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doobea · 5 months

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YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MISTER GOJO ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.

tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat

MILESTONE EVENT || MILESTONE MASTERLIST

contents: fem!reader, spoiled rich boy!gojo, acts like an ass to everyone but hopelessly falls in love with you at first sight, feels like a really bad hallmark movie, mentions of wealth class differences, reader isn't a tsundere - she's just indifferent for the most part and introverted word count: 7.5K (idk i will uh make the fics shorter in the future) a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! idk if this is what you wanted but hopefully you like it!! :3 everyone also give a round of applause to @popponn for beta reading this big mess LMAO

Satoru Gojo has a lot of expectations, but this certainly isn’t one of them.

He isn’t particularly excited about spending a week away from his big city penthouse to be rotting in a small town motel in the middle of nowhere but, his father, CEO of Gojo Corporations, heavily insisted that he ‘needs this’ and that ‘it’ll be good for the company’ — whatever that means. Satoru is confident that his father thinks he’s incapable of running the family business after last month’s run with the paparazzi and his third fling of the month. It wasn’t his fault that they got caught doing drugs at one of Zenin's parties, everyone else was doing the same thing, it just so happened that the cameras were only focusing on him.

Well, that’s what he gets for signing up to be the son of one of the richest men on Earth.

“You need to start taking this seriously,” he recalls his father slamming his fist down at the desk before throwing a bottle of Henessy at the wall. “I don’t want this company to go bankrupt just because I have a son who only thinks with his dick.”

Ouch… but he’s not wrong about that.

So now Satoru finds himself driving up a winding road somewhere very deep in the mountains. Exactly five hours away from the city. And, for the past three hours, all he’s been seeing are miles and miles of pine trees, sheets of snow, and — he had recently learned this from Suguru — sugar shacks. Apparently when you’re out over a hundred miles into wilderness territory these sap houses are littered everywhere. The fact that Satoru is beginning to count more shacks than designer cars on the road is really starting to get to him.

“This whole thing is so fucking stupid,” Satoru has also been talking to himself throughout the journey in order to not lose his mind. “He could’ve just sent me door to door caroling instead of whatever this is.” Satoru doesn’t know how to sing well, but he does know all the lyrics to ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ and that usually gets him all the tips. He wonders if he can manage to make a small side hustle when he starts wasting his week here.

He takes a sharp turn up around the hill before finally recognizing a big red sign with the name ‘Mistle Town’ as seen on the postcard his dad left him before leaving. It takes him another five minutes of driving through said small town, which is quite literally something out of one of those really bad holiday movies that his mom would force him to watch when he was little, before arriving at the inn. Upon arriving, Satoru is noticeably disappointed at the lack of valet assistance and, the size and design of the inn, is rather lackluster.

First, it just looks like a regular white farmhouse. Maybe having a max of ten rooms, none of them being penthouse sized, Satoru assumes. There are a couple of flowerbeds out front, all covered in a couple of inches of snow, and there’s subtle signs of holiday decor slowly bleeding its way outside. He sees someone dressed in an oversized puffer by the entrance, arms occupied with red tinsel and large white ornaments, and figures that the first nice thing he’ll do is to help out a random stranger — just to prove something to his dad.

Satoru parks his Rolls Royce in a spot furthest away from everyone else in the parking lot and sends a ‘im alive and well’ text to Suguru, because he’s very much so going to be in frequent contact with him for the remainder of the trip, before heading up.

“Need a hand?” He points out the obvious but still manages to throw a smile as if he’s already fixed the situation unfolding in front of him.

Satoru’s presence seems to pull you from your busy trance. You wiped your body around, nearly smacking the damn tinsel in his face, and made a small surprised noise.

“I’ve got it,” you muffle out and he looks entirely unconvinced but, whatever, he tried anyway.

Satoru gives you a few encouraging pats on the back before heading inside, failing to realize his strength and causing you to lose your balance, making a few ornaments tumble to the ground. Thank god they’re all plastic though.

He pretends to not hear you yelling after him as he enters the double doors, immediately greeted by the scent of roasted coffee beans and leather. It’s the precious hour in the morning where nobody comes by, right after the cleaning staff had just finished vacuuming, when he struts in. He immediately spots someone vaguely familiar by the front desk. Long black hair, a red poofy bow tie in the back, and a distinctive scar across her face. The woman isn’t working alone, a man with another facial marking is next to her, brewing two cups of coffee by the espresso machine.

Satoru looks at the woman again and outwardly smiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Ugh,” Utahime’s composure immediately falters at the sound of his voice, not that it’s a big shock. “Helping the family business, what else?” she throws back with a certain sharpness to her tone, and waves off the casual talk. “Have you even mentally prepared yourself for what you’re getting into?”

Satoru simply shrugs and saunters over to a nearby seat by the counter. “Nah, honestly just planning to fuck around till I get back.”

Utahime flushes a little, though it’s mainly from frustration. “Satoru Gojo, you really are—”

“Utahime,” the man next to her speaks, handing her a cup of coffee, and slides Satoru a freshly brewed one, too. “I can explain the details to him, if you would like?”

The older female rubs the bridge of her nose and exhales a long, overdue sigh. “Please do, Choso.”

“Yeah,” Satoru leans into the counter, lips pointed down at this new face. “Please, do tell.”

“You’re basically our little Santa helper.” A new voice rings out from behind him. It spooks Satoru from his seat and he whips his head around to be met with your narrow eyes.

“Huh?”

“Also think of this as an unpaid internship.” You start laughing when he gags on his own saliva at your statement. “Okay, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Satoru swallows. “U-Unpaid…?”

Now it’s Utahime’s turn to speak, she huffs and tosses a couple of stockings into his arms. “Your father sent us a lengthy email a few days prior regarding your bratty behavior. So, of course, we came prepared.”

“Prepared…?” He feels the fabric in his hands and whines at the grainy texture. This is so not 100% real wool.

If Satoru thought he had any chance of actually taking over his father’s company, because he knows the difference between supply and demand, he’s wrong.

Customer service is not his forte. He’s always thrown emails and sponsorship paperwork at his many assistants, and Satoru doesn’t even know his own email log-in password. So, when you walked up to him first thing the next morning with a brown apron, the inn’s logo large and embroidered in the center, telling him how to function all these coffee machines that he’s seen behind hundreds of counters, it invoked some fear into his already wrecked nerves. Plus, no one dared to warn him about the clientele during a holiday rush.

“I want a venti peppermint frappe with two pumps of chocolate, three pumps of hazelnut, replace it with almond milk, one shot of espresso, and top it off with a drizzle of caramel on top.”

He slumps against the counter. “You sure you want all of that?”

“Can I please get a half dozen sfogliatella and a cannoli?

He starts picking at his cuticles and sneers. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

“My change is supposed to be five dollars, you only gave me three back?”

Satoru groans. “You’re trying to scam me, aren’t you?”

By the end of his four hour shift, Satoru feels like he’s just done more charity work than he’s ever done in his life — actually, maybe this could also be comparable to the time where he did the ribbon cutting ceremony at Chanel; gotta support small businesses, right?

“Gojo.” You’re seated across from him behind the counter, arms crossed and pursed lips.

He barely spares you a glance as he idly plays whatever shitty mobile game that’s number one on the app store. “Mhm? What is it?” He clearly knows you’re upset, your voice practically screams ‘I will end you’ in the most monotonous way possible. But can you blame him? Of all places, Satoru does not want to spend his winter break here.

You jerk your head to the side, fingers rhythmically tapping away on the counter, clearly unimpressed. “It hasn’t even been a full day and you’ve managed to piss off every single customer.”

Satoru expression shifts, brow creasing, and sighs, grabbing a handful of mint chocolate from the freebie candy jar by the register. “Don’t be dramatic,” he rolls his eyes and shoves three pieces in his mouth before jabbing a finger at a young man. “I didn’t piss him off!”

You glower, cheeks slightly puffed out. “That’s Yuuji and he’s practically a family friend and Choso’s little brother, so he doesn’t count,” you explain before adding, “Plus, he’s literally nice to everyone. You’re not special.”

And for a second, Satoru considered arguing that fact. Having been born into wealth, granted whatever wish he wanted, his butlers and maids are always on speed dial, that’s the lifestyle he’s used to. Placed on this tiny rock called Earth just to take over it one day, is what his father used to always say to him. But how can he, Satoru Gojo, take over when he’s stuck working a minimum — scratch that, unpaid — wage job as punishment?

Instead of fighting, Satoru slumps against the counter and pouts, like a little kid who just got their toy taken away. You and your sister Utahime have a clear advantage over him, by somehow being close, yet distant, friends to his family. Maybe karma is real.

“I’m putting you on ski lessons later.”

Satoru’s ears perk at this. “Oh, so I get some employee benefits, right?”

You roll your eyes, digging deep in your pockets to pull out a sheet with his name next to a list of others. “Wrong. You’re in charge of teaching five year olds how to ski.”

“Huh?”

Somehow that sounds even worse than being a barista. Kinda.

By the end of his first day of unemployment, Satoru tries to convince himself that a full change of scenery is nice. Well, he has to convince himself, otherwise he’s stuck dreading each coming day for the rest of the week.

“Tired yet, Gojo?”

You flop down on a spare armchair in his room, squishing his Canada Goose jacket underneath. He’s too tired to yell at you to get off and tumbles onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge, letting out a loud groan when his face immediately makes contact with the rough wooly blanket. Surprisingly to him, everything just feels so comfortable that the quality of the products doesn’t even cross his mind.

Sure, the air in the room is a bit musty, and he can feel his cheeks flaring up from the sudden change in temperature and the dull aching nag in his legs from demonstrating ski tricks to toddlers, but there’s an odd sense of fulfillment swelling in his chest just about now. He almost suggests taking over Choso’s lesson but, according to the hotel pamphlet, there’s going to be an ice fishing tournament tomorrow and he kinda wants to check that out, too.

“Exhausted,” he mumbles into the sheets, eyes squeezed shut. Satoru wiggles his body around for a few moments before slipping out of his snow boots and stares out the window, noticing flickering green and purple lights in the night sky. “Woah, are those…?”

He hears you laugh beside him. “Yeah, northern lights. We see them all the time during the winter.”

“Only seen them bitches in ‘Polar Express’.” Satoru finds himself saying whatever’s on his mind right now, his brain too whipped out to control his mouth. “You guys are lucky to see this every night.”

“I know you’re all pooped out from today but,” he feels the mattress dip by the edge and your fingers poking at his thighs. “Did you wanna head up to the balcony and watch them for a bit?” you say this experimentally, waiting for his reaction.

Satoru might be a stranger to most natural phenomenons, having to zone out all the time whenever he did go on family vacations to a fancy national park when he was younger. Though, during the short time of spending his time here, it makes him think about packing up and leaving behind the fast paced city life for a bit of natural beauty and brightness.

“Carry me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re like a giant.”

He manages to gather some energy to sit up on his elbows. “You should at least have some form of hospitality to a family friend, you know?”

You eye him for a long moment, and then finally huff, breaking the contact to kick your feet into the festive carpeted floor. “Alright, just don’t lean your whole body weight on me.”

“Wouldn’t count on that.”

Both of you end up tumbling onto the balcony rails around one in the morning. As expected, Satoru couldn’t keep to his promise, throwing his ridiculously long arms around your shoulders, and whining the whole way up the stairs. It’s not his fault that the inn didn’t have an elevator installed. In all, it’s not a bad day — a bad night, even.

You straighten him against the railing before throwing a blanket over him. The fabric is thick and heavy, and Satoru forgets the ache in his limbs as he watches the way your eyes focus, eyebrows knitted, when you’re making sure he stays bundled up against the winter air. Once upon a time, Satoru never would’ve thought he would actually enjoy being in the company of someone who’s actively trying to teach him a lesson.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, almost like a reminder that you need to breathe, and pull away from him once he’s wrapped tightly like a swaddled baby.

You both sit in silence for a moment, and Satoru feels the urge to fill all that silence. He supposes maybe that’s why most people find him so annoying. He never really shuts up, always wants to add the last comment to everything. Though, with the help of Suguru by his side, it’s gotten slightly easier and bearable for others but, when his head is big and full of loud thoughts, it’s so hard trying to calm the buzzing noise in his head and —

“Gojo, look,” your pointer finger darts at the illuminated skyline in the distance and he snaps his head, following the trail, before gasping.

He feels your other hand tugging at the blanket when he finally makes out two faint bright lights in the distance. You squirm slightly next to him, to the point where your shoulders touch, and Satoru finally breathes, because suddenly, there’s heat rushing in. The loud, rough winds around him seem to die down and he’s aware of the slightly gazed expression on your face as you look into the far distance.

“Did you make a wish?” he finds himself whispering.

You grin. “Yeah, gonna make you work here for eternity,” you reply back in good natured spirit.

Something stirs inside Satoru. Something important. Well, Satoru-level important, so in the grand scheme of things, not very — but still. He unravels parts of his blanket and throws it over your head, making sure that it messes up your hair, and laughs when you throw him another pout.

“Did you make a wish?” you adjust the blanket so it covers your shoulders, moving a little closer to him, avoiding the cool breeze.

Satoru nods but presses a finger to his lips. “Not telling, though. Might not come true if I do.”

“Oh, shoot. Maybe I should’ve kept mine a secret then.”

He rolls his eyes and nudges your waist with an elbow. “You will definitely not see me here again.”

Satoru realizes, very fast, that his life has become very different, very quickly. And it might not be the bad kind of different.

Over the course of the next few days, he’s practically glued to your side as you’re showing him all things related to hospitality that his father tried to drill into him when he was a pre-teen. Obviously, it didn’t work at the time. Satoru’s known for being defiant just because he wanted to, and eventually his father stopped with the after school etiquette lessons. You, on the other hand, unfortunately have him tied around your fingers.

“You need to tidy up the edges more, Gojo.”

“There’s barely a wrinkle in these sheets!” He points at the bed sheet on the mattress, the one that he’d been working on for the last ten minutes in vain while you stood next to him with slightly concerned eyes. It’s a room service type of lesson today and, even though Satoru has never made his own bed before, he’s positive that he didn’t leave behind any smudges that might catch anyone’s eye.

“Did you check tuck in the sides? Or are you trying to get off easy for today?” You say, there’s a mild accusation in your tone when you speak, smiling as you step aside.

And, despite the warm smile, Satoru frowns a little, because guess who forgot to tuck in the sides?

When Satoru ducks his head around the mattress and sees a good loose chunk of the sheets hanging off and groans when you’re right. “It’s not my fault that they’ve made them so big for no reason,” he replies, somewhat embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his already ruffled hair.

You roll your eyes and stick a tongue out. “You’re getting the hang of it though, maybe even faster than Yuuji when he first offered to help.”

He flushes at the unexpected praise and quickly fixes the sheets, turning his whole entire body away from your sight. “Better than Yuuji, right?”

“Oh? So, you only work better with compliments, Gojo?” You sound amused, as if a lightbulb just popped on top of your head.

Satoru flattens out the bed once more, strangely now feeling satisfied with the final outcome before turning around, sticking out a tongue of his own. “Only if it’s from you,” he answers, honestly.

You laugh, and hopefully it’s not at him. “I thought you would be more annoying to deal with.”

“So, I’m just regular amounts of annoying?” He points out, with a fake frown, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the sheet.

You turn your gaze, seemingly in deep thought, before responding with a small shrug and grin. “Possibly a perfect amount of annoying.”

Satoru feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, again. “Well, of course, it’s the perfect amount because I’m perfect,” he replies, instantly, but suddenly he’s shy and feels the need to go to the next room to fix their stupid sheets before he combusts in front of you.

“Gojo,” you say, almost hesitantly.

He swallows and rubs the back of his neck, wiping off evidence of his sweaty palms. “Yeah?”

“You missed a spot,” and your pointer fingers direct at the far right corner of the bed frame. He must’ve pulled the sides too hard and it caused the other side to flip over. Ugh, he’s not cut out for this at all.

“I’m… uh, still better than Yuuji, right?”

“Mhm, getting there, Gojo.”

By day four, Satoru has surprisingly adjusted to the rules and responsibilities. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten him mildly well behaved, Suguru is a bit surprised by the daily updates being less… aggressive and whiny. What started as long vent paragraphs about the lack of heated flooring and needy customers, soon turned into photo albums of kids face planting into the snow and unconsented selfies with you in the background. Satoru absolutely makes sure you end up looking the worst out of the two because he’s gotta let his best friend know who’s the prettiest and he’s definitely racking up a blackmail album of all of your worst moments in case anything happens in the future.

It’s closing time and he just got back from the reindeer shed out in the back, covered head to toe in all things hay and snow. First things first, and no one bothered to tell him, but reindeers smell bad. Like, really bad. Especially at the end of the day, where their pens are covered in shit and countless carrots and apple bits from the little kids overfeeding them. Satoru is vaguely aware of the fact that he smells, just like he’s vaguely aware that the hotel lobby is oddly quiet from the usual banter between you and the usual workers.

Utahime and Choso are sitting by the cafe bar, seemingly deep in conversation about ordering more supplies for next week. Satoru thinks about interrupting their session with probably an unrelated dumb question, but the idea dies when Utahime notices his presence and motions him to come over.

“You stink,” Satoru casts a half-glare at Utahime and begins picking out some of the scattered hay pieces stuck to his sweater.

“For the record, I became good friends with Rudolph and Vixen today,” he grumbles back and Choso throws him a pat on the back.

“Hey, I don’t mind your stink, by the way. Smells kinda nice,” Choso offers up, but Satoru only shoots him a very unhappy look.

“If you think I smell nice then I’m really worried about what you think smells bad,” then he turns over to Utahime again, who’s engrossed in whatever is on her clipboard right now. “So, what did you need from me?”

“My sister,” she starts and taps away at the clipboard before handing it over to him. It’s pages upon pages of invoices from the past month. “Could you hand this to her? She should be in the back.”

“You treating me like an errand boy?”

Utahime scoffs. “What? Don’t wanna see her?”

“No, I do,” he responds, a bit too fast for his own liking, and straightens out. “Uh, is that all?” Satoru hopes his face doesn’t betray how much he’s a bit excited to interact with you, given that today was a full day out in the trenches, and he absolutely needs to hear you say his name at least twice a day in order to have a good night’s sleep.

Choso is trying really hard not to laugh, and Satoru takes it as a sign that he currently has a cheesy smile on his face — go figure. “One of the corner rooms upstairs requested a weighted blanket, mind also doing that too?”

There’s a certain relief that floods through Satoru and he thinks maybe he can take on a few more tasks for the night if that means spending a little more time with you, even if his body is screaming that he needs to take a two hour long shower.

“Hey,” he starts to say when he rounds the corner, “Where’d you put those weighted blankets again?”

Satoru expected to walk in on you neck-deep in paperwork. You’ve mentioned earlier in the week that this year would be the busiest and there’s a bunch of stuff due. Something about end of the year tax returns and inventory counts, it all goes out his ear but he remembers something similar that his father told him in a prior conversation. He thinks he could probably help you figure out some of it, but that might be a bit much.

What he walks in on, thought, is you sitting in your little makeshift office. You’re on your laptop, the screen’s tilted just right enough that he gets a glimpse of what you’re looking at. You’re looking at flights and hotels, even got a whole spreadsheet on the second monitor. From what he’s seen of you so far, you didn’t come off as the type to talk about your future that much.

His voice catches you by surprise and your expression flickers from something vaguely focused to embarrassment real quick. You hastily close out the tabs and go back to the hotel’s homepage.

“What is it, Gojo?” And there’s this awkward, oddly frantic moment of you fumbling around with the keyboard and mouse, like a teenage boy who’s just got caught looking at porn.

“Ah,” Satoru thinks seeing your flustered side is rather adorable, to say the least. “You tryin’ to plan a vacation or something?” He struts over to your desk, placing a firm hand onto the back of the chair, and there’s this smile on his face that just screams ‘gotcha’.

Your face scrunches up but it’s not out of annoyance. “Kinda?”

Even with a grumpy look, it’s a good look on you. Makes you kinda dark, brooding, and beautiful, and it turns your eyes into dark storm clouds, or some other weird, waxy poetic shit that Satoru can’t figure out the words to. Either way, Satoru thinks you look cute and can’t stop noticing your little facial movements. You’re more expressive than you would probably imagine.

“Ooh, where to?”

You sigh and start playing with your thumbs. “Malaysia. My friend told me great things about it and I’ve been meaning to go for a while now but time and money are always iffy.”

“Makes sense, I can imagine that being an inn assistant doesn’t pay all the bills.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. You huff and glare, an icy-death glare, at him. If looks could kill, Satoru is sure that he’ll be six feet underground by now.

“Weighted blankets are on the second floor closet by the laundry room,” you answer his initial question curtly before shutting the laptop. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“It was just a question,” he mumbles slowly, and maybe even a little dangerously. “If money’s an issue—”

“Gojo.” Your voice is fixed and rigid, one that leaves absolutely no room for debate. “Your dad was right about you; you always just fall back to your fame and wealth.”

As you’re busy staring, Satoru realizes that you’re kinda being a total ass to him right now.

“That’s not fair,” his voice is rising and can’t seem to put a stop to the words spilling out. “Don’t bring my dad into this conversation.”

“Or what? You can go back to your privileged life anytime you want. This is just a field trip for you while others actually have to try hard and make a living.” You spit out.

“No one forced you to become an inn worker, you know? If you’re so worried about money then you could’ve just found another high paying job.” Satoru wrinkles his nose and his volume continues to rise.

You immediately offer him a dark glare and it comes off in a cut-throat way that shuts Satoru up mid thought. The rest of his counters die in his throat when you start making hand gestures at the office exit and he gets the hint: ‘leave before I lose my shit’ is the calling he sees.

And it works, because he finds his tone shifting a little, awkwardly kicking the floor and backing off. “Whatever…”

That was last night and, by now, Satoru is realizing that he’s kind of a giant asshole and the guilt is slowly eating away at him. Was he always like this? It couldn’t have been — he’s only met you a few days ago, and this is only meant to be a quick, ‘vacational’, getaway. Sure he might be a bit selfish and a dick, but he had been able to function perfectly fine before all of this, hadn’t he?

Satoru’s not really sure.

It’s noon, and he’s lying in bed. Choso had asked him to cover his shift at the cafe, and he’d agreed, readily, even though it’s supposed to be his day off, because you’re working. Choso had texted him, though, saying that you had simply said you’d work the entire shift by yourself.

Of course. It’s absolutely not funny anymore.

Satoru sighs. He’s going to apologize, that’s for sure. It wounds some of his pride, yeah, but whatever, this tension between you guys, though, isn’t worth it. He finds himself wasting his entire morning away rotting in bed. There are things that he could be doing, that he looks forward to, like feeding the reindeers or demonstrating basic ski moves to little kids. Choso and Yuuji totally got him addicted to yelling out ‘pizza’ and ‘french fry’ at every chance he gets. They also got him addicted to a shitty relationship forum they both browse, but somehow the idea of reading other people’s relationship drama, when he’s facing drama of his own, is kinda mentally exhausting.

On second thought, maybe he should post on that forum, actually.

It might not be such a bad idea.

Or maybe he could reach out to Suguru and ask how to apologize?

His best friend is a bit more grounded and attuned with other people’s feelings compared to him, afterall. Satoru’s not good at this stuff and he’s always just cut others off whenever they do argue, but this feels different. And, well, for the first time in forever, Satoru is desperate.

“I fucked up big time and I need to apologize, help me out here?”

Suguru scoffs over the line. “Wow, what happened to saying ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Hi, hello. How are you? How do I make a sincere apology?”

“I’m good, thank you. Now, for your request, depends on how big the fuck up is.”

He bites his tongue, finding the right words to essentially not sound like a huge dick but, no matter how he wants to rephrase it, the outcome is the same. “I might’ve implied that she’s poor and needs someone to take care of her?” It sounds so stupid, so mean, and so degrading now that he’s saying it out loud.

He hears Suguru sucking in his teeth and sighs. After a couple of pauses, his best friend finally speaks. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

Satoru frowns. “Okay, yeah, it is,” and he sits up in his bed when a snowball makes an impact against the window. It’s Utahime. And, currently, she’s throwing him the nastiest glare that a woman has ever given him in his life. “Um, I’ll call you back, buddy…”

“What? I haven’t given you—”

“Don’t have time for unwarranted advice right now.”

“You called me!”

“Bye!” Satoru ends the call before shuffling towards the window, swallowing a hard lump, and inches the glass panel just small enough for him to hear coherently and not big enough for her to punt him across the face. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

But Utahime is in an obvious shitty mood and Satoru’s lack of charming antics aren’t going to work this time. “I’m going to apologize, I promise,” he tries to insist.

“This is all your fault,” she immediately gets to the point and it makes him shrink back just a tiny bit. He’s starting to see that the bluntness runs in the family. “Just get your ass to work.”

“But my shift doesn’t start till—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Utahime starts to form an even bigger snowball and raises it to the window panel. “Ass out of bed, now.”

Okay, so as much as Satoru had tried to tell himself that this week wouldn’t be bad, it’s really starting to get fucking awful.

Everyone’s in a shit mood. Yuuji tries to crack some jokes but the usual crowd isn’t having it. You’ve been throwing Satoru dirty looks while working behind the cafe counter together and he’s been put on drink duty — which is his worst nightmare — while you’re attending to the customers because you’re young and cute enough for them to be nice to you. Satoru has spilled hot coffee and chocolate on himself like four times so far, and the shift just started. He’s terrified that the rest of this week is going to be like this.

“Can we talk?” Satoru whisper shouts over the espresso machine.

He sees your shoulders tensing up but immediately relaxes them afterwards. “Did you hear something, Yuuji?”

The boy looks up from the bar counter, it’s his day off and he’s catching up on some homework, but the seemingly growing tension that’s unfolding in front of him is making it painfully hard for him to focus on anything engineering related. Yuuji scratches the back of his neck before darting his eyes back and forth between the two of you. Normally, he would be the voice of reason, but Satoru doesn’t blame him when he shakes his head.

“N-Nah, must’ve been the wind or something...”

Great, he’s been reduced to an air draft.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you agree without missing a beat. As the next customer in line spends an eternity holding everyone up, debating whether to get the seasonal muffin or french toast to go with their drink, you continue, “Thought I heard a rotten brat for a second.”

He absolutely doesn’t expect the harsh insult. Satoru widens his eyes at the outburst and there’s a small pause, the silence ticking in between everyone, and he’s sure that you’re glaring him down somewhere in a small reflection on the counter.

Satoru debates whether to call out your name and shake some sense into you, but Yuuji quickly swallows and makes a motion with his hands to his throat, a universal signal saying — ‘I wouldn’t test the waters, if I were you’.

And, after the customer finally decides that they didn’t want any pastries with their coffee order, you finish the transaction before announcing that you’re going on a small fifteen minute break to “stretch”. Though, anyone could see that you’re planning to cool off before you manage to actually blow up in Satoru’s face.

“How the hell am I going to talk to her?” he groans to Yuuji once you’re finally away. He’s managing the cash register and, surprisingly, finishes taking the remaining orders quite smoothly compared to his first day. At least he can pat himself on the back for this.

“You’ve really pissed her off, dude,” Yuuji replies and Satoru just rolls his eyes because that’s all he’s been hearing from everyone else all day today. “You should talk to her when she’s not… charged up.”

“Way to point out the obvious.” Sometimes he forgets that Yuuji is a bit oblivious. How is he doing so well as a mechanical engineering major?

Yuuji makes an audible ‘pop’ and whistles. “What did you even say to her?”

Satoru groans into his hands. “Did she not tell you?”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly in a chippy mood to talk about anything this morning — outside of work, that is.”

“Here’s a little TLDR version: might’ve said something classist.”

“Might’ve?”

“Okay, definitely said something classist.”

“Then…” Yuuji drums his fingers against the counter, deep in thought. “Y’know, whenever me and Megumi fight, I always invite him out to the movies to try and cheer him up. Might not be applicable to you but…”

Satoru blinks. “Are you suggesting a date would help?”

“Maybe not a date—”

“No, I’m sorry for calling you dumb, you’re so right—a nice date might work!”

“You never called me dumb, though?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, kiddo.”

Satoru unravels the ribbon on his apron and throws it in Yuuji’s general direction, not caring if he tossed the stained uniform directly in his face. He hops the counter and pats the younger male on the shoulder, flashing him a genuine smile because, hey, maybe Yuuji actually is smarter than he looks.

“Gonna totally invite you to the wedding.”

It’s no secret that Satoru Gojo hasn’t been on a proper date in a pathetically long time.

He has swiped right on a number of highly influential celebrities and figures on dating apps before. Matched with nearly all of them. Gone on…maybe a lot of first dates with not a lot of second dates coming right after. Who cares though, everyone’s just there for the photos and followers anyway. Satoru knows that he’s attractive and that he personally loves big, lavish dates but, at this point, he knows you enough to understand you absolutely hate big gestures.

After a short winded conversation with Suguru and Utahime, separately, Satoru has concluded on not buying you first class tickets to Malaysia.

“Are you trying to get her to hate your guts?” Was the general consensus of the conversation with said people.

So, what’s the next best option if he can’t fly you out to Malaysia? The answer is pretty simple — bring Malaysia to Mistle Town. And no, he’s not going to be relying on his black card for anything, even though the back of his mind is telling him otherwise.

Choso blinks several times at Satoru’s printed out proposal. The colorful letters and Google image photos of beaches and coconuts slapped poorly onto the document screams back at Choso and Yuuji, bright and early on Christmas Eve.

It’s unusual for Satoru to be bouncing excitedly in place for someone other than himself. So this catches everyone off guard.

Yuuji whispers something intangible to Choso, but Satoru is able to make it out as, “Do we even have coconuts here?”

To which Choso replies, “It’s winter, so I don’t think so.”

And Yuuji moves onto the next question in queue, “What should we do about the lack of palm trees?”

A patient sigh from Choso, “We could always trim the pine trees outside?” He lamely suggests.

“It’s a good idea, no?” Satoru jumps right back in, completely missing the flat vibe from the brothers. He frowns. “Why are you guys giving me that look?”

And, like his best friend and your sister, the brothers throw him a confused head tilt.

“Well,” Yuuji weakly starts, “Your plan ‘Project: Bring Malaysia here in hopes of Y/N falling in love with me’ doesn’t really sound that great… even on paper.”

Satoru grins, fully expecting that to be the response. “I’ll order the things, don’t worry about it. I just need to borrow your lungs for this project.”

Yuuji scratches his cheek in confusion, laughing nervously again. “Our lungs…?” he echos.

“How long do I have to keep this dumb blindfold on, Choso?”

“U-Um,” Choso shoots Satoru a brow as he carefully guides you through the hotel lobby.

It’s currently decked out from head to toe in all things yellow, green, and pink beach themed inflatables. Choso and Yuuji reminded Satoru last night that maybe two flamingos would’ve been enough to get the message across, but seeing that he ordered a whole colony? Yeah, he’s sending the rich boy prayers as he reels you in further, avoiding collision with the colorful balloons and seven-foot tall palm trees, too.

“Choso?”

He squeezes your shoulders when Satoru shoots him a thumbs up. “Ten seconds.”

Satoru quietly walks over to both of you, tip toeing so the sounds of his loafers are minimized against the flooring. Once he’s inches away, Choso retreats off into a different room, mouthing to him words of final encouragement, which Satoru gladly took.

You appear restless under the blindfold. “I swear to god, if I take it off and there’s a giant pile of reindeer shit in the middle of the lobby I will actually kill somebody—”

And Satoru quietly debates whether or not he wants to keep you like this for a little while before revealing the big surprise. Seeing you flustered and confused is a very cute look on you, after all. But, he’s gotten you this far and it would absolutely kill him to leave you on such a bad notice. It’s now early evening, and the sun’s just starting to set enough that the golden rays illuminate your features from this angle. It takes Satoru back to his first private meeting with you on the balcony and he remembers why he’s even doing this in the first place.

Carefully and slowly, he slips down the blindfold and softly calls out your name. “Hey, take a look around you.”

Your eyes are blown wide when you see his face. Anger and frustration dissipate from your face when you soon realize that Satoru carries a soft expression. He watches as the emotions wash off as quickly as they came. Then, you finally take a look around your surroundings and gasp. “You—You did all of this for me?”

Satoru tenses a little, a bit on the edge. “You want the short or long answer?”

You don’t notice because you’re too preoccupied with the numerous fake flamingos around you. “On second thought, maybe no answer would also work.”

He laughs at this, slightly, before turning shy again. He feels silly, ashamed, and it makes his cheeks flush. “I wanted to say sorry again for what I said earlier.”

“You finally want to talk about it?”

He looks at your idle hands and then back to your face. When he sees that you don't move them away as he inches closer, he takes both of them into his palms, giving them a tight squeeze. “Yeah, I was a big idiot and I thought I was trying to help in the beginning but I just sounded—no, I am—a giant ass.” Satoru concludes.

The atmosphere grows quiet and heavy again. The air humid and thick despite the opened windows and you’re looking at him. Then, there are tiny little smiles that break out on your face, like freckles and stars in the sky.

“You’re such a pillow princess,” and he outright blushes ten shades darker at the nickname, “you’re lucky you’re cute.” Coming from you, that’s as good as a love confession.

I like you, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. He really likes you and doesn’t want to fuck this up.

But, everyone knows that Satoru Gojo is a child at heart.

Satoru doesn’t know who gives in first; realistically, it might’ve been one of those stupid, rare, impossible moments where it’s completely shared. Suddenly the gaudy blow up palm trees and inflatable pool blur from his vision and he feels the world roaring around him when your palms rest on his cheeks. He ducks his head down but you’re the one who closes the distance between.

You taste like strawberries and lavender, smell like warm cocoa, and feel softer than any sherpa blanket he’s had. Satoru closes his eyes and his vision goes white, his hands shakily snake around your waist, pressing you hard against his chest as if you might disappear at any moment. Satoru sighs into the kiss, it feels pleasantly warm, that throb in his chest, it’s a slow, steady thrum of simmering desire and comfort. He’s pretty sure he’s adding way too much tongue, the drool and saliva that comes dripping between you two will be uncomfortable soon, but for now, it adds to the blissed out, satisfaction you’re both basking in.

Finally, you pull away, shortening yourself a good several inches from planting the rest of your feet on the ground. Your eyes are glossed over, watery and looking at him without vexation. “You’re something else.” You say, but there’s no bite.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a moment. He’s too focused on the feeling of your warm fingers sprawled all over his heating face. Too focused on the dull pulse of both nervousness and infatuation slowly spreading through his body because you’re giving him that look. This all feels romantic and stupid, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, again.” The words are quiet, hesitant, and Satoru almost regrets them the moment he speaks.

You shift around a little, now dancing on the balls of your feet, but the grasp you have on his cheeks is still relatively firm, even applying a bit of more pressure as if it’s your way of showing reassurance. You tip your head; your eyes are so vivid and bright, it sends a shiver down Satoru’s spine. In this moment, he remembers every single thing between them in shocking detail — the awkwardness, the tension, the frustration, the dumb banters, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed.

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a private city tour,” you laugh. “And come back to work with us again next year.”

Satoru offers a small smile. “Unpaid?”

“Will you say no if it is?”

He hugs you tighter, a chuckle bubbles in his throat. “I don’t think I can say no because it’s you.”

Though, while some might think that Satoru is the real loser here for being whipped so hard over a small town girl, you know that deep down the real loser is you. Because you managed to have the son of a CEO wrapped around your fingers and now you will never know peace again. But you’re not really complaining; instead, you’re working even harder to save just enough to eventually see your dream destination while Satoru whines and sends an ungodly amount of selfies everyday when he’s back home. And you won’t allow yourself to get snappy because, well, you’re very much head over heels for him, too.

#event: i got my eyes on youೄྀ࿐ˊˎ #doobea writing #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x female reader

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yunopouts · 7 months

Text

scream - l. jeno

-> lee jeno x fem reader

-> frat! au, pure smut (jeno lee is one nasty mother fucker in this one y'all)

-> CW: dom! jeno, rough sex(??), choking, edging, a small... TINY (VERY TINY) bit of ass play, protected sex, handjob, overuse of the word fuck, overstim, head god jeno, fingering, spitting, squirting, slight praise, lots of crying (reader), dumbification, marking/biting, scratching, blood, nipple play, gagging, bdj (big dick jeno LMFAOO)

-> a/n: this is my apology for going on such a long break T-T, i'm telling you i didn't even realise it went on for that long. i was checking in every now and then but i feel so bad T-T anyways! I'm back :P this one doesn't have THAT much dialogue, so i hope you guys enjoy the gory details 😁 also i think this is the filthiest, most smutty, smut i've ever fucking written, and i've written a lot... trust me on this.

-> upcoming: dilf! jaehyun next week and maybe another halloween special idk. oh btw, everything has some sort of halloween aspect to it :)) psst! requests are open!!

-> word count: 4.2k!

-> also p.s: idk how to explain the way he's acting in this fic... he's like very sweet and cute when he's kissing, but he's being a bitch when he's fucking and being rough... idk, i hope you understand what I mean. but also, as rough as he maybe, he's very touchy-feely and kissy :D ANYWHO! I present to you, six pages of pure filth!

safe! master list

mature! masterlist

“When you said we’re going to a party, I didn’t know it was a frat party.” Minjeong said as the three of you walked through the door. The house reeked of weed and sweat, all the criteria for a proper frat party, except everyone is in a Halloween costume.

“Girl, where else would the party have been?” Jimin scoffed lightly. She paused in the doorway, looking down at her phone before she sighed. “Apparently Sungchan’s waiting for me in the living room, I’ll see you two later?” Both you and Minjeong nodded, wishing the girl goodbye and watched as she walked away in her cheerleader costume.

Turning to each other, you silently agreed that the first thing you needed was a drink, so you headed off to the kitchen.

“I forgot to tell you how hot you look in that outfit.” She said in your ear, loud enough for you to hear over the music, and you gave her a smile while you poured yourself a drink.

“So do you,” you whistled as you looked her up and down, the way the gross boys in movies do when they spot a hot girl.

Together, you looked like an odd pair, seeing as you were dressed up as Jennifer, from Jennifer’s Body, and Minjeong was Little Red Riding Hood. The music thumped through the air as the two of you stood in the crowded kitchen, surrounded by costumed partygoers. The laughter and chatter blended with the bass, creating a symphony of Halloween revelry. Your playful compliment still lingered in the atmosphere, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise chilly, dimly lit room. You took a sip from your drink, the alcohol burning your throat, but your attention was momentarily drawn away from the sensation by something else. From across the room, you spotted a familiar figure, the ever so iconic Ghost Face mask, in the back corner, talking to a boy dressed up as a mummy.

The menacing presence seemed to defy the festive atmosphere, and your eyes were drawn to it as if by some magnetic force. The Ghost Face mask turned slowly in your direction, and even though you couldn't see their face, you felt a shiver race down your spine. It was as though an invisible connection had formed between you and the enigmatic figure, a connection that transcended the costume and the anonymity it provided. There was something magnetic about their presence, something that sparked a potent and unspoken attraction.

For a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes met those hidden behind the Ghost Face mask. Time seemed to stand still as you locked onto each other, and a subtle, unspoken acknowledgment passed between you, like a silent agreement in the midst of the raucous party. Your heart quickened, and the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment.

Feeling a surge of heat and anticipation, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the enigmatic figure and turned back to Minjeong, who had been watching the silent exchange with keen interest. She met your eyes, and the shared understanding between you two was palpable. “You saw him too, didn’t you.” Minjeong said in a way that had her sounding winded. With a knowing smile and another sip of your drink, you and Minjeong silently toasted to the unspoken intrigue that had captured your attention.

As the night continued, the magnetic pull you felt towards the Ghost Face figure in the corner didn't wane. It was like an invisible thread connected the two of you, and despite the ongoing revelry, your attention kept drifting back to that mysterious presence.

Minjeong, ever perceptive, nudged you and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Why not go for it?" Encouraged by her silent urging, you decided to take the initiative. Setting down your drink, you nodded toward the Ghost Face figure, indicating your intention to approach.

Minjeong gave you an encouraging thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to navigate the sea of Halloween costumes on your own. You weaved through the dancing crowd, anticipation growing with each step.

As you approached, the mask-wearing figure seemed to sense your approach and turned slightly in your direction. They leaned against the counter with their arms crossed over their chest, waiting for you to arrive. The closer you got, the more you could feel the intensity of the connection between the two of you.

Finally standing face to face, the silence was almost deafening. The mask stared at you, unmoving, but you could sense a palpable tension beneath it. Without exchanging words, you both seemed to understand that this moment was special, a secret shared between you in the midst of chaos.

Slowly, your hand extended, and you reached for the Ghost Face mask. Your fingertips brushed against it, and you felt a rapid heartbeat beneath your touch. The mask gave the slightest nod, and you grasped it, carefully pulling it up.

Beneath the mask, a pair of intense, dark eyes met yours. You were momentarily lost in their depth, captivated by the enigmatic stranger who had held your attention all night. The corners of your lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and a spark of recognition flared in those deep, mysterious eyes.

The unspoken tension that had been simmering between you erupted in a whirlwind of excitement. It was a dance of anticipation and curiosity, an unspoken agreement that you had both been waiting for this moment. And even though the music continued to thump, and the crowd continued to revel, for that brief, electric moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent, thrilling connection.

You told him your name when he asked for it, and he introduced himself as ‘Jeno’.

“You wanna take this upstairs?” he asked with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You sucked in a breath and nodded before he pulled the mask back down and took your hand in his to lead the way through the crowd.

The staircase was crowded with a few people, Minjeong included. You spotted her talking to a girl in fairy costume and when you caught her eye, she gave you a grin, wider than you’ve ever seen.

Every now and then, Jeno’s leather gloved hand would lightly squeeze yours as you climbed up the stairs. You held on a little tighter each time, but before you knew it, you were standing in front of a room with a big ‘JN’ poster hanging in the middle.

The boy opened the door for you and let you enter first before entering himself. The door clicked shut behind you as you sat down on the bed, your eyes locked on Jeno's every move. With a seductive confidence, he slowly peeled off the Ghost Face mask, revealing a mischievous smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

As he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, you sucked in a breath in response to the sensual tension that crackled between you. His gloved hands, still gripping the mask, dropped to his sides, and he advanced with a slow, deliberate purpose. The room was drowning in desire, and you couldn't tear your gaze away from him.

Jeno moved in until he was standing directly in front of you. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself unable to resist as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. The touch was electrifying, and you leaned into it, your eyes closing as you savored the sensation. You reached up slowly and pulled his hands away, suddenly regretting it, but you went on with pulling the leather gloves off, exposing a set of large, veiny hands.

Kicking off your shoes, you moved to the top of his bed and watched as he concentrated on your every move with dark eyes. In a flash, Jeno had pulled off the cloak, leaving his chest exposed and him only in his jeans. It felt like you were freezing without his touch on you, but soon enough, he was in front of you, inspecting your face before his eyes ultimately landed on your lips that were stained red from makeup.

His lips rushed to meet yours in a tantalising kiss, a soft exploration that soon deepened into a passionate melding of mouths. The taste of him was intoxicating, and your tongues danced in a heated rhythm, exchanging breathless sighs and moans. Every kiss, every brush of his lips against yours, sent a rush of heat through your body. It was amazing.

His hands travelled from your face, down to your waist and they pulled you to meet his body. Jeno groaned into the kiss from all the friction caused by his chest rubbing against your sweater, making his nipples hard and sensitive.

While your arms wrap around his neck, Jeno’s hips dig into yours, creating a tent in his pants. It’s hard and uncomfortable but the pressure it’s putting on your cunt is to die for, so you grind… hard. Jeno moans your name while his hands tug at your jeans so aggressively you thought he would tear them if he continued. After blindly messing around with your pants, Jeno popped the button open and pulled down your jeans, exposing the lacy underwear you had on.

You whined as he pulled away from your lips but you shut up quicker than ever when you noticed how he was staring at your pussy. He looked hungry.

He looked like he was starving.

And starving, he was.

Jeno practically tore off your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him, before he dove into you. His tongue pressed flat against your pussy, licking a stripe up, the muscle’s warmth and making you moan softly. His nose poked at your clit as his tongue toyed with your hole. He lapped at your folds, making sure no spot was left untouched by his tongue. Jeno loved the way you tasted; you had the best pussy he’s ever eaten, he felt like he could spend all day eating you out, and he’d never get tired of it.

Jeno pulled away for a second to put his middle finger in his mouth, coating it in saliva before pressing it to your entrance. A hum escaped your lips as his thick digit slowly pulsed in and out of you as your hands worked to take off your sweater and shirt. Soon, one finger became two, and Jeno went back to eating you out. Your moans were driving him crazy; they were making it hard focus on your clit because his cock was so fucking hard. The hand he had pressed on your lower abdomen moved down to his button, undoing it and moving the zipper down far enough for him to get his dick out.

As he rubbed his cock, Jeno’s teeth grazed your clit before his lips latched on to it, sucking forcefully. With that, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start to form. As your moans quickened, the pace of Jeno’s fingers grew faster, and he sucked harder on your clit– if it were even possible. He loved the way you were tightening around his fingers, like you were trying to keep them inside you, wanting them absorb your juices.

“Fuck, Jeno…” you gasped, fingers tugging at his dark, messy hair. “God, I’m so close.”

Your eyes squeezed shut right as you were about to cum, but you never did. You felt so high, but now you dropped back down to zero, and you were empty and cold. Opening your eyes, you saw Jeno looking down at you with a smug expression. He leaned down and kissed you softly, which allowed you to taste yourself off his tongue, the somewhat sweet taste filling your mouth.

Reaching down, you felt for his cock, and began stroking when you found it. He was girthier than other guys you’ve had sex with, and he had a slight curve upwards, but my god was he long. You didn’t know if he would fit, but there was nothing you wouldn’t try.

Jeno moaned as he kissed you, the feeling of your warm hands rubbing him up and down forced him to thrust at the pace you were moving at. He pulled back from your lips to drop his head into the crook of your neck, marking and panting against the soft skin. Behind the shell of your ear, he wet a small spot with saliva before he kissed it softly, and he did the same to a few other spots. He sucked on your skin until it bruised while he moved down to the curve of your neck. Jeno’s hot tongue laid against your skin once again before he closed his teeth around it.

You jerked his cock harder as the boy continued to bite into different spots until his husky voice whispered a demand.

“Stop.” Jeno told you.

You did as you were told, but you kept your fingers trailing up and down his shaft as he kissed back up your neck, to your lips.

“Gimme two seconds.” he said against your lips with a smile. You kissed him quickly before he got up, which made him chuckle.

You watched as he got up, cock out and everything, which made you smile a bit. Jeno slid off his remaining clothes and tossed them in what presumed to be a laundry bin, and opened a drawer of his dresser, only to pull out something wrapped in a gold foil.

Oh…

Not one;

Not two;

Or three;

But six.

Jeno pulled out a strand of six condoms before he turned back to you. “Just in case.” he smiled innocently, even though he absolutely was not. He tore one from the line and ripped the top off with his teeth before he handed you the open package.

“Only six?” you asked in attempt to make a joke out of the pain you’re going to be in tomorrow.

Jeno chuckled as he shrugged while you took the condom and rolled it on to his cock. “We can use the whole pack if you want, it’s new.”

And that was that, seeing as Jeno grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. His tongue eagerly explored your mouth once again, grazing your own tongue and cheeks before he pulled away. A string of your mixed saliva hung like a teather from your mouth to his.

“Turn over for me, won’t you?” you nodded in a daze and turned so that your face was in the pillows. “Good girl,” he said, his cool hands grazing down your back, sliding all the way down to your ass. He spread your cheeks far enough apart to see everything, and you swore you heard evil laughter coming from somewhere.

What you thought was going to come, did not, in fact, come. Instead, you were surprised to feel a warm glob of spit fall on to your ass and how it trailed down to your pussy. Jeno leaned down and licked one long stripe, starting from your clit and ending at your ass. His tongue poked into your hole, once again, but this time he scisored in and out, the same way he used his fingers earlier. His tongue was warm and soft inside you, but that feeling didn’t last very long.

Jeno pulled his tongue out, subbing it out for his fingers, but instead, he used his tongue on your ass, sending shivers down your spine. He licked at the puckered hole, warming it up a bit as he fucked your pussy with his fingers.

“You doing okay?” he asked, but you were only able to moan out your response. His fingers fucked you faster, his thumb was ruining your clit with friction, your ass was slick with his spit. Everything was happening just as it needed to be for you to cum. “Oh fuck, Jeno, I’m gonna cum.” And this time you did. Jeno’s fingers curled inside you as they fucked you through your orgasm. Your body shook, your pussy was covered in spit and cum. Jeno’s fingers were coated in a mixture of his and your fluids, and he sucked it off like he was eating icing from a cake.

You felt hot and sticky; he hadn’t even fucked you with his cock yet and yet that was the best orgasm you’d ever fucking felt. “Jen… Jeno, I need you.”

The desparity in your voice sent Jeno spiraling and in no time, the fingers in your pussy were gone and his cock was poking at your enterance. He spit into his hand and coated his covered cock in it, even though he doubted he needed it, considering the fact that you were so wet you could drip on to his bed.

With a slow push, Jeno’s cock entered you, but refrained from moving after hearing you gasp. You knew he was going to be big, but you didn’t know he would be that big. He was a length you’d never taken before, so it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but soon enough you were able to build up to a medium pace.

Jeno’s hands snuck up your back to undo the clasp of your bra, exposing your breasts. Jeno firmly gripped your ass, with his thumb prodding at your assshole. You hummed with pleasure as the thick digit dipped into you slightly. With that, along with the pounding from his cock, you were basically in heaven.

“Faster,” you gasped, finally feeling only pleasure as he fucks into you.

Pulling you up by the shoulder, your bra slipped off in an instant, which let Jeno get a proper view of your tits, plump and beautiful. He watched how they jiggled with each thrust, and he grew more and more fond of them. Jeno even switched his grip on you from your shoulder to your neck. His hand gripped you around the base of your throat, just tight enough for there to be a handprint later. Meanwhile, the other snaked down to your pussy, where he drew fast circles on your clit. Jeno’s cock was deep inside your cunt, it filled you to the brim and you were loving every minute of it.

And so was he. The sound of skin slapping on skin, how your pussy fit his cock like a glove, how you moaned his name like you knew it well, how your back was practically glued to his chest. That made him go crazy; that made him fuck you even harder– a more vigurous pace that felt so good it brought you to tears.

Jeno got a hold of one of your nipples, it was hard and practically begging for it to be twisted. You moaned at the feeling and begged for more through your tears, so Jeno’s arms crossed over your stomach, his hands reaching up to play with your nipples some more. He pulled at them until they slipped from his grip, he squeezed them until you begged for mercy. When he shoved two fingers in your mouth, you gagged and yet you could still go further. Jeno pulled his fingers out and covered your tits in your spit.

It didn’t take long for his hips to pick up the pace once he that he was about to cum. Your moans grew choppier and choppier as his thrusts became more sharp.

“Shit, baby.” he groaned, his teeth biting down on your ear loab as he came. Your breaths were ragged in the moments of his orgasm, but you could feel his cock twitch inside you, even with the condom. Your body couldn’t keep up with the speed he was going at and soon enough you were shaking in his arms for a second time, cumming with him.

When Jeno pulled out, your head lolled backwards and you eyed him with a smile. Jeno kissed your temple and whispered his next words into your skin.

“On to the second condom, then?” You each laughed at his comment and Jeno wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly as he shook with laughter.

The boy helped you off of him before getting off the bed again to switch condoms. The exchange was quick and before you knew it, Jeno was hovering above of you once more, staring down at you like you were his prey. This predatory look formed a pit in your stomach, but the good kind.

Jeno’s eyes scanned you from head to toe.

Your body glistened with sweat, collarbones and throat covered with markings of all kinds, your nipples were puffy and wet, and your pussy was swollen and slick with juices. Everything looked delectable; you looked delectable and he was so tempted to consume it all.

The boy picked up one of your legs and propped it over his shoulder and placed his tip at your entrance. He bottomed out smoothly, and this time you seemed to be able to handle his length much better. Your head sunk into the pillows as you let out a sigh.

You watched how Jeno’s eyes closed when he felt your cunt wrap around him with his head falling back with pleasure. “Feels so good.” he groaned into the air, his jaw hanging open slightly as he continued to thrust. His head turned to the side and he brought your calf closer to his mouth, littering it with harsh bites and soft kisses.

Biting your lip, you reached your arm out, silently asking for him to come closer to you, to which he accepted. Setting your leg down, Jeno placed his arms on either side of your head, his face now just centimetres away from yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you wanted to keep the eye contact, so you mustered up the courage to look into his swirling orbs. In his eyes were a mix of emotions, ones that were unrecognisable to you, but you liked it. Tilting your head up slightly, you pecked his bottom lip lightly, which earned you a grin from Jeno. It grew wider when you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him in even closer to you. He hummed and kissed you back forcefully as he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you sharply.

The tears that ran from your eyes down your cheeks seemed to motivate Jeno. Before, he could only hear your sobs, but seeing you cry switched something inside him. It made him want to fuck you harder, just to see you cry even harder. You looked so pretty, with your makeup all messy and tears running down your face. He loved it.

So he fucked you harder, and so you cried harder, you moaned louder, and you pawed at his back. His skin was under your nails, he could feel how they cut into him the harder he thrust. You were driving him fucking insane.

Jeno leaned his forehead on to yours as he moaned out sweet nothings. “I fucking love your pussy, fuck.” he cursed. His words made you tighten around his cock, which only made him groan louder, but it was like music to your ears. He felt like your pussy was sucking him in the way it would constrict when he fucked into you.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. “Fuck, Jeno, you’re so fucking good.” you repeated your words as you whined out to him.

His words made your insides flutter, his movements made your heart race and your breaths quicker. Everything felt so good you could barely moan out words anymore.

He was fucking you dumb and silly. You were nothing but drawn out exclamations and tears. You were so sensitive, and yet you didn’t even want to tell him to stop.

It was just too good to stop.

So he kept fucking you, and he kept filling you, over, and over, and over again until you felt it. “Jen… Jeno, fuck, I’m cumming.” Suddenly, Jeno pulled out again, the same way he did earlier, but this time, he crawled between your legs again, fingering you until you came while jerking himself off. This one hit you so hard that your mind went completely blank and no words could even come out of your mouth. Jeno couldn’t even register what happened until he felt a wet substance leak on to his sheet.

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

His mouth latched on to your squirting cunt almsot immediately, drinking in your juices like it was water. Some liquid dripped down his neck as he lapped up the rest that leaked from your pussy, but he never let up. He continued to eat you out so well even after you came, you thought you were going to do it again.

As your hand raked through his dark hair, all it took was one tug at his roots for him to cum. Jeno rode his high by fucking himself into his mattress, and until he was done, he rest in between your thighs.

Slowly making his way up to you, you looked down, only to find that his dick was still hard. “You’re joking, right?”

“How about we finish that pack in a bit, hm?” he grinned, making you scoff.

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kittyhui · 1 month

Text

♪ coming down - The Weeknd ♪

brother’s best friend! seungcheol x f!reader

cw: smut (minors DNI!!), pinv, unprotected sex (stay safe😁), seungcheol is buff, tbh this is really tame so dw, fluffy at the end

brothers best friend cheol x reader

°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥☆°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥

your brother’s friend, seungcheol, was hot. it was kind of hard to be subtle about his affect on you. the man sitting on your couch was so fucking hot and even though you’ve seen him basically every single day for the past four years, you can’t stop staring at him and his big bulky arms and wide shoulders as he talks to your brother, dokyeom.

“y/n” your brother calls out to you, breaking your thoughts, “me and cheol are heading to the gym now. we’ll grab food on the way back so text me what you want” you say your goodbyes to the boys as they head out and you go up to you room.

°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥☆°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥

“i feel like he’s getting hotter” you sigh through the phone to your friend “him and kyeom go to the gym like every day. his arms are practically bulging out of his shirts”

“he’s definitely doing it on purpose, y/n” she stated. you let out a scoff, denying her words “im telling you! he wants to get you in bed”

“i wish” you laugh, “but seriously if i see seungcheol in another tight shirt again i will suck him off till he sees the pearly gates-“

creak

your neck turns so fast you thought it would break and your eyes land on choi seungcheol, your brother’s best friend, and the man you were very vocally thirsting over. you hang up on your phone call, mouth still agape. “what- what are you doing here, seungcheol?”

“your brother, he uh he dropped me off just now so i can go shower before we ate… he’s picking up the food right now, that’s what i wanted to tell you….” you fought the urge to cry in embarrassment as you look at his face was bright red while he stands frozen in the doorway.

“im so sorry, cheol! i didnt mean to make you uncomfortable- fuck- lets just forget about this, please? im so sorry-“ he cuts your rambling off.

“if you felt this way, you shouldve just told me..” he hissed out. thats when you finally noticed his hands curled into tight fists, his clenched jaw, and the imprint pressed in his grey sweats. “fuck y/n, you could’ve had me for years.”

a shaky breath leaves your lips as you finally build up the strength to speak, “can i have now?” before you can regret your words, seungcheol’s mouth is on yours, hot and wet, pushing you flatter onto your mattress, “fu- cheol… want you so bad”

“we gotta be quick” he pants, in between kisses, “kyeom will be back soon-“ he barely sounds stressed as he grabs at your hips, grinding down painfully slow. you needed more than this.

“then stop teasing me, cheolie and fuck me stupid” you purr out to the man on top of you, slipping your fingers into his sweatpants, desperately trying to take them off. “needed you for so long, can’t wait any longer.”

“need to prep you, pretty baby” you groan at the pet name, getting more desperate if that was even possible. he pulls your shorts down, cursing at the glistening arousal of your cunt, “s-shit”

“cheol! just fuck me- i can take it. please” you sounded pathetic but who could blame you. the man in front of you was playing stupid games with you and you were about to slap the shit out of him. “unless you’re too scared, cheolie?”

he grunts, detaching from you to pull down his pants and boxers, exposing his cock.. fuck it wasn’t the longest but shit- it was thick. “fine. be a brat then.” your lips form an ‘oh’ shape, beginning to deny his words, when you feel his cock sink slowly into you “fu-fuck, so tight” his jaw clenched and his thick eyebrows furrow as he continues to fill you to the brim, pushing whines and cries out of you.

your brain was turning into mush as he started his hungry thrusts. your body burned at every touch he gave you, biting your lip to suppress the noises you made “cheolie- feel so good, need more-“ you can see the corners of his lips twitch hearing you whimpering under him. his breath feels ragged on your neck when he leans down to kiss and nip at you, pulling your hips into him making his cock fuck deeper and deeper. oh. “im , im going to cum! oh oh god…” your eyes go hazy, mouth falling wide, sobs being knocked out of you as seungcheol continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

“oh, you’re clenching around me so good, princess.. makes me wanna cum in you-shit” he knows he can’t, he shouldn’t but god does he want to. he unfortunately pulls out, leaving you squeaking at the loss of fullness. he strokes himself lazily, rutting against you, getting closer to his own release. looking you in the eye, he growls, he fucking growls your name, and you feel warm cum spurt onto your stomach. “god… you’re so pretty like this, princess. did so good.” he kisses you softly before falling softly besides you.

“you should get up, cheolie.. dokyeom will probably come back soon.” you giggle, sitting up to grab the shorts that came off earlier. “im gonna go clean up” before you can leave your room, he grabs your wrist.

“i really do like you, you know?” he looks at you with big, wide eyes, “i dont want this to be a one time thing or anything. let me take you out.. dinner? lunch? coffee?” all you do is lean into him and kiss his plump lips.

“sure i’d like that. let me get cleaned first and then we’ll talk details” he smiles wide at you, nodding and you smile back.

“hey!!” you both jump, hearing yells from downstairs; dokyeom “if you two are done up there, the food’s getting cold so hurry up!!”

°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥☆°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥

a/n: dazed magazine cheol has ruined me for any man. ik he fucks good

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #i want cheolie #heyyy cheol i need you #seungcheol fanfic #svt x reader #svt smut

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lovebugism · 3 months

Note

could I request maybe shy!reader trying to play dnd with eddie but she's suuuuuuper nervous and confused and internally panicking about him not liking her anymore if she can't get into it?? Or if you wanna change it up please do!! love you!!

love you! hope you like it! — you get insecure about not liking d&d when a girl joins hellfire (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort ish, established relationship, 1.4k)

The Hellfire room is void of the boyish bodies that usually fill it. The abandoned classroom, turned freak sanctuary, is now littered with pieces the rogues, clerics, and bards left behind — in half-empty soda cans and crumbled-up bags of potato chips.

While Eddie packs up his binder, filled to the brim with miscellaneous papers, you wander around the long table with a trashcan in hand. The wild-haired boy squints when you chuck Dustin’s crushed Pepsi in the bin. “You don’t have to do that, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie huffs through his nose, feeling too exhausted now to argue. He slides his binder into his bag and watches you rake Gareth’s chip crumbs into the trashcan. The urge to stop you becomes unignorable then.

“Okay, well, you know what? I mind—” the boy retorts, striding the very short distance to you and snatching the bin from your grip. He smiles a crooked grin and continues in a fantastical accent. “—‘Cause the Dungeon Master’s queen shouldn’t have to clean up after a bunch of lowborns, alright?”

You roll your eyes with a subdued giggle. “Someone’s gotta do it, Eds,” you insist as you reach for the plastic container he took. You exhale sharply when he hides it further behind him, pulling it further out of your way. “I wanna be of some use around here!”

Eddie’s face twists. “Don’t say that.”

You cower beneath his stare. “Well… It’s not like I actually play or anything. I just kinda… sit around… And watch you guys do everything…”

“Well, why would you play?” he laughs. “You don’t even like D&D.”

Something in the way he says it makes you ache. You’ve always felt distantly horrible about it — failing to take interest in something he holds so close to his heart. Hearing him reiterate that fact twists the knife lodged in your chest.

“That doesn’t bother you?” you wonder, impossibly shy. “That I don’t play?”

Eddie shrugs and sits the bin down again. “Why would that bother me?” he scoffs.

“I don’t know… ‘Cause you like it. And it’s your favorite thing to do in the whole world.”

“Well… Maybe not my favorite thing,” he croons with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Your nose scrunches in disdain. His laughter fills the empty room as his ringed hands spread warm along your sides. “I just feel bad,” you confess, gaze averted to the scuffed tile beneath your feet. “You know, that I can’t get into or whatever.”

Eddie meets your subtle pout with an unbothered grin. “There’s nothing to feel bad about. People like different things, babe. That’s life,” he assures you, squeezing softly at your sides. “I mean, it’s no different than me hating The Smiths, right? I still let you play their cassettes in the van, and you still sit in on all my campaigns— and that, sweetheart, is the meaning of true love…”

Unswayed, you jerk softly back when he leans down to kiss you. You frown up at him with your arms crossed between your bodies. “But Rory loves D&D. And she’s super pretty…”

Aurora Edwards was the newest edition to the Hellfire gang. She goes by Rory for short, though, ‘cause she’s cool like that and everything. Her dyed blonde hair is as wild as Eddie’s, cut into a makeshift mullet that sits sort of shaggy on her head — intentionally messy in a way only she can pull off.

She likes cool music and cool clothes and cool hobbies — because everything she does seems to have some sort of subverted flair to it. She’s smart and she’s nerdy and she’s beautiful. None of which seem fair. You’ve been stirring with feelings of inadequacy since you met her.

And Eddie doesn’t seem to get any of it. His brows furrow at your words, like none of them have any sort of meaning to him.

“She’s way more your type than I am,” you blurt.

A laugh sputters from his plush mouth. “You think my love for you is contingent on some stupid game?” he chuckles.

The way he says it makes you shrink. You feel sort of stupid about it now. “I don’t know…”

“Well, then, I have done a very shit job of being your boyfriend.”

Your chest stings. “No, you haven’t, Eddie—”

“Mm,” he hums, half playful, as he tilts his pretty head to his shoulder. “I have, though. ‘Cause if you think some other girl liking Dungeons and Dragons is gonna make me love you any less, then I have done something horribly, horribly wrong.”

You bite back a smile at his words, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth until the beam becomes impossible to ignore.

“‘Cause you’re kinda stuck with me, turns out,” the boy continues. “Unfortunately for you.”

“Unfortunately?” you echo with a scoff.

“Yeah. ‘Cause if some other schmuck comes around who likes listening to The Smiths and sitting in the sunshine, he’s gonna have to go through me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. “I don’t want another guy, Eds…” you confess, going shy all over again.

His nose scrunches as he plays coy. “Even if he doesn’t smoke?” he wonders in a sheepish murmur.

“Even if he doesn’t smoke.”

“Good,” he beams, pulling you into him by your belt loops. His breath fans over your jaw in a minty-nicotine concoction as he ducks his face closer to yours. “‘Cause I don’t want anyone else, either, alright? Even if they are almost as good as me at D&D… Actually, it’s kinda a turn-off, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Is it?”

“Yeah… ‘Cause, like, I love teaching you about it and everything.”

“Even when I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Especially when you have no idea what I’m talking about,” he laughs, smiling so hard his cheeks speckle pink. “‘Cause you know how much I like it, so… You let me talk all the shit I want.”

“’S just because you’re so pretty when you talk about things you like,” you confess.

His face twists. “Am I?”

“Well, you’re pretty all the time, but…”

“You flatter me,” he huffs and pulls you closer. He smirks and goes quieter when he says, “And flattery goes a long way with me.”

“Does it?” you hum with a sunshine-coated giggle.

Eddie doesn’t answer you with words. He just presses his lips to your mouth and hopes you get the gist. His tongue swipes against yours, soft and sudden, as he guides you towards the table. You run into a rogue chair before he can get you on top of it. It screeches against the linoleum tile.

With his face in your hands, you giggle against his mouth. His denim-clad knee slips between your thighs.

The door squeaks softly open then. Rory enters, swift and unthinking. You and Eddie pull apart — one looking much more horrified than the other — as the blonde girl stands frozen in the doorway. Drowning in her sweatshirt and baggy jeans, she points a lanky finger towards the table.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, voice gritty and deep. “I just left my girlfriend’s jacket here, and she doesn’t know I stole it, so… She’d definitely kill me if I forgot it.”

“That’s okay. Come in,” Eddie shrugs with a tightlipped smile, nodding his head in a silent invitation. When Rory plucks the coat from the back of her chair, he says, “Tell Jess I said hi, yeah?”

The girl scoffs as she heads back towards the door again, leaving just as quickly as she came. “She still hates you, you know that, right?” she laughs. ‘Cause Jess was a cheerleader — pretty and sometimes kind, but dreadfully conservative. Her uptight nature often clashed with Eddie’s much more chaotic one.

“Well, tell her to get in line,” Eddie chuckles.

Before Rory leaves the room, she glances at the two of you over her shoulder. She winks with an eye smudged with black liner. “Have fun, you two,” she croons in a pretty voice before shutting the door behind her.

You stand, still and silent in place, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. Feeling like a total idiot, you refuse to meet Eddie’s gaze. You know he’s got a smug look on his face. You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “See? Not my type at all.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

SHOWERING OR BATH TIMES WITH HUSBAND ALASTOR?!?!?!

YES

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

Bath time with Alastor is one of the most relaxing things you can do with him

It's the best because of the obvious trust he's giving you with his body, his guard down

As his wife, you're the only person who gets to see this side of him

He starts to find excuses to get you to shower or bathe with him, sometimes he's subtle about it and other times, he's not

"Alastor!!"

"My dear, you're soaking wet! Luckily, I have just the remedy for those cold bones~ A hot bath~"

🥶🙄😑😮‍💨🙂‍↔️

He likes bubble baths but won't ever admit it to anyone besides you, the bubbles just add something a little ✨️

Will literally melt into your chest the moment you start scrubbing his hair, the attention making him go lax

Not his ears going flat against his head and twitching

Sometimes he lets out a few happy growls or bleats whenever you massage somewhere particularly sore

Sometimes forgets he's in a bath and will try to snuggle into you only to get a shock of water in his face, arms wrapped loosely around your hips

There's just something so special about spending uninterrupted quality time with your husband like this

Not that he just takes baths to have you pamper him, he likes doing the same for you as well

He's used to people being wary of him or not fully trusting him, so watching you relax under his care-knowing just how dangerous he is

And trusting him with his claws and his teeth with your bare body? In your most vulnerable state?? It does things to him

Sometimes you forget how strong your husband is, but in these moments when he's maneuvering your body around to better wash you??

He could easily manhandle you if he wanted to

Takes his time washing your body but not necessarily in a sexual way, more like he's admiring fine art that he's allowed to touch

It's like the most heavenly massage, especially when his claws scrape ever so gently against your flesh

Sometimes, the two of you will just lay together and listen to music while waiting for the water to go cold

Maybe you two drink some tea

Showers with Alastor are a little bit different, not by much though

He kisses your body a lot more in the shower, no longer deterred by soap or stagnant water

You two don't normally have as much time together in the shower so the touches are a little more rushed, more rough

Still pleasurable though

It's not as much about cuddling and being close as it is about cleaning each other

Sometimes sex

If you come out with a few more love bites on you than before well...

Alastor is going to be stepping out with some of his own because we all know he started it

You two literally take up ALL the hot water when you shower together, Angel fucking HATES IT

Too bad bby boi

Your husband in all his wisdom even manages to always have the softest, warmest towels waiting for you

If you really play up the cute wife act then you're sometimes able to convince him to carry you to the bedroom

"Oh fine! Just stop using those doll eyes on me~"

As much as he wishes he could just lay in bed with you and never get dressed...you both have work to do

But he cherishes the moments he gets to bathe/shower with his beautiful wife and always looks forward to the next

This one was so adorable 🥹 I hope you liked it

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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capslocked · 5 months

Text

HONNE, TATAMAE & THE OTHER ONE

male reader x shin yuna

9k words

Yuna shuffles into your office with the same sneaky smile, the same easy slouch, and she settles into one of the chairs across the table. There is, apparently, more to talk about.

It's a matter of image, of perception, is what she knows.

You know every good lie starts with the truth.

So you swallow. You pause. Some other part of you understands Yuna can't ignore who she really is, and you’re not sure you can either.

Look - Shin Yuna is the kind of woman that turns heads, even with the best of intentions. A long, lithe silhouette; an easy, rosy sort of youthfulness clinging to the swell of her cheekbones, the curve of her waist. Take a dress that's cut to show a little thigh, or a hairstyle pushed back on one side - earrings, or heels, or just the subtle swipe of red over her lip - it doesn't take much for men (or anyone else) to figure that out. A girl who, more times than not, really ought to have a boy's hand planted on her ass, in possession.

So the opportunity to capture such a form perfected - all toned and graceful and flush for curves, her legs never seeming to end, the slithering fit of the dresses - these were the things they wanted. Package it, put a logo on it - better yet, a ribbon or a bow - and ship it straight to the consumer.

Somebody everyone wants, somebody no one can ever have.

“So,” Yuna asks from the other side of your desk, lips slanting halfway coy. “Are you going to treat me like an adult?"

Her fingers play idly with the hem of her skirt, and she lets a long, slender leg slowly slide out from beneath her.

“In what way,” you answer, half paying attention.

"The photos." She doesn't have the slightest qualms about lifting it higher. The soft creak of leather, and a deepening smile. "Am I not allowed to be a little racy?"

"That's certainly... one way of looking at it."

You glance away from where her stockings wrap around the soft curve of her thighs to flip back through the photos in your lap, one after the other, each a little different from the last. The beach, the sun, a flimsy white slip of a bikini top that hides exactly nothing, her muscles wet and glistening and perfect. Beyond suggestive, it's considerably inappropriate.

But then to a lot of people, Yuna is a lot of things.

She’s more clever than anyone gives her credit for. And she’s fucking gorgeous, sure. That’s definitely not up for debate, but god is she young - she's barely twenty. And here’s some rather uninteresting food for thought: you couldn't even technically take her for a drink without faking an ID or breaking some law or another, like a real one. So go ahead, chew that down. Girls her age are typically studying, or working a retail job and getting wasted on the weekends. And they aren't typically making six, seven figures turning their head to the camera and asking how much more skin?

You have some thoughts.

Prudently, you’re her publicist, and it’s your job to make sure that the public gets a good look at her and sees exactly what you want them to see. It's unfair. She wields sex like a weapon. She's got the face, the body; it's an easy sell, commodified and commercialized down to the finest detail, the softest curve, the slightest arch of her brow. The idea's to not let anyone look too long, should they catch something you haven't approved yet, or the fact that she's quite possibly a real person with a real life and real feelings, which could easily fuck up her brand, so unfortunately, that's a bit of a no-go.

Sign of the times maybe, no ethical consumption under another something, yadda yadda - it's a shitty business, really, and the whole thing usually leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

(And just to be upfront, as an important disclosure: you are fucking her brains out on the side, which is a different kind of ethical dilemma, with a different kind of flavor to it.

You’re supposed to be something of a role model - and she’s gone and fucked up bad by falling for you. From her perspective, it probably makes sense. Girl gets boy, bespoke song, credits roll and it's fine. No sin to atone, no 'after'.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It’s metastasizing into something you’re not even going to attempt to put into words. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, you know that. And you know the girl has daddy issues, but then you've never had a problem whatsoever playing into it. The possessiveness, the control - she gets off on it. You're pretty sure that she'd do just about anything if you asked her, and you'll admit that the thought alone makes your stomach stir, your mouth run dry.)

Yuna taps her knuckles on the wood of your desk. “What’s the verdict?”

"Well, professionally," you say, caveat in hand, and you give the photos one last flip through. "I'd say they're fine.”

"Oh?" Yuna cocks her head to the side. Her long, blonde hair curtains over her shoulder, and the smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth is almost wicked. She leans forward, chin propped on a palm, and you see that her expression is bright, glittering with interest. "And unprofessionally?"

Sure. It's a fair question.

Though she's wearing her stage face, the one that looks all big eyes and doe lashes, a hint of a pout on her plush bottom lip, and she's staring at you expectantly, the way she might look at a man she's just asked for the time.

You've seen her look a million other ways. You've seen her with her knees spread, her cheeks flushed, on all fours, straddling your lap, face pressed into the sliding glass door of your shower, her eyes screwed shut as she chokes out your name. And god, doesn’t she look good in all of them.

Your fingers tap against the photos.

“Unprofessionally," you tell her, and the smile on your face is tight - unknowable. "I think they’re a little… gaudy."

Yuna frowns, and it's just a flash before her expression is carefully blank again, the stage face back in full swing. She's been doing this since she was a teenager, so the mask is impeccable, but you know her, and you know that she's thinking: about the photo shoot, the way the photographer was looking at her, and the way you had looked at her later, too.

She knows what you've seen. She's wondering if that's why.

"Really," she asks, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Really," you confirm with a small sigh, though you're still smiling. It's a small, private sort of smile, like you're remembering a joke. You don't miss the way she glances down at your mouth either. "Let me be clear, you have a shot at real success. I mean, you have a chance at a career. A real, sustainable career.”

She's sitting there with her legs crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and when she's silent for a moment too long, the way her eyes narrow just a smidge, her head tipped slightly, you realize how it sounds. Patronizing.

"Look," you amend. You're not the best at apologies, but you try. "I just mean - I think that you could be doing something that you actually enjoy."

"Who says I don't enjoy this," she says, and there's a bite in her tone, a challenge. She's leaning back in her seat now, arms crossed.

"What, taking your clothes off for the camera?" You laugh, a quick bark. Isn’t that a cruel question, and you can see it in the way her eyes flash. "You could do a lot more than that, I'm just saying."

"Right," she says, and she doesn't blink, doesn't even move. Her gaze is fixed, unwavering. "Because I'm not pretty enough."

You open your mouth. Close it.

It's not a question. It's a statement.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Do you know what makes me different from the IT-girl-of-the-month? The Jang Wonyoungs, the Bae Irenes, the Kim Jisoos of the world?" Yuna cuts in.

"Yuna, this isn't-"

"You should know. " She laughs. "It's your job, knowing things, isn't it?"

The silence stretches thin between you. She's not wrong. There’s the quintessential beauty, the timeless classic, the fantasy-wrapped-up-as-a-daydream - oh, it's all sexual, but the product there is palatable (read: marketable). An idea the general public wants to take home to their mother, not take to bed. A beauty so docile and innocent, you feel guilty harboring those untoward thoughts it makes you have.

Yuna is somewhere possibly, someway probably the opposite. You’ve sold her as such, as fantasy in sheep's clothing. She's neither afraid to put the images to words, nor speak her desires aloud. It's her own brand of sensuality, and it's what the public wants - has always truly wanted, since the dawn of man and of popstars fucking their publicists - what the public wants but turns itself in knots just to pretend they don't. The only way it’ll end up in anyones’ parents' home is under the guise that it will be smuggled upstairs and held down into the springs of a mattress. Hand over her mouth, or maybe around her throat, just so she'll shut up.

She's not a nice girl, or the girl-next-door, a bride-in-a-box, but you'd known that before. The line between fact and fiction is fine indeed.

"You're different," you tell her, finally.

"When I first came in here, you had no qualms, no issue to raise, and now all of a sudden, everything is too much," she says, and she's not smiling, her tone flat. "If it was a problem from the jump, you would've said so."

“I just think a little subtlety would be a nice change of pace. It could go a long way, I mean, I could show you the data- "

"So you're going soft on me, is that it?"

You blink, and the realization hits.

"Just where was this noble version of you when we first started out? You had no problem then, remember? Put a sixteen-year-old in front of a camera, in this industry, and all of a sudden-"

"Don't."

“And suddenly it's all 'oh no, that's a little too much, we need to dial it back'." She sighs, a single sharp burst. "Why is that? Is it because you think that now you own me? I fuck you, swallow your cum and call you daddy, and now these are your decisions? Is that it?"

She’s standing now, her chair shoved back so fast it nearly clatters to the floor. There's a storm on her face, almost a rage. This now become a familiar story. The one where the girl's too pretty for her own good. Too much, too soon.

"I'm not a child," she tells you, her tone measured, a sharp contrast to the fire in her eyes. "I know what I want. I know how to get it. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm different. You're right."

She's different, but the girl's clever, too. And she's stubborn. It's a dangerous combination.

You breathe slow. "Then why don’t you act like it."

“If they’re going to call me a slut,” she hisses, and she's walking forward. Her palms land on your desk, hard, and you glance down at her clenched fists, at her neatly kept nails, "you know, after we leak them all those steamy photos online-"

Your mind clicks. You reach to slam the cover of the photo book shut. She's caught your hand, though, in hers, holding it firmly to the desk.

Yuna glances at the photos over again, at the tight fit of the swimwear, or how the ties slip in an invisible breeze. And she's biting her lip, trying not to smile, you can tell. "You know it might be worth it for once," she says, slipping a finger between the buttons of her shirt.

There's a long, tense moment, and before you can register it, Yuna has rounded your desk; she’s closing the distance, fast.

And she’s lowering her eyes. Putting her lips on yours.

It knocks the wind from your sail, for just the instant. You're speechless.

Because her fingers. Her mouth. Her hair. Yuna's everywhere, and she's warm. It's utterly selfish, you understand: you want her to be yours. You want her to be yours and no one else's.

She’s realizing she might be.

You feel her grabbing for more of you. Wanting. She tilts her head, her breath hot, and you kiss her back, her mouth slick against your own, and the kiss is a fast, deliberate kind of messy. Your teeth catch her bottom lip, and her tongue slips past yours, licking into your mouth, her hands clutching at the collar of your shirt. It's not like it is when you're fucking, which is slow and hot, and she's on her back, legs around your waist, her nails biting into your skin, or when she's bent over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air and her back arched, her breathless moans a chorus of yes, yes, please. This kiss is more battle, more heat, less gentle and less finesse. It's the kind of kiss that's just short of an argument.

"You're an asshole," she breathes into your mouth, and it's not a compliment.

You smile against her.

"So are you," you murmur, and her lips are parted, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breath coming quick and hot.

"Then maybe you should just fuck me," she says. She's not asking. “Yeah.” You press your words right into her neck, her collarbone. “Maybe I should.”

Your hands are on her hips faster than you can realize what it is they’re doing, palms pressing into her, and then you're walking her backwards, shuffling a few steps until the small of her back collides with the edge of your desk, and you're lifting her up onto the surface, the photographs falling to the floor, scattering.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do this here," she murmurs, pulling away for just a moment, her mouth swollen and wet, her eyes dark. She knows exactly what it does to you: the goading, the taunting - the looks of faux-innocence later over a bare shoulder, her ass in the air. How it can get you to fuck her within an inch of her life. What it’ll get her, the return on investment.

"And I thought we agreed to longer skirts."

Her thighs are smooth, silky, and they part, the lace of her underwear stark against her skin. You slide a hand beneath the elastic band, sinking down, and down, until she inhales sharply.

"The fuck do you end up doing going up the stairs?" you add, and your fingers are tracing the swell of her hip, and you can feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She bites her lip. You sink down to press a kiss to her thigh, and then the other.

"Nothing," she tells you, and her eyes are wide. "I guess it all just hangs out."

She simply smirks right back into you, throws her arms over your shoulders. You’re snared, caught - she’ll always be able to fuck what she wants right out of you.

"Jesus, Yuna." Your hand curls around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, and her shoulders roll back.

You push her down, and she's sprawled across the desk, legs stretching wide, her head tilted back and her chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you. That turns you on? Being a brat?"

She sucks air past her teeth, and you can measure each rise and fall of her chest. The lace under her hips is soaked, her pussy swollen and pink. Like if she doesn’t get your hot, open mouth on her clit this instant, you’re both going to have a problem.

You slip two fingers into her instead, and Yuna keens.

"I know it does," you say, and your voice comes out lower, drier than you expect. She's hot, so wet around you, her pussy fluttering. "It fucking turns me on, too."

"Please," and “god,” is what all you receive back in half whispers, while her legs are spread, her heels now really dug into the square of your back, and she's got a fistful of your hair like she owns it. Her voice is high, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t be such a fucking tease."

You're not going to make it easy. She's not going to make this quick.

"What, and you aren’t?"

You curl your fingers inside her, and the noise that leaves her is positively obscene. She's grinding against your palm, her hips bucking, and her lips are parted, her eyelashes dark and thick, fanning her cheeks. She's panting, her thighs trembling.

"No," she breathes. If she’s shaking her head, you can’t tell. "I'm exactly what you tell them I am."

Your hand stills, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the pressure inside her is gone. Her eyes snap open, her mouth twisted.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Put them back."

You're already sinking down to your knees, and you've got her skirt shoved up, the lace panties pulled aside, her hips canted, her pussy glistening. The stockings can stay, fuck, the heels, too. She's so fucking hot, her legs spread apart and her lips red. Her palm shoved into her brow, and her breath just barely more than a ragged huff of air. You can feel her body wound tight and ready, her eyes on the ceiling.

You put your tongue against her, flat and slow. Inaccurate, indiscriminate, licking up her wet cunt. And her whole body arches off the desk, a cry leaving her mouth with her head thrown back. Her thighs are shaking, and her heel presses into your shoulder, and god, she tastes incredible.

"Please." It comes like music, really, a song of desperation. You can hear it. She's singing it for you now. "Oh god, please, fuck-"

So you do her one better. You put your whole mouth over her, and she fucking shivers. You don’t even try to ease into it - you're devouring, ravishing her, working your lips and tongue all over her pussy, lapping the length of her in broad, hot strokes, and she's almost shrieking, her body going taut. You suck on her lips, pressing your tongue into her clit, and when you pull off her, your hand takes over the place where your tongue can't quite reach, her wetness slick around your fingers. Yuna's close - you can see that she is, you can hear that she is, and it's her gasp that lets you know.

"I'm -" she says, her voice reaching higher, her nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders, the wood of your desk. The sound she makes is wretched and beautiful. "God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming - fuck!"

The licking, the lapping, the fucking fingering. You can feel her slicked cunt pulse and throb in a satisfied, anticipatory kind of way. Even if she wasn’t audibly wet around your knuckles, you’d read Yuna like a map.

Your thumb taps across her clit, once - twice, thrice, and it’s just that.

She arches off your desk, thighs trembling as your tongue works her over, This hard, hungry kiss, and she tastes as sweet as she looks - as filthy as she acts, too. Her pussy is slick, her hips rolling, her body trembling, and she's making soft, little ah, ah, ah, sounds into the wet seal of your mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet, because she knows as well as you, everyone in the damn office does, probably - it's one thing to play at being a slut. A complete other to really fuck like one.

Your finger slips in and out of her pussy, and then another. They fill her up. The knuckles bending and pushing deeper. Yuna's fucking ruined - your desk is ruined.

But then there you are, complicit, and perhaps a little evil: licking and licking and licking right into her, making her grip twist in your hair and her thighs clench around your face. You can feel it in how her breathing is coming fast, faster, her whole body growing taut, and it was never going to take long, you figure, the way her hips were rolling the moment you got your hands on her. You can tell. She's close, and she's so pretty, all flushed and writhing, her skirt hiked up, her ass perched on the edge of your desk, and when her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her throat, you pull yourself up to watch her, the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, and she's shaking.

"Look at me,” you tell her, a kiss trailing unsatisfyingly into the crease of her thigh, your voice running coarse.

She does, her gaze glassy, and the sound that leaves her mouth is a sob. That’s all it really takes.

“Show me. What face you make when you cum on my fingers sweetheart, show me what a slut you actually are-"

You can watch it all in real time, the panting, the heaving. The sculpted lines of her pretty face screw up, real tight, and she lets out another moan, breathier this time, her mouth hanging open. She does it again when you press down. And Yuna fucking shakes, her hands balled, white-knuckling, and the desk rattling beneath her.

It's all a matter of slight degradation, you’ve learned, the barest humiliation. Like the paradoxical freedom she knows she can find in a hand clenched tight around her throat or her hair pulled and twisted into a fist or the sharp sting of a smack across her ass. Her pretty face. She likes a little something that burns. Something sinewy, visceral, raw: you call her a whore, a filthy fucking cumslut and it makes her body curl like she has hot metal pressing into her skin. Makes her breathless, like she wants you to own her.

Sometimes it's better than being fucked.

(Sometimes.)

Because just look at her: she’s in the middle of coming apart, mouth fallen slack, brow furrowed - and she gets real quiet when she cums, the absolute opposite of the journey she’d taken to get there, all those loud little, uh-uh-ah, fucking please god, her moans, her whimpers - her orgasm ripping right through the middle of her, the hourglass of her entire body stiffening on borrowed time as it washes across her features.

You let out a loud sigh, something she can moor herself to that isn’t your fingers, the desk, or your hair at the roots. Yuna can be every bit as uncomplicated as she can be complex, but god, you love her most like this: an unrehearsed, beautiful mess.

"Baby," you tell her, because it's easier to just call her that, and because you don't know how else to end the statement, because you know if you ask, she'll let you - hell, she'll beg for more, and that’s got your brain feeling rather mushily incoherent at present.

"Daddy," she responds - because of course she fucking does; she’s gasping, and her cheeks are still so pink, her body sated, and your heart leaps into your throat.

It's a problem; you've been trying to work it out for a good few months now, and by this, you mean the little moment you have right after you're done, where your eyes meet, and you smile at her. A problem, too, her lips. A problem, because she kisses you, soft, and slow, and easy. A problem, because her heart's probably already yours.

If anyone were to ask, you would have said there's no greater pleasure than knowing a girl that's almost died to take your cock, but maybe that's the point: it's just supposed to feel a bit better if you're a little head over heels, a little stupid about it too.

"I'm going to use this perfect pussy now," you warn her - just simple formality - because you're already rolling her down onto her back, your cock hard and aching against your trousers.

You've got your hands on her stockings, tugging them down to her ankles, the lace of her panties around her thighs, the neat garter of her garter belt wrapped around her hips, her cunt bare beneath it. You unzip, too slow. You tug yourself out.

“I’ll be good,” she says to you, a promise.

“Yeah,” you return to her, “I know.”

And you slip your cock into her cunt, just barely - maybe an inch, maybe more - and you hear a little noise leave her throat, low. Broken.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and god, you just can't help it, it's easy; you sink deeper, nice, slow, everything smooth inside her, until another broken sort of gasp spills off her lips.

And then another: "oh my fucking god."

You snap your hips back in, bottoming out this time in the wet heat of her perfect cunt, and she just fucking collapses. Yuna looks like an absolute dream in this state of half-dress, half-distress: black suede around the ankles, stilettos, with just the perfect heel. There are worse things, you can imagine, and she looks perfect sprawled out against your notes and portfolios, all this hot, aching want. As gorgeous as she is fucked. You tear into her stockings, a little. You’ll tear more.

You already know you're going to hell. Or at least that’s where you should already be, but you hips crash into hers again, fucking her legs wider apart, spreading her open across your desk for you, getting her slick all over the photos, her career - it’s all so perfectly unfair.

"You have no idea, the things I want to do to you right now," you breathe, your tone hushed, and you're talking again, like you often do. There goes your mouth - but your hips drag back, and then again, her pussy clenching, vice tight and impossibly wet.

It's a long, torturous, lazy sort of a pull, that draws these pretty thin moans from the very center of her.

And the way that feels, your cock buried deep in her cunt: better than good - heaven, if you care enough about labels for it, or the names of things. You haven’t any real way to tell; the gates haven't opened or anything, so all you're working from here is an educated guess. From the fact that Yuna’s eyes have slid closed, her lips parted, and her whole body starting now to tremble gently with it.

"Jesus, this perfect, tight pussy grips me so good, god - such a good girl, always so fucking wet for me," and your mouth is pressed to the arch of her ear, whispering every last thing you know will make her cum again, like a dream.

And she is, she does.

She's twisting up to grip at your hips, her head falling to one side. When you drag your cock through her cunt, slowly, you watch her lips purse and the way the flush moves all the way down the column of her neck, past her collarbone, her shirt half undone and her tits heaving against the white, sheer fabric. You fuck her for a little, and then you roll your hips slow, so slow.

Until your pace is fucking punishing, deep, and so hard. You can’t help it.

Because it's unbelievable - she's so perfect, so tight around you. Fit snug like a glove, like she was made to take your cock, to whimper and mewl at your mercy. Her lips part further and she keens, her brows twisting in similar disbelief as you pound your length into her. The heat pooled in your belly, the way she looks under your desk: fuck, she's so beautiful like this, properly fucked.

You'd let her ruin you for life - it's that simple.

"Yuna, you - fuck," you barely say, and you sound more than slightly stunned, so she’s filling in the gaps, elaborating in the spaces you cannot - that she loves it, that you’re so good for her, and so is that, and that, and that - the way it hits, right there, keep fucking her just like that, because right there, right there, right there, right there - the way she props herself up on her elbows to tell you, "you're fucking me so deep, oh my god - yes, oh my god, fuck."

By the time Yuna shudders through another orgasm, a silent ghost of a wail leaving her pretty frozen mouth, her lashes are batting against her cheeks, and she's biting her lip, so hard you're certain she's going to break the skin, her back strung like a bow. It's the look on her face, that soft sort of reverence, and how her lips are swollen and spit-slick, the pretty hollow of her throat. Your thrusts become faster, shorter - your own moan thick in your throat, your jaw hanging slack.

“Here,” you say, and she’s just putty between your fingers, on your cock.

You’re flipping her around, onto a different angle. You know she likes it, the way her tits are pressed against your desk, and it's hot the way her ass tilts right into your hips, arched. Proffering. "Be good for me, and spread yourself open."

She's already so meek when she complies. "Anything, sir. Stretch me out; I want you to make me yours."

God, she's practically purring when she talks like this. She knows exactly what that fucking does to you. Knows that when her eyes draw back, big and watery and full, you're a goner - if your cock wasn't deep in her pussy, fucking her open and raw, the view would nearly be enough. And all of this, the pretense, the pantomime, she knows how to bend the line of your body to her own, because when she turns, and presses her red mouth to the crest of her shoulder, you are hers.

You could probably cum, right now, deep down into the molten hot of her cunt: if your hips keep up their ruthless pace, if her ass was sticking up the slightest bit more - the sound that would come from her.

"Take that perfect cock - and fuck my pussy up," Yuna mewls, her voice saccharine and slurring, a touch whiny. She rolls her hips. Your cock grinds, still, though it stutters now - shallow and quick.

"All this pussy, for daddy's cock," and you're sure that the entire office can hear her now, the moans that escape from her mouth - but you can't even find it in you to care. You're caught, all of her a net you've willingly been ensnared by, and here you figure that's the slightest bit appropriate; you're so fucked, and it's funny, too. Funny enough to laugh about, later. "Nobody fucks this tight little pussy the way you do, sir."

It's a smile she hears in your voice when you say, "is that right? Go on then, let’s hear all the things you'd have me do to your slutty little cunt."

The line's crossed again, in some indecipherable direction. Where, again, exactly, does it matter? There are lines and lines, and none of them quite mark the beginning, the end, the periphery. This time you don't pull back; you dig deep, and it makes Yuna cry out like you’re killing her. Which, in a way - you already have.

So your hips stutter forward again, once more, and you lean into the slant, so fucking deep it's practically impaled. There’s nothing quite like holding this girl’s hips and pounding her from behind. Her pussy alone is fucking incredible. And the sound her ass makes against the flat of your stomach, the crease of your thighs - it's unimaginable, the way Yuna makes these little squeaks of a noise, like half-broken moans, when you fuck deep, deep, deeper into her. The way her arms splay wide and search frantic across your desk. And as you grab her slim, dainty wrist, pin it back and pull her tight - fixing her upright until you have her head lolling back against your chest - you simply fucking pound away.

Fucking all these little curses and sounds of appreciation out of her throat. Your cock forcing out each syllable, "yes," and "fuck," and "god, oh my fucking god - I cannot believe," now on repeat, how her tone grows tighter. How she moans - a lot, like something's being worked loose.

"Uh-uh," and you're holding her steady now, with one broad, strong hand at the back of her neck. "Keep telling me, and maybe I'll let you cum."

Your free hand finds purchase in her hair. Yuna's groan coming out pathetic and wanting, her mouth half open. You wrap her silky golden locks around your fist, her hair thread neatly through your fingers, and then give the slightest of yanks.

Christ, her pussy just fucking soaks onto you. Greedy. Needy.

"Shit," and Yuna gasps when she can, where she's allowed to.

"Oh, is my little girl into getting her hair pulled?" and you can see the signs of affirmation: the muscles inside her flexing, grasping you as you roll in, a small, soft nod, and the way she sighs your name, like a prayer on her lips.

Listen, she can barely speak, the way you're fucking her apart. Yuna's body is wound like a bow, like string and taught wire. Bent into the side of the desk and open for you, her pussy pulsing tight around you with every stroke.

"Sir, I'll do - whatever you need, just - just - let me have your cum, please -" and there, she's begging now, and her voice is tinny, breaking, breathless and airless.

Then it’s her fucking hair. You pull so much on it harder this time, with another measured thrust inside her, your body flush against her ass. Fingerprints searing down onto where her hips flare and taper, impossibly narrow.

You’re probably hurting her. You’re probably ruining her for anyone else - nothing will ever satiate her more than the way she sobs as your fingers twist tighter through her hair. Around her fucking miracle of a waist. It's an obscene sound that echoes down to your cock, as deep, hot and fucking filthy as her cries when she cums for the third, fourth?

"Just," Yuna barely makes, her eyelids heavy, her gaze flitting somewhere behind her. "Just look at you, fucking me so hard, filling up my tight little pussy, making me take everything your cock has to give. God, you love wrecking my perfect little hole, don't you?"

No, or yes, or probably. You’ll figure out the details later.

"God, I love it when you get real messy, when I get you like this-" your words run seamlessly into the searing heat between your bodies, like punctuation, like the end of days -

"Use me." She doesn't just say it. "Take me, and cum in me, wherever you want. Daddy, you can have my mouth, or, or, you can - you can finish inside me."

And god, you could, you really could: just the timbre of her voice does things to you, the way that it curls around the words daddy, and sir, and you're fucking me so goddamn good. She's saying them now, her whimpers breaking into outright moans and all: shit, please, please - you're gonna make me cum - oh - oh fuck! And when she's wound that tight, a quivering, sopping mess of a girl, you put your fingers against her clit, circling and pressing in tempo to the thrust of your cock.

The cruel metronome that makes. Hell, it fucking sends her.

She’s begging you to finish inside her. It's fucked up - and she knows it. She wraps her heels around the square of your back, and the tension rises, and rises, the coiled spring tight and waiting - just a push away, so you slam into her once, then twice more, the push of a hand splayed between her tits and your fingers digging into the muscle of her thigh. She wants you to cum in her pussy, fill her right up; she tells you that, again, that she wants it, and her voice is raspy, high. That she wants you now, as if she didn't before, and how does this compare, because she needs it now.

You hold out for just a little. You’re holding your breath. Just a little, just until Yuna’s eyelashes flutter open over her shoulder and she says your name, so sweetly, and says, "please, just, inside."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

So here, barely able to think at all, you end up doing the unthinkable - thinking all the while of pumping her right to the finish and draining your balls straight into the deepest reach of her cunt, how fucking tempting it may be - you muster an ounce of good judgment still adrift in a sea of lust. Your throbbing cock draws out of that wet, inviting heat and into your fist, and watch how that makes her begin to unspool: the way she tries to press her knees shut. She's sobbing for it, pleading, her lashes dark with tears. "No, no, fuck me, please, I'm begging you. Please, I'm going to be so good - god, please -"

You tug her back, look her in the eye, and let out a loud, shaky exhale. "Knees, princess."

She's too wracked with need to do anything other than comply. Her jaw drops. “But-”

"Mouth," you cut in, sharp enough that her gaze lifts, and you're right there - on the precipice, so close, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to run across the swell of her bottom lip.

Watching her knees fold into the carpet, her stockings down loose around her thighs, her underwear hanging off an ankle. The rise and fall of her chest like rolling waves, and you can see her hands fisting on her knees, and her face: you watch the emotion flash over, like water on glass, and a moment is all it takes. She leans her face forward to your hand, as you wind her hair into your fist, her lips parted and her gaze lowered. She's obedient, taking the weight of your cock with her pretty pink mouth like the fucked-up-little-fantasy that she is, opening so nice and wide.

Her eyes flit up to yours, her mascara-ringed lashes fanned against the pink of her cheeks.

"My face," she tells you, or something close to it, "fuck my face. Go ahead, use it - cum all over me."

Your cock slides halfway home, her cheeks hollowing, and when it presses to the back of her throat, she gags. You curse and tip your head back, the wood of your desk digging into the flesh of your palm.

"What did you say," you half groan out. "Baby," you add, just for good measure, just to play along, "c'mon."

The tip of Yuna's tongue sweeps and swirls just beneath your cockhead, and she moans her answer around your length, lapping at a leak of precum. "I said," she's repeating now, her cheek brushing across your shaft, and you shudder. "Fuck, what I said was I want you to cum all over my face.

Jesus.

You bury your cock into her mouth once, twice. Let it sit there. Let her really struggle for it, the angle just a tad awkward from above. Let her lips stretch wide, and her shoulders shake a little - tears start to gather, pricking her eyes, her lipstick a mess, the way your cock fits, plugging up her throat so full. You hold her like that for just a second, a little less - until Yuna's moaning, the vibration low in her mouth, and her eyes flutter open, closed.

"Fuck," you spit out, and "perfect," and your voice is shot, your whole face warm, and you're going to cum on her - everywhere on her. Yuna, who’s been staring up at you in wide-eyed submission, gives you a little nod, like she means it.

Like she’s earned it.

And maybe she has: it only takes one last look to seal it - her hand curled around your cock, her cheek matted with her own spit and lipstick, the bright smudge of her own cum from the point of her chin to the cleft of her cupid's bow, and her eyes are locked on yours, eager and hot. Maybe she hasn't - and maybe you should make her beg, fuck her mouth some more - it's almost cruel, how she looks. A perfectly pretty picture, poised and pliant and waiting, and she's right there, beneath you, and fuck - this is so wrong, and you'll ruin her, you'll mark her up like this. She'll be painted like a work of art.

Your pulse thickens. Stands right up in your veins.

Then, your control, snapping: her pretty lashes flutter, her mouth gone slack, her jaw still tilted up like she expects a gift, an offering, her palm wrapped so nice and snug around the base of your cock, her expression dazed, and so easy, and perfect, so eager. You tilt your hips just a fraction further, and she fucking swallows, her tongue tracing the underside where you throb harder, heavier - her body lilting up as you press in so deep.

“God,” you breathe in, out. It hits hard. It hits fast. “Yuna-”

A tensing of your stomach coils up through like smoke, and your grip tightens on the edge of your desk, the other in her hair, a helpless, desperate thrusting, and there - it's a wonderful, brilliant sort of explosion, like light, the white-hot burn of a fever breaking. You cum all over her face and into her hair, spilling out streaks of hot, filthy white onto her sculpted features and the sweet line of her throat, and god, there's so much, she's taking it so easily, all her breathing hot and heavy and loud.

Her skin alabaster and porcelain; cotton and canvas; she lets you fucking paint her, all messy and ruined.

In fact she’s even smiling like she’s holding in a laugh, all gooey-soft with satisfaction, and you're jerking your cock slow through her slender fingers, even after there's nothing else left to give and every inch of her face is marked - the way she wears your cum like new skin. You feel the shockwave tear your nerves open, and then the calm, right on its heels, spreading out from your core to your fingertips, out through the roots of your hair.

"Ah," you exhale, a tight gasp. Yuna takes the entirety of you into her mouth, sucking down your length - harder - as she swallows back a final, sticky load, her own hair sweat-slick to her face.

Just look at the damage: that’s a story not even you’d be able to spin. There's cum on her nose, dribbling past her cheek. On her jaw and on her cheek. Filthy white streaked all over her parted lips, her neck. Down her shoulder blades, and soiling her hair, and leaking down past her collarbones.

(Christ, was this better or worse? You can't even tell. Every version of her that's been served on a plate for you has seen fit to make you sweat.)

When the dust begins to settle, you’re left panting and spent. Yuna, the collateral on this fine, whiny, disaster of a deal. A collection of photos, and some thoughts and ideas, that now sit disheveled on the ground. There's a scathing voice inside your head that's demanding to be heard, reminding you all-too-casually that this is not any way to manage a client. She could snap her fingers, call out to that sycophant at the top floor, and your career would be over - she could do anything she should ever desire.

You know, on a baser level, this, and worse: the duality of the thought. Her tight cunt on your desk, you on your knees; the sharp gasp you can steal from the top of her throat, perhaps when she feels the gentle pressure of teeth around one rosy nipple. The pinch of your thumb and index finger around the other. Her nails down your back in ten angry lines, and the throb in her throat, while you slide the whole width of a hand, rough, over the flesh of her ass.

Maybe the desk, like everything else, can just join the pile on the floor.

"Yuna," you say, the vowels pitching like a sigh.

Her palms find the sharp crease in your pants and slide upward. She's gazing up at you, bright, her face sticky with you.

"You can't send me out like this," she tells you, matter-of-factly, letting a smile cross the lines of her lips - or a smirk. A wordless extension of the previous sentence - of a few.

You pull out and away from her: a white and gray dotted tie hanging loose, unknotted; a button still fastened somewhere mid-center, your trousers pulled off and loose down just below your knees, the fly gaping open. She's in a similar state, the cups of her bra slipping loose, her mouth flushed, lips swollen and red, the outline of how she’d let you use her in a smeary, runny stain across her cheek.

"Maybe let your manager know," you tell her, pulling your belt in place, and you think you catch her eye rolling. "That you're going to be late."

Yuna doesn't hesitate.

"Tell her yourself," she responds, "I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear I'm not actually dead - just having gotten fucked stupid on my PR person's cock."

"I might forget to include a couple details."

"You shouldn’t." Her eyebrows jump. And she's chewing, lazily, on the full curve of her lower lip, her teeth glinting like razors. "Here, before you throw all this to the sharks -"

So, so very dramatic, and with this: her thumbnail pressed beneath your chin. It draws your gaze up - up, and down: from the splay of her legs and the gleam of wetness between them, a brief rest along the arcs of her chest - the room's a total fucking wreck. Your necktie, her skirt, her blouse, her pantyhose. The papers and books all spread, bent, broken, the stack knocked clean onto its side. The skirt's probably still pulled too far up her hips for decency, her breasts shoved up to her neck and the collarbone, and then there's her face - her chin streaked with cum. Yuna smiles then, the corner of her mouth pulled upward.

She might kiss her if you'd let her.

Cum on her lips be damned, she's beautiful like that, like she isn't even trying. And in fact, she never really had to - this girl, she'd do it alone. The idea that someone could be as universally loved as she, is enough, a marvel even, but here she is in front of you, every atom and curve a siren, a study in perfection and composition. Like she’s not just all your mistakes laid out to bear.

"Take a second to take a proper look, hm? Get all the memories in, while they're fresh."

"Because?"

"You can remember I'm only the person you say I am, for you."

"Oh, of course," and the laugh that leaves your throat sounds dry, cracked open. The band of her skirt stretches, snaps back, so neatly that it leaves a pale line on her flesh. And now there are your hands, fitting around her hipbones, a sigh: a short, sudden motion, tugging her up. Yuna gasps: something surprised, delighted. She's all grins and teeth, all clean, bright incisors.

"Mine," you're breathing, the flat of her stomach underneath the fingers you've placed upon it. "This is mine - you. Yours - you're all mine."

It’s possessive, but, you’re not all incorrect.

"Yeah," she more than agrees.

There's a ribbon-taut quality in the way it leaves her mouth, the tension in her body coiled up through to the bones. She makes it sound like the beginning of a promise, the beginning of something much larger.

And by the way." She’s still buttoning her shirt. Putting herself together. You’ve seen the triage, the damage control. This is the Yuna you get.

So, she needs the second - a respite to lick a stray stripe of slick and cum off her wrist - blotting her cheeks with a ball of wet tissue, until all that's left is the smeared lipstick, her stockings splayed around the floor. The pattern you've worn, where your fingerprints would've shown, gets covered up under her skirt and her coat, wrapped up in a scarf.

The smug satisfaction in her tone pulls your focus, just in time, her hair's falling in waves down her shoulders - perfect, but not flawless: there's a creased line, a hint of her throat, just beneath the collar. There's a slight wisp out of place. The buttons aren't arranged all the way from her collar to her sternum.

"I'm going to go with that photoset, with the white top, in the sand - gonna post 'em online and generate some buzz. You even said it yourself: they're fine. " She pauses, pushing away a strand of hair. "Professionally, of course."

"Professionalism." You smile. "Of course."

She walks out carrying the stilettos: pumps in either hand.

"Always. Catch you soon," she promises, and you do catch a last flash of her expression, lips parted, the lower curving into a satisfied smile, right as she flicks the lock on the door open and your office goes back to quiet.

For a split second, it's unbearable: the silence.

And you think again.

She can have anything, get any boy, girl, whoever, any designer, photographer, make-up artist in the world; there's something so unmistakably intoxicating about the fact that the thing she's decided she wants, is you.

#yuna smut #itzy smut #itzy yuna smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic

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y-umiko · 1 year

Text

TOKYOREV BOYS WHEN SOMEONE ASK THEM IF YOU'RE SINGLE

CHARACTER(S): Draken . Mikey . Baji . Mitsuya WARNING/S: a bit smutty on Baji's part

Draken

The Tokyo Manji Gang gathered for their meeting, though aimed to hang out, the others take this opportunity to introduce their new members to one another.

"Hey! Hey! who's that over there?"

Draken who was mingling with the new members and was busy introducing one another turned to look at the member who spoke. recognizing him as one of the new members who joined the 2nd division.

following the member's line of sight, Draken's gaze falls upon you, happily conversing with Emma. your name leaving his lips unconsciously.

"Y/n?"

The new member sighed dreamily, not taking his eyes off you. "what a pretty name, Is she single?"

"No" was Draken's quick response, his eyebrows furrowed intimidatingly, standing taller to appear more intimidating to the other person as if he needed it.

"I-I see" the new member nervously mumbled, putting both his hand in the air in surrender before scurrying away.

honestly, Draken doesn't know what to feel, but thinking about it now, you and Emma are like a rose among the thorns during gatherings like this, what was Mikey thinking allowing his sister to attend gatherings?

and what was he thinking letting you tag along with him during meetings, and let alone leaving your side, letting you walk around and socializing with the guys without him? especially, since not everyone knows of your relationship.

however, Draken wouldn't be so strict as to not allow you to their gatherings but his not so into vocalizing to everyone that you belong to him, as much as he wanted to do that, he doesn't want a scene that would garner attention and embarrass you.

rather Draken would be more subtle.

"What's this for?" you asked as you felt Draken drap his uniform jacket on your shoulders. the words 'Tokyo Manji Gang Vice captain', on display for everyone to see. subtle but effective.

"Just felt like it"

Mikey

It's very unlikely that someone would not know that you were dating the infamous invisible Mikey. reputation aside, it's hard not to know you two were dating when Mikey was constantly tied to your side.

if his not holding your hand, his arms would be wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder as you feed him his favorite snacks. really, it's really not that hard to notice.

however, there is always that one dumbass who couldn't take a hint. whose dumb enough to not know who Mikey is and brave enough to approach him when you momentarily left to go the bathroom.

"hey that person you were with earlier, do you know if she's dating someone?"

he blinked a few times before his face twisted into a pout, "yes! And happily so"

the other person sigh, a hand behind his nack in disappointment as his eyes unconsciously follow the direction you just left, which Mikey took the wrong way.

"that's too bad, and she looks so pretty too"

The other person flinch when his instinct suddenly took over his body, feeling a sudden aura coming from Mikey. "don't get any ideas, Y/n's mine"

with a chill that run down his spine, the other person was quick to leave. when you returned, Mikey was back to his usual cheerful self but this time extra clingy and affectionate.

"Did something happen while I was gone?" you asked him, but Mikey only smiled and buried his head deeper between your neck and shoulder.

"Nope, just showing everyone you're with me"

Baji

"Baji-san you're close with Y/n-chan aren't you?"

Baji stopped writing on his paper, peeking through his eyeglasses to look at the other person. his classmate who asked or rather beg to join your study session with Baji.

something about his classmate didn't sit well with him, was it the use of your first name or the fact that his classmate look a little red on the face upon mentioning your name? nonetheless, Baji proudly answered a resounding Yeah. yet the other person's next question made him uneasy.

"Do you know if she's dating anyone?"

The words process in his head, in disbelief that his classmate just asks that, does not the whole school know you were dating him. Was the fact you spend all the breaks together, enough to say that you two were dating? the hand holding? the quick peck of kisses? was his classmate not really aware?

Baji can only furrow his eyebrow in confusion, before removing his glasses and placing them on the table, before crossing his arms against his chest. the atmosphere turning into a more serious note.

"Listen carefully c/n…"

"oh what are we talking about here?" you ask arriving just now for the afterschool study session, cutting off Baji, clueless to the current situation.

however, Baji's gaze flicked towards you, and as soon as you were within reach, Baji was quick to pull you down to his lap and smash his lips against yours, giving his classmate a front seat on the spectacle.

"…do you understand now?" Baji asked his classmate who can only nod with a red face before quickly excusing himself. leaving you with a beaming Baji, proud of what he did.

"What was that for?" you asked which he quickly avoided answering by smashing his lips with yours again.

If he has to kiss you over and over again for everyone to know you belong to him, he definitely won't have any complaints.

Mitsuya

"I'll see you later Taka" You bid goodbye to Mitsuya, turning around and closing the door to the club room.

"Mitsuya senpai, can I ask you a question?" a first-year who recently joined the club called. Mitsuya was quick to turn his attention to him and nodded to continue.

"Is y/n-senpai seeing someone?"

it took Mitsuya a moment to respond, a little taken aback by the question when he was expecting a question regarding the club. it was a first, that someone would ask him of all people if you're single.

though he knew you were pretty and garnered attention from all over the school, he was assured that they knew you were dating him. They should be, yet the first year in front of him says otherwise.

he really shouldn't care and just answer that you were dating him yet he suddenly can't help feeling a little insecure. was it not that clear you two were dating?

before Mitsuya can answer, Hakkai came interrupting upon hearing your name leaving the first year's lips. Your dating Mitsuya and Hakkai was just protective of you. blazing and cutting through the conversation with his hot head.

"oi! Y/n-chan is dating Taka-chan! don't go thinking you have a chance!"

The first year was quick to apologize, “O-oh sorry, Mitsuya-senpai I didn't know"

all well that ends well, yet Mitsuya brought the first year's question with him until he met you, and asked a question that he shouldn't have in the first place.

"you love me right?"

you chuckled, "What kind of question is that? Of course, I love you"

the words bringing back his smile and forgetting the first year's question. he becomes more affectionate in public for a few days after that.

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luveline · 1 month

Note

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk.

“I’m fine.”

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?”

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too.

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork.

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively.

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.”

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?”

“It’s nothing.”

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?”

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say.

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.”

“What happened?”

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face.

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.”

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.”

You frown at one another. “Why not?”

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?”

“No,” you mumble.

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again.

“I’m consistently below average.”

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.”

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does.

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.”

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.”

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?”

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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temptacioun · 7 months

Text

yandere ! itadori yuuji & sukuna

requested by anon

— yuuji is probably the easiest roommate you could ask for. he cleans up after himself, does his dishes, his own laundry ; he’s generally quiet and never wants to be a bother. it’s actually quite a while until he seems comfortable enough in your presence. if only you knew.

— he tries so hard to hold back. yuuji isn’t delusional, he’s aware his feelings might run a little deep and his thoughts might be a little disturbing. he’s so glad you’re such a naive little thing.

— you don’t suspect a thing. not when he asks to cuddle on movie night, not when he offers his hoodies because all your shirts are somehow in the washing machine right now, not when he places a gentle hand on the small of your back and basically presses his crotch into your ass while he passes ; as if there wasn’t enough space behind him.

— he almost feels bad, but when he does his laundry and your red lace panties just sit there ontop of the machine ; like an invitation. “just take ‘em. she clearly left them there for us.” he tries to ignore the voice in his head. the disgusting curse nestled inside him seems to have taken a liking to you as well, and sukuna’s not as subtle.

— he has to struggle for control when your friends are over, preferring to stay in his room while he tunes out the nagging in his brain.

— “if they touch her again i’ll rip their fingers off. one by one.” “she doesn’t need them, let me take care of it.” “i’m going to fucking gauge out their eyes if they stare any longer.”

— they always leave earlier than intended with the way he stares them down from his doorway. and while his heart sinks whenever your lips turn into a small pout at their leave, or whenever they cancel plans because of him, the voice in his head growls at how pretty your lips would look sucking his cock instead.

— he’s lost control once. when he went to pee at night and his eyes catch sight of you, in his shirt, getting a glass of water. sukuna’s out faster than he can blink and he’s forced to watch while the curse presses against you, hands on your hips and sharp fingernails digging into your sides.

— “the brat’s too much of a pussy” he whispers, while your brows furrowed in discomfort and you try to wriggle yourself free. you know of your second roommate, and you know there’s no playing around. you plead in a such a soft voice when his nails scratch at your thighs and his lips brush your nape. “but i take what i want”

— you two don’t speak about that night.

— but he sees it. the way your eyes flicker with fear and the way you tense up ; the bruises are visible for a few days before they vanish, but your fear doesn’t. and yuuji only drops down the deep end.

— he doesn’t lose control anymore, he gives it over and it’s terrifying. you remember how he coaxes you out of your hiding places like he’s still the sweet boy you knew, and he remembers the look of betrayal and utter horror in your eyes when he forces himself on you.

— the curse is right, and he won’t let it have all the fun anymore.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere itadori yuuji #yandere yuuji #yandere ryomen sukuna #yandere sukuna #yandere yuuji x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #request

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bandgie · 7 days

Text

Cat and Mouse

mdni18+ | fem!reader, pussy eating, teeth use, manipulation (from both parties), fuckboy!wooyoung, cum eating (m!), semi-public oral

2.3k words

You never understood why people don't like fuck boys.

Okay, that's an overstatement. You do know why. They lie, they cheat, and they make pretty little promises in hopes of getting in your pants. They think with the head between their legs and drool at the sight of new pussy. Truly, they were just men who peaked in high school.

They're pathetic, but easy.

A game is a game, and these types of men tend to forget it's multiplayer. All you have to do is act a little clueless, pretend to be happy to see them, and their absolute favorite, be innocent. Be the perfect little prey they think you are and they'll do anything for a chance.

It really is easy.

It's how you managed to snag a date with Wooyoung. He had been asking for weeks since the semester started. Walking you to class, to your car, seeming like a nice boy on the outside, but you know better. You've seen the subtle winks to his friends, the predatory gaze on your body. As much as you would have loved to give it up on the first day, you want to at least have some of a good time and not fucked like a fleshlight.

You can still picture the grin on his face, the way the mole under his eye shifted with his smile. Well, you don't have to imagine it. He's giving you like sly look now, one hand on the wheel while he's turned to you. The car's been in park for a while. Wooyoung claimed he needed a minute to sit after a nice dinner. It's been way past a minute, however, and the conversation took a bit of a sexual turn.

"I dunno," you shyly rub your hands together. "I don't think I'll be any good."

Wooyoung is patient though, more than you would have thought. "That's okay. We don't even have to do anything. I would just love to keep hanging out with you." I would love to put my dick in your pussy, is what he's really saying, but at least he's being nice about it. "I won't do anything you're not comfortable with."

You nod, pretending to think about what you want to do. "It's just you're so nice and so good-looking. I don't want you to think anything bad of me." Wooyoung is already shaking his head before you can finish, "I would never think of you differently. If you're attracted to somebody, and they're attracted to you, there's nothing wrong with acting on it. But don't feel like you have to. I can talk with you just like this and feel just as happy."

Definitely a smooth talker. You can't help but think about how many hearts he's broken with those lies. "You promise?"

"Of course," but his fox smile gives it away. "You're cool. I haven't felt this comfortable on a date like this before." It's not a shock he's feeling that way. You've perfected your lines and your bashful looks to get him right where he is. The way your dress clings to your body only helps. It's short enough to imagine bending you over the hood of the car and low-cut enough for Wooyoung to keep glancing down at your chest. The dress isn't enough to scream slut! but enough for curious eyes to wander.

"Thank you," you giggle. "I don't think anyone's told me that before." Your admission makes Wooyoung smile. A genuine look of satisfaction as if it's his heart that swells instead of his cock. He tilts his head to the side. A strand of hair falls over his forehead from the movement. He's cute, hot with his hair slicked back. It's easy to fall under his spell and if you're not careful, you might slip.

But you're well versed with men like him.

You let him lean close, you let his hand gently cup the side of your face. You're fully expecting teeth and tongue, but Wooyoung pauses just before your lips make contact. His dark eyes glance to yours, waiting.

You nod.

The kiss is not what you were expecting from him. It's not hungry not is it demanding. It's gentle, it's sweet, and it's comfortable. You easily slide against his lips, your hand grabbing onto his wrist and bringing him closer. He tastes slightly like the meat he ordered earlier. It makes you smile into the kiss and you feel him smile back.

You're the one to pull away first. Your lips disconnect with a soft smack and you look into his eyes. "Was that okay?" His body slightly shivers, and he nods while chuckling. "Yes. That was better than okay." You laugh with him, noticing how his hand drops to the exposed part of your thigh to gently rub your skin.

Only a second of silence passes before Wooyoung asks, "Can we do something a little more?" Then he quickly adds, "If not I totally understand." You have to bite back a smile, you've never met a fuckboy so honest yet deceiving at the same time.

"I dunno, Wooyoung," you play with his hand that's on your lap. "I think hookups are...unfair." This makes him raise an eyebrow, "Unfair? I don't think I've heard that one before. Can I ask why?"

"Like..." you pretend to think of your rehearsed words. "The girl doesn't really get to...finish. You know what I mean?" Judging from the shocked and slightly offended look on Wooyoung's face, you think you have him. "I'm not saying you can't, but I know it's a thing that guys have a hard time making the girl feel good."

Wooyoung is silent for a minute. You can't tell what he's thinking and you begin to think that maybe he took it personally. You're preparing for the worst when he lays his seat all the way down.

"What are doing?"

"Gonna prove you wrong," he simply says. "Come on, right here." Wooyoung points to his face, You narrow your eyes, unsure of what he's asking. "You want me to keep kissing you like that?"

"Nooo," he laughs and shakes his head. "Sit on it." You sputter a choked laugh. This wasn't quite what you had in mind. You thought he'd tell you that he was different, that he would flick your clit while bouncing you on his lap. Just some effort to make you cum, not have a face-sitting session.

Not what you were expecting, but you're already eager to lift your dress.

You play with the hem of your clothes, "Right now?" He nods, licking his lips. "Yep. It's already late and hardly anyone knows this place. I got tinted windows too. You don't have to worry too much, pretty."

Shit, he's good. He took you to a low-key place, paid for dinner, kissed you almost passionately, and gave you an offer you couldn't refuse. Perhaps this mouse has more tricks than you bargained for.

"O-okay," you try to keep your innocent façade. "Just, let me know if you can't breathe." Wooyoung lets out a last laugh and helps you crawl to him. It's difficult to not step on his limbs, but you manage to hobble over his shoulders. One knee is bent on the headrest just next to his head. Your other knee is planted on the backseat, keeping you hovering above Wooyoung's face. You've perched your arms on the headrest of the back seat, facing the rear window and arching your back.

It's not the most ideal position, but you have to give Wooyoung some credit. It's doable at the very least.

Wooyoung does the honor of keeping your dress lifted. His eyes lock at your clothed core, plain underwear with the only decoration being a small wet spot where your entrance is.

"Someone got a little excited, huh?" He giggles at himself. "Do you care about your underwear getting a little more wet?"

And he's a tease? You think you're in over your head with this one. "It's okay." You feel Wooyoung nod under you and soon feel a hot muscle over your clit.

Granted, it's not as hot compared to if he took your underwear off, but it still makes you jump. Wooyoung keeps his tongue flat while moving it in gentle circles. You rock your hips against his mouth, following his muscle.

You gasp at the feel of something hard. It takes a second for your brain to register his teeth running against your slit. Your underwear makes the perfect barrier for the sensation to be wonderfully strange. You let out a moan and grind on his face. His nose bumps the peak of your clit every time you move up and he seems to be completely okay being ambushed in your cunt.

"Mmf! Like it that much?" Wooyoung pulls away just enough to speak. You grind a little more before answering, "I dunno yet."

That spurs him on. Wooyoung bunches your dress in one fist and uses his free hand to move your underwear to the side. You can't tell, but he can see how messy your pussy is. Your clit is fat, wet with need, and begging for Wooyoung to directly touch it. It makes something in him primal, aching for your raw taste on his tastebuds.

His tongue swipes over your cunt, letting your juices soak his muscle. You whine at the feeling of him and still your hips. Wooyoung's thumb hooks over your underwear so the rest of his fingers splay over your thigh. He squeezes and kneads your flesh, strangely adding to the pleasure of him tasting you.

The further he digs his digits, the more you moan. It's a trick you didn't even know existed and Wooyoung is using your surprise to his advantage.

His kitten lick feels good alone, but your toes curl at the feeling of him sucking. Wooyoung has your nub in his mouth with his tongue rolling against it. You squeal and your hips buck so roughly that your pussy pops from his mouth with a wet sound.

"Damn," he sounds raspy. "Didn't think you'd have such a sensitive pussy." Wooyoung strains his neck to reach up, latching onto your cunt once more. You whimper and carefully place your weight back on, trying your best not to move this time.

"I just," you let out a moan when he sucks it again. "It's just been a while."

Which is a lie. Well, somewhat. You got eaten out not that long ago, but not this good. Not in a position where you could get caught, where he adds the tiniest bit of pain to add to the pleasure. Everything's an additional layer of arousal that you didn't think you needed.

Wooyoung says something but it sounds like muffles in your cunt. You hone in on sliding against his face, making sure his nose and chin bump your clit with every drag. Maybe you're going a little crazy on your first date, but there's no guarantee you'll get another chance like this. You might as well use it to your advantage.

Your orgasm slowly builds. You can feel the heat in your stomach and chest, making you whine louder and higher. Wooyoung groans with you, gripping your waist and thigh harder as you suffocate him. You hang your head to look down at him, but all you can see is the top of his hair. Even if you can't see him devouring your cunt, the sight makes you clench. A reminder about how terribly empty you are.

As if knowing, Wooyoung dips his tongue until it catches your entrance. He buries it in you, uncaring how tight your pussy squeezes him and leaks. You whimper, unmoving so Wooyoung can thrust his tongue deep inside.

"Fuck. If you keep doing that I'll cum."

You nearly scream when he doesn't stop. He goes faster, so hard that you can hear the lewd noises vibrating in the car. He gulps down your essence, he moans into your pulsing cunt. Never have you met such an eager fuckboy. One who goes above and beyond without getting his dick wet once.

It's almost cute, but you don't dwell on it too much when you finally tip over. Your walls clench Wooyoung's tongue, creaming so much that it paints his lips white. He fucks you through it as he manages to slide his tongue out and across your clit.

You rest your cheek against the cushion of the backseat. Normally, guys are eager to push you off and shove their dicks in, but not Wooyoung. He eats you steadily and overwhelmingly. You're the one prying yourself from his mouth, chuckling at his protests and pleas for you to take back your seat.

Your back aches from being arched and your legs scream as you wobbly sit back on the passenger side. Wooyoung shifts his seat up while swiping his lips with his thumb. He collects the last bits of cream and pops it back into his mouth.

By far the weirdest fuckboy you've encountered, but you're not complaining. You got to cum good, got to ride out your high, and got a meal paid for. You're expecting him to ask for a blowjob, but he twists the keys into the ignition and it roars to life.

"Oh," you hadn't meant to say it out loud, but Wooyoung hears you. He turns his head to you, lips shining with your cum. "What? I'm taking you home right?"

You blink at him, completely thrown for a loop. It takes a few awkward seconds before you answer, "Yeah. Sounds good."

You're starting to think maybe he came his pants and is too shy to do anything else, but you catch the smirk as he turns back to the front windshield and puts the car in reverse.

It then occurs to you that maybe you weren't the cat after all.

#smut #ateez smut #ateez #ateez fanfic #atz wooyoung #atz smut #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung

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delcakoo · 1 year

Text

txt’s reaction to you being asked out ⋆˚｡⋆↯˚

requested <3

PAIRING ! txt x f!reader

WC ! 4k

GENRE ! fluff, crack

WARNINGS ! jealousy, slight insecurities, strangers asking u out

a/n: the readmore cut actually worked for once a tear rolled down my leg . ty for the req nonie hope u enjoy !

// CHOI SOOBIN !

DISPLEASED. EXTREMELY DISPLEASED AND ON HIGH ALERT !!

soobs doesn’t find himself getting jealous often

he trusts you more than anyone in the world and basks in the knowledge that you’re just as whipped for him as he is for you,,,

something super big would have to happen for him to genuinely get upset

and so when he does..

oh boy

good luck dealing with a clingy sulky baby :(

everything was going SO well today too

soobin was very proud of himself for organising the beach date you were visibly enjoying to the fullest <3

you’d spent all day making a giant sandcastle, playing around in the water, having an intense game of volleyball that soobin complEtely dominated and it’s not because he’s good. he’s just ridiculously tall and barely needed to jump

and of course !! getting ice cream !!! the highlight of a very hot day

you were both still dripping saltwater, but soobin put on a t-shirt over his swim trunks while you decided to stay in your bathing suit due to the fear of getting your clothes soaked too

while you waited in line for the ice cream truck, your boyfriend was busy trying to fix his hair when you feel someone poke your shoulder

of course you turn around to investigate,,

just to see some random guy around your age holding his phone opened to a new contact, a confident smile on his face as he continuously glances you up and down

bro wasn’t even trying to be subtle with the staring >:[

“hey, so i was just wondering if i could get your number, i think you’re gorgeous.”

THE SPEED IN WHICH SOOBIN TURNED AROUND

he doesn’t even say anything, just completely awestruck that this asshat couldn’t see him right there?!?

yeah, okay maybe u could pass as friends since he wasn’t much for pda, but too bad!!

he should’ve known and now soobin has the biggest pout on his face as he stares daggers at the man, waiting for you to deal with the situation yourself unless the time comes for him to step in

you just blink in surprise, “oh, me? thanks, but i’m here with my boyfriend.”

finally, he follows your finger to meet soobin’s eyes, gulping at the way he has his arms crossed and face sporting a please-dont-actually-try-to-fight-me-but-i-hate-you glare

personally you think he looks like a cute angry fluffball

but clearly the guy is slightly intimidated — perhaps by his height and built biceps — judging by how frantically he shoves his phone back in his pocket

“oh, my bad. sorry bro,” he apologizes, jogging off before he could embarrass himself further

as soon as he’s far enough, soobin starts murmuring under his breath, wrapping a big arm around your shoulder

sulky soob activated T-T

expect him to be extra clingy and show lots of affection in public for the rest of the day regardless if he’s feeling better or not about the situation

which is SO not like him

the grip he has on your waist even makes yOu nervous

“m’ not your bro. who does he think he is? seriously. looking at you like a piece of meat, i’ll- i’ll punch him!”

you snicker knowing damn well your boyfriend wouldn’t even hurt a fly

amused, you watch as he begins tapping his foot, clearly thinking way too deep into the situation, “couldn’t even ask if you had a boyfriend first! do i not look boyfriend-y enough?” his heart shaped lips form a frown, showing off his dimples unintentionally

“love, you’re the most boyfriend-y guy here, okay? did you forget how that guy nearly shit his pants when he saw you?”

a childish grin sports soobin’s cheeks at that, pride flowing through him and making you chuckle in return

“now c’mon big baby, what flavor are you getting?”

yeah you’ve made him feel a bit better about it

but don’t expect him to be anything but attached to your hip all day <\3

even when you go to the washroom he’s standing outside the door like a guard dog

constantly on the lookout as if that guy is plotting to randomly show up and steal you away !! he has to be sure :( !!

when you tease him though,, he of course gets all defensive

“ay, you wouldn’t be laughing if it was some girl trying to ask me out! you don’t understand.”

when you tell him that he’s right and that you’d be pissed too, he feels a bit better n’ goes back to having only a sliGht pout

but pssst secret

some cuddles and kisses when you get back home should fix him right up <3 !!

// CHOI YEONJUN !

the most atrocious yet blank stare imaginable

he wouldn’t even process what’d happened for a few seconds like

huh 🧌 that’s. that’s my girlfriend what do u mean. doesn’t everybody know she’s mine what no how could this happen plea

at the same time junie isn’t really a fan of confrontation and y’know

calling someone out

but in this situation IF he isn’t busy being the real life version of the standing man emoji HE WILL SPEAK UP !!

when something like this actually happened, it was originally a very chill day for you and jun <3

he invited you to come grocery shopping with him for the dorm

and man oh man he looks so boyfriend with that plain white tee and half his hair in a lil’ ponytail T-T

you tried not to ogle him the whole time

but clearly you weren’t doing well considering he already caught you staring twice …

“yah, cutie,” yeonjun barks with a teasing look on his face, “stop drooling and go get soobin’s bread. i’ll be in the ramen aisle.”

you roll your eyes but listen anyway, making your way two aisles over to find the bread section containing a man who’s carefully glancing at his phone, then back at the display with a lost expression

as you get closer you quickly realise he’s having trouble finding the bread on his list, so of course you decide to help him out like a good citizen

“is this the one you need?”

the man whips his head up at your voice, a grateful smile on his face as he nods and acceps the loaf carefully

“yeah, thanks. you’d think being so tall i could find things easily but..” shyly, he looks away, ruffling his bangs habitually

you chuckle while grabbing a loaf of soobin’s favorite bread, feeling the guy watch closely from beside you

“i uh, actually recently moved here and i was thinking,” he swallows, “would you want to help me find a good place to eat? on me, of course.”

you blink

was he asking you as a friendly gesture of thanks or as a date

you honestly couldn’t tell

“well i’ll have to ask my boyfriend, he’d probably wanna know the details and stuff. or maybe he could come with us?”

“oh, that isn’t really—“

just as he opens his mouth to reply, a familiar pale arm wraps around your waist and pulls you into a sturdy chest

“hey princess,” yeonjun aggressively pecks the top of your head, a gesture that has your stomach swooning, “who’s this?”

obliviously, you smile, “oh, we just met here and he was going to take me to—“

since you were in front of him, you didn’t get to see yeonjun’s cold stare that caused the man to quickly put his free hand up in surrender

“oh, no no, nevermind that! sorry— uh, thank you again.” he barely even finished his sentence before turning around and storming off, ears bright red

you begin to question why he was suddenly rushing, but you’re snapped out of it by none other than your boyfriend swivelling you around to face him

yeonjun just stares at you for a moment

looking carefully at your features before cupping your face and leaning down for a kiss

his lips were always so plush n’ soft and you desperately wanted to keep feeling them but

it couldn’t be too long as you were still in a grocery store after all

but even once you pull away yeonjun grabs your hand tightly

“i leave for five minutes and other guys are already hovering around you like flies,” he complains, duck lips turning down cutely

“now you know what it’s like,” you snort, rubbing his knuckles with your fingers laced through his. “you know i’m only yours, ignore them.”

he looks down at you, a fond yet playful gaze in his pretty eyes

“oh really? what are you? i think i forgot, say it again~”

“yours, dumbass,” you can’t help but smile at his antics ^^

“that’s right, mine. mine. all mine.” with each word, yeonjun gives your head another loving smooch <3

// CHOI BEOMGYU !

now this one ..

hate to break it to you but gyu may start laughing and mocking the guy as soon as he’s gone

he finds you rejecting other men hilarious, especially watching the way their face falls in defeat :)

butttt sometimes he gets a little irked out,, especially when the guy has pretty much anything better than him whether it be height or just neater hair

n’ even though you reject those kinds of guys just as quickly as any other, his insecurities tend to eat away at him

so make sure to reassure your boy !!

you and beomgyu decided to bus downtown for a day at the cat cafe that recently opened

things were going better than expected considering going on a weekday apparently meant not many other customers would be around ^^

plus the amount of lockscreen-worthy photos you got of gyu with kittens was astronomical HOW WERE YOU GONNA CHOOSE!!

out of the corner of your eye though, you couldn’t help but fidget at the feeling of the employee staring daggers at you

and at first you worried you were doing something wrong, but all you’ve been doing thus far is play with a grey kitten, laugh at gyu, and take a million pictures

“this one really likes me. i think we should take him home,” beomgyu declares, holding up a small white kitten to demonstrate

but when you don’t reply, he sends you a concerned gaze, “you okay?”

“yeah.. just, that guy won’t stop staring at me.”

when he looks to see who you were talking about, a frown pulls onto beomgyu’s lips

the man was even taller than him and had soft, neatly parted black bangs that somehow rested perfectly by his eyes

don’t even get him started on the uniform he attired being pulled up a bit to reveal tight muscles against his arms, what’s a guy like that doing working at a cat cafe of all places?

beomgyu turns to you, placing the white kitten back onto the floor, “want me to go tell him to stop? i can be very intimidating~”

you watch as he wiggles his eyebrows and snort, “it’s fine. i wanna go ask him about this grey kitten anyway, she’s cute.”

immediately, gyu stands up along with you, “well i’m coming too.”

what? he didn’t want that guy talking to you one on one >:[

as you make your way over to where the employee stands behind a counter, a smile quickly rises to his face when he catches you approaching

“hey there, can i help you with anything? would you like a drink?”

the whole time he never takes his eyes off of you, and beomgyu crosses his arms at the realisation that this man was totally ignoring him! the audacity!!

so of course he opens his mouth, “yeah, actually. i’ll get a latte, please.”

finally, the man turns to him, and his expression falters for a second before he nods and gets to work

you give beomgyu a strange look that he ignores

“you don’t even like lattes,” you murmur with furrowed brows

he simply nods to the kitten in your arms, a defensive glare on his face, “yah, don’t forget what we came here for.”

just in time, the man turns back to you while finishing up the latte and sliding it over to your boyfriend, who emits a barely audible ‘thanks’

a smile quickly returns to his face as he takes you in, along with the kitten you’re holding, “anything for you, pretty girl?”

what

what’d he call you

beomgyu’s jaw DROPS touches the ground even

that is HIS nickname for you!!!

he immediately frowns, a competitive gleam in his eyes as he reaches down to pat your head

“she is pretty, isn’t she?”

apparently the guy didn’t get the hint as he quickly agrees with a cheery ‘of course’ 👎

you seem equally confused but you quickly cough and speak up, “i— uh, i was just wondering what breed this kitten was.”

with another cheesy smile that has beomgyu gagging, he replies, “that’s a british shorthair. we actually have a new litter of shorthairs arriving next week. if you decide to stop by i could give you a personal introduction.”

the man winks, sending another surge of fury through beomgyu, “along with a coffee on the house, of course.”

… it honestly wasn’t a bad deal

but judging by the way beomgyu grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the exit, you assumed it was a no

“sorry, thanks for the offer!” you barely make out before the cafe door slams closed

“along with a coffee on the house, of course,” beomgyu mocks the man’s deep voice, face scrunched up obnoxiously while you groan next to him

“don’t let him ruin our nice day baby, c’mon,” you reassure the boy, smoothing out his frustrated wrinkles with your thumb, “i’ve already forgotten what that loser looks like.”

beomgyu’s snickers, relief taking over his features as he stares down at the sidewalk

“mkay. you think i’m better looking, right?”

“he isn’t even competition next to you.”

he gets giddier by each word, slowly going back to his regular self whilst a small :> rises to his lips

“and you’re all mine, right?”

“yeah,” you bump his shoulder, smirking playfully, “and you’re mine?”

his smile grows, “obviously.”

gyu mostly stays positive like that through the remainder of the date, but later you may find him sitting and staring off into space, once again reminiscing on what could’ve made that guy think you weren’t taken, if he wasn’t good enough, etc

but don’t worry! as long as you’re ready to offer words of affirmation and big spooning, he’ll be back to you in no time ^^

// KANG TAEHYUN !

not a very big reaction

it’s terry we’re talking about !! our unfazed king

he knows you’re his, what’s there to worry about ^^

honestly he might even chuckle at whoever had the confidence to try and ask you out rigHt in front of him

he lets you deal with it yourself unless it escalates in any way,, in that case oh boy is he ready

mans can finally put those hard-earned muscles to use <3

anways so you and tyun were having a nice lil’ outing at a cafe for lunch

being seated by the window, you spent every few seconds pointing at random things outside like literal cats <3

at one point a squirrel ran by and you immediately pointed at it going ‘you’ THEN TYUN DID HIS CUTE GIGGLE

he was in one of his cute moods and you could swear his eyes held the whole world when he smiled at you like that :(

that kinda changed when the waiter came though,,

you were a bit oblivious, but taehyun quickly caught on to the way the young man’s gaze would linger on you each time he handed you something no matter it was your drink, a napkin, absolutely any reason he could use to stAre at you

and despite him not being a very confrontational person, he makes sure you’re fully aware of what he sees

“ that guy totally wants you,” he comments as if it was something as simple as the weather 💀

meanwhile you nearly choke on your drink, “that— what? who?”

“waiter guy.”

“and at first you smile, “aww, you jealous?”

but of course ,, big mistake

“of what? you’re in love with me, aren’t you?” HE’S SO GRHRRGFH

you do that classic pouty pout and taehyun secretly wishes the table wasn’t there so he could lean over and kiss it away because aWww <3

bUt after that incident things were running smoothly, and since the waiter hadn’t returned for a while, taehyun figured it’d be a good time to run to the bathroom

well

apparently he couldn’t get a moment of peace because as soon as he waddled back to where you were seated, waiter guy had his elbow on the table, writing something on a sticky note while murmuring something that taehyun could only catch a few words from

“—can always call me if he messes up, i’ll be waiting.”

OOOHH yeah no he’s shaking in fury on the inside but stays cool on the outside

the sound of your sweet voice telling the man you weren’t interested and that something like that would never happen manages to cool him down a bit, but tyun still makes sure to bump the man’s shoulder extra hard while pacing back to his seat

“what’d i miss?” your boyfriend’s voice is so calm as usual,, but also somehow scary and cold n’ even yOu get nervous!!

“i- uh, enjoy your meal.”

taehyun SCOFFS as the man wobbles away with his tail tucked between his legs, “how pathetic,” he frowns

ouch…

you reach over to his knuckles which instantly softens up his tense muscles, watching as he sighs

“see, you’re just too gorgeous. it gets bothersome,” as usual, his voice is calm, but this time laced with a hint of dramatic playfulness, making you giggle shyly

you’ve gotten better and better at reading and understanding your boyfriend’s speech habits and tones, which is something not many could successfully do ^^

that’s pretty much it though

he might bring it up another time as almost a little inside joke between you guys, but he prefers to say that the guy was too irrelevant to bring any more attention to !!

but also

on the bill..

taehyun reattached that sticky note he tried to hand you and wrote something on it

unfortunately he folded it so you never got to see, but judging by the nervous stutters the waiter let out while handing him the receipt, you guessed it wasn’t too polite

your mind is taken off that real quick though when his larger hand is cupping yours :D

“c’mon princess,” with the gentlest forehead kiss ever, “we won’t be back here, that’s for sure.”

// HUENING KAI !

does that thing where his head just frantically shakes between u two like O-0

nervous chuckles awkward foot movements

starts inwardly panicking like fUck what should a boyfriend do in this situation SHOULD I BE PUNCHING THAT GUY

because lowkey

he doesn’t care that much,,

he trusts you fully n’ knows that guy is getting rejected

by the end of the whole fiasco he may end up having a nice conversation with the stranger as if they’re besties

they’ll be discussing how awful the weather’s been in the past week while you just stand there utterly gobsmacked

..he’s hyuka what’d you expect

however

do note that your boy may become unusually clingy after it’s all over

and if you question him he may or may not gaslight you into thinking everything’s normal out of embarrassment <3

anyways SEGWAY GOES HERE (coughs. so smooth)

being the rock-paper-scissor loser that you were

your co-workers left you alone to close up the local convenience store for the night (boooo tomato tomato)

closing was in a mere five minutes, and you were more than ready to book it out the door n’ spend your remaining waking hours watching anime with kai

AND all his plushies of course ^^

besides that NOBODY else was invited

not even soobin despite how he usually loves watching anime with you guys :(

kai insisted it was his very much needed alone time with you

so when the bell above the door jingles, a smile already makes it’s way to your face, expecting to see your boyfriend there and ready to drive you home

well.. not exactly

a man that looks around your age runs in, quickly sprinting over to the grocery section

and you’re just like well. shit.

if this is a robbery you’re fully prepared to sacrifice everything in the store

what’d they expect paying you minimum wage ??

but before you even raise your hands in surrender, the man has already made his way to the cashier, panting and huffing as he drops his basket onto the counter

“sorry, i know you close in a few minutes but if you could ring me up it’d be really, really great.”

you blink

“oh. yeah, sure. sorry, i thought you were a thief this whole time.”

watching you scan his items, the man giggles, “my bad. it’s.. a long story.”

“clearly, if you’re buying energy drinks at this time of night.”

again, he chuckles, leaning his palms on the table. “hey, you’re quite cute,” just as he speaks up, the doorbell rings again, “could i get your number?”

meanwhile you lift your head to see kai, who is now awkwardly staring between you both with a nervous smile on his lips

facepalming inwardly, you clear your throat, “uh- sorry, my boyfriend is- um, right there.”

when the guy turns to face him, kai just coughs with a barely audible, ‘hi’

“shit, that’s embarrassing. my bad— again.” you almost feel pity as the man fumbles to put his card back in his wallet, grabbing his bag and speedwalking to the door

but right before he can leave, kai speaks up out of nowhere, “where- where’d you get your jacket?”

you give him an odd stare, matching the guy who backtracks in confusion, “uh, i dunno. why?”

“i think i have the same one, that brand is super underrated,” kai grins nervously, and honestly, you’re starting to feel like a proud mom watching her kid make their first friend at pre-school

after the stranger gasps and brings up how he’s never met anyone else who knows it, they ramble for another few minutes before he eventually checks his phone, apologizing and saying that he needs to leave

nOt without exchanging numbers with your boyfriend of course

when kai turns around to see you shaking your head in disbelief, he bursts into a fit of screechy dolphin laughter

“he came for your number and ended up with mine instead!”

you smack his shoulder, countering the endeared smile growing on your lips, “god, you’re insane. who the hell makes friends with a guy who asked their girlfriend out minutes prior?”

grabbing your bag for you, kai throws it over his shoulder and wiggles his brows, “your boyfriend does, cutie. i personally think i handled it great.”

“yeah, whatever. go watch demon slayer with him instead.”

he pinches your cheek, cooing mockingly, “aw, no need to be jealous! i only wanna watch with my pretty girl~”

he’s acting all cocky right now

but right as kai starts to gets sleepy, he begins mumbling on about how much he doesn’t like when others try to steal you from him, and that he’ll do anything to be the one staying by your side permanently ^^ <3

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ feedback is always appreciated + motivating for me to post more!

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @kynrki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk @dekusgirl @taejays @luvhyun3 @yjjungwon @miou45 @rosie-is-everywhere @yenqa @rosenatorfirst @millsielovesgyu @syrxiee2 @ily-cuz-i @soobin-chois @wtfhyuck @hoonvrs @gyuuberryy @bucketofhiros @xtra-cheese

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calummss · 7 months

Text

Sweet Ultraviolence | Klaus Mikaelson

masterlist

summary: it was no secret that klaus mikaelson felt for you, but you didn’t, maybe deep down but not enough. so how do you react when the nortorious serial killer gives you the most fucked up surprise?

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 4k

a/n: scene taken from the sexiest ahs scene ever. here’s a link !! probably my favourite klaus fic i have written. also smut!! i’ve written smut?? i’m not a smut writer so if it’s bad pretend it never happened….

‘Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean it means anything.’

‘This date?’

‘Don’t call this a date.’

‘Why?’ Klaus asked,grabbing his wine glass, his gaze sitting on your frame as he sipped the red liquor. ‘We’re at my house, eating a lovely dinner with a beautiful girl. By my definition it is a date.’

‘Please,’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you felt the warmth of the fireplace hit your bare skin, engulfing you in a hug. ‘You are fully aware of why I am here so let’s not read something into this.’

Sitting at a table with Klaus Mikaelson was not as romantic as it sounded. The dark walls pushing in on you, a dark gaze staring at you, darkness that made up the house. Even the plate of meat, potatoes and vegetables seemed less appetising as they normally would. Maybe it was the blood seeping out of the flesh that made you feel agitated, maybe it was the notorious vampire serial killer that so desperately wanted you to be his.

‘Still,’ he paused for a second, ‘you came.’

You yourself took a sip of the white wine you had mixed with sparkling water, the subtle bitterness biting your tongue, the warm fuzzy feeling of the alcohol leaving a familiar taste of comfort.

‘Klaus, sometimes I think you are so delusional, like how are you functioning?’

‘I function just fine, love.’

‘Get me another one of these,’ you held up your glass, lifting it to your red painted lips to drown the last drop of its contents. ‘And maybe I’ll continue to act like I am loving this dinner date from hell.’ You gave him a wide grin displaying your obvious sarcasm.

Klaus smirked, his twisted smile making your stomach churn. This would be a lot easier if he weren’t attractive but of course the maniac looks like he was carved by Lucifer himself.

‘That’s a tempting offer.’

He barely lifted his hand signalling the compelled boy that he wanted something. ‘Another white wine with sparkling water for my ravishing date, Taylor.’

‘Wow,’ you jested in fake astonishment, ‘so intimidating. Raising your hand, getting whatever you want…do you enjoy it? Getting everything with the snap of your fingers.’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘You compel people to do stuff for you. Don’t you want people to do things because they want to? Care for you?’

‘No one cares about me, love.’ He chuckles, ‘I’m the monster, remember?’

You didn’t reply. You stayed silent, staring at him being the only communication amongst the quiet room, only the cracking of burning wood to be heard. ‘Why do you like me?’ You shoved the potato around your plate, using it to smear the watered down blood across the porcelain.

‘What’s not to like?’ Klaus shrugged his shoulders, leaning back into the chair, the definition of his abs to see seen through the thin material of his shirt.

You looked up from your plate. ‘Just answer the question, please.’

‘You’re like a ray of sunshine on a bad day. When I’m near you I feel you good nature rub off on me—makes me want to stay close. You’re kind even if not to me, you treat everyone the same and give chances to people that probably don’t deserve them. You help when help is needed and disregard yourself for others. You’re beautiful. You smell good, and the fact that I cannot have you makes me want you even more.’

‘I’m not something you can own, Klaus,’

‘I can’t own you love, but I can own your heart if you let me.’

Again you stayed quiet, scared that if you speak he could hear the smitteness in your tone, knowing that for a second he had gotten under your skin.

‘Admit that you are drawn to darkness, Y/n,’ his eyes stared into the most inner part of your soul, ‘even the purest of heart are drawn to it.’

‘I never said I’m not, Klaus,’ you took a sip of wine. ‘I like darkness. The unknown, the excitement…Just because I don’t like your darkness Klaus doesn’t mean I’m denying my thoughts or feelings.’

‘Keep telling yourself that.’

‘You aggravate me.’ You downed the rest of your drink again, setting it down with a loud thud.

‘Makes you more attractive.’

‘Taylor?’ You smiled over at the boy Klaus had compelled for tonight’s dinner, that what you had hoped anyway, ‘Do you by chance have any earplugs, sweetheart?’

Taylor’s eyes grew wide, pressing his lips together as he turned his head towards Klaus for further instructions. Klaus felt his stare but continued to stare at you with a grin.

‘What are you staring at, Taylor? Get the lady some earplugs.’

Taylor left soon after, leaving the two of you alone which made you chuckle at Klaus who didn’t deny your request.

‘What?’ He asked plainly.

‘Nothing.’ You cut a piece of the steak and let the blood coat your tongue, continuing to feel his eyes linger on your for the rest of the night.

A week later and you were back at school. Vacation was over and reality hit. Thankfully you were seeing Mr. Saltzman today. A class you could pay a little less attention to since you sat in the back of the room, daydreaming away. You were too busy talking to friends that you didn’t realise a pair of eyes that stalked you from afar. Eyes watching your every move.

Finishing up the conversation you said your goodbyes to Dana and Heather and turned around to head towards the gym but when you took a step back you collided with a body making them stumble and spill their drink on the floor.

‘Oh my god, I am so sorry. Are you okay?’ You reach out to help Connor find his balance but he slapped away your arms, letting out a deep growl.

‘What is your fucking problem, bitch?!’

‘Excuse me?’ You drew your eyebrows together. It was clearly an accident. Why was he getting so worked up?

‘I said what is your problem?’ He came dangerously close.

‘Hey,’ his friend pulled him back, trying to reassure him that it was an honest accident.

‘You better apologise.’

‘I literally apologised, asshole. How about you pipe down on your ego and take a long second to reevaluate your life? Pathetic.’

Connor’s face turned red, his strength releasing him from his friends grip, his face too close to yours for your liking. ‘I’ve disliked you since I’ve known you, Y/n. Don’t give me more reasons to hate you.’

‘Get a life.’ You laughed out loud.

‘You better watch your back!’

‘Okay, Connor. Will do.’ You called after him as he left the scene,his head turning your way as you cleaned off the few drops of water that caught themselves on your fabric. Chuckling to yourself, you headed the way you were supposed to go and headed towards cheerleading practice, the anger giving you a surge of adrenaline that reassured you that you were going to nail the landing you had failed to complete for weeks.

Klaus had watched the scene from afar, his eyes trailing Connor as he walked past Klaus whose forehead creased, his eyes turning lifeless as he turned around and followed Connor to wherever it was he was heading to.

Practice was good and you were right; you managed to pull off the stunt earning you praise from the coach, letting you know that if you keep up the good work you will be the best cheerleader Mystic Falls ever had. You hated saying it but you lived off of praise. Was there a better feeling than being seen for your hard work and determination? Not really, but that was your opinion. You headed towards the locker room, your red cheer uniform starting to slowly take up some of the sweat from practice. It was late. Everyone went home instead of you. You wanted to perfect the new choreography and stayed long after practice ended. So when you entered the locker room it was dead silent. The squeaking of the locker made you flinch as you placed your water bottle into the side pocket of your bag. You were about to take out your bag to change when you heard the sound of droplets hitting the floor. Wet drops. Only then had you noticed that your feet were also wet. And it wasn’t sweat…it was too much for it to be just that… When you looked up to where the sound was coming from you froze. Staring up at the ceiling just above the lockers, the body of Connor hung from the wall. Broken arms and legs that were twisted inhumane. His intestines spilling from his torso, head hanging from his neck like it was about to fall off. His blood was dripping onto your locker, the smell of blood prominent and not something that could be ignored. As you stared up at him, taking in his lifeless body, a faint smile spread across your lips as you thought back on the scene earlier in the hallway.

‘You like my surprise?’ A voice sounded from behind you and you knew exactly who it was so you didn’t bother to turn around, too fascinated by the body hanging like a spider.

‘You did this?’

You heard his footsteps come closer, his heavy footsteps giving away his exact location whenever he moved, so much that after a few seconds you knew that he was standing right behind you, him too staring at the body.

‘I didn’t like how he talked to you or his lack of respect, his entitlement.’

You rubbed your lips against each other, turning around to slap Klaus across the face, feeling a painful sting across the palm of your hand, grabbing a handful of his shirt and getting up on the bench looking down at him. Vertical wrinkles appeared between his eyebrows, his eyes bigger than before. Fear. Fear that he had fucked up the last chance he had of being with you. Scared that you would never ever look at him again. Fear that he had lost you before he even had you.

You took your finger and slowly dragged it across his face, pulling down his bottom lips as you stared at him. ‘That is the most fucked up thing anyone has ever done for me,’ you stared into his eyes that were still wide, your lack of transparency making him feel sick. ‘That’s so hot.’ You dragged out, taking that fistful of his shirt and crashing your lips onto him, your hands roaming his hair, tugging as you felt him against you. His tongue running across your bottom lip, tasting what he had craved for so long. He continued to place wet kisses down your cleavage, continuing to kiss your legs, holding onto your ankle as he came face-to-face with the blood on your foot. Looking up through his lashes he saw you wipe away a single tear, inhaling the scent of blood before dragging his tongue across the top of your foot, licking the sweet taste of blood. Coming back up to kiss you again, you could feel his hot breath ricochet off your cheeks, his growling making your cunt ache from between your legs as he continued to kiss you.

‘I thought you hated violence.’ He breathed, allowing you to catch your breath.

‘I was wrong.’

‘Does that mean—‘

‘Shut up and kiss me.’

Klaus had never shut up so quickly, pressing his body against yours wanting to be one with you. Ripping off his shirt you felt him against your skin. His fingers curled around the hem of your panties, dragging them down your legs. You curled the finger around your top, ready to take it off but Klaus’ hands shot up to hold them still. ‘Don’t take it off. I want to fuck you in it.’

You suppress a moan as he lowered his head underneath your skirt, feeling his breath on the inside of your thighs, already making your legs tremble. You let out a quiet yelp as you felt his tongue licked your slit, closing his lips around your clit as he started to swirl his tongue around your cunt, sending vibrations through your stomach as you moaned. ‘Fuck,’ your hands grabbed his hair, trying to give yourself some stability. Klaus noticed your legs growing weaker. He picked you up with your legs over his shoulders and laid you down on the blood covered floor, feeling the blood go up your ass. Klaus continued to suck on your clit, concealed groans vibrating against your cunt, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as his tongue focused on your most sensitive spot. You could feel your thighs go numb from holding them up. Your breath becoming shorter the more Klaus dragged his tongue across your cunt, collecting your juices, making you realise you were about to come. You felt your muscles contract, your legs starting to shake as the knot tightened faster than it had ever before.

‘Fuck,’ you pressed air past your lips, ‘please don’t stop.’

Close to coming, Klaus gave one last suck before you felt your stomach explode, squirming underneath him as he continued to flick his tongue over your sensitive clit, making your body shudder with aftershocks.

‘Fuck Klaus, fuck fuck fuck.’

You felt Klaus press a kiss on your cunt before coming out from underneath your skirt, catching your lips so you could taste yoursef.

‘You like this don’t you?’

You nodded.

‘You like the way I touch you?’

You nodded again, feeling his hand make its way down to your cunt again.

‘Stop,’ you breathed, stopping his hand trailing down to your cunt that had craved his touch the moment he stared into your eyes. ‘Let me,’ You slowly dropped to your knees, blood staining them s you reached for his trousers, starting to unbuckle his belt, your fingers slipping off the buckle.

‘What are you doing?’ Klaus let out a suppressed smile, his head hanging low to see your hands undoing his belt, your lips caught between your teeth.

‘I want this.’

‘My cock?’

‘Yes.’ Another deep breath.

‘I thought you hadn't done this before?’

‘I haven’t.’ Having undone his buckle and strap, you grabbed his front pockets and pulled down the rough fabric, the bulge beneath his boxer meeting your eyes, a warm heat spreading through your legs. ‘But how do you know that?’

‘Watching you is my favourite pastime.’

‘You’re fucked up…’

‘So are you, love.’

Taking a gulp, you pulled down his boxers to release his cock that sprang against his stomach. Your breath caught your throat. It’s big. Klaus could feel his pre-cum pumping through him just thinking of your innocent lips tucked around the head of his tip. His chest swelled with air as he trailed his finger down to the base of his cock, twitching under his own touch. Your breath hitched, trying to get as much oxygen into your lungs, as you watched him come towards you, knowing that his size would make it hard to breathe. His hand stroked over his hardened shaft, collecting a small speck of pre-cum. You grabbed his thick pulsing length, a groan leaving his throat as your fingers wrapped around him. You leaned over, carefully licking his tip, slowly building your way to sucking on his head, spitting on it as you wet his pink cock.

‘Fuck,’ Klaus hissed, his dirty blond curls falling back as his hand tangled itself in your hair.

You gagged on his size, but you refused to let go of him, pushing his cock deeper into the back of your throat. Saliva filled your mouth as you focused, moaning against him as he gently started thrust in and out, not wanting to hurt you.

‘So, so eager for me, aren’t you?’ He groaned.

His hands found their way to your hair, pulling your head back, allowing him further access to your throat. A mixture of tears, saliva and cum dribbled from between your lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, deep groans continuing to escape his pink lips. The slight sound of you gagging letting his moans increase in sound.

‘Such a pretty face. Look at you.’ He glanced down, staring into your eyes. ‘You look so good taking my cock. Your first time having a cock down your throat and you’re doing so well.’

A pool of cum was now dripping below you. You couldn’t help it, you were so turned on. You needed him. You need him inside of you soon. Growling, he pushed the head of the shaft past your lips, hitting the back of your throat. Klaus tangled his fingers into your messy hair, eager to push in deeper. You swallowed around his throbbing length, earning a huffed moan. You continue stroking him, your hand gliding along his shaft, your own arousal starring to grow

‘You’re so fucking good at taking my cock,’ he thrusted in and out of my aching mouth. ‘Your first time and you already know how to send me over the edge.’

He pulled out his cock giving you time to breathe. You gasped out for air, before he slid back inside of you. Pre-cum was leaking from his tip, the salty taste mixing in with your own spit. You pulled in your lips around his cock, sucking harder, your tongue pressing up against the head and circling around it. Your lips and throat we’re starting to turn numb, every thrust releasing a tear, every salty tear mixing with the shaft.

‘Look at me,’

Your eyes shot up and stared into his.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He moaned loudly before releasing into your mouth; hot jets hitting the back of your throat. ‘Be a doll and swallow.’ He worked hard to suppress a moan, jerking himself through his orgasm. Both of your chests were heavy—you had almost forgotten what breathing felt like. He huffed and dragged his fingers across your face, stroking your cheeks as he stared at you with sparks in his eyes. ‘You did so well, my love.’

Carefully grabbing you by your throat, Klaus pulled you up and swiftly turned you around, his hard cock pressing up against your firm ass as his hands glided over your tits, smearing the blood across your uniform and cleavage; drops of blood running down your chest as you placed your arms behind your head as Klaus started to place kisses again the thin skin on your neck, gently sucking on it, making the hairs on your body stand up.

‘God, you’re so fucking hot.’

You hummed in response, his mouth on your neck making it hard to concentrate.

Klaus brushed the tip of his cock against your slit, teasing you as his moved it along your cunt, adoring the way you whimpered at his slightest touch.

‘I thought you were a gentleman and wouldn’t fuck a girl so shortly after the first dinner.’

‘I’m not a gentleman tonight, my love. You make it hard to control myself,’ Klaus whispered in your ear, sending a chill down your spine that stopped before it reached your toes as he thrusted into your core making you shout out.

‘Oh my god, Klaus. Fuck you feel so fucking good.’

His cock stretched out the walls of your cunt that welcomed him, each thrust slowly adjusting to his size. His lips kept him busy at your neck and collar, leaving trails of dark marks. Hickeys or blood, it was hard to tell. You could feel the blood slowly dry out on your skin, but new blood spread across your body as Connor’s blood continued to seep out of him, letting you and Klaus be covered in his surprise. He began to pump his cock out of you with pace. Your hands grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, asking for more. Throwing your head back onto his chest as one hand wrapped around your throat, the other holding your waist.

‘Not satisfied darling?' He smirked against your skin, picking up pace as he pounded into you. Your tits moving with every thrust, the sound of skin filling the locker room.

‘You're so fucking tight.’ He grunted into your neck. 'It's like you were made to take my cock. Look at you, taking my cock like the good girl you are. Who would’ve thought you were so sick and twisted?’ You felt a new bundle tighten in your stomach. ‘Fucking in a school locker room covered in blood. God made me immortal because you are my match. Fuck, you feel so good.’

Those words felt like fireworks exploding inside of your gut.

‘Shit!’ You cried out in ecstasy, as he pulled you into a climax, sending your body over the edge. He kept on thrusting, overstimulating you, until moments later, he reached his high as well, and filled you up with his cum. Klaus stayed inside of you for a few seconds, breathing heavily as a sweat pearl rolled down his forehead, holding you tight in case your legs were to give in.

‘Your body was made for me.’ He huffed. Klaus slid his cock out of you, staring at you, slowly lowering you to the red messy floor, setting you down before laying down next to you, holding his head up with the palm of his hand.

You took a few seconds to breathe, catching your breath as your high started to fade, catching a glimpse of the body up high. ‘You can’t leave that there. I’ve got class at seven in the morning.’ You mused, gazing at Klaus who had blood spread across his chest. He looked so hot you could fuck him again.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ he reached for the bag behind him. ‘I know how to clean up messes. I’ve done this for over a thousand years.’ He placed a cigarette between lips, pulling out a lighter and taking a drag of the hot smoke. He truly was irresistible.

‘Have you killed a lot of people?’

‘Yes.’

You grabbed a knife that laid behind your back, the knife Klaus probably used to cut certain parts of Connor. ‘Would you kill me?’

Klaus took another drag over the cigarette, the smoke making his voice sound deeper than it was. ‘No.’ He shook his head.

‘Would you kill for me?’

Klaus stared up at Connor pointing at him, ‘You have to ask?’

‘There’s this guy, Dean Gabriel. He took away the only person I ever loved.’ You said, staring at the knife, feeling Klaus prop himself up. ‘He violated my sister. Made her feel disgusted, defiled her without her consent. She took her own life because that man ruined her life in twenty minutes. And whilst she is no longer here, he gets to roam around like nothing happened…’

Klaus leaned forward, his voice sounding huskier, ‘Just tell me where he is and he won’t see any more sunrises after I find him.’

Gazing at the knife, you swung your leg over Klaus to straddle him.

‘Promise me he’ll suffer.’ A tear fell down the apple of your cheeks, ‘I want it to be painful.’

‘I promise.’

You lowered yourself to kiss him, your tears mixing with the blood on your face as your heart was finally lighter than it had been for a while. All because of a surprise you enjoyed more than he had anticipated.

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