the day, and it's clearly stressing him out.

Still, you don't respond, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't at first, wanting to see if his "apology" would be enough. Obviously, it isn't. You turn your head even further away from him, a clear sign that you expect more than that.

He sighs. "I get it, you're still mad at me. And I probably deserve it, too. Just, let me make it up to you." He steps closer, reaching out his hand, trying to show he was here to help you. And after a slight pause with still no reaction from you, his voice softens. "...please?"

You look up at him before you can stop yourself, not expecting him to start pleading so quickly. He looks like saying that caused him immense pain, but you know how being vulnerable in front of others makes Law deeply uncomfortable. You also know that it means you shouldn't push him too much now, or he'll just clam up and get angry again. So, you take his hand, and he quietly helps you to stand next to him.

"Just so you know, I'm still mad at you." It’s all you can think to say right now.

Despite your words, Law looks relieved that you're talking to him again. It encourages him to keep going despite his discomfort, knowing that it would make you feel better. "I took the rest of today off, so we can do whatever you want for the evening!" He looks almost enthusiastic. Well, for Law's standards at least. He’s clearly hoping that that will be enough of a gesture to cheer you up, but unluckily for him, you’re not one for grand gestures. You prefer words.

You start playing with his hands to avoid eye contact, tracing his tattoos. This fight was the worst you've ever had, not that there had been many. But the fact that law is so eager to extend an olive branch only shows you that he knows how badly he fucked up. You’re torn. On the one hand, you really want to forgive him and put this entire thing behind you. But on the other, you know that giving in now without standing up for yourself will only make you regret it later. So, you try to be honest.

"Law, I really want to, but-" you're cut off by an involuntary sob and mentally curse yourself for making this more complicated than it has to be. "...but y- you really hurt me this time and even though I want to, I don't know if I can forgive you just like that." You hadn’t meant for it to come out so dramatic, so final, but your sore throat won’t allow you to keep going.

The quiver in your voice shocks Law, who had expected you to calm down more quickly. He had hoped that he overestimated the seriousness of the fight. Seeing you still just as shaken up as you had been hours ago proving that he hadn’t. Although Law doesn't admit it, he is terrified of losing you, and that fear is now overtaking his mind. It’s clearly showing on his face, his composed demeanour slipping for the second time that day.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry. You know I would never hurt you on purpose." He speaks before he can even think, desperate to talk to you, to somehow make you understand how badly he needs you. Leaning down slightly, he gently takes your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. The tenderness surprises even himself. "I- I'm sorry." He stares directly into your eyes while saying it, almost panicking now, and it momentarily stops your tears. Your breath hitches, and the yearning look in your eyes makes his heart ache. But he can tell he said the right thing, so he continues. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I don't know why I treated you like that. That was wrong and I’m a rat bastard for ever daring to raise my voice at you, and... I'm sorry." He swallows hard.

There's a stunned silence, clearly, neither of you expected him to say all of that. You only allow yourself a moment to process, knowing how delicate the situation is. Law is putting himself completely at your mercy, like he had never done before. "You really mean that?" He is still holding your face, and you place your hands on his to keep him from pulling away.

"Yes. Fuck. Of course, I do." He looks hurt that you would even doubt that "Look I’m a horrible person. I'm even mean to Bepo! But I’ve been taking you for granted, and I want to treat you better before you inevitably realize you're far too good for me." He speaks like he’s in a hurry. Like you would leave if he doesn't say the right words fast enough. Or maybe he knows it is only a matter of time before he comes to his senses and tries to push his words back down again.

Swallowing hard, he continues. "You- you're so smart. You respect yourself enough to stand up for yourself, even against an asshole like me. But you shouldn't have to constantly fight to stand your ground against your own boyfriend.”

All you can do is listen, transfixed, your hands having moved to his face now. You are still staring at each other. Him as if trying to memorize your face before losing you forever, you as though just seeing him for the first time. Just taking him in.

His face is tense again, his brows furrowed, and his jaw tight, but you can tell it’s from passion this time. He leans down even closer to you, his hands now gripping you, DEATH enclosing you from both sides while he continues. Not letting you escape.

“And- I think I love you. Not because you put up with me and all my bullshit, but because you don't. And I can’t believe I’ve let myself drag you down with me in all my selfishness." Law is speaking so delicately now, like he’s choosing his words with care. If you hadn’t seen his mouth move, you would think someone else had said them.

You are both silent for a long time. Both processing what has just happened, all that has been said. You are trying to make sense of all the thoughts buzzing in your head. Law loves you. And most surprisingly of all, he was the one to say it first! If his bruising grip on your face wasn’t grounding you, you might have thought it was all a dream.

It feels like forever before Law speaks again.

"Well?" His voice is quiet, breathless. You only now notice that he is panting. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

You open your mouth, but your voice still won't come. You give him a shaky smile, and when the words still refuse to form, you simply decide to get to the point and kiss him. Although it isn’t a verbal answer, it tells Law everything he needs to know.

Maybe it’s due to the emotions still clouding your mind, or the adrenaline flooding your brain, but this is by far the best kiss you have ever shared with Law. And that’s saying a lot, since he’s a very good kisser, even on a bad day. You’re addicted to the way his lips press against yours, the warmth of his face soothing you. Law leans in deeper, and it is only when his hands travel down your back to wrap around your waist, that you realize they are no longer on your face. You wrap your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to deepen the kiss, and he obliges, letting your tongues dance around each other. You stay like this for what felt like an eternity, and you are starting to wonder how much time has passed since Law found you crying on the bed.

When you finally break the kiss, after about five hours, based on your best, but probably very inaccurate guess, Law’s eyes immediately find yours again. His gaze is intense, and you know exactly what he’s searching for.

“I love you. Law.” You don’t hesitate, a faint smile making its way onto your face again.

It’s like you can see the tension leaving his body, and he immediately pulls you into another hug, more tender and loving than you had thought him capable of. “I thought I had pushed you away for good.” He murmurs into your hair from where his face is pressed to the top of your head. “Do you want to go back to our room? I still have the evening off, you know.”

Your first thought is that he’s coming on to you, and you start to wonder if there were some romantic undertones you hadn’t picked up on, but then Law continues.

“We can have dinner there, just the two of us. And talk. And we can even cuddle.” He explains, but then quickly adds “I know you would probably like that.”

It takes everything in you to not break out the absolute biggest grin at Law’s quick save, allowing him to awkwardly masterfully maneuver his way out of seeming too eager on snuggling up with his partner in bed. You don’t let yourself linger on how he just let slip that he likes cuddling you, not wanting to make fun of him when he is so clearly wants to show you he is trying.

“That sounds perfect.” You tell him. You feel a sense of longing at his proposition, wanting nothing more than a quiet evening with your boyfriend, eating, talking, and then cuddling in bed before falling asleep. The emotional turmoil of the day has left you completely exhausted.

“Good. I’ll go clear out my desk then.” He’s back to being a little stiff now that the moment is over, clearly trying to compensate for all the emotions that had just been expressed. A slight flush in his face that you graciously pretend not to notice. “Room. Shambles.” And with that, he’s gone.

You’re about to sit on the bed for another moment, to process everything that has just been said, when you’re stopped dead in your tracks by a very familiar sound coming from the still open door. Your expression turning to one of suspicion, you slowly move towards the source of what is obviously Penguin and Shachi’s muffled giggles. You don’t know how you hadn’t noticed them before.

“How long have you two been hiding there?” You need to do some damage control, and fast. If Law finds out the two most mischievous crew members have heard any of what he has just said, he will never let himself open up like this again, and you simply can’t accept that. Not only have you just gotten your first actual apology from Law (probably also his first apology to anyone), but he has also confessed his love to you on his own, and offered you a romantic date night. To talk. And cuddle. No. Too much is at stake. You can not lose this.

“Oh, not very long.” Penguin snickers, trying not to laugh too openly, as the hours of crying are still plainly showing on your face.

“Yeah. I think we arrived around the time Law said he loves you.” Adds Shachi. Both are clearly trying their best to keep a straight face, failing miserably.

Shit. The cuddling. You are not giving up on the cuddling. “And… what do you plan to do with that information?” You try to sound as threatening as you can, which obviously doesn’t really work with your clogged nose and puffy face. It’s not like you and Law don’t cuddle, you do it every night before sleeping. But it’s always you who has to initiate it, and him “begrudgingly” agreeing, pretending like he hasn’t been waiting for you to ask the whole time.

Still, it seems to make an impression, making the two exchange uncertain glances. You take that as your chance to continue, moving a few steps closer to them.

“If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you.” You’re obviously exaggerating, but also very desperate to make them understand how tricky of a situation this is. “You heard what Law said. You know what’s at stake for me. I’ll do it.” Trying to seem confident, you place your hands on your sides, standing as straight as you can.

“Ok, ok, we get it.” They’re smirking again. Usually a bad sign. “We won’t tell anyone. For the right… how would you call it, Penguin?”

“Compensation.” Penguin helps his friend, cocking his head to the side to examine you.

“Yes! For the right compensation.” Shachi finishes, looking satisfied.

“Fine. Tell me what you want.” You sigh, too tired to play along. “Want me to do your chores for a week?”

“Oh.” It’s now Penguin who takes the word, pretending to be taken aback in a very obvious, over-the-top way. “This is awkward. We were thinking a month actually.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” They seem surprised at how readily you accept their blackmail negotiation.

“Yes, fine. I’ll do it. If you promise me to never tell another soul about this. Least of all, Law.” You clarify, and to your relief, they shake hands with you, indicating that they accept your terms.

“Well, I have to go now. You know why.” You’re struggling to contain the delight in your voice, despite just having agreed to the worst deal of your entire life.

For now, all you can think about is Law expecting you in your shared room, and you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. You’re thinking about the kiss again. Wondering if it would be easier to persuade Law to make out with you in his desk chair after such an emotional talk. You have a little time to kill before dinner is ready anyway, and are starting to miss the way his hands were holding your face.

Thanks for reading! <3 I hope you had fun :)

(also idk about the title, i'm really bad at those, but it's better than the original which was just "Law after a fight" lol)

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece #one piece fluff #one piece angst #one piece hurt/comfort #trafalgar d water law

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appledoves · 11 days ago

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it’s hard to word this headcanon i think, so hear me out. but i like to hc that kanade isn’t like… in-universe, outside of the art style, remarkably CONVENTIONALLY pretty, because of her severe mental health issues and her habits as a result. it doesn’t mean she’s NOT pretty, but rather i’m not the biggest fan of the idea some people have of ‘she’s SOMEHOW beautiful despite that’. it can make people with more realistic appearances feel bad about themselves when it gets implied that having things like eyebags or messier hair or dressing comfortably when you’re trying to survive makes you “ugly”. especially in a space where we talk about relatably mentally ill characters. (i DID see this more on twitter when show your shine came out though, not sure about other places)

i like to think, realistically, she may have dark eyebags. her skin might be a little rough. her lips might be chapped. her teeth imperfect and her hair not perfectly straight with split ends. she doesn’t wear makeup so her tiredness is visible. but that just doesn’t matter to anyone. she’s pretty to those who like her. sure, she’s been asked to model, but that’s because of her hair and its length (and modelling agencies famously try to fix “flaws” anyway). i don’t think it rules out her looking like this way. and saki was the one who wanted her to model in that one card, and saki’s sweet and loving.

i think it makes it a lot sweeter too when you consider how she’s charmed nearly all the girl cast before. they think she’s pretty because she’s her and she’s sweet and warm and has a nice energy! they know she’s a good person. and that makes her shine and pretty. one of her closest friends is a social media girlie with 7000+ followers who takes care of her appearance, and that friend fawns over her all the time and thinks she’s extremely cute! whether you see any of that in a ship light or not, either way, i think it’s more heartwarming to imagine. especially since she as a character also helps normalize needing help for basic tasks too. she helps show when mental health is that bad, it’s perfectly reasonable to even hire a housekeeper for it.

it’s never even a joke really; honami is always kind and reassuring and everyone else is only briefly like “oh, but you’re a highschooler? well, that’s fine.” likewise, it can be okay to not stress about your appearance and just focus on comfort and what you can as you slowly recover or just try to survive. the people who matter will hype you up anyway. the people who matter will love you regardless and you’ll be so much more than you know in their eyes.

so i don’t think she’s “flawless”, whatever that means, despite how she lives. and i think it’d be a nice thought, with her mental health issues, if she had an appearance that made sense with her self-neglect. but even with that appearance, she’s still considered pretty or cool or cute and worth gushing over like ena and mizuki do. or like honami and saki and minori and others think. everyone thinks she’s pretty and cute because she’s kanade and because they’re not so close-minded.

of course, at the end of the day, she IS meant to be pretty on a similar level as everyone else because it’s a cute gacha game art style. so it’s not a big deal and we can’t really tell a difference anyway, we don’t really see many people looking weary in-game. so this is all kind of nothingburger outside of fanworks, but that’s just my own headcanon ^^ don’t take it too seriously!

#🍎ramblings #i love making hcs aha. maybe i’ll start sharing more here?#project sekai #kanade yoisaki #long post

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shuastar · 9 months ago

Note

Hey,can you write something about scoups one night stand ?

a/n: tumblr deleted everything i wrote so now im starting from scratch!! sorry about the delay finals and all.... i hate quarter systems with a passion

tumblr runs on a system of reblogs!! reblog/like/comment!! i <3 interacting

warnings: mdni, rich!seungcheol (implied), rich!reader (implied), lawyer!reader, virgin!reader (implied, kinda), daddy kink, multiple orgasms (implied), innocence kink (kinda implied), NSFW, wrap it before you tap it!!! (even though seungcheol doesn't!!!)

one night stand!seungcheol swears he doesn't usually do this -- get so drunken off someone's scent that he needs them viciously. he swears he's not the type -- and he isn't. he prefers a longer relationship, with commitments and sensual sex -- bed frame rocking gently against the hardwood floor of his penthouse, curtains of the giant windows set on do not disturb, the soft glow of his "sexy" yellow lights glowing against your skin. he swears that's the reason -- the reason his hands start to sweat, just a bit, when you step closer.

one night stand!seungcheol doesn't know how this happened. you were his best friend's sister. his fucking best friend's sister. you were supposed to be young, naive, innocent, kind, anything but the woman he was seeing in front of his eyes. anything but the woman with the low-cut dress and the elegant updo and the gorgeous, gorgeous smile that adorned your lipstick-painted lips.

one night stand!seungcheol remembers when you would drag his (shit-faced) best friend into your small studio apartment, throwing him on the pull-out bed. he remembers standing in the doorway, cheeks dusted a light red (from the cold, he told himself). he remembers you in a old oversized k-pop t-shirt and a random guy's boxers (he couldn't think about that for too long, lest he completely lost his shit), hair pulled back in a messy bun with glasses crooked on the bridge of your nose. he remembers your tired smile and dark eyebags as you half-heartedly invited him to also stay the night with a dry laugh. "aren't you too drink to be driving?" you would ask. he would shake his head no. he only had two drinks. it was mingyu that was out after his 12th soju-vodka-cranberry juice shot. "i'm fine. how're you holding up?" he tried to act nonchalant as he spied the law textbooks sprawled on the floor, disrupted by mingyu's loud movements. you gestured to the room. "as good as it'll get, i guess. wish mingyu could stop forgetting his own keys and coming to my place," you grumbled. seungcheol didn't have the heart to tell you that he secretly stole mingyu's keys because this would be the only way he could see your gorgeous tired face.

one night stand!seungcheol is in denial. he doesn't have time for this shit. he hasn't gone on a proper date in two years because all the girls he meets can't top his own work. being a ceo isn't a walk in the park. he has calls to answer and papers to sign and money to donate. he can't keep up a real relationship because every time he goes on a date, the woman leaves in the first thirty minutes and after he comes back from a five minute work call, the only thing he sees is the back of someone's dress. so why does your smile make his throat close up all of a sudden?

one night stand!seungcheol twitches, almost unconsciously when your fingers graze his biceps. your soft laughter fills his ears and your dizzying perfume (creed eau de parfum) fills the rest of his senses deliciously. he could eat you up. (metaphorically, of course). When you look up from your phone and see him across from you, your eyes crinkle and your lips lift in a smile. you and your senior prosecutor position in some law firm (he should know from many times mingyu's mentioned it, but he was too busy scrolling through your instagram posts). you and your twinkling eyes, gazing up at him like you knew exactly what he was thinking.

one night stand!seungcheol feels like a virgin around you. he's had sex before, he swears. but his knees buckle when the first of your begs leave your lips. you beg. you beg. you beg with doe-eyes, filled with unshed tears of frustration. you beg with pouted lips and if he had any less self control, he would have already kissed it off of you. "pplease?" you whisper, hands wrapping around his broad shoulders. you lay your head against his chest and he can feel your hot breaths fan over his pecs. "seungcheol, please? for me?" you beg, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. you were seducing him. and it was not working. you were his best friend's sister.

one night stand!seungcheol can't help but pull away, for a split second. "y'know i can't," he groans, as he sees your teary eyes and pouty lips, lipstick smudged at the corners from your makeout session only minutes prior. "fuck, don't look at me like that, baby," he rasps, arms wrapping around your silken waist. his hands squeeze at your hips, before creeping upwards towards your dress's falling neckline. "why?" you whine, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. he feels hot -- even with his belt unbuckled, shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up dangerously high. your warm body tempts him so much -- the way you press yourself against him, the way you whine against his skin, the way you grasp for his attention. such a virgin, is his first thought. his perverted dangerous thought.

one night stand!seungcheol has to give in. it's you, for gods sake. how can he say no when you're sucking blues and purples against his neck? your hand roams the expanse of his muscled back, a breathy moan here-and-there as he gropes and sucks on your breasts, now free from the confines of your corsetted bodice. he's so addicted. he doesn't even have enough control to stop his hips bucking up against your fleeting touch. your other hand trails down and down -- down his chest, abs, stopping at the straining tent in his business slacks. your soft touches that scatter around his throbbing cock because you don't know.

one night stand!seungcheol curls into you when you finally take him out of his pants. "fuck, just like that," he groans into your ear, as your fingers wrap around his red-tipped cock, tip dribbling pearl precum into your hands. both of your clothes sit discarded on the floor, and you lay your head against his leg as your hands work their magic on his jupming length. one hand rests gently on your head, the other fisting your white hotel room bed sheets with a foreign ferocity. he's never seen you as anythign else but innocent, pure, perfect. but now, the only thought that float around his mind are perverted and horribly dangerous -- breedable, fuckable, devourable.

one night stand!seungcheol has to stop you in the middle of the best handjob because he doesn't want to cum on your face in five minutes flat. "fuck. c'mere, baby," he mumbles, easily lifting you off of your knees and into his lap, placing you gently on his thighs. his hand brushes stray pieces of hair stuck to your face away. he needs to see you. see your expression, your eyes, your pretty face. "you good?" he asks, just in case. just in case you were in a drunken stupor -- cock drunken stupor. just in case you weren't on the same page. just in case- "oppa," you moan gently, hips canting into his. your bare pussy rubs up against his cock and his grip on your waist tightens exponentially. "seungcheol oppa," you gasp as the tip of his length pokes and probs against your puffy clit, hungry for attention. "please. please, please, please. need it. wan' it. been wanting it. ever since-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as two of seungcheol's fingers swipe against your messy core, dripping with want for him. all of him.

one night stand!seungcheol needs to forcefully hold himself back. he needs to, or else he's afraid he'll rip your pussy open, because his cock isn't even halfway in and there are tears falling from your precious eyes. he mentally slaps himself at the way his cock hardens even more at the sight. "y' okay?" he grunts, biceps straining, breath coming out in pants at the tight grip of your pussy. you won't let up. "hurts," you cry, burying your head into his arms. "won't fit, oppa. can't- how- too big," you gasp as he pushes just a little bit more in. he needs to because it feels like you're cutting off his circulation, makign his brain fuzzy and shit.

one night stand!seungcheol rolls his hips into your experimentally. he's not ready for the pornographic moan of pleasure that escapes your opened lips. you're gone. already. you're gone and he knows because there are tears lining your waterline, your kiss-bitten lips are parted ever-so-slightly, your nails scratch down his back desperately, and your legs shake from their purchase around his waist. "y/n, fuck. fuck, y' feel s'good. so g-good for me. just f'me, yeah?" he mumbles in your ear, like you can hear him through your own tumbling moans. every sharp thrust he gives you feels like you can feel his cock in your ribs. none of you toys could compare. if anything, as soon as you got home, every single one of them was going into the trash. seungcheol's deft fingers crawl in between your bodies and rub small circles against your clit. "ah!" your hips buck uncontrollably and seungcheol groans as his hands pin your tratorious hips to the bed. a shaky laugh escapes his throat. "feel good, baby? tha' feel good f'you?" his fingers rub again, and you feel tingly -- like something was building up in your body. you can't help but writhe in his grasp, nails streaking red down his back. "fuck! oh my- oh- holy- da-" you cut yourself off with a muffled shriek as seungcheol pounds into you, fingers furious on your deprieved bud. your tears finally fall. down and down your cheeks. "shit, shit, shit," you moan and gasp, toes curling at this foreign feeling of pleasure. if you knew sex was this good you would've hooked up sooner.

one night stand!seungcheol's hips falter at your next words. "fuck, daddy, fuck me," you moan, throwing your head back against the pillows and your back arching so sexy off the bed. his arms wrap around your waist almost automatically. his hips cant into yours like on autopliot and the only thing that falters is his breath. you moan out a few more profanities, daddy being one of them. he can't believe his ears. you. calling him daddy. the thought of it alone sends another rush of arousal to his cock. and apparently that proved to be the breaking point of him because he lets out his loudest moan, catching himself before he falls on top of you, hips loosing their rhythm as he chases his high. "oh my g-god," he gasps, hands cupping your jaw. you're no better. "wanna cum, daddy," you cry, wrapping your arms around his neck. "wanna cum so bad, please, please, please. please let me cum -- wan' it. wan' yours. daddy, daddy, daddy..." you moan out the words like a fucking mantra. and he's on his breaking point. you cannot be real. you feel like a character out of his perverted fairy tale. "fuck, wan' my cum, princess?" he moans back. he has no idea what he's saying at this point. he's talking with his dick. 100%. "take it" he grunts, fingers desperate to bring you to your high before his last straw finally snaps. "fuckin' cum, baby. fuckin' cum and take mine like a good girl, yeah?" a couple more stuttered thrusts and he has you convulsing, almost not breathing, on the sheets, body tensing as you reach your third orgasm, shaking and moaning like a fucking porn star.

one night stand!seungcheol lets out a jumble of curse words as he goes right after you, body jerking as he empties out his creamy cum inside your pussy. his body falls on yours, the smell of sex and cologne wrapping around your spent form. he stays like that until you sniffle, hand going up to wipe at your eyes. "fuck, you okay?" he pushes off of you, sitting up to gently scan you for possible injuries. you let out a small laugh of disbelief, a smile curving itself into your lips. "m' fine. jus' sore. a little." you mumble, shying away from his gaze. a deep blush coats your cheeks as you look around for something to cover yourself with. seungcheol pulls you towards him, scooping you into his arms. "where you goin' huh?" his voice rumbles in his chest as he gives you a lopsided grin. "can't let my princess go off alone like this." you groan in embaressment. "i didn't mean to call you..." you trail off "...daddy," you whisper, burying your face in your hands as seunghcheol brings you to the bathroom, turning on the bath water.

one night stand!seungcheol can't help but stare at your sleeping face, gently caressing your jaw, arms, hips, waist, everything. he can't help but wonder what would have happened if he had just dated you to start with. his heart almost stops in its tracks when you turn towards him and inches closer, snuggling into his beefy embrace.

one night stand!seungcheol and you have to face the consequences of the night: your brother. but as your brother yells and pulls at his hair and blaches and walks into a glass wall, you and seungcheol stare at eachother, giddy lovesick smiles painted on your faces.

#scoups #scoups smut #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seungcheol headcannons #scoups headcanons #scoups x reader #scoups imagines #choi seungcheol #gia's delusional answers!!#please send in more requests!!!

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chokiipng · 1 month ago

Text

inactive for 2 years only to come back because i started watching one piece and i really like Law.

this idea has been bouncing around my head, let me know if i should finish it

A law draft (no title yet)

law x strawhat! reader

word count: 582

you're kinda like the second mechanic on the crew, Franky was the one to recruit you rather than Luffy though this doesn't really come up in the story. takes place during Saobody and you (surprise) go with the Heart Pirates. no (y/n) mentioned

For someone who was usually used to working in the hull of the ship that is basically the temperature of a refrigerator to keep the cola powering almost everything cool, the chill of a submarine was completely different.

Sailing the Grand Line had caused her to build something of a resistance to drastic changes in climate, but for some reason she could feel her goosebumps raise while the ship was submerging. Perhaps coupled with the fact that she could no longer rely on the warmth of the crew she had come to know and love made her feel even colder.

She had two years to get stronger, but after only a few hours she came to realize that she had some unspoken attachment issues her captain may have failed to realize. Granted, it was Luffy but just maybe a buddy system should have also been implied in that fake tattoo he showed the world.

How did she even get inside the Polar Tang? She wasn’t even really sure, it was all a blur.

At one point she was hiding behind Franky, her self-proclaimed older brother and teacher, the next she was basically crawling away from a disproportionately huge bear(?) man. Despite the initial cuteness of the paws he attained due to his devil fruit, the awe quickly turned into fear as she watched him basically lightly pat her crewmate Zoro into the stratosphere. It would’ve been comical how fast he was flung into the air if he wasn’t close to death.

What was a little humorous was her destination of his terrifying high five. As soon as she felt the jellybeans of his hand slightly graze her head she was screaming her head off, only to realize that she was only shooting off directly over Saobody. After a few minutes when the Marines had retreated into the city and Kizaru’s reign of holy light was over, she was released from…whatever was holding her in the air.

You can imagine what a karate chopping polar bear’s reaction would be to an injured woman falling from the sky in front of him. Or not, it sounds a lot more far fetched than it really is. While she wasn’t as beaten as Zoro, fighting a few Pacifistas and a man made of light would get you past reasonably roughed up. The fall apparently made it worse, a little more than a few ribs were probably shattered and breathing was suddenly the hardest thing she had ever done.

The last thing she saw before her vision went dark was a very lanky man with an equally lanky sword wearing an oddly fluffy hat. His eyebags stared at her first before his eyes caught up. She vaguely remembered him flipping someone off and having shrimp-like posture from the Auction House.

As he reached out to her to check her pulse she weakly pushed his hands away.

“Don’t touch me, Nerd,” were her last words.

His hand stopped its approach, as if the very nails on his fingers were insulted.

Law could have very well left her there, and honestly, he didn’t know why he didn’t. Here he is out of the goodness of his heart, helping out a (probably) dying woman, only to be pushed away and called a name.

As the rest of his crew caught up to him and Bepo, he hovered around her limp (almost) corpse not making an effort to support her after being pushed away. He stiffly snapped his head to his first mate.

“I don’t look like a nerd, do I?”

“Sorry Captain.”

Law didn’t know if it was, “Sorry Captain, you do look like a nerd.” or, “Sorry that she said that about you,” but he supposed that it was better not to know.

…

#trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law x you #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #law fluff #one piece fluff #law fic

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ctrlkenma · 4 months ago

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𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮, 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰. — Atsumu Miya.

• tooth-rotting fluff, hints of tsundere atsumu, implied artist!reader (it's pretty on the nose, honestly), slight angst if you squint, wc (0.9k)

• cross posted on ao3 under the username 'hcneyy_dew"

Subtleties aren't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

For an individual with a presence as imposing as his, (or rather, to word it better), for a person of his notoriety, you'd guess the opposite - yet, you're almost certain right now, seated upon the cold, marble-tiled floor of your University’s Art Studio, that it's Atsumu Miya knocking. In spite of how it's barely about six in the morning, and, typically, due to long nights spent practicing in the university’s volleyball gym, he wouldn't be awake at such an odd hour.

Subtleties aren't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

And right now, standing at the door with his bottle-blonde shock of hair disheveled, eyes sporting eyebags that could only be described as heliotropic, brandishing a bottle of the turpentine from the brand you preferred you had complained earlier about finishing too quick, he was anything but subtle.

“Is it alright?”

Normally, Atsumu would be considered quite an obnoxious being due to the tone he'd possess whilst engaging in conversation with anyone. Yet, with you, it's as if he's enunciating each vowel, each syllable carefully enough to keep your attention to him, whilst, simultaneously, proclaiming so in a tone that was loud enough to keep him awake.

“Tsumu.” You whisper - carefully enough to lull him to sleep with that goddamned mellifluous voice of yours, yet sternly enough to always, always maintain his interest.

It's rather pitiful just how much of an effect your mere presence has on the athlete, despite him professing the opposite.

He raises an eyebrow as his name catches his exhausted mind, stepping closer to where you stood. “If it's not okay, I could get ‘ya a different brand - no, really, (Y/N), it's not that big of a deal.”

Atsumu’s usual brashness was evident in the way he stood, barely able to hide the exhaustion in his posture. It was clear in the way he fidgeted with the bottle of turpentine, unsure whether to approach or not.

To say you were overwhelmed would be considered the understatement of the year. Rather - it would be better off considered the understatement of the century, in light of the view before Atsumu - how you stood, frozen in place as if your feet were attached to the floor you stood on.

The thing is, the specific brand of turpentine you use is available exclusively at the local arts and crafts store - which is an approximate thirty minute drive from campus.

You're not sure what an appropriate response would be. Yet again, you're not sure if any response - in any dialect would suffice to drown out the sound of your heart thumping against your chest.

Your hands tremble as you hold the bottle, your breath catching slightly. His gaze locks with yours, and your heart skips a beat.

Affection isn't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

And you'd think you know him well enough to agree with such a statement, but the truth was, Atsumu Miya, with all his flaws, was madly, deeply, and irrevocably infatuated with you.

All you can do is stare upon the bottle of translucent liquid you held, alternating between heeding the crystalline substance and the gaze of the man that stood in front of you.

Affection isn't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit. It isn't supposed to be.

Yet, with you suddenly rushing toward where he stood (granted, mere steps away from you), and enveloping him into your embrace, it was as if your bodies had mended together - maintaining a position that felt so right, so utterly natural, that being devoid of the warmth of Atsumu's body, even if it meant for the slightest second, would feel alarmingly out of place.

Your breath slows as you hold him, the warmth of his body comforting. The world outside fades as you find solace and utter comfort in his arms.

“I love you, Tsumu.” You state, taking in deep, slow breaths to calm yourself - and him, too.

But with all he's done for you, despite the gravity of how he feels for you, Atsumu can't say it back.

Why can't he say it back?

Despite the fact that you, the pinnacle of perfection, stood before him, your body perfectly aligning with his, saying exactly the words he's longed to hear, he hesitates, his eyes searching yours as if looking for the right words, but they never come.

Bringing his hands to your lips, you press a soft kiss to his calloused fingertips, his palm cupping the curve of your face right after.

The two of you are breathing in unison. It's a symphony of sharp inhales and rather prolonged, heavy exhales as the two of you attempt to possess some control over your emotions. It's rather automatic, too, as if this was how you were always meant to breathe - to the hymn of Atsumu's heart beating soundly against your ear.

“I know.” The athlete finally says, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head - but not before adding a small “And I love you, too.”

His words come out in a rush, as if they’ve been on the tip of his tongue for too long. It’s quiet, almost swallowed by the moment.

It couldn't have been a decibel above a whisper, yet, you manage to heed it. You manage to heed and grasp the sheer weight his words possessed.

Truth was, Atsumu had known he had loved you for years now. Not when he had first run into you at the University’s first-year orientation after years of seeing one another. It wasn't when you had first painted him - no, it had been when, in the third grade, you had guided him in making his first acrylic paint portrait. While it might have turned out rather horrendous, for eight-year-old Atsumu Miya, everything seemed to fall into place with the sight of your face smeared in red paint.

Subtleties aren't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

Yet, loving you is probably what he's best at.

#fem reader #hq #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq atsumu #hq atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #msby black jackal #msby atsumu #msby 13 #atsumu smut #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya

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dee-writes-anime · 29 days ago

Note

I was gonna ask for present mic but you don’t write for him so this is gonna be an aizawa request 🥹

Aizawa reacting to his wife just completely dumping the supply of condoms in the bin infront of him.

Just some light and funny crack😭

Operation: No Glove, All Love

FEATURING Shouta Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader (INDIVIDUAL)

SUMMARY Aizawa just wanted a quiet evening. Yamada just wanted his cereal. You? You threw out the condoms. Domestic chaos, emotional terrorism, and one (1) very smug partner on a mission to go raw or go home.

CONTENT WARNINGS crackfic, condomicide, unhinged marital energy, references to raw dogging, implied spicy times, reproductive anxiety, and one man seriously considering a vasectomy.

AUTHORS NOTE monty, monty, monty... *insert disappointed head shake* you must know by now that all you need do is ask, my dear, and I will deliver. TAKE THIS!

No Protection, No Peace (and Also That Box Was Expensive) - SHOUTA AIZAWA

It’s a peaceful evening. The cat is curled up on the windowsill. Aizawa’s half-through grading papers at the kitchen table, hair tied back, sweatpants on, looking like the picture of reluctant domesticity. You, however, have just committed a crime.

“What the hell are you doing?” he says flatly, pen pausing mid-comment.

You don’t flinch. With the flair of a stage magician revealing their final trick, you hoist the half-used box of condoms above your head and slam dunk it directly into the trash can.

Right in front of him.

You meet his eyes with a dramatic flair and say, “We’re going raw, baby.”

Aizawa just stares at you. No blinking. No breathing. His soul visibly leaves his body, does a loop around the apartment, and reenters with a groan.

“…You realize I just bought those.”

“Yeah, and I just made a bold decision. It’s called ‘intimacy,’ babe.”

He leans back slowly in the chair, crossing his arms. “Intimacy is not playing Russian roulette with your reproductive system.”

You shrug. “It’s just a little spontaneity.”

“We’ve already been spontaneous. That’s how we ended up with the vibrating headboard and a pulled hamstring.”

You saunter over to the table and plop into his lap, brushing your fingers through the ends of his hair. “Come on. You’re not seriously mad.”

“No,” he says slowly. “I’m concerned. I have a job. I don’t need a kid with my eyebags and your attitude.”

You tilt your head. “I think that sounds like the coolest possible child, actually.”

He rubs his eyes with both hands. “I am so tired.”

“Which is why we should definitely be doing it raw. Less effort.”

He glares up at you.

You grin down at him.

You both sit in silence for a moment until he sighs and pulls your face into his shoulder. “I’m scheduling a vasectomy.”

You whisper against his neck, “Live a little.”

“Yeah. I’ll live. Alone. When you burn this place down trying to microwave a bottle.”

Raw Dog Radio: Going Live on 69.69 FM - PRESENT MIC

Yamada’s in the middle of the most boring bowl of cereal he’s ever eaten. Shirtless, hair a mess, one slipper missing—he’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a spoon halfway to his mouth when he hears it.

THUNK.

The sound of a box hitting the trash.

“BABE?”

No answer. Just the squeak of the trash can lid closing with finality.

“…Was that—was that what I think it was?”

You appear in the doorway like a sexy cryptid, backlit by the hallway light, eyes glowing with mischief. You hold nothing but your pride and the knowledge that you have just committed a war crime.

“Sure was,” you say brightly. “We’re free. We’re natural. We’re going commando in the biblical sense.”

He drops the spoon.

“YOU THREW OUT THE ULTRA-THINS?!”

You nod. “They were a symbol of our fear.”

“They were limited edition strawberry-scented latex—WHAT THE HELL IS FEARFUL ABOUT THAT?!”

You start walking toward him. He backs up.

“Don’t you want to live in the moment, Yamada? To feel every heartbeat, every reckless choice, every impending medical bill?”

“NO!! That’s why we use protection! That’s why seatbelts exist! THAT’S WHY WE DON’T TEXT OUR EX AT 2AM!”

You stop in front of him, hands on your hips. “I think we’d make a pretty adorable baby, actually.”

“We are the baby! We’re still becoming the baby! I have a shoe rack full of Converse and not one of them is dad-safe!”

You raise a brow. “You do already have dad jokes.”

“…Okay, rude.”

You slide your arms around his waist and whisper, “Live on the edge with me.”

He looks skyward, muttering prayers. “I didn’t even do anything wrong. I paid my taxes. I water my plants.”

“Take me raw or lose me forever.”

He gasps, dramatic. “That’s emotional terrorism.”

“I learned from the best.”

“…Damn right you did.”

There’s a pause. Then he points at you.

“But if you scare me with a late period, I’m calling Nezu to officiate a shotgun wedding at UA. You’ll be giving birth to a child AND a new curriculum plan.”

You beam. “I love it when you threaten me with commitment.”

He leans in, kissing you once—dramatic and stupidly affectionate—and whispers against your lips, “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

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sobbingscripter · 7 months ago

Text

Tags: [mlw][mdni][semi-public][idk man, feet? Like, she does some things but not with her dawgs out][handjob][nipple play][standing sex][unprotected sex][blowjob][implied snowballing]

"Why are you mewing?"

"What?"

Your question breaks Kento's reverie, that little bubble in which he is optimally productive and narrowed eyes raise to meet your gaze.

You look like the picture of leisure.

A pen spinning idly on your nimble fingers, your elbow resting on your desk and the plethora of colourful pens you'd stuck in your hair in an attempt to get Kento to smile. You have yet to succeed at that, but you pay it no mind, shifting closer to your desk, the wheels of your chair scuff against the linoleum floors and you rest both elbows on your desk.

"Mewing." You repeat. "The model thing?"

You elaborate vaguely and you watch as those thin, blonde brows crease into a frown, upper lip curling in distaste at the fact that you keep teaching him urban slang without his consent.

"I don't need to mew."

Kento dismisses, slender fingers moving through his sandy blonde strands, not even tousling them in an unattractive way, and you let out a whistle.

"Not you flexing your face card." You tease and you feel a sick sense of fulfillment when he lets out that heavy sigh, removing his freaky glasses and pinching the bridge of his perfect (and rideable) nose.

"I hate that I know what those words mean." Kento complains, before tugging on his tie, loosening the knot up just a bit.

"You look tired." You hum softly. "Your eyebags are heavier than usual. Overtime?"

"Another Curse." He responds lazily, slumping the tiniest bit against the back of his chair and Kento lets out a heavy groan.

"I want to quit."

The words aren't unusual when it's Kento. He's a man who loves complaining about things, and you're already fishing in your bag for your second lunch box, sliding it across the surface of your desks. He takes it, without hesitance, opening it up and picking up the sandwich, raising it to his mouth to take a generous bite.

Mayonnaise rests at the corners of his mouth but you don't hesitate to lean over, wiping away the messes with your thumb.

And Kento's lips quirk into a smile at the action.

'Wife' isn't a term everyone gives to anybody, and 'friend' isn't a term he'd give anybody.

But you somehow manage to be both. Except wife, but you're a variant: his workwife.

You behave just like a wife would. Greeting him with a coffee every morning, despite the fact that he gets his own on his way to work but always orders an extra small so that he can see the smile on your face when you slide that '#1 Husband' cup across his desk.

You listen to him complain, occasionally straighten his tie that he's left intentionally crooked just to feel the brushes of your fingertips against his skin.

And it's the little quirks.

When you work hard, you're so focused. Everytime he passes by your desk on his way to the bathroom, he sticks one of your colourful pens into your hair and it's gotten to the point where Kento just goes to the bathroom, because he wants to see the way your face tugs with confusion whenever you redo that bun and your stationery clatters to the floor.

You pack him in lunches, you talk to him all the time despite the fact that sometimes, he'd like to hear you talk with your mouth full.

Kento remembers important dates, like your birthday, your parents' anniversary, the day you found whatever stray you managed to find a home for and your doctor's appointments (which he schedules for you).

He buys little trinkets, small baubles that remind him of you and you do the same. Kento's desk has a little ornamental seashell that you gave him when you visited the beach in your hometown. Your desk has a little ornamental Big Ben replica from Kento's trip to London to get rid of a Curse.

"Kento?" Your voice brings him back, but so does the sight of your manicured fingers, snapping in front of his face. "Ken? You okay?"

Ken.

The sound of your voice calling him that, so soft and so sweet, makes it even harder to conceal the large bulge in the front of his slacks and Kento clears his throat.

"Hm? Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking."

You know better than to ask, so instead, you do what you always do. Your kitten heel bumps against Kento's dress shoe, in a small act of almost childish affection and Kento's tuts you.

"You shouldn't be wearing heels for too long."

A muscular hand grasps your ankle, carefully undoing the buckle and he slides your heel off. One foot at a time, and he rests your one foot in his lap, while absentmindedly massaging the arch, his thumbs enjoying the feel of the pantyhose against his finger pads.

"You know, I have no idea how you're not married or at least, seeing someone." You state, your toes curling with each press of Kento's thumb to your foot, easing aches you didn't even know were there.

"No woman would be okay with the fact that her partners goes to work and massages another woman's feet." Kento hums, eyes lowered to your feet as he presses, the sight of your manicured toes shielded by semi-transparent hosiery isn't something he thought he needed to see.

But God, was he wrong.

He likes that your toenails are the prettiest shade of nude, so lovely with your complexion. Manicured, trimmed, filed, perfect.

"Then maybe don't massage my feet?" You suggest, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you watch Kento with a bored, almost lovey stare.

He's a gorgeous man.

Small, hazel eyes, thin eyebrows (they're natural, you asked), perfect hair and a perfect body. But you're not too focused on his body when it comes to his jaw.

A jawline so sharp it could cut glossy wrapping paper without a single fault.

"No." Kento's voice brings you to the forefront of your mind and you let out a laugh, lowering your feet from his lap and setting them on the lush carpet beneath your feet. And you lean over, cradling Kento's face in your hands and you don't miss the way his expression softens the tiniest bit.

Brows relaxing, jaw unclenching and you brush your thumbs across his cheekbones.

"You're too perfect for this world."

Kento's barely even there, working on documents like he's on autopilot, muscular hands scribbling details into blocks and he occasionally pauses to push up his goggles. And you can't help it.

Brushing your foot up his calf, and.... Nothing.

Light work, no reaction.

Your foot shifts, trailing up Kento's thigh and only when your foot reaches where you assume the leg of his boxers would end, do his eyes lift to meet your stare.

"Yes, wife?" He hums and you feel that tingle in your stomach. He calls you that like it's your name and it makes your ears itch in only a way your ankles can scratch.

"No, nothing." You shake your head. "Just wanted to see you get nervous."

"Won't work, try harder."

Kento's eyes lower back to the stack of paper in front of him, a new challenge being brought to the front of your braincell and you act boldly.

Placing your foot right over his bulge.

His really hard, really big bulge. And you swallow, eyes widening and Kento doesn't even glance up at you.

"Didn't think it through, did you?" He teases and you shake your head. "I did not."

But when you move to move away your foot, Kento's hand grasps your ankle in a pretty firm grip, and his free hand just continues to page through the stack.

And he keeps your foot there.

"Finish what you started."

The closet is stuffy, the fluorescent light is intense and it makes sweat accumulate on the back of your neck, droplets dribbling down into the collar of your shirt but you don't notice it.

Of course you don't. Not when Kento's tongue is in your mouth, his hands resting on your waist, thumbs brushing against the curve of the underside of your breasts and his cock, fucking into your hand at the slowest, most painstaking pace.

Kento's big.

Long, thick, with the prettiest little tuft of hair just above his base. He's a neat man, but he's a messy man, beads of precum sliding down his shaft, wetting your palm and making the most obscene sound that echoes in the quietness of the supply closet.

Boxes and boxes surround you. Standard office supplies, sticky notes in every colour, boxes of highlighters and gel pens adjusted to be comfortable for the grip of an office worker. Japan really is ahead of it's time when it comes to stationery, but the thought leaves your mind when Kento kisses your neck.

He's gentle, and slow, but his hands make light work of your blouse, lowering his head to press a kiss to that delicate little 'v' between your clavicles and he shudders out a breath.

"Your hands feel so good...."

Kento breathes out, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they form stiff peaks, painfully hard and just... Begging for attention from his soft, warm tongue.

"But you take such good care of your hands." He adds softly, pressing kisses along the swell of your breasts, soft tits to adorn with kisses and gentle lovebites that'll leave bruises for only your eyes.

And hopefully his.

"I like your manicure." Kento sighs quietly. "Is that with the money of our bet?"

You only nod your head. You're not able to do much when his warm fingertips are tugging so teasingly on your nipples, your head tipping back against a shelf and you let out a panted breath.

Your hand strokes him just a bit faster, your wrist having the slightest bit of torsion as you work his already weepy cock, squeezing your hand the tiniest bit tighter when you get to the tip.

The flushed, pink and rosy tip, crying thick beads of precum, twitching with each movement you make.

You're barely focused on the pens that clatter out of your hair, tumbling to the floor when Kento lifts you from the cool tiles, guiding your legs to wrap around his narrow waist.

A hole is easy to rip into your nylons, and you're pulling your panties to the side with hazy eyes and a fuzzy brain, and your body turns to a flurry of static when he slides into you.

You're so warm.

So wet and so so tight, Kento buries his face in your neck as he shifts you in his arms. He's so happy you're not wearing that pencil skirt, instead, he gets to watch the fluttering mauve fabric of your skirt slide down your thighs and rest at the crease of your hips, while his forearms hook beneath your knees.

Kento fucks into you like a man with all the time in the world. Cock dragging against your gummy insides, nudging at your cervix with the cutest, lingering pecks. All as Kento's lips find purchase around one of your taut nipples, suckling and dragging his tongue along the bud.

Your nerves are tingling.

Your fingers card through his hair, nails digging into the back of his neck and Kento's warm breaths brush across your skin, doing nothing to ease the goosebumps that spatter across your flesh. And you whine, a low sound that echoes through the room and your hips roll to meet each of Kento's thrusts.

And a low groan leaves his lips, shifting you a bit more and he begins to move you. Up... Down... Up... Down...

The repetitive motion and the delightful tingle that makes your toes curl in your heels, the scratch of his fuzzy pubic bone brushing against your clit is one of the leading sensations that make your brain glitch.

"You're tighter than I imagined."

Kento breathes out, peeking up at you from between your breasts, and that's... That's what gets you.

Fluttering walls spasm around Kento's cock, trickling liquids dribbling down his cock as your hips buck and twitch. He kisses you.

Deep and long, like his strokes, and Kento's tongue drags against the roof of your mouth. He drinks your moans like sweet nectar, swallowing each breath and sound like they're heaven themself.

You're on your knees in front of Kento before you know.

You can see he's close. The way he twitches, flushed crown dripping onto your tongue before your lips wrap around his tip, your hands following in suit. Your thighs are still shaking when you're sucking his cock, hands stroking him in tandem.

Clockwise, anticlockwise, up and down.

You feel Kento's fingers carding through your hair, keeping your head in place as he grips the shelf above him with such desperation that you can hear the wood splinter.

Kento's hips stutter when he comes.

Shooting warm pulses of cum into your warm, wet mouth, painting your tongue in that pretty pearlescent fluid that tastes distinctly like.... Cinnamon and pineapple.

"Don't swallow." Kento whispers softly, guiding you to your feet and his body presses against yours, his hand coming to cup your cheek while the other rests on the curve of your hip.

"Spit it back in my mouth, wife."

#kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk kento #jjk nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x reader smut #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento x reader #jjk kento nanami #jjk kento nanami x reader #sobbingscripter

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mi-co-uk · 12 days ago

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── GRUMPY MATT X MUTE READER ⋆˚࿔

BLURB: dotty runs away from home (inspired by this ask from my precious 🩻 anon <33)

WARNINGS: very sensitive topics mentioned or implied !! abusive parental figure, facial injuries, mentions of blood, lots of crying :c matt is cutie at the end

wc: 1k

au masterlist // navigation // all aus

The burning pressure pulsed around her eye, the bruise forming already.

She stifled sobs as she sped walk down the street, sniffling and blinking away the tears - desperate to prove her father wrong.

“Youre fucking pathetic.”

The bag straps dug into her shoulder having packed just more than she actually needed. It threw dotty slightly off balance, flicking her head back every so often to check nothing had dropped.

“Youve never had to deal with anything. Live life like its fucking easy.”

A couple times she'd almost trip over. Marching to get somewhere else faster than was realistic. Her second bag slipped out her hand, sending items rolling down the path. Her foot slipped again, sending her flat down onto the concrete, hands too preoccupied with bag straps to brace herself. Her nose hit the surface, blood rushing everywhere beneath the skin of her face until it dripped down from her nose.

“You dont know shit. Crying all the fucking time over nothing.”

Dotty couldnt hold it all back anymore. Palm shaking as it hovered over her face, not yet daring to confront herself with the sight of her own blood. Her eyelids squeezed shut, loud wails pushing their way out her throat as she sat herself on her knees.

“Look around you, huh? No ones fucking here. No ones here ‘cause they dont wanna be.”

She choked her cries back, eyes sparkling in the reflection of the streetlamp while she looked around. She let the tears fall, but wouldnt let out another noise. She wiped the wetness on her cheeks and the blood. She didnt look down at her hand, starting to wipe the gravel off her knees instead.

“Ill give you something to fucking cry about.”

She ignored the ache in her bones as she ran the rest of the way. The smacking sound of her foot each step sent a rush of anxiety up her spine, echoing the scenes from early - the route of her pain. She ignored it. she had to ignore it all to keep moving.

Dotty finally acknowledged her shaky breath as she knocked against his door. She tried to clean herself up a little more - resulting in smearing everything and making it arguably worse instead.

Matt opened the door carelessly, eyebags dark as he took a second to process who was on his porch. His eyes squinted in confusion for a moment, just until he saw the leftover blood that dotty had missed in her attempt to hide the evidence.

Her frown deepened unintentionally. His expression of pure pity tugged at her heart, feeling even more insecure over her own appearance.

Matts mouth parted a little out of shock, his hand slowly reaching to cradle her cheek. Before any contact could be made, dotty practically leaped into his arms, wrapping her own around the back of his neck. He recipcrocated it completely, full bodied desire to keep her completely close in his resentment for not being there for her. Her body shook with the effort of her sobs, using all the strength she had to pour out her sadness in an attempt to be rid of it.

He shushed her delicately, feeling dottys tears on his shoulder.

“‘S okay, youre okay. I got you.” matt whispered soothing phrases to settle her anxious twitches, her body not yet in the belief she was safe. “Let it out, its okay. Youre safe, i promise.”

None of her breaths came out steady, gripping onto matt tight in the hope it would heal the ache in both her face and heart. Matt began caressing her back in soothing patterns, breathing in her scent and emphasising his breaths to get dotty to follow along with them.

Once shed lost the strength to cry, her entire body relaxed into his arms. Eyelids fluttering open and shut as she felt him lift her in his arms to carry her away from the doorway.

Matt sat himself against his headboard, letting her settle against his chest as he analysed her facial movements. He licked his thumb to wipe away the dry blood under her nose, smiling when she grimaced a little at the feeling.

“I know, ‘m just cleaning you up.”

Dottys eyes fixed on his, the contrast of his usual rigid persona to the gentle loving actions he had now. Its not as if she expected less - thats why she was here. It just felt all the more meaningful while she felt the skin of her cheekbone swell from her injury. She gripped onto his shirt, trying to keep him close even as her mind tried to drift into sleep.

He left kisses atop her head, rocking her gently back and forth in his arms.

“‘M not letting you go back there.”

Dotty shook her head to agree; she didnt want to go back there either.

“Gonna take care of you, i promise. ‘M not gonna be an asshole anymore.” her sleepy eyes peered up at him, feeling his forehead press against hers for comfort.

He peered down out his bedroom door to the front, her belongings scattered with unimportance in a mess on the floor. It didnt matter right now - dotty did. Shed never been so broken, so wounded physically and emotionally. Of all responses, she went to matt for help. He couldn't take that lightly.

There were questions running through his head, some he partially could figure out on his own. Hed get to them eventually, focusing currently on the way her breathing finally settled, eyes closed and body relaxed as she used matt entirely for support.

He wouldnt let himself fuck this up anymore, and hed never let that piece of shit near her again. No matter what he had to do.

a/n so im gonna go cry but also my precious baby is back are we happyyyy <33

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ur-local-anti-hero · 1 year ago

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Speak now

James Potter x Malfoy!Reader

Summary: If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Fluff and a tiny bit of Angst. Arranged Marriage

CW: Forced Marriage, Familiar problems, talks about blood purity and blood traitors. Breaking into a weddig idk.

Word count: 2.2K

This is part of my Speak Now (Marauders’ version) collection

“So don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door.

Don't wait, or say a single vow. You need to hear me out”

When you were younger you saw a fair amount of weddings. They were always presented to you as big emotional events in which two people promised eternal love to each other.

Even when you didn't know anything about love as a kid, it was no wonder that you yearned to have your own wedding once you grew up. It was a dream to have your own white dress, a beautifully decorated venue and a partner you loved so deeply you’d be willing to spend your whole life with them.

Looking back maybe you should’ve known better. The first sign should’ve been your surname. A Malfoy has expectations they have to meet, keeping the bloodline pure, for starters.

The second one should’ve been your parents’ loveless marriage, when you were younger you used to wonder why they’d married at all, now it was quite obvious.

The third and most evident should’ve been when Andromeda Black was disowned. At that time you didn’t truly understand what that entailed, and why it was such a hassle that she wanted to get married. Now you understood that the problem was not the wedding, if not the groom.

All your fantasies about the commonly named ‘Big day’ were completely shattered when your 18th birthday came, and with it a letter from your parents which contained the name of your soon to be husband. You tried to fight it, which only made your parents move the date of the wedding forward and get you out of Hogwarts, your education didn’t matter anymore to them now that your future as a housewife was inevitable. And being away from Hogwarts also meant being away from the ‘bad influences’ in your life.

Now the corset of your white dress was suffocating, you felt trapped. Looking at the mirror was like looking at someone else. The girl with lifeless eyes and heavy make-up that couldn’t hide her eyebags was supposed to be you, yet it felt like a perfectly modelated version of yourself, made to impress the high class families attending the wedding.

Narcissa’s gentle hands were bradding your hair, finishing your look before the wedding. Usually her presence was able to calm you down. Ever since she married your older brother, Lucius, her presence was regular in family gatherings and you’ve always felt some kind of kinship with her, seeking shelter on her whenever the phony and pompous encounters became too overwhelming.

You could attribute your shifted feelings towards her to the fact that she was unknowingly preparing you for eternal misery, or maybe because she was replacing the ones who you would’ve chosen as bridesmaids - there was no place for muggleborns in an event celebrating the union of two pureblood heirs -. Or even because it was her little cousin the one you were to wed.

“You look beautiful” said Narcissa once she was done with your hair.

You nodded and gave her a small thank you. However, you disagreed completely, the girl she was looking at was not you, it was your parent’s perfect daughter.

“You do look lovely, father and mother are going to be delighted” your brother’s voice came from the door, where he was leaning on. “I brought you some company” he gestured behind him.

Pandora and Dorcas stormed into the room, the former embracing you into a tight hug when they spotted you. Lucius and Narcissa left the room.

“How are you holding up?” Pandora asked as soon as the door closed behind Lucius and Narcissa. Her arms were still holding you tightly, Dorcas standing behind her.

You shrugged at her, not being able to talk due the knot in your throat and the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You kept your eyes glued to the mirror.

Pandora stepped out of the hug and stood next to Dorcas, who had yet to speak.

“Evan and Barty are with Regulus, I swear I never thought I would see him in a tux” said Dorcas, trying to make conversation. The thought of Regulus being in the same situation as you didn’t make you feel better, the knot in your throat was getting tighther by the second. You promised to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, to be honest you thought you had run out of tears days ago.

“Sirius is here too” Pandora was trying to distract you from the wedding. If she was being honest with herself there was nothing they could do to make you feel better. But maybe knowing that your best friend was out there could help a little.

That made you finally look away from the mirror, a small wave of hope cursing through you. If Sirius was here it meant that James could be too. In the eyes of your family his family’s name was not good enough for yours, but maybe it was enough for him to be a guest.

Maybe it was selfish to wish for him to be there when you knew how much it would hurt him, but you needed to talk to him, he was the only one who could actually comfort you right now, the only presence that would make everything feel normal again. You yearned to feel his touch against your skin and his lips against yours, even if it was for one last time, as a farewell.

“Is he… Is James here?” you spoke for the first time.

The answer was clear in the pitiful look they gave you even before Pandora replied with a soft ‘no’.

You don’t know what did it, if the look in the faces of your friends or the fact that you would never see James again, but tears started rolling down your face. In seconds you were being embraced by Pandora again, and Dorcas’ hand was wiping away your tears.

“It’s okay, you are going to be okay” Pandora didn’t believe her own words, but there was little she could do to calm you down and you both knew it.

There was a knock on the door and your dad’s voice came from the other side “Y/N, it’s time”

Pandora gave you a squeeze before letting you go from the hug. They both left the room, not without giving you a forced smile.

“Oh, merlin” you said to yourself as soon as you were left alone, going back to the mirror, you wiped the few tears that were left on your face, and tried to fix the smudged make-up around your eyes with your fingers. You didn’t want to give your parents the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected you.

Once you looked mildly presentable again you exited the room. Your father was waiting for you and he offered you his arm to lead you towards the venue.

You could see the whole venue from the end of the aisle. The green and black motives contrasted beatifully with the white flowers decorating the aisle and the top of the altar. The guests were placed in black chairs at both ends of the aisle.

You weren’t brave enough to lift your glaze from the ground, knowning that you wouldn’t see the love of your life waiting for you as you had dreamt since you were a kid. The heavy veil of your dress made your steps slow and lethargic.

It was not until you were halfway down the aisle that you gathered enough courage to finally look at the man in front of you. Instead of the boy with unruly curly brown hair and eyes filled with love, there standing was Regulus, his black hair slicked back and eyes drowned by the same defeated look you wore.

Once you reached his side everything went in a blur, all you remember is him taking your hands into his and the officiant talking.

“If anyone has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace”

You were really going insane because you swore you saw James standing at the end of the aisle, wearing a tuxedo and with his hand up in the air.

“I oppose!” His voice was loud and clear, your eyes widened.

All the guests' eyes went to his figure and several surprised gasps were heard. Maybe you were not hallucinating.

───✥───

If Fleamont Potter ever found out how James was using his inherited cloak of invisivility he’d be horrified, or maybe oddly proud of his son.

Not even James thought he would ever sneak into a highly patrolled wedding on a common Tuesday, but honestly if someone had told him a year ago he’d be doing this he wouldn’t be surprised.

Sneaking in a wedding filled with pureblood families and slytherin students was the perfect setup for a Marauders prank. However, what would have surprised him would’ve been the reason for interrupting a white veil occasion. Dating a Malfoy was something he hadn’t expected to ever do, but you had gotten past all his defenses with your kind and bright personality that proved to be so different from your family’s pretentious ways.

Therefore, he was now standing on the aisle you had walked minutes ago. He had a perfect view of you and Regulus from his stance, your white dress was gorgeous, and your hair was neatly done. If it weren’t for your puffy and bloodshot eyes, and the obvious defeated look in your face, a look that had no place in a wedding, he could almost believe this was a normal marriage ceremony.

When you had received the letter from your parents you had been inconsolable, and rightfully so. James had tried everything to stop the wedding, he even went as far as asking your parents for their blessing and to be the one you'd wed instead of the Black heir. Turned out to be useless as his family had been marked as blood traitors for eternity.

But James isn't known for giving up easily, and the Marauders were not going to let an opportunity to cause havoc pass by.

With the promise of being on his best behavior, Sirius had convinced his parents to attend the wedding as a guest, acting as a mole for his friends' plans. Remus and Lily were outside the venue with their ride home -a couple of broomsticks they borrowed from Hogwarts' supply closet.

And the last part of the plan, and its success rested on James' shoulders.

The preacher spoke 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' James smirked, that was his cue. It was on.

James took off his invisibility cloak and without a single trace of shame or shyness in his voice James stated loudly "I oppose!"

James would've loved to stop for a moment to memorize the looks of complete horror in the faces of the guests, but he had to be fast and make total use of the element of surprise.

Without hesitation James sprinted towards the altar. He could see the way your brother had stood up and pointed his wand at him, his spell being intercepted by Sirius' expelliarmus spell.

As soon as James made it to the altar chaos erupted from everyone in the venue, he could make out the shouts of your parents and some spells that were being intercepted by yours and James' friends.

At the sight of James Regulus let your hands go, he raised his arms in defeat and left the altar without much hassle.

"Gentleman" James greeted Regulus' groomsmen, Barty and Evan who were just as stunned as everyone, all they could do was nod in acknowledgement to James, not even trying to interfere.

"Hi, love" he was finally looking at you, your eyes were wide with surprise and tears were gathered in your waterline. James took your hands in one of his and the other was raised to stroke your cheek.

“James what- how-” you were completely astonished, and unable to formulate a single phrase. You knew your boyfriend loved you, and the lengths he would go to prove it, but you would have never guessed he’d be willing to break into your wedding ceremony. He was always proving you wrong.

“Hey Peter, mate, it’s your moment to shine” Following james’ words a rat came out of his pants’ pocket.

And suddenly Peter was standing in front of you. He pushed the appalled officiant slightly to the side and took his place.

Peter cleared his throat before speaking “Do you, James Fleamont Potter, take Y/N Malfoy as your wife?”

“I do”

“Do you, Y/N Malfoy, take James Fleamont Potter as your husband?”

You could hardly mutter a low “I do” before Peter spoke again

“I declare you husband and wife. You might kiss the bride”

James didn’t hesitate for a moment. To add dramatism he spun you around and dipped you, holding your weight with his arm. And without waiting for another second he kissed you, sweet and slow, conveying all his love for you with that gesture.

When you became breathless you broke the kiss and looked at James straight into his beautiful eyes, which only show deep adoration. “I love you” you mouthed to him, which made his eyes sparkle with joy and a wide grin to break into face.

He took you in his arms bridal style and walked down the aisle. You coudln’t even care about the chaos and spells that were aimed your way, all you could look at was James.

And as he muttered “I love you too, Miss Potter” you knew he’d do anything to prove his love for you.

Author's note: This one is of my faves of the collection ngl, James is my soft spot Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo

#marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders era #james potter #marauders fic #james potter x reader #james x reader #james x you #james x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter hurt/comfort #james potter fic #james potter x yn #james potter fanfic

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cremeful · 23 days ago

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idk what this is ... been thinkin abt things lately so i will let it reflect in my writing ノthis has implied suicidal thoughts , depression , anxiety and self isolation. based on francis forever && crackbaby by mitski.

the bathroom tiles were cold beneath your bare skin, your back pressed against the porcelain tub. your thoughts pound into your head like a heavy hammer, familiar like an old forgotten friend.

you can hear the rain pattering against the window, its distance like white noise to you. the twins left for business 4 hours ago. They spoke their love to you before they departed from your shared apartment, you remained in the same spot since then.

unaware of long you stared at the wall, your phone chimed. you ignored it, it chimed again. you picked up the phone, the light illumining off your face. you looked at the notification and it was stack. 💬 stack 💸

" hey. you haven't answered my text from a few hours ago, you good? " " me and smoke gonna go to bo's for a bit, text me or him if you need anythin. "

you never responded, his message was left on read. you sigh standing up from your seat on the floor, legs feeling tinglingly from staying in the same spot for hours. you come fact to face with your reflection, you look dull like a haunting entity sucked your soul from your body.

your eyebags sagged low and dark, your curls dried and tangled evident of abonnement of care, your body has changed within a few weeks that it was noticeable to you but not the eyes of others. your collar bones are more prominent and your legs create a space in between them if your feet were pressed together.

you don't know when everything started but you know that you've been feeling like your body isn't your own and that you are nothing but a empty shell.

you blink slowly, tired; physically and emotionally. you slowly turn away from the mirror, making your away into your bedroom. apartment silent, nothing but the sound of the old wooden floors creaking from the weight of your foot. You slide into the covers, breath shuddering.

your heart feels like it's going to jump out of your chest, your breath begins to get stuck in your throat. your sobs become more clear that this is more than just a cry, its desperation to be set free of this.

#cremeful / / 18 + 𓂃 no minors ! !#sinners #sinners 2025 #sinners fics #micheal b jordan x reader #smoke x reader #smoke sinners #stack sinners #stack x reader #smoke x fem!black!reader #stack x fem!blackreader

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emiquety · 10 months ago

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Kinktober Day 1 - Dry Humping

Teacher!Choso x Reader

summary: Choso had been getting hot and bothered all day, and you don't have enough time between your breaks to have intercourse, so he'll just have to settle.

warnings: 18+, MDNI please, cursing, classroom sex, dry humping, implied chubby reader, fem!reader, AFAB!reader, teacher!reader, risky sex, almost caught, dirty talk, and clothed sex.

Word Count: 1,726

Hope you enjoy!!!

"Choso, can you help me with something?" You asked walking into Choso's empty classroom. Choso was the math teacher in the room right next to yours, so it was almost natural the two of you became friends while working together. You would subtly flirt with him most days, finding him extremely handsome, and more recently he'd been reciprocating. It was currently lunch hour for your classes and you were trying to get your next assignment ready for tomorrow.

He lifts his tired eyes up from his own computer, a light blush across his cheeks as he clears his throat. "Yeah, what do you need?" He asked in his usual monotone voice. His hair was pulled back in a half up half down style, a cute messy bun at the back of his head, and strands framing his face every which way.

You smiled and walked towards his desk, standing next to his chair before taking a sit atop of the desk, thighs almost touching his computer. "I'm trying to post this assignment, but every time I reload my screen after posting- it goes back to being a draft." You explain as you sit your laptop open on your thighs and quickly login. You shift the laptop so he can see it clearer.

He lets out a soft hum and turns slightly in his chair, now facing you. His eyes couldn't help but linger on your thighs- how big they looked squished down when you sat. The black denim fabric complimenting the maroon colored top you wore. He clears his throat once again and leans closer to you, his eyes flitting up from your thigh to the screen.

Your eyes trail over his features, noting how pretty that scar always looked across his nose, the tired eyebags under his dark colored eyes, and how kissable his bruised lips looked.

He let out another hum and moved closer to you, typing away on your laptop as it remains on your thighs, his hands gliding over the keyboard effortlessly. After a few minutes he pulled back with a soft sigh.

"It should work now." he mumbled. You tilt your head and look down at the screen, a small smile playing on your lips. "Good boy, cho!" You said without thinking, reaching a hand out and ruffling his head. A soft almost unnoticeable whimper left his lips, the blush on his cheeks heavier than before. You hop off his desk and turn away from him, ready to head back to your own classroom. "I'll thank ya for it later!"

Suddenly his hands were on your waist, pulling you back against him, his body pressed up against your back as he lets out low grunts. "thank me for it now." He whimpers out, an almost pleading voice. Your eyes had gone wide as you tilted your head back to look up at him. He leaned down, face in the crook of your neck as he breathed in your scent deeply before exhaling with a slight whine.

Your mouth fell agape as you felt his hard and twitching cock against your back. "Ch-Choso!" You had gasped out. You had assumed after he started flirting back he felt the same about you- but you never expected the shy and quiet math teacher to be so bold.

He let out a groan and turned you to face his desk, one of his hands sliding up from your waist to grip your hair and tug your head to the side as his hips pressed you against his desk. "Need you," He growled into your ear, "please" His growl turned into a desperate whine as he begged. His hips were grinding against yours as he rubbed his clothed cock between the globes of your ass, breathy whimpers and grunts leaving his lips. "Please, baby!" He whined out again, his breath hitting your neck.

You deeply swallowed trying to find your voice once again. "Ch-Choso, there's not enough time!" You had managed to stutter out. Your thighs were squished against the edge of his desk, pushing into it as he grinds into you. "The students will be heading back in ten minutes!" I gasped out.

He groans and pushes your head down, forcing you to lay your upper half across his desk, chest pressed firmly against the top of it. You couldn't hold back the moan from passing your lips, the way he was manhandling you was turning you on beyond belief.

With one hand in your hair pushing your head down and the other holding your hips in place as he starts digging his clothed cock up and down against your clothed crotch. "I don't care!" He growled from above you, staring at your bent over frame. "Been thinking about you all day. How pretty you look! How good your ass looks in these stupid tight pants!" He's grunting out each thought as he rubs his aching cock against you. His hand from your waist let go and shot down against your ass, giving a loud 'clap' as his hand makes harsh contact with your denim covered skin. A yelped moan leaves your lips and your eyes widen. "Choso!" You moaned out, the pressure of his cock pushing against where you wanted him most and the firm smack he just gave you sending shocks of pleasure through your veins.

He lets out another groan and roughly pulls down your pants just under where your thighs start. His eyes narrowed at the sight of your purple laced panties, a growl escaping from the back of his throat. He slaps his hand back down on your right cheek, a red mark staining your ass from how hard he hit. You let out a whiny moan at the stinging sensation, your cheeks heating as you stare at the open classroom door.

With the same hand he used to pull your pants down he undoes his own pants and pulls out his throbbing member from his black boxers. He pushed his cock against your clothed entrance and pushed forward, causing his tip to slide downward and hit your cloth covered clit.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open as the unexpected stimulation draws out a moan. He was trusting against your clit, hand still in your hair- tugging it lightly, and soft grunts coming from his throat. "F-fuck-!" He whimpered out. Both of your breathing is heavy with pleasured moans mixing with each pant.

Each thrust against your clit drives you closer to your edge, the sensation of your hair getting pulled back adding to your pleasure. Every grunt escaping his lips felt like praise. "Ch-o-oso~!" You moaned out, your eyes never once leaving the open doorway of his classroom. "M-more~" The plea left your lips without you even really thinking about it.

His eyes narrowed and he quickened his pace, head now pounding about your clit. "Such a good girl." He growled out, his deep voice shaky. Your thighs clenched together, adding more pressure and resistance to his cock as he continued thrusting against your clothed pussy. He let out a shaky whine and lost his rhythm as his legs started shaking. "P-please let me c-cum~!" He whined in a desperate tone.

You nodded your head as best you could, giving him permission to tip over the edge of his orgasm. His head tilted back a his teeth dug into his lips and a muffled whine escaped his throat. He bucked his hips against yours a few more times until you felt warm liquid shooting against your clit. The throbbing of his head against your sensitive bud and the spurts of cum coating your panties was almost enough for you to cum as well. You couldn't help but let out moaned whines- wishing to orgasm as well. You were disappointed at the unsatisfying feeling of not cumming- until his tip started to rub and grind against your clit, the unexpected motion pushing a moan out of you.

He bent over and laid his top half against your back, his toned body pushing against you. "C'mon, baby. Come for me." He said in a whiny tone against your ear, softly kissing your neck. He continued rubbing his still throbbing cock against your sensitive bud, the pressure of your climax reaching it's tip once again.

You started to babble on as your hands pawed and clawed at his desk, trying to ground yourself as an orgasm starts to ripple through you. Your jaw hung slack, eyes dazed and unfocused, breath hitching, and body tensing as he continued to rub against your clit with his tip.

Suddenly the bell had rung, signaling lunch time was over and students would be coming back for class.

You let out a soft strained hum. thickly swallowing before pushing yourself up on your elbows. Choso lets out a sigh and kisses your neck one last time before pulling himself back, no longer laying on you. "I'm sorry- I should've p-pulled out before cumming! L-let me help you clean up." Choso begins stammering out his words as he reaches for a tissue. You look back to see his cheeks crossed with a blush, a smile taking place on your lips.

He quickly stands behind you again and wipes away his cum from your panties, gently stroking as you squirm from the pressure against your oversensitive bud. "Shhhh, it's ok." He whispers gently before throwing away the tissue and pulling up your pants. You let out a shaky breath and stand up straight, grabbing on to his bicep for support as he zips up his pants. "You ok?" He asks quietly.

You nod and lean against his desk and trace your fingers against your laptop. "It was great." You mutter as a heat prickles at your cheeks again.

Just then a pair of boys walked into the class, chattering as they walked towards their seats. You take a deep shaky breath before turning to face Choso. "Thanks for helping me." You said with a bashful smile. His eyes looked down at your face before he nodded, a small smile tugging on his lips.

More students filtered through the class and he let out a soft sigh. "I'll meet you... after school?" He says in a questioning tone, his hopeful eyes looking into yours. You nod and place a hand on his bicep. "I'll be in my room."

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Alright chat, I hope day 1 was good! Tips on writing are always appreciated! Slowly catching up with my prompts so I should be getting Day 2 out by the end of the night as well. Let me know what you thought!!!

#choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x female reader #kinktober #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #choso x you #kinktober 2024 #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk au

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