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lemonlover1110 · 8 months

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𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend gets a little too jealous after catching some jerk staring at you. Of course, he has to remind you who you belong to.

Warnings: MDNI, Jealous!Toji, Possessiveness, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Spitting, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Toji is a bit violent and a bit of a jerk but we still love him

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Toji absolutely hates going out with you lately, not because he finds you annoying but the fact that all eyes are on you. You always look so stunning, and he hates all the men that dare to look your way– But he can’t blame them. It’s hard not to look your way when your makeup is flawless, your hair is cutely styled, and when you show the right amount of skin to make a man go wild.

“What’s wrong, babe?” You ask him, watching as Toji’s eyes glare at someone else in the place. You’re supposed to be out with friends, having some fun and talking since you barely have the time to meet up with them, catch up with them. But Toji isn’t paying any attention to them as they talk.

“Oh… Okay.” You do as he says, pouting your lip so he feels some sort of remorse for talking to you in that tone. He’s not even looking at you though. He gets up from his seat, and you watch as he approaches another table. He slams his hand on the wood surface of the other table, and you can only assume he has a stern tone of voice while speaking. You anxiously bounce your leg, watching your boyfriend as he does– Whatever he’s doing.

“Toji–” You find yourself taken back, watching as your boyfriend grabs the back of some man’s head and slams it on the table. You rush over to him, and ask, “What the fuck are you doing?”

All your friends are looking at you. Everyone is. You would be extremely embarrassed if you weren’t so worried that your boyfriend is suddenly acting this way.

“If I catch you looking at my girlfriend again, I will crush your skull.” Toji says through gritted teeth, and you hate the fact that you find this so fucking hot. Your legs are almost giving out. Toji lets go, and he grabs your hand, dragging you out of the place.

“Toji, calm down.” You tell him, following him to his car. When you get to it, he finally lets go of your hand and begins to walk to the driver’s side, but you grab his hand again. “I know you’re jealous, but don’t take it out on me.”

“I’m not taking it out on you.” He responds, and he forces you to let go. You do, and you wait for him to open the passenger door. You get into the car, and he quietly begins to drive. His hands hold on tight to the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. You cross your arms, irritated that he’s mad at you because you did nothing.

“What the hell did I do? Be too pretty?” You scoff, and Toji’s hand goes to your lap. He squeezes your thigh, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s not looking your way. “You could be nicer to me, I’m not at fault that men stare at me. Gauge their eyes out or something.”

“I was going to but you came running after me because apparently you can’t spend a minute alone.” Toji argues back.

“You’re so dramatic.” You mutter, and he hears you loud and clear. You sit in silence for a minute, and you feel his hand hike up your skirt. His finger hooks under your panties, and he begins to lower them until he realizes how much of a hassle that is while he’s trying to drive. His hand ends up going over your clothed cunt, and he begins to rub circles over your sensitive area.

You begin to squeeze your legs while Toji toys with you. He’s doing everything that is enough to drive you wild, and you’re about to push your panties to the side so you feel more than just the friction of your panties. But Toji slaps your hand.

“No.” He says, and you almost whine, but you know that won’t end well. Of course he’s acting like a fucking bitch, you didn’t expect any less from a jealous Toji. You almost push his hand away as he works you up. But you let it happen until he’s outside your home.

“We’re going inside this home and you’re going to fuck me up. Stop acting like a fucking brat.” You tell him, pushing his hand away. You walk out of the car and enter the home before him. You undress yourself when you’re in your room, stripping to your underwear. You wait for him on the bed, and when you see him walk in, he looks livid.

You have to suppress the smile that comes to your lips when you watch Toji get on the bed, getting on top of you. His hand wraps around your throat, and he brings his lips down to meet yours. His tongue enters your mouth and presses against your own. Your hands begin to unbutton his shirt until every button is undone.

He pulls away from the kiss, his lips trailing down, going to your neck and sucking on that spot that makes you weak. A soft moan leaves your lips. Toji kisses down until your panties get in the way. He pushes them to the side and kisses your clit.

He begins by kissing your cunt then licking up your folds. His tongue then focuses on your clit.

Two fingers begin to tease your entrance. You’re looking down at his hair while he eats you out. Your fingers run through his hair, and you grip when he finally inserts his thick fingers inside of you. Your fingers really can’t compare to his.

Toji begins to hum, telling you how he’s enjoying this. He fucking loves the taste that’s on his tongue, it’s the only reason he’s doing this. He shouldn’t be eating you out after all the trouble you’ve put him through.

He curves his fingers, letting you know how much he knows your body. No man could ever compare to him. The pads of his fingers press against your sweet spot, and it causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“Oh, Toji, it’s so good.” You moan. His free hand goes to your thigh and his nails dig into your skin as you moan his name. It doesn’t take too long for your orgasm to build up, that pressure builds up on your lower abdomen.

He sucks on your clit, and he moves his fingers just right until you finally reach your peak. When you loudly moan his name, he detaches himself from your cunt, taking his fingers out, and goes back to your face. He pushes your bottom lip down until you open your mouth. He takes the opportunity to spit in your mouth.

“If he knew what you do for me, then maybe he’d stop staring.” He comments, and you’re lost until you realize he’s talking about the man in the bar. That was the last thought in your mind.

Toji pushes your legs up to your chest before he unbuckles his belt. He takes his cock out, running the tip through your folds. He slaps it on your cunt a couple of times before he asks, “You want this, baby? You want my cock?”

“Please.” You respond in a whiny voice. He chuckles.

“I shouldn’t. You were just being so fucking mean.” Toji says, pushing two fingers into your mouth, and he pushes them far so you gag on them. You end up biting down on them, and a smirk comes to his lips. He pushes his cock inside of you, slowly stretching you out. No matter how many times Toji fucks you, it’s always too much for you to handle.

When he bottoms out, he gives you a couple of seconds to adjust before he begins to move in and out of you. The man loves this position, allowing him to reach deeper and it feels so fucking good. There’s nothing Toji loves more than to feel your tight little cunt wrapped around his cock.

He takes his fingers out of your mouth, not muffling the moans that leave your lips. Toji hits every right spot, and it drives you wild. Nobody can or will compare to Toji.

“It’s so fucking good, Toji” You moan, your hand moving down to play with your clit while Toji relentlessly thrust in and out of your cunt. It’s hard for Toji to control himself when your cunt feels so good around him. He slowly loses control.

Jealousy rushes through him, as well as possessiveness. He needs to mark you as his but he doesn’t know how– Knocking you up. That’s the only way

“Oh, fuck, Toji!” You moan, your back arches as you take it all. He hits all the right spots and it’s driving you insane.

“I need to make you a mommy.” He says, one hand goes down to play your clit. Your walls begin to squeeze around him, and he swears he’s in heaven. It fuels his jealousy even more, because some fucking idiot thought that he could get away with being with you. Toji would kill every man on Earth before losing you.

“Fuck!” You get louder and louder, and you feel as your second orgasm approaches. Toji doesn’t slow down either.

“Let me knock you up, please, baby.” He sounds whiny as he begs, and you get tighter around him with his every word. You moan loudly as you finally reach your climax, and he nearly comes right there but he can contain himself. “Please, please, please.”

“I’m gonna– Fuck, Toji!” Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your cunt begins to clench around him, squeezing as your orgasm approaches until it finally washes over you.

“Gonna knock you up, baby.” He says, having made up his mind. You’re going to have his baby after all, and you’re certainly not complaining. You’ll give Toji all the babies that he wants. “Need to see you big and round with my baby. You’re mine, right? You’ll let me do that?”

“Yes, Toji!” Your fucked out brain doesn’t take a second to process the question. Even if the question had been asked an hour ago, you would’ve agreed. You would do just about anything for Toji.

His thrusts get unregulated, and it doesn’t take too long for Toji to come inside of you. His seed fills you up, your cunt milking him for each drop. You absolutely love every drop of it.

Toji’s lips go down to meet yours, and when he pulls away he lays down beside you. He hugs you and you assure him, “You don’t have to be so jealous. You know I’m all yours.”

“I still want a baby to show off.”

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marsmad · 4 months

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Slay King ❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥

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#jared leto #golden globes #absolutely flawless #stunning #my beautiful king #i love all of him

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rosiesmuts · 7 months

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Muse

Le Serrafim Kazuha

4,000 Words

A/N: KazuhaSmuts?

Kazuha Nakamura. Fuck. The gorgeous idol your new muse, her beauty transcending what the camera can capture, able to take your breath away with those curves and bright smile. A consummate professional, striking poses without needing direction, a sense for it without experience, the pictures coming out flawless.

Even in basic jeans and a t-shirt, Kazuha exudes a beauty, a hotness that has nothing to do with being an idol. Her confidence is stunning and her sensuality is electrifying—not something manufactured for a photoshoot but inherent and undeniable. You're standing next to a goddess. Absolutely gorgeous face, captivating eyes, voluptuous curves, and a charm she's too comfortable with. There's no effort there, no faux coyness or intentional sultry look. Just the radiance of a stunning idol who seems almost oblivious to what she inspires, but you can tell from the heat in Kazuha's gaze and her naughty grin, a mischievous desire swirling around in her that she'll never speak out loud—she has you enthralled.

So fuck.

Fuck these lustful thoughts clouding your head and this heat building in your chest. This is supposed to be a job, but when Kazuha reaches for the hem of her shirt and the lines of muscles accentuating her abs as her t-shirt peels up, that desire inside you is more than unprofessional.

Focus.

Fuck.

This is part of the shoot, supposed to show off the 'Calvin Klein' on her sports bra, but the flexing of her body and the little curl on her smiling lips leaves the underwear an afterthought. You should've been used to this, there's been legitimate supermodels in even less clothing in these photoshoots. But there's something about Kazuha, her innocent smiles and demure laughter, this aura of untouchable and almost fragile femininity about her.

And she's fucking teasing you, those faint lip curls, the flash of teeth from her smirk. She knows her effect, she enjoys your lingering eyes and hungry looks. An arm folded up above her head, leaning against the wall as her other hand grips a rolled up shirt, an underwear ad waiting to happen. Everything about Kazuha screams confidence and sensuality, even her long toes, wiggling a bit for some reason as her smirk broadens, the look in her eyes daring you, almost like she's trying to say something she cannot voice.

Kazuha tilts her head, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it, biting into it. Seducing with the barest hints, challenging and inciting with the slightest of moves. It feels almost too intimate and that makes it all the more intoxicating, making the breath hitch in your throat and your heart race in anticipation.

"Cut!"

You have to shout out, the sexual tension overbearing and suffocating. "Let's take an hour for lunch everyone. Good work today, we got a lot of good shots." Your voice is steady, hiding your tumultuous feelings as best as possible. Kazuha beams at the praise and your façade of control crumbles as she teases and tempts you even further, giving a flirtatious wink before slipping into her dressing room.

It's a bit of a walk for you to get to your office, but it gives you space to think about what's gotten into you. This is just a photoshoot, you've dealt with plenty of sexy and beautiful models in much more scandalous poses. Kazuha was in plain clothes! There shouldn't have been anything erotic there. And yet the way the fabric hugged her body, her eyes watching your every move, and that flirty edge to her smile, it was impossible to ignore. Even now your mind's lingering on the last image of Kazuha, staring you down.

One hour to gather yourself. That's what you need—to take your mind off of those...impurities. Kazuha, even her name in your head makes your heart quicken and breath shorten. Just get a hold of yourself. No one can read your mind, and as long as you don't go acting out any of those lurid desires then this'll all just blow over...

"Hey."

You didn't even hear your door open, Kazuha's sweet voice catching you off-guard. Your eyes snap towards her, the entire reason for your break now standing in the office, Kazuha's free hand runs through her hair, this act of playing shy a fascinating dichotomy with the sultry woman you just worked with this morning.

All that build-up and time spent thinking about her left you absolutely stunned by Kazuha's entrance. For the second time she managed to catch your heart in your mouth, freezing your tongue and leaving you speechless.

"Can we go over those pictures that you took? I'd like to see them if that's okay?"

Her request is innocent enough, but you can't help but notice she locks the door behind her. A simple, innocent click of the lock, but the implication was very clear.

Kazuha leans in a bit too closely, a subtle grin as she clicks through the pictures and you're not quite sure if this was real or all your dirty imagination playing tricks on you. Did she really just touch your wrist and give it a squeeze or was she just checking the time and brushed by you accidentally?

Kazuha sits in silence, taking a cursory look at every frame before getting to the next. The silence is more than suffocating. You can barely hear anything outside the pounding in your ears. She stops the slideshow on the most salacious photo: Kazuha lifting her top, the slightest hint of her sports bra, her perfect abs captured so wonderfully on film.

"This one is good! Don't you agree?" Kazuha asks, tilting her head at you and pulling her lip in between her teeth, letting her eyes drag languidly down your figure, devouring you in the most erotic manner with just her gaze alone.

"...yeah..." is all you manage to stammer out, voice stuck in your throat and thoughts wandering in places they really shouldn't.

"Don't think I didn't catch you staring..."

Kazuha steps back, reenacting the shot that got you so worked up—her fingers reach the hem of her shirt, inching the garment up, more and more of her perfect abdomen getting revealed, tight lines that curve and ripple in a tantalizing dance, begging for someone to run their tongue across the slopes and dips of her stomach.

Fuck.

This was supposed to be an hour to gather your thoughts and recompose yourself, not go further into disarray with Kazuha standing in front of you. You lick your lips, a futile attempt to bring some moisture back into a dry mouth as your hands instinctively go into your pockets to prevent anything from going out of place.

This time it's different, Kazuha takes her shirt completely off, the gray Calvin Klein sports bra fully visible, hiding her tiny tits from view. It's a feast for the eyes—the flexing of her abs, the dip of her waist, that sensual confidence in every twitch and curl of her muscles.

"Whoops." Kazuha playfully teases, acting like the removal of the t-shirt is accidental, a casual display of carelessness. Her bottom lip between her teeth, holding it hostage and pressing it between her pearl white teeth. That stare, dark brown and chocolate eyes swallowing you whole and consuming you.

It becomes clear as day, the flirting and lustful looks were no joke, an honest come-on from this hotter-than-hot idol. And you could lose everything right here and right now, the implications and consequences could be catastrophic, but when her hand lands on yours, giving you a gentle caress, it's hard not to succumb.

"It's impolite to stare, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha coos. Your hands find her sides, fingertips digging in, unable to hold back anymore. Years of ballet, and now dancing to her own music and choreography, there is nothing less than admirable in her sculpted body, each muscle firm but toned.

The pads of your thumbs feel the ridges, tracing the defined lines, slowly climbing higher and higher.

"Such a naughty man."

Kazuha gives her own belly a featherlight caress, your hands slip underneath the elastic of her bra. Hot flesh greets your palms and her tiny tits are barely enough for a squeeze, so smooth and soft and absolutely perfect. Her nipples harden immediately, small and sensitive, crying out for attention, pinched by your fingers.

This is beyond unprofessional, absolutely irresponsible, a blight on everything a photographer should be—to have their hands under their model's clothes and get so engrossed with someone they've only known for a day. But, fuck. You could always find another job. Just touching and playing with Kazuha though—a chance of this sort of happiness would be gone forever.

The choice becomes clear the moment Kazuha kisses you, hungrily swallowing any excuses and closing any chance of leaving. The way she claims you is exhilarating, overwhelmingly powerful in that seductive passion as she claims ownership with her tongue, overtaking every bit of hesitation and apprehension in your soul and planting a seed of raw, unfiltered lust in the empty void.

Your excitement is evident, something hard is pressed against her thigh.

"Is it just a big camera down there, Mr. Photographer?" A tsk-tsk leaves Kazuha's lips, those dirty, dirty, beautiful lips, and that haughty smile plastered on her face while her fingers nimbly undo your pants. "Naughty, naughty Mr. Photographer!" Kazuha hums the words into your ear, tickling you, making your skin shiver in delight and electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

Her lips are on your neck, her hand is wrapped around your cock. It's all too much—this sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, sensual woman, taking everything with the same enthusiasm and conviction that she'd do in a song and a dance.

Each kiss on your body feels like the brush of the lips of an angel, her hands roaming your body, a subtle hint of her sharp, immaculate nails, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin.

She leaves you panting, a broken record of sighs and low moans until she releases your erection.

"Take off my pants for me Mr. Photographer."

Her words are quiet, her tone more husky than anything else, a hint of arrogance and self-indulgence. A direct command with no room for disobedience. Her back is against the wall, her hips jutted out for easy access— the baggy jeans easily fall off her legs, revealing her toned dancer's physique. Her thick thighs flexing in anticipation, the matching Calvin Klein panties the only obstacle standing in between you and heaven.

Her sexiness is something else, the shapely, sinful outline of her ass, the swell of her curves—that v-line is a mouthwatering treat, teasing with the prospect of a delight waiting to be explored. Everything on Kazuha is toned and breathtaking.

There is no thought, no plan. Pure primal instinct urges you forward, kneeling to run your tongue along that delicious path leading straight down to heaven and bliss and everything you could possibly desire. Your lips press against her stomach, her coy smile grows as you kneel before her, fingers in her elastic waistband, pulling and dragging it down.

Inch by inch, her lower half comes into view and you can't contain yourself any longer.

"Fuck..." the curse slips from you, involuntarily and inevitable, and the sight in front of you is breathtaking: her pussy is absolutely perfect, full and engorged, aching for touch, drooling in obvious desire.

Teasing kisses are planted on the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer. She gives a slight groan. That sweet taste of victory. Lips upon lips. Tongue against slit. Kazuha is an impatient one, her hands cradling your head, locking you into position, the silky lips rubbing against yours. The roughness with which her hips move excites you, how desperately she pushes her crotch against your mouth. She's not shy at all, each and every movement bold and intentional, greedy and ravenous, entirely unlike her demure, innocent persona.

It's hard not to enjoy this, enjoying her unbridled desire—getting suffocated by her muscular thighs squeezing the sides of your face, her cunt grinding against you, leaving her delicious nectar all over your lips and chin. The more she pushes, the more she suffocates, the more excited and aroused you become, fingers sinking into the flesh of her thighs. It is as if your life depended on tasting her juices, that tart ambrosia from this sultry dancer and songstress, an aphrodisiac you'll never tire of.

Kazuha puts a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle those wanton sounds but failing to completely hide those telltale grunts and moans—her toes curling just another sign. The closer she gets, the tighter her thighs squeeze and... Fuck. If you're gonna die, this is probably the best way to go.

Kazuha shudders in ecstasy, a full body spasm while a cry of pleasure slips free from those luscious pink lips. It's too tempting not to explore her with your fingers as well, the little nub throbbing and aching for stimulation, eagerly twitching whenever your fingers circle it. There is a wild and untamed ferocity to the way Kazuha's legs instinctively curl and flex, writhing in unhindered bliss.

She leans back, pushing more weight into her back, holding herself up on shaking legs and heavy breaths. A sense of victory floods you. She was putty in your hands, her beautiful legs shaking and knees wobbling. Your pride swelled—to have the otherwise impeccably poised songstress a shivering mess.

"That... Was..." Kazuha struggles to talk, the red on her cheeks running down her chest and spreading down her heaving abs. "...Fucking amazing," she pants, her adorable smile permanently fixed on her beautiful face, lips parted just slightly.

Fuck.

Absolutely beautiful.

Her appearance is entrancing. Those warm, dark brown eyes with a sly, playful expression. Plush pink lips pulled into a sultry smirk, teasing, as her hair cascades behind her shoulders. Kazuha pulls you back up, staring you directly in the eye, full of sensual promise.

"I think you deserve a reward, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha says between languid strokes of your cock. Those talented fingers tease you, squeezing and pumping with precision, hitting every one of your buttons, a cocky, knowing glint in her eyes. You're not one to stand idly by, reaching for her sides, massaging her hips and brushing along her waist.

This is not a slow and drawn-out affair. Every touch between the two of you is desperate and fiery, full of passion and an intense need to feel more and more—needing to satisfy your hunger. Her arms reach above her head and you finally toss away that pesky sports bra. Perky nipples beg to be teased and kissed.

You give her pecs a light lick before blowing cool air onto her sensitive, pointed peak. She mewls in response. Each tug on her nipple accompanied by a sultry cry from Kazuha. She's trapped, sandwiched between the wall behind her and your body, held hostage by pleasure. But one simple phrase and she takes back all control.

"Fuck me."

Two simple words. The most beautiful ones. Commanding and fierce. Kazuha doesn't beg. Kazuha doesn't ask. There's no softness in her tone, she knows what she wants and there will be no deterring her. The tip of your hard, aching cock slides across Kazuha's slick folds, smearing her juices, gliding up and down as your shaft teases her clit.

It takes all your willpower to hold back, you want this to last forever. A huge part of you doesn't believe this is actually happening and that this is all just a fever dream. But when your tip first enters her wet, hot heat, nothing feels more real and certain. There's tight, and there's this—Kazuha a woman who spends hours working out her core and performing exhaustive dance routines every single day. There's nothing tighter or better than this goddess's cunt.

Every single movement is an explosion of sensations: her inner muscles flexing and squeezing, gripping, the sensual gyrations of her hips, the shallow thrusting—this is pure perfection. Your head spins, drunk from the desire, the high of fucking this diva, being enticed by every subtle thing about Kazuha and all of it's pure insanity, almost terrifying and too unreal. You lean in, pressing against her body and giving yourself up to her.

It's a paradise that no mortal should ever be worthy of entering. That is what her cunt feels like: Heaven's gates. Something out of this world. It's like all the blood is leaving your head. That carnal desire that's been built up is now set loose in this debauchery, your primal urges taking over.

Fuck the consequences.

Nothing matters right now but this.

Each thrust into Kazuha elicits a cute, soft moan, her tongue hanging loosely from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut in bliss. Her nails dig into your back, the painful searing feeling mixes perfectly with the sweet pleasure coursing through your body. There's no gentleness or love, nothing other than lust and passion. Flesh against flesh.

Kazuha pushes you back, a naughty expression painted all over her face, pupils wide and tongue licking her lips.

"Wanna see a trick?"

There's no time to respond, her leg lifted into the air, showing off her flexibility and resting on your shoulder. This angle is unreal. You have no idea how she manages to keep her balance, especially when it allows you to slide even deeper into her cunt. The change is striking and her hands clasp over her mouth, failing to stifle a long, loud moan.

It's as impressive as it is erotic, using her ballet skills as a sexual advantage. Each pump in is pure pleasure, so hot and wet, you're drowning in her. Her walls clench and squeeze around your cock, as if she can't bear to let it leave, unwilling to relinquish your presence from her cunt.

"You're making me-" her words are cut off, Kazuha biting down hard on your shoulder in her attempt to stop the cry of passion. A hand wraps around her ankle, gripping her leg, hoisting her a little higher for even deeper thrusts. Her thighs and legs flex, locking you into place, keeping you there as she throws her head back in pleasure.

Kazuha bursts. For the second time. Shivering. Gasping. Pulsating. As if her pussy can't decide what's the best way to please the cock inside of her, an infuriating tightness and gyration around you.

Her leg leaves your shoulder, her whole body leaning against you as Kazuha's tired, labored breathing fans the back of your ear.

"That was quite the trick." Kazuha giggles at your lame attempt at a joke, pressing her finger against your lips.

"Did I say I was finished?"

Of all the things you should have expected after all the salacious behavior she exhibited during her first two orgasms, you really don't know why you should have expected anything less than what she did next: wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

Her forehead leans against yours, your tandem breaths sync up, and the calmness lasts for maybe a second before Kazuha presses a small peck against your mouth. She grinds down and starts working against your lap, her pussy bobbing up and down the hardness of your cock. You're carrying her weight now, Kazuha lifting herself up, then letting gravity guide her hips downwards to fully seat your dick.

Your fingers sink into her tight ass. She rides you, no break, not pausing once in her movements, sheathing herself repeatedly onto your girth. She's fucking you—every pent up frustration in living an idol's life is now being released into that. It dawns on you that in no moment were you ever in control, Kazuha stole every bit of agency from you.

Even so, your hips are locked in place.

Even as the room smells of sex and you're completely ensnared in a tangle of limbs. The loud clapping of flesh on flesh ringing in your ears—every bit of this situation is screaming irresponsibility and wrong. To fuck an idol whose star is on the rise would spell an end for a promising career. And yet Kazuha never fails to get her way, it's undeniably clear the moment that devious smile spreads across her face and the heated sparkles light up in her eyes, this vixen is determined to have what she wants.

Everything is burning up—your loins are on fire, Kazuha's steamy hot insides are the match.

"How do I feel, Mr. Photographer?" The sweetest, honeyed voice but with the devil's timbre. Kazuha fucks the words out of you, and your mouth feels so dry—you can't find the will or ability to speak as Kazuha smiles triumphantly.

Your life flashes before your very eyes. The decisions, the events—everything leading up until this very moment where you found yourself impossibly entangled in a gorgeous superstar, unable to get free from this spell. Everything culminates. From the time you were told you'd be working with her. From her flirty looks during the shoot.

Your hour of recess turned into this wild, irresponsible, crazy scenario. A lustful mess, as evidenced by the slick sheen that's collected around Kazuha's tight hole, glistening in the pale light. The tiniest twitches of her face, the furrowing of her brow—she's getting close again.

A handful of violent bounces is all she needed. With a stilted, violent scream and her pussy choking and gushing all over your thick rod. Everything's too hot and your toes begin curling and you can't stop fucking her, holding her perfect round ass, you start thrusting upwards—into her oversensitive cunt.

Kazuha squeals and it's too late to stop now, the sound of her pitiful cries as her body jerks and trembles and shakes—you're cumming together, perfectly synced in this debauchery. Her cunt squeezes the orgasm out of you. All over her walls. Flooding her insides, the warmth spilling out and dripping down and marking the both of you in the naughtiness of this exchange.

She collapses in your embrace, slumping against your chest and struggling to hold herself up. Both her feet rest on the ground, and the exhaustion is evident on her face—heaving breathlessly with a bright, brilliant smile as her knees threaten to give out beneath her.

Kazuha doesn't say anything, not a word, but she's glowing—unable to wipe that gorgeous grin off her face. There's no sign of regret either, or any hint of shame or guilt. No trace of anything but unbridled happiness and pure, raw satisfaction. A mischievous, perverse happiness that a woman in her profession shouldn't exude, not with the career waiting ahead of her.

A knock on the door. Shit. It's already been an hour?! There's a short pause, and she's pressing her finger to her lips, giggling quietly while giving a cheeky wink and getting herself dressed.

"I'll be right out." You yell at the door, sounding a bit winded as the thoughts come to you. It's easy to zip up, put away, and readjust yourself but there is absolutely no way you can cover up the smell, an obvious pungent musk that'd have anyone wrinkling their nose, the smell of hot, sweaty sex.

Kazuha winks at you and struts towards the door. A deep inhale, and the moment the door opens a whoosh of cool air clears out the fog from the past hour's festivities. "Make me look good out there Mr. Photographer," and in the span of an eye-blink, the façade she's made her identity, Kazuha's the innocent, sweet idol once again, her perverted desires and lustful yearning hidden under a veil of composure and modesty...

#kazuha smut #le serrafim kazuha smut

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forlix · 7 months

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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・792 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・felix x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, lots of kissing (again), a lil suggestive towards the end, inspired by his pictures from paris, which i am just. SOOOOOO normal about

“Careful, my love,” Felix murmurs, his huff of laughter tickling the side of your neck when he loops a wary arm around your waist. You first feel your weight lifting off the metal railing of the double-decker bus, then the taut warmth of your boyfriend’s chest as you’re pulled against it.

When you lift your eyes to look at Felix, you have to squint against the sun—or maybe it’s him that’s making it so hard to see, wisps of blonde hair framing his face like freshly spun gold, flawless features illuminated so gloriously that he looks like an exhibit in the Louvre come alive.

“What was that for?” You ask with a furrowed brow, and Felix doesn’t reply right away, suddenly captivated by your newfound proximity.

His gaze darts to your lips; the rest of him follows. You perceive a delicate finger under your chin, a deliberate angle of his head, a tensing of his hand where it slides over your hip. And then he’s kissing you, so sweetly that you’re reminded of whipped cream, his mouth melting your pout to a defenseless smile.

“You looked like—you were gonna—drop your phone.” These words are woven between three last pecks, the first placed to your lips, the second and third to each of your cheeks. Then Felix pulls away, only far enough for you to spot the teasing smile on his face. “Or fall off the bus. Neither outcome would’ve been ideal.”

“Did I really?” You giggle. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Yes. Or, I think so. I can’t remember anymore.” The tip of his nose bumps against yours lightly, affectionately, and you think your knees would’ve given at his next words if you weren’t literally wrapped in his arms. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

As you lift a hand to trace the contours of his jaw, to bring your fingers around the curve of his nape, you’re beginning to think they had a point, dubbing Paris the City of Love. You swear that his eyes have never been browner; that his freckles have never been so numerous; that you’ve never been as utterly and hopelessly beguiled with Lee Felix as you are right here, right now.

An idea surfaces—suddenly, surely. “Let me take pictures of you.”

A surprised chuckle rises to his throat. “Why?”

“Just trust me, baby.” And he does, with everything in him.

You untangle yourself from his embrace and settle into a seat on the other side of the bus. The next minutes are spent with him adopting various poses and postures before your lens, your fingers toying with the different lighting and focus settings as you attempt to capture him within the world of your screen—ironic, considering he’s a world in himself. The only one that matters; the only one that ever will.

When you’re finally finished, Felix is already motioning for you to return to his side, not wanting you out of his reach for a second longer than you absolutely need to be. You settle in Felix’s lap once you’re close enough—your legs hanging off the side of his seat, your temple leaning against his forehead—and the way his arms circle so readily and securely around your stomach feels like a cushioned fall.

“Tell me now?” He hums, planting a soft kiss to your cheek.

You heartbeat is in your ears as you start to flip through your camera roll. The pictures are perfect. He’s perfect. The princely man in the foreground of each puts even the stunning Parisian weather to shame.

“I wanted you to see yourself the way I do,” you whisper. “And only then would you really understand the meaning of that word, in its purest and brightest form.”

Felix feels his eyes widen; his breath catch in his throat. You hear the scratch of his interrupted inhale, and you're almost nervous when you turn to meet his eyes, despite your love feeling like it’s spanned lifetimes by now. And you know by his darkened gaze and flushed cheeks that he knows just which word you’re referring to.

Then, Felix closes the distance between the two of you again, but this kiss is completely devoid of the last one’s gentleness, open-mouthed, positively scalding, and intensely loving. Your lips sting a bit where his crash; your scalp tingles where he rakes a hand through your hair; your back shivers where the vibrations of his voice travel, his words nearly growled against your mouth.

“I love you,” he breathes.

Your palm comes to rest upon his chest, and the way his every heartbeat moulds to your touch is nothing short of classical.

“I love you more, beautiful.”

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 (open): @astraystayyh @like-a-diamondinthesky @fire-08

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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