#i would leave the ends undone here

[things-from-strings]

stupid tiny apartment floor...

this has gotten well out of hand, so i'm just gonna let it keep going. how big will it be in the end? idk & idc. as long as it looks how i want it to, i'm happy

#wip #yarn #crochet #freeform crochet #fiber art #stoner art #spiral #'happy' is relative #bc i am going to weave SO. MANY. ENDS. #itll be worth it #most of the stuff i make is RS facing #i would leave the ends undone here #but for smth this big thatd b structurally unsound

[redheadspark]

Miss

Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!

You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night.  But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out.  All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.  

This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.

All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates.  Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor.  There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling.  It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time.  Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.

It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.

Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching.  But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on.  His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all.  If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.

Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.

"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling.  Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache.  Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking.  His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back.  He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"

"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.

"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"

As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree.  You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.  

You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability.  Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed.  Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx.  Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young.  If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.

You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady.  But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him.  There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that.  The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.  

But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.  

"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time.  Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal.  This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city.  Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds.  Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone.  Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.

Another four minutes, you came from his fingers.  Azriel was only warming up.

"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words,"  He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever.  Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"

You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were.  He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs.  Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly.  His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you.  He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.

This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower.  Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly.  But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body. 

Azriel was a pro at this.

"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned.  You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing.  You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm.  But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.

"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own.  Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully.  His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again.  It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again.  You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.

"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum.  Now, Az.  Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again.  Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life.  He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him.  How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could.  Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.  

And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge.  He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing.  The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.  

He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.  

Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon.  Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers.  Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder.  No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.

Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows.  Through the tragedies and the joy.  Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.

"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead.  Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.

"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection.  He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you.  Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.

"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.

"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.  

The End

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #fanfiction #writing #a court of wings and ruin #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel shadowsinger smut #azriel spymaster #azriel spymaster smut

[prettyfastcars]

owned | Mob!Lando

Summary: You took the job because the pay was extremely good. Your boss’ reputation didn’t make that much of a difference to you. After all, his kids were who you would be spending most of your time with, not the single father… right? 

Themes: nanny!reader, infidelity, sort of dark!mob!lando, smut, explicit language, possessive!lando, breeding kink (brief)

“I’d like to see you before you leave.” 

It was the same sentence every night. Every single night. And each night, those words tormented you. You felt too much at the same time. Guilt. Shame. Hunger. Lust. More guilt. Anticipation. 

The first night, on your first day many months ago, when he first said those words to you when he came home from work, you thought they were harmless. Maybe a caring father wanting to know how his kids behaved with their nanny on her first day. You’d thought that he’d ask you about your day with his kids. 

And he did ask. But that wasn’t all. When you left his study room that night to go home, something in you had changed. Nothing had happened without your consent, and yet it felt like he had invaded a part of you that you didn’t know existed. And the worst part was, you couldn’t wait for him to do it again. 

And now, that damn sentence had become part of your routine. 

After putting the kids to bed, and making sure they were asleep and snoring adorably, you made your way to those huge doors of his study room. 

You didn’t need to knock anymore, you just walked in and shut the doors behind you. 

And there he was. The man most people were scared of in this city. The man who had hired you as the nanny for his kids. Also the man whom you slept with each night before going home to your oblivious boyfriend. 

Lando stood by the large window, looking down at his front yard which was easily one of the most impressive features of his cape cod style mansion. As usual, he was sipping on his drink. Hand running through his curly hair. He had his back to you but you knew he must have the top buttons of his shirt undone. 

You cleared your throat as you approached his lean body standing by the window. Lando turned to face you then, smiling as he watched you walk over to him. Once you were close enough, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer. 

Nuzzling your neck and breathing in your scent he said, “Hi baby, how was your day?” 

“Um, good.” You gasped when you felt his gentle kisses up and down your neck. 

“How were the kids?” He asked, casually kissing your skin like this was normal. 

“They were great, as always.” Your heart raced as you wrapped your arms around him, his body heat felt familiar and… good. It felt safe being here with him, no matter how wrong it was. 

“You missed me?” He asked, pulling you even closer as he playfully nibbled on your skin. “‘Cause I missed you. I thought of you all day, you know that?” He pulled away to look at you. “I saw you in this little dress this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you in it.” 

He leaned in to kiss you, like he always does, but tonight you stopped him. You turned your head just the slightest bit so he’d miss your mouth. And he didn’t like that. 

“I… I can’t stay tonight.” You whispered, looking down at the buttons on his shirt instead of into his pretty eyes. Because you could never resist them. 

Lando sighed, kissing along your jaw. You could smell a faint hint of the whiskey he’d just been drinking. “Why do you always do this? Hmm?” He whispered into your ear, “Why do you act like you don’t want this?” 

He placed his glass down on his desk and let his hands wander all over you. He ended up pushing you onto the edge of his desk, stepping in between your legs. One hand sliding under your dress and caressing your thighs, while the other ran up and down your back lovingly. 

“I have to go home.” You said, looking into his eyes and immediately regretting it because he could get you to do anything with one look of those soft eyes. 

“To him?” He asked in an accusatory tone. His expression changed from calm to annoyed. He tsked in disappointment when you remained quiet. “How many times are you gonna talk about this, baby?” 

“I can’t just break up with him.” You argued. “We’ve–,” 

He cut you off. “Oh? So you can’t break up with him but you have no issues going home to him every night with my cum still dripping from your pussy, huh?” 

You used to find his crude words shocking, but not anymore. “It’s not as easy as you think.” 

Lando scoffed, “I’ll make it easier for you if you want.” 

You knew what he insinuated. He was the man he was because of his crooked ways after all. And you immediately shook your head. “Don’t hurt him.” 

That only pissed him off more. His hand moved from your back to wrap around your neck, “We’re not gonna play this little game anymore, you hear me?” He whispered against your skin, lips moving along your jaw while his fingers toyed with the seam of your underwear. 

You struggled to find the right words. So he continued. 

“How long are you gonna keep him in the dark, hmm? How long are you gonna keep going home and sleep beside him while you’re still filled with my cum every night?” He scoffed. “He’s gonna find out someday.” He stated. “Better tell him the truth.” 

“Lando…” You were barely able to think coherently when he easily slid his fingers inside you, stroking you perfectly like he always does. You squirmed and whimpered, before whispering, “This is wrong. We should stop.” 

“So you keep saying.” He answered, arrogant and smug. “Yet you come here each and every night to get fucked.” He pulled away to look into your eyes, still finger-fucking you just hard enough to keep you wanting more but not making you come just yet. “Does this feel wrong, baby?” 

You let out a loud moan as his finger hit the right spot. “Please…” You begged, you didn’t know what for. 

He smirked. “Look at you,” He cooed, “I know he doesn’t touch you like I do. You’re wasting your time with him when you belong to me. You belong right here,” He whispered, pulling his fingers all the way out before sliding them back in, making you moan even louder, “See?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, probably about to beg him to touch you more, but he was already pushing you down onto his desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his lean waist as he bent down to kiss you. His hand still around your neck while the other slid the strap of your slip dress down your shoulder. 

He let go of your throat eventually, still kissing you passionately as his hands quickly got rid of your dress, letting it fall to the ground careless as his mouth kissed down your neck, further down your chest until he latched on to one of your nipples. He sucked on it gently as your back arched off the desk, with you whining in bliss. 

You cried out, “Lando…” 

“I know, baby.” He whispered, “I know.” 

Your fingers found their way into his soft, curly hair and you tugged on it softly, making him groan as he kissed his way up to your neck once again while he slid your underwear down your legs quickly. 

“You’re mine.” He whispered against your tender, swollen lips, “All mine.” 

His hands quickly undid his trousers and you immediately felt his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your wet folds as he slid it up and down before aligning it to your dripping hole. 

Lando held himself up with one hand, bent over you as he stared down at you. “You’re gonna break things off with him tonight.” He said in that authoritative voice of his, the one which made you tremble and clench your thighs together. “And tomorrow you’ll be all mine, and mine alone. You understand?” 

You nodded, panting in need. 

“That’s my good girl.” He whispered before slowly sliding his cock inside you. You whimpered as he filled you up perfectly, stretching you out just enough to make you lose your mind. He groaned as he began moving in and out of you, setting a pace that made your heart race even faster than before. He slowed down for a moment, thrusting into you nice and slow as he hovered above you, looking down at you with parted lips and intense eyes. “Do you know how often I think about us living here together?”

You couldn’t look away from his pretty eyes, couldn’t think about anything else as he fucked you with deep, slow strokes of his cock. He leaned in to kiss your lips, swallowing your moans as he pulled out completely and pushed back into you, making you gasp and whine in pleasure. 

“We’ll be so happy together.” He whispered, kissing along your jaw. “The kids love you,” Then he chuckled, “I love you,” He murmured into your ear. He picked up his pace then, pounding into you relentlessly, as he kissed your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and whimpers in the process. “Think about how happy we would be.” 

You whined upon hearing his words, and also the sounds your bodies made together, filling the entire study. 

“Look at me, baby.” He stared down at you, his pretty eyes seemed even prettier in the dimmed room. “Do you know how often I think about you carrying more kids for me?” He was relentless as he pounded into you like he owned you. “You’ll be such a pretty mom, all swollen, and these tits would be nice and full too,” He leaned in again, kissing you softly before whispering, dangerously. “Would that finally make you leave that piece of shit? Hmm? Is that what it’s gonna take?” 

You tried answering but it ended with a loud moan as his cock reached all the right places. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it. Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you. 

“I’ll…” You whined, “I’ll talk to him. Tonight.” You struggled to form proper sentences as his body moved perfectly against yours. “I promise.” 

“That’s good.” He whispered, wiping a tear which fell down your face. “Because I’m done being patient now, you hear me?” 

You nodded quickly, whining as he sped up again, fucking you so hard you could hear the papers and files on top of his desk falling to the ground and neither of you cared. 

“Come for me, baby.” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. “Come with me.” 

Your mind was foggy by then, and it took your brain a few seconds to register and process his words. Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you, his cock throbbing against your walls. 

“Fuck,” He came with a growl, gripping your hips and filling you up like he always does. 

You whined as you came around him as well, crying his name and moaning loudly. You felt his smirk against your neck as he kissed his way up to your lips again. 

“Tomorrow,” He whispered, reminding you of what you promised, “I’ll fuck you in my bed until the sun comes up.” 

You could only nod as you felt his cum beginning to drip down your inner thighs. 

— 

He stood by the window again, watching your car as it drove away down the long driveway and out of his property. 

This would be the last time he promised himself. From now on you wouldn’t have to go home each night. You’d just stay right here, where you belonged, under his roof and in his care. 

But just in case things didn’t go according to plan… 

Lando grabbed his phone and made a quick call. Barking his orders at his guy who listened intently on the other side. 

“She just left. Go wait by her apartment complex.” He smirked as he spoke, “I’m willing to bet they’ll have an argument, and just as always, he’ll storm out to go get some air.” 

Lando knew that because… well, he always kept an eye on you through the discrete cameras he’d had installed all around your building. How else would he sleep in peace if he didn’t have eyes on his girl at all times? 

He continued, “I’ll tell you when he leaves her apartment, and you’ll move then. Wait for him to walk past the alleyway, and remember, make it look like an accident.” He sighed, even as excitement washed over him, “Can’t have my girl blame me for killing her ex boyfriend.”

--

part 2

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #mob!lando #lando norris au #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #lando norris smut

[kyluff]

— ↺ ‘When He Eat The Cookie He Got Good Form’

✎ luffy + zoro + sanji x reader !

✦ summary ➠ one piece men eating you out blurbs

✦ warnings ➠ nsfw, cunnilingus, swearing, almost getting caught

✦ note ➠ 3000+ LIKES ON MY CLINGY GOJO POST?!? thats actually insane, I’m so happy thank you for all the support 😨🫶

✪ Monkey D. Luffy

— You felt shaking, hands were on you and vigorously pushing and pulling you. Your eyes weren’t open yet, they couldn’t, you were just sleeping a few seconds ago and now you were being rudely awaken. Keeping your eyes closed, you called out for your boyfriend.

“What, what is it Luffy?” You sighed, shoving your face further in the blanket, trying to go back to the time when you were still sound asleep. “It’s still nighttime, go back to bed.”

He whined out, nuzzling his face in your neck. “But I’m hungry.”

Of course he is, you shook your head in annoyance. “That’s what you woke me up for? Wait and eat in the morning like the rest of us.”

Luffy licked your cheek, leaving heavy and warm breaths on it. He always was so impatient when he wanted something, especially when hunger was what he wanted. “But I cant.”

You were shocked, you really shouldn’t be though, he was obsessed with food to point where it was slightly unhealthy. You forcefully shoved his face away from you, making him fall on his side of the bed. “Well too bad, now go to sleep.”

“I can’t, not when I’m so hungry.” He huffed out, sounding defeated by his own words, at least it seemed like he was done with this stunt. But you felt bad a little bit, if he was so hungry that he couldn’t even sleep, then that’s an issue.

“If you’re really that hungry go to the kitchen.” That was the final thing you were going to say, now you were for real going to sleep.

You felt him shuffling beside you and the bed swaying from his movement. It melt like he was moving down the bed, making it to the foot of it. You ignored him, just wanting this to be over.

He disappeared under to covers for a minute, lifting your leg and placing himself between them. “Why would I go to the kitchen? My foods already right here.”

For the first time that night your eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to adjust to the environment. You reached in the dark for the light, turning it on and removing the cloth that separated the two of you, bLuffy was there, resting his cheek on your thigh. He had a lazy and goofy smile on his face like he always did, but his eyes were different. His eyes stared into your soul, hunger definitely evident in his gaze.

“Oh,” That’s all you could say, you had just been waken and had to face this. “You’re that type of hungry.”

The man between your limbs nodded eagerly, relieved that you had finally understood him. He had awoken in the middle of the night and the feeling washed over him, he couldn’t sleep after that, he needed you.

“Well, eat then.” That’s all it took for him rip off your shorts and underwear, revealing you to him. You could never deny your boyfriend, even if it was so late, not when he looked so longingly up at you.

He delve in instantly, not being able to wait any longer. His mouth was wide open against your folds, sucking and nudging them how ever he wished. Luffy didn’t focus on anywhere in particular when he ate you out, he liked to pay attention to every part of you down there, making it a messy operation, your juices spread across his face and everywhere on your thighs.

“Oh-h, so good.” This session Luffy seemed to really want it, he was licking so aggressively and tugged harshly at your lips. You weren’t complaining, the pleasure was almost unbearable.

It wasn’t till he placed a bite on your clit that you felt the beginnings of your end. He’s never done this before, but the new found trick brought you dangerously close to your climax.

“Do it again!” You pleaded, wanting to feel that same sensation from before. And he listened, using his canine to squish your bud, he lapped at the same spot to soothe it. You came undone, Luffy crawled up your body and dropped onto your chest, you noticed he had a soft grin on his face.

“You really were hungry, huh?” Your fingers started playing and twirling mindlessly with his hair.

“Mhm.” He hummed, closing his eyes from the comfort he received at the mercy of your hands. You too shut your eyes, being able to sleep again.

✪ Roronoa Zoro

— If there was one thing you knew about your boyfriend, it was how much he liked eating pussy. He’d eat it from the back, he’d eat it in sixty nine, he’d eat in the shower. He would literally do it anywhere at anytime. A position he hadn’t tried though was you sitting on his face.

So right now, he decided that you were going to sit on his face, but you were having some difficulty with that. You hovered over his awaiting mouth, using the headboard of the bed to hold yourself up.

“Sit on my face already.” He wrapped his buff arms around your thighs, attempting to pull you down on his face.

“Z-Zoro, don’t you think I’ll be to heavy?” You quivered, not letting him win the tug of war you were having.

“Don’t care,” The greened haired man loosened his grip, letting you raise slightly. “Just want to taste you.”

You bit your lip, thinking about how desperate his expression looked, you could tell he really wanted this and who were you to deny? You reluctantly lowered yourself closer to his face, making sure not to have your whole weight on him.

His lips chased yours, coming up to meet your dripping core where it was above him. He slowly made out with it, messily sucking and slurping. He quickly shook his face in your heat, spreading the juices he has created.

“Fucking come here.” His words were muffled against your skin as he forced you to fully sit down on his face. Your cheeked flushed in embarrassment, worrying if you were to much for your boyfriend to bare. You tried to get off, but the strong arms on your legs kept you in place.

“Zoro!” You whimpered, grasp tightening on the wooden frame.

He only carried on, now comfortable with the position you were in, nice and snug to his face. His tongue worked quick and tight circles on your bud, not stopping until he heard a moan rip from your vocal cords.

You glanced down on him through your droopy eyes, he was also looking up at you. His eyes always stood out to you, they were always stern and fierce, staring right through you.

He kept eye contact with you as he face moved deeper into you, his nose becoming smaller in size. Your stomach did flips in response, contracting as you felt tingling down there.

He smiled into you, he could see how much you liked sitting on his face, and to think on how you were so against it before.

His grin became bigger as he noticed how close you were, this might be the quickest he’s ever made you come.

Picking up his pace, he pushed you over the edge until you came undone onto his smushed face. “How do you like the new position now?”

✪ Vinsmoke Sanji

— You were becoming very annoyed at your boyfriends current antics, he’s been at it for what it felt like hours now. You sat on a chair in the kitchen, attempting to enjoy the beautiful meal that Sanji had prepared for you. That task was almost impossible though, due to the man that was positioned at your feet in front your chair.

“For the tenth time, Sanji, the answer is no.” You huffed out, stabbing another piece of food with your fork.

“Please, Y/n! Just one taste!” He begged, smushing his blushing face against your exposed knee. You had decided to wear a skirt today as it was very warm outside, it seemed to have an affect on the blonde man.

“I’m trying to eat, can’t you wait until I’m at least finished?” You wiggled your leg, trying to shake the man attached to your knee off of you.

His grasp became harder, slowing your movements until they stopped totally. His face moved closer, it reached the hem of your skirt where he brought his fingers to fidget with it softly. “I can’t wait, need it right now.”

Normally you wouldn’t put up such a fuss, but you were in the kitchen, anyone could walk in whenever they wanted. “Sanji, what if someone came in? Like if Luffy got hungry and ran in, what then?”

“I’ll be quick, promise.” He started laying quick kisses on your thighs, his eyes still looked at you from below waiting for your response.

You thought about it for a moment, sighing in defeat. “You promise?” He nodded eagerly, eyes filled with lust as he glanced up at you. You nodded your head in agreement, once you gave him the go ahead he immediately flipped your skirt and dived straight in, head disappearing under the flowy material.

At first he kissed you through the cloth that separated him from your bare pussy, his breath was warm when it fanned onto you. He pulled your underwear off, revealing everything to him.

For some reason unknown to you as you couldn’t see Sanji because of your bottoms he paused in his tracks, not going further.

“You said you’d be fast, get on with it and eat me out already.” You gave him time to resume his prior actions but when he refused and stayed in his place, you threw the skirt up off his head. “What are yo-”

“Just admiring my pretty girl.” Anyone would assume that he was referring to you, but you knew what he was talking about and it wasn’t your face. It was your cunt.

“Shut up.” You forced his face into your core, you couldn’t look at him any longer, just thinking about his words made a wave of heat form in your lower stomach.

Your boyfriend didn’t protest, starting to lick long strips up your slit, sucking on your bud when he reached it at the end. He repeatedly did this until he felt your juices slipping everywhere, now your hole was ready for his tongue. He slipped it inside, letting it slowly slide in to its full length.

You whimpered in response, hands flying to his yellow hair. “Keep going.”

He listened to your pleads, swirling his muscle around in circles before pulling out and searching upwards for your buzzing clit. You felt his lips wrap around it, applying suction on it, during all of this the tip of his tongue poked through his lips and flicked at your bud.

“So close, Sanji!” Your legs enclosed on his torso, trapping him. His actions became faster, suction harder and flicking harsher. It was all too much for your aching cunt, your climax was nearing.

Just as you were about to let go, you heard a voice coming from outside the door. “Sanji! I’m hungry when it food going to be ready!?”

“Have some patience Luffy, you pig!” He pulled away to yell at the pirate captain, stuffing his face back in like nothing had happened.

“Sanj-ji he’s going to walk in here!” You felt tears sting your eyes at the stressful situation that had a chance to occur, but the tears were also present in your eyes due to the fact that the feeling from before was back again.

The cook didn’t respond, eating you out the same as before the interruption. You panted, pawing at his locks as you came on Sanjis mouth.

He quickly licked it all up, placing your panties back on and flattened out your skirt to normal just in time before the energetic black haired boy came barreling through the kitchen doors.

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece luffy #one piece x y/n #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy smut #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece smut #anime #anime x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #black and white

[deceitfuldevout]

Until Death (Part 1)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +1,524

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Non consensual photographing, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Forced breeding, Unwanted orgasm.

Author's Note(s): I wrote this cause I really wanna get married and find someone to love me but I don’t think it’s possible so here’s a fic instead 🥲

You never would've imagined being married to the Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron. But here you were, almost a year in. From the beginning you felt like an outsider. Even in the new home that Ward had gifted you. It was decision made by both of your fathers. Ward wanted someone from a family he knew very well. Your fathers were childhood friends and trusted each other enough to make the right decision. Whether their children were willing to or not. An arranged marriage between a Kook and a Pogue. One of the first of its kind.

Ward needed an heir from his only son. It was about time Rafe learned some responsibility. Ward needed to find a family with no authority or power. So, what better decision than to contact an old friend from the cut? Ward managed to pull himself out of there, your father on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. However, by Mr. Cameron's gracious offer, your father had been given a position in his company. Ward would handle the paperwork, while your father handled construction and remodeling.

It was enough to get by, but not enough to get out of the cut. That's why your father made the brash decision. Ward didn't see a problem with the arrangement given your family had no name for themselves. To him, having a family with no name or status is better than being involved with a tarnished one. It would avoid any unwanted attention for the Cameron family.

All your father wants is to make sure his only child would be taken care of once he's gone. You've only met Rafe during family events/outings, and when you did meet, he'd always try to torment you. Other than that, most of time would be spent clinging to Sarah for protection.

You hadn't known about the arrangement until a week prior. You defiantly hadn't expected Rafe to get on one knee in front of everyone. Your engagement was a nightmare, Rafe had decided to ambush you during the Kook's annual midsummer event. A few months later you married into the Cameron family. The event being of the most lavish, expensive, and largest weddings in the history of the Outer Banks.

Rafe made the decision that your honeymoon would be spent ‘setting up home’. You bid your family and friends a farewell before leaving with your husband. It was awkward enough that he'd been drinking for most of the night. What was supposed to be a beautiful ceremony quickly became a frat party. It was awkward enough when Rafe (who'd been drinking most of the night) tried carrying you across the threshold of what was your new home. He stumbles a few times, almost dropping you on the front steps. All you wanted was to go to bed after a long and eventful day.

In a fit of rage you rush up the stairs and into the master bedroom. You hadn't even changed out of your wedding dress. Deciding that it would be done tomorrow, as would everything else. It was tiring, putting on an act in front of hundreds of people. You were relieved for it to be over with. Until the harsh turning of the doorknob catches your attention. In came a very intoxicated Rafe Cameron, stumbling in with his tie already undone.

His hair was a mess from wrestling his groomsman, his expensive cologne overtaken by the stench of alcohol. All you want now is to sleep after being anxiety ridden for the past few hours. But the shuffling on the end of the bed made your stomach churn. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep he would leave you be.

Rafe reaches down to brush the back of his hand on your cheek. He couldn't help but chuckle at his fiancee--no, his wife. You're his wife now and he couldn't believe it. He grins from cheek to cheek, hovering over to study your features. You could hear Rafe talking to himself, "You're even prettier up close..."

Rafe was fine with the wedding day being for his wife, but it was the wedding night that belonged to the husband. 

He gets on his knees, preparing to strike. He pulls you but the ankle, dragging you across the bedsheets. He locks his arms around your thighs to pull you in. It was futile trying to fight back. Rafe rips away at the fabric, revealing what was for his eyes only. He doesn't waste time getting to work, suckling, lapping, and teasing at your sex.

When he starts to dip his tongue inside that's when you crumble beneath him. Your thighs shake when coming undone. A gush of arousal splashes his face. Rafe doesn't stop there, instead he keeps going until you're brought to tears cumming for the second time. He retreats with a triumphant look on his face.  

"Hey...." he whispers followed by a harsh grip on your jaw that turns your attention back to him, "Hey," his voice boomed. He held you in place, looking you right in the eyes when he states, "Look at me," a small pause follows, "No one is coming through that door to save you," he readjusts his grip, digging his fingers into your jaw, "No one is coming through that door, we're the only ones here," leaning in, "And if they heard they wouldn't care, they know their place," before lifting your skirt up, "It's about time you did too," Rafe held his cock in one hand, his other held your hip in place. He pumps his shaft a few times before rubbing it against your slick. He moans, "Oh fuck...can't wait to stuff you with it..." Rafe dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips find that sweet spot. He suckles until he's certain there would be bruising.  

"You can scream all you want, no one’s gonna stop me,” he presses his leaking tip against the small opening, pushing it in without hesitation, “Not you…” he just his hips, “Not our families,” thrusting his cock inside, “No one…” fastening his pace. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. You had no idea that Rafe had willingly entered this marriage.

Can’t you see? He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. Yet you kept denying him repeatedly. Now Rafe has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s inherited the Cameron family fortune, gained the trust of his father as well as yours, and now he has you.  

He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth. Reveling in the feeling of you squeezing his member. It was exactly how he’d fantasized about. No more having to spend late nights wondering what you would feel like. He has you right where he wants. Rafe pulls down your top, exposing both breasts. He nips and suckles at them until they’re nice and bruised. He takes pride in being able to do so. Rafe squeezes your mouth open before pressing his lips against them. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. The taste of liquor makes you nauseous.  

This wasn’t how you wanted to end the night. In the end you never had a choice. Your entire life revolving around men in power. A lamb sent to be slaughter, given only the right to live. Even if it meant living for someone else. Rafe presses his sweaty forehead against yours. He snarls, "You're my wife until I fucking die, do you hear me? Until death," his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, digging hard enough to break skin.

A howl escapes your body as pain shot through it. Rafe held you close to him until he finally reached his limit and finishes inside. A deep, guttural moan is muffled into the bite mark. For a moment the two of you stay together until finally Rafe draws back. He’s a panting mess. He could practically feel how slick you became. He lets out a satisfying huff of victory. Rafe had won.  

A part of him wants to remember the day he finally got to take you. Then it hits him, “Wait…don’t move,” rummaging through a cabinet. He retreats down the hall. You could hear him searching for something in the unopened boxes. He then returns to you with a Polaroid in hand. He straddles your waist, aiming the lens at you. Rafe smiles, “Something to remember this moment...” he aims it right in your face, “...our first time as husband and wife,” before clicking it.

You could only give a startled look as you stare back at him. Like a deer caught in headlights. Rafe inspects the photo of you. He whistles at the beautifully captured moment. There you were, staring back at him with smudged lipstick and running mascara. You only blink as he stood there, snapping pictures like it was some heartfelt moment. What was supposed to be the most important day of your life, ended in the worst way imaginable.

"Smile for me Mrs. Cameron..."

Rafe was fine with the conditions of inheritance. In order to stay in his father's will, he would have to settle down first. But if there's one thing Ward taught him, it's to negotiate. Rafe remembers striking the deal in his father's office. For the first time ever, the young Cameron man put his foot down,

"No," Rafe states,

Ward looks up at his son, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not getting married, not unless it's her," he's dead serious too. Ward sighs, he leans back in his chair, "Do you really want to marry this girl?" questioning his son's authenticity. Rafe nods, "It's always been her,"

Ward understands now that his son's mind is made up. Not even he could stop it, "Rafe...you have to understand that her father is a very important member of my company..." he starts, "...he's a bit of a... traditionalist," he pushes himself off the desk, approaching his son, "He expects a certain price for her hand, that I’m not worried about…” he held Rafe's shoulder.

Ward looks his son dead in the eyes to show how serious this situation was to both of their families, “Do not fuck this up, you only get one shot and then you're done, do you hear me? Done," he expects an answer. Rafe looks him in the eyes, there’s a park of determination in the young Cameron man, “I won't,” sealing the deal. Ward picks up his phone and dials up your father’s number, "My friend, you're needed at the office, it's about time we discuss family matters,"

The best decision Rafe made was making you Mrs. Cameron.

#dark!rafe #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #reader #reader insert #fem!reader #afab!reader #fab!reader #my works #my work

[yaespook]

Run 4 - In Progress.

✧ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Android! Wanderer, no gendered terms used for reader, no actual penetration, unhealthy obsessive and possessive relationship from Wanderer, memory manipulation. Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: If possible, use the InteractiveFics extension to change the phrase “My name” (without the quotation marks) to the name given to your Wanderer.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

You must have picked him up two or three weeks ago, when he was still worse for wear. In your memory, he was in pretty bad shape when the two of you first met, his main panel wrenched open leaving his circuitry a mess and rough scrapes all over his superficial layer.

Now, with your constant repairs, he’s been more lively, tailing you around the house as you go about your day. While fussing about, dusting off a muzzle laying on a fur pelt, you sense a presence lingering outside your room.

"You know, I don't recall androids being quite so clingy." In return, you get a light huff from behind the door frame. 

"And you’ve come across other androids? I didn’t know you run a junkyard here,” the eye roll in his tone is audible.

His feet pad into the room and his gaze hones in on the clerical collar placed on a nearby shelf, glaring at it. Clicking his tongue, he crosses his hands on his chest.

“Whatever, what you do is mostly up to you anyway. Do you think you’re almost done cleaning? I think there’s an internal problem again, I’ll wait for you at the worktable,” the android saunters off nonchalantly, throwing you a light wave over his shoulder.

Sighing, you quickly finish up your task at hand before complying to his request, briskly making your way over to the worktable where he's already perched smugly on, his gaze expectant. 

You easily go through the rehearsed motions of plugging him up to your computer, your muscle memory kicking in as you boot up the required softwares before gingerly prying the main panel located on the front of his torso to gain access to his internal workings. Over time, you've gradually figured out the parts that make up the android sitting before you, growing used to the sight of the lengths of wiring and cables running throughout his body, the faint low mechanical whirring of motors and cooling systems. 

Most importantly, you now understand how sensitive his central core is. Nestled securely in a latched transparent casing, his core is what powers and sustains him. It emits a constant turquoise light and is also reflected in the glowing markings that lay beneath his synthetic skin that occasionally activate. (Although, you haven't quite gotten an answer for what makes them light up yet.) 

“So what's your problem today?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from him as you go over to your computer to check if any bugs have been identified.

“I think that cable all the way at the back came undone and got tangled with the rest.” 

You shoot him a pointed look, “Again? Didn’t we just fix that same cable last week?” Shifting your chair so you’re seated before him, poised to conduct your repairs, you make a passing remark, “Maybe taking you to another mechanic might be the better choice, get everything checked out, you know?”

How long have you kept at your task of finally fixing him up to tiptop condition? It’s almost daily when he reports back to you with a new disconnected wire or another loose joint somewhere on him. Diligently, you’ve been trying to repair him but the android is like a never-ending to-do list. And it’s only natural to be concerned if the constant damage stems from a more serious underlying issue that you haven’t managed to discover. The only next logical step would be to get another pair of eyes to help discern the root cause in case anything takes a turn for the worse.

But the reaction you get from him is one unexpected. His head snaps to face you, a scowl evident on his face. 

“So you’re handing me off like an unfinished project to someone else now?”

You know how snippy he can get however, this is on a different level from his previous behaviour. Maybe something left over from the days before you found him. It’ll be a good idea to look into his past logs to diagnose any present problems, you make a mental note of it.

“I’m just worried for you, that’s all. What if there’s an urgent issue I can’t fix alone? And we both know I can’t leave you as is.”

His expression mellows to an annoyed pout, looking away as his core glows faintly along with the patterns under his skin, he mumbles, “I’ll be fine.” (“I just need you.”) (“I'm the only one for you.”) (“No one else deserves you.”)

He allows you to work without another complaint, silently watching as your hands venture into his chest, a focused air to you while you look for the problematic cable. He senses your touch when you make contact with it, sucking in a sharp breath as you grip it between your fingers, twisting it around to free it from the surrounding wires before you finally connect and plug it into its rightful place. 

“That’s it for your cable issue. Anything else?” He quickly shakes his head.

Giving it a few light cursory pulls to make sure it’s finally secured, (if you weren’t mistaken, his core brightened in time with your tugs), you spare the rest of his parts one last look over. Then, shutting the panel, you unplug him from the computer.

Immediately, he scampers off the worktable with a clipped “thank you” and runs into his room. You hear the door to his room close before its lock clicks. 

The next few days prove to be better, the repair requests for any troubles that seem to have cropped up overnight growing more and more infrequent. Perhaps, bit by bit, the end of the repairs start to come into sight. 

Although, you have noted that his internal temperatures have been hiking recently whenever you have his chest panel open to patch him up. 

This time, you have him lying on the worktable on his back to access the further areas in him. He’s positioned facing upwards but his eyes are darting everywhere, unable to meet your gaze. Once again, the programme open on your computer screen shows how his temperatures are quickly rising even though there are no obvious reasons for such a sudden change. It records the recurrence into its troubleshooting log like before, more times than you can remember.

He’s panting lightly, the android’s chest moving up and down as your ears pick up the sound of his inner fans whir louder, his pre-programmed functions activating to try to cool him down. With no clue as to what could cause this issue, you reach in to look for a fault. Yet, the more you poke and prod around, the higher the warmth within him rises. 

Left with more questions than answers, you turn to his core for a closer look. When your fingers brush against the transparent casing, a moan slips out from him, and instantly his head whips to look at you dumbfounded.

An artificial blush takes over his face, a low pink glow blooming from beneath the synthetic layer. A beat passes before he cracks his lips apart, voicebox working as he pleads.

“...Again.”

Gently, you let your fingertips dance over the clasp hinging the casing shut and his response is instant. A shudder rolls through him, as real as it can be, and a shaky exhale leaves him. The android’s back arches up slightly, hastily chasing after your touch when you remove your hand.

Your caress returns when your hand dips deeper into his circuitry, where you hook two fingers underneath his thicker cables, attentively stroking them between your thumb and fingers, before tugging on them forcefully enough to elicit a reaction from him. 

His eyes fly open at your ministrations, a greed for more overtaking his processors. You’ve always been so gentle with him when he’s opened up for you, when you have access to the deepest parts of him, when he’s at his most vulnerable. So, to have you toy around with him, show him the indulgence of human flesh, can you really fault him for falling for you?

The tips of your fingers ghost along the length of his metal spine, and the android keens from under you.

“Please, more, I can take it!”

Taking his cue, your hand encircles his spine, grinding the heel of your palm against the ridges of the sensitive metal elements as you pump up and down. 

“Sss- so good! Hah…!” He can’t control how he behaves when you treat him so well, like he’s the only one worthy of your attention. He shakes under your touch, trembling as the addictive pleasure overrides his programmed commands.

“No more blubbering, just focus on me.” Your other hand goes to cup his chin, and obediently, he parts his lips for you, allowing you to slip your thumb into his mouth. You can feel his tongue work and when you press down, he jolts suddenly. A gag reflex? In an android? How amusing.

When you stop stroking him, he whines pitifully, muffled moans and begging for you to continue but his complaints stop when he feels you unlatch the lid of his core casing.

“Would you let me?” And the flurry of nods from him confirms his enthusiasm.

With bated breath, he counts the seconds before you make contact with his core. And when he senses your caress on his glowing core in his exposed chest cavity, he breathes out a gasp, as if he requires the intake of air. None of this is written into the basis of his behaviour, not fed into the dataset that makes up how he’s supposed to act, so everything he feels for you must be real.

His eyes go unfocused as his neural network is flooded with the raw pleasure of being enveloped with love and lust down to his literal core. Desire burns within him, evident from the fans whirring even louder than before to bring down his temperatures. It’s just so much for the android’s computations to handle. Broken moans leave him as he tries to vocalise his love for you (as best as he can with his thumb in your mouth). 

And when you press a kiss to his unprotected core, his vision whites out.

Eyes wrenched shut, his whole mechanical body jerks upwards, back arching off the worktable as his body propels himself to sit up, his limbs trying to ensnare you in his embrace, to keep you with him as long as he can. Every command in his system is overwritten to hone in on all the sensations of you on him, your touch, your warmth.

The patterns under his skin glow with a pulse, akin to a human’s heartbeat and when his eyes open again, glimmering faux tears roll down his face. His chest heaves as you close the distance between the two of you, cupping his face with both your hands and kissing his tears away.

The android breaks the intimate silence as he quietly asks you, “Can you give me a name?”

When you whisper a name into his ear, he breaks into sobs in your hands.

The days pass by, uneventful, and the time for a final cursory check before deeming him fully repaired comes. He’s poised on the worktable like any other previous session, a bored expression on his face as you flit back and forth between him and the software on your computer.

“You really are a clingy case,” you say and get a huff in return, “But a welcome one.”

Remembering your mental note from before about accessing his past logs, you access it from your computer, pulling up the window with his stored recorded data. The log operates in the background constantly, one of the built-in functions of the android and a quick glance over just to make sure everything is in order should do.

However, the logs prove to be worrying in a completely different way.

[Log: Day 10 - Run 1 - Failed. Werewolf. They’re with that mangy mutt. I don’t know what they see in him. I still remember the care they showed me. There’s always the next run.]

[Log: Day 20 - Run 2 - Failed. It seems I’m too late this time around. That vile selkie captured them first. How irritating. I need to stop hesitating. It’s my love on the line after all.]

[Log: Day 30 - Run 3 - Failed. Incubus. That damn priest and incubus. I can feel my temper reaching its breaking point.]

[Log: Day ??? - Run 4 - In progress. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.]

Your eyes rake across a multitude of grainy snapshots of yourself, all with different people that you can’t find the ability to recall, your mind pounding from the discovery. 

He’s gazing expectantly when you look back up at him from the screen. A grin twists its way across his face, canines glinting under the dizzying harsh lighting.

“So now you’ve seen how much I love you, even if you don’t remember it.” There’s a sick obsession dripping in his tone, an uncanny level of emotion that androids normally shouldn’t be able to replicate, one that sends a heavy uneasiness through your whole being, one that roots you to the ground. 

When he doesn’t get the adoring reaction from you he expects, the proud expression on his face falls instantly. 

He’s despondent, despairing as he tears the connecting cables off of him, launching himself off the worktable, lunging across for you, frenzied, pure scorching mania surging through him. 

“You… even after all these runs. You’ve always given me the same thing. My name. I thought this time- You-” 

Voice shaky, “It’s a shame this run didn’t work out either.” 

He steels himself, hand outstretched, “No matter.”

You blink.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

#📜.Shapeshifting Hallways #📜.qi writings #📜.qi musings #yandere #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #yandere genshin #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #sub wanderer #yandere wanderer #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #sub scaramouche #yandere scaramouche #sub yandere #android smut #sub android #yandere android #dom reader #kinktober

[steddieas-shegoes]

never gonna give you up

for @steddiemicrofic "fake" prompt that needed to include the words: and, around, desert, down, give, gonna, let, never, run, up, you

1987 words | rated e | no cw | tags: modern au, flirting, bisexual steve harrington, handjobs, some platonic stobin, ridiculous and unserious

😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

"This might be the first time someone's deserted me in the middle of a date," Steve said into the phone.

"You aren't counting that one time Sarah left during the movie?" Robin asked.

"She had a family emergency!" Steve exclaimed.

"Right, and I'm definitely going on a date with a dude later."

"You're saying she didn't have a family emergency?"

Steve remembered that date, remembered how she'd even had tears in her eyes when she said her mom called and she had to run home.

"You're gonna unpack that all night, aren't you?" Robin sighed on the other end. "Steve, just go home. Take a week off from trying to get into some poor woman's pants. Leave some of them for me to get into. I beg you."

"What makes you think they'd come running to you?" Steve looked over at a guy standing at the counter of the diner, clearly trying to pick up his order. From the back, he seemed tall, but that could be the black skinny jeans and boots combo.

"Let me talk to them for one minute and I'll have them convinced."

The guy turned as the woman behind the counter walked to the kitchen, his eyes settling on Steve talking on his cell phone at the table in the corner. It's not like there were many people here on a Monday night, nothing else to look at but Steve awkwardly sitting by himself with two glasses on the table.

The guy started to walk over, and Steve recognized him immediately.

"Gotta go, Robs."

"What? How are you done wallowing already?"

He hung up before she could continue, putting his phone face down on the table.

"Well, well, well. Never thought I'd see the day where Steve Harrington shows back up in Hawkins."

Eddie Munson didn't know shit about Steve, never really had. He thought he did, just like everyone else in high school, but the gossip that followed him around never had much truth to it. He really only had two girlfriends for most of high school, and only one of them was serious enough for him to sleep with.

The sleeping around came after his move to Chicago, when he was constantly surrounded by women who would give him all the attention he wanted.

"Never really thought I'd be back," he said with a genuine smile. Kill them with kindness or whatever his grandmother used to say.

It seemed to throw Eddie off at least, his mouth opening and closing around whatever rebuttal he planned.

"So why are you here? Visiting the parents?" Eddie crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the edge of the table.

"Nah, came to visit Dustin Henderson. Staying for a few more days and thought it would be nice to take someone out. I guess she didn't agree," Steve shrugged.

Eddie glanced down at the empty spot across from him, the glass on the table with half of the drink missing. He looked back at Steve's face.

He sat down across from him and smirked.

"So. Come here often, sunshine?"

Steve snorted, shaking his head as he looked up at Eddie.

"Not as often as I would if I was coming to see you," Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink.

Eddie clearly wasn't expecting him to flirt back. He recovered quickly, though.

"I suppose we could fix that, then, huh?"

Steve looked him up and down, taking in the messy bun his curly hair was pulled into, the pen mark on his cheek, tattoos up and down his arm.

"I suppose we could."

Waking up in Eddie Munson's bed was definitely not what he expected when he arrived in Hawkins two days ago, but stranger things had happened.

He opened his eyes to sunlight streaming in through the curtains and Eddie's warm body pressed against his back.

Neither of them had gotten dressed after their shower last night, too tired to do anything more than rinse off the sweat and cum from hours of making each other come undone.

Steve let himself have this. Eddie would kick him out when he woke up, kindly of course, but he'd make it clear to Steve that this was a one night thing. No matter how good it was, Steve wasn't an idiot. He knew Eddie would never actually be interested in a guy like him.

"Mmm. Stop thinkin' s' loud," Eddie's lips brushed against the back of Steve's neck in a half-kiss, sending a shiver down his spine. "'s too early."

Steve smiled to himself, let Eddie's arms tighten around him and hold him close for a bit longer.

"I should probably head back to the Henderson's. Claudia will be worried if I'm not there for lunch," Steve said quietly.

"Just text Dustin, tell him your date went well."

Steve shouldn't get his hopes up. It's not like he was gonna do long distance, and even if he would be willing, there was no way Eddie would.

"I can't lie to him," Steve felt his heart flip flop in his chest at the admission.

Eddie's head lifted and his breath hit the side of Steve's face instead of his shoulder. "Did it not go well? I thought it- well, I thought it went great, actually."

Steve turned in Eddie's arms, facing him, placing his hands on his chest. "It did go well! It did."

"Okay, then…"

"It's just this wasn't exactly a date, was it? You just felt bad for me, probably wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

"You know. The ones about me sleeping around, being good with my mouth." Steve's eyes searched Eddie's, looking for any hint of recognition. When none came, he continued. "How I let anyone fuck me on the first date?"

Eddie's brows furrowed. "Is that what people say about you?"

"You don't have to act dumb, Eddie. Some of it's true."

Eddie's hands were rubbing up and down his back, making goosebumps appear on his skin. "You are good with your mouth. That one’s true. The rest though? I never believed any of that shit.”

“Really? Why not?”

Eddie’s hand traced along Steve’s only tattoo, a robin placed just under his collarbone. “Because I never gave much thought to rumors. Lord knows most of the ones about me weren’t true.”

Steve thought about all the rumors he’d heard about Eddie in high school.

Back then, he may have believed some of them, but he had firsthand experience with things getting out of hand.

“You can think what you want, but I brought you back here because I genuinely enjoyed talking to you at the diner. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I wanted to get rid of you. Trust me. I’m not really a one and done guy,” Eddie’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. “If you’re in a rush to go, I can’t stop you. But I think staying in bed with you all morning sounds pretty fuckin’ good.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his heart kicked up in his chest. “You know, I’ve actually never bottomed before last night.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Never?”

Steve shook his head. “Never found anyone I could trust to be gentle.”

“Was I gentle enough? Shit, you should’ve told me. I used spit as lube, Steve! That couldn’t have been comfortable.” Eddie pulled away a few inches, mumbling to himself in a panic.

“Eddie.” Steve tried to get his attention back on him. “Eds.”

Steve shifted forward, his front pressing against Eddie’s, his half-hard cock finding friction against Eddie’s thigh.

They both groaned as Steve rocked against him again.

“Everything was perfect, Eds. Only thing that would make it better is if I get to watch you come again right now," Steve said against his lips, pushing his hips forward so their cocks brushed against each other.

"Fuck, keep doing that and you'll get your wish, sweetheart."

He was sensitive, worked up from the hot breath against his mouth, the tongue brushing against his bottom lip. Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd been this wrapped up in someone, this attentive to the sounds they made, this focused on making sure they both felt good.

The friction was enough on its own to get Steve to the edge, and if Eddie's moans were anything to go off of, he was right there with him.

Steve never felt safe enough to be loud, not until he had Eddie begging him to make noise.

"C'mon, Stevie. Wanna hear how good you feel. Sounds so good when you can't hold it back," Eddie's hand gripped his hip, tugging him closer. They were both leaking precum, dripping down each other's lengths and losing track of where one of them ended and the other began.

Steve couldn't hold it back, didn't want to anyway. Letting Eddie hear how good he felt was a need.

"You gonna come with me, sweetheart?" Eddie gasped out as he wrapped his hand around both of them, slowing his hips to focus on moving his hand, finding the perfect angle and pace to get them both over the edge.

Steve bit his lip and nodded, barely holding back a whimper as Eddie's grip tightened around them.

"Come for me, Stevie."

Eddie's voice had a direct link to Steve's cock, maybe through the hand wrapped around him. Steve came with a shout, curling forward so his forehead fell against Eddie's shoulder.

He was overstimulated, fighting the urge to buck into his hand and pull away at the same time.

Steve pulled his head back to watch as Eddie groaned, cum hitting both of their stomachs as he worked himself through his orgasm.

They both lay there in silence, Eddie's grip loose around them as they both softened. They'd need to clean up before the cum dried in Steve's chest hairs and made them sticky, but moving seemed like an impossible task.

"You live in Chicago now?" Eddie asked suddenly, making Steve jump. He rubbed his cleaner hand on his back in silent apology.

"Yeah," Steve breathed out. "With Robin Buckley. From band?"

"I know Robin. She used to come to my shows before she moved."

"Small world."

Eddie snorted. "Just Hawkins." Eddie sat up, pulling Steve with him. "You know, the guys in my band have been considering moving to Chicago. Think it's a good place for a metal band?"

Steve searched his face for any clues as to what he was really asking. Certainly he didn't expect Steve to know if a metal band would feel at home somewhere.

"I…guess?" Steve answered.

"I'll just text Robin," Eddie wiped his hand on the sheets and reached over to the bedside table to grab his phone.

"Wait. You keep in touch with Robin?" Steve felt like he was being pranked.

"Not as much as I should, but yeah. We caught up last time she visited her parents." Eddie typed on his phone for a moment, then looked up at Steve with a smirk. "Problem with that?"

"No, I'm just kinda shocked she's never really mentioned it." Steve stood up with shaking legs. "I should probably grab a shower and go."

"You normally a runner?" Eddie asked, amused.

"No? Why do you ask?"

"It's just the second time you've been rushing to leave. Thought I told you I wanted you here."

Steve knew what he wanted, and he knew it was too much, too fast, too ridiculous for Eddie to even consider it.

But maybe, if he played his cards right, maybe he could have Eddie for more than today.

"Shower with me?" Steve settled on, pouting his bottom lip out.

"And then?" Eddie pushed.

Steve didn't know what to do, but he knew what he wanted.

"And then we'll go back to the diner and actually eat something together." Eddie nodded, encouraging him to continue. "And then you give me your number."

"For?"

"Planning our next date."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #fake prompt #but i encourage everyone to be ridiculous with me

[boundinparchment]

Storm’s End

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes. Every season, he fights this. And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore. Until he cannot wait any longer and you are perfect, just as you are.

Neuvillette/Female Reader, in which Neuvillette is a dragon, determined to breed. Explicit sexual content; breeding kink. MDNI.

Story also on AO3; link only accessible for registered users.

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes.  Bury himself in work, keep busy, limit his interaction with you until it passes and he is no longer blinded by pure, needy lust.  You are disappointed, nerves frayed, but nonetheless, understanding.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, or force you into a decision all because of his instincts.  Instincts that override all basic logic.

Neuvillette is fighting them as you wish him a good morning.  He can smell the difference in your hormones, your body undergoing your own cycle, priming itself.  Very rarely were you in sync with him.

He swallows.

You’re perfect right now.  He could take you, here in the kitchen, and have you filled to the brim before the pot of coffee has even finished—

“Neuvi?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.  Concern lines your brow for the briefest of seconds.

“Let me help,” you plea.  “Please, Neuvillette, I’m your partner…”

“You do not know what you ask of me, mon cœur.”

“Then tell me.  Prepare me.  How is it any different than what we’ve done before?”

That fire, that fight, in you isn’t helping anything.  Certainly not the strain of his members against his pants.  The knowledge that you are ripe, absolutely divine and essentially guaranteed to bloom only compounds matters more and he grips the top of his cane tighter, gloves squeaking slightly.

Every season, he fights this.  And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore.

“I cannot stop once I give in,” he says at last.    “Not until…”

You step up to him and whisper teasingly against his lips.

“Then breed me, Neuvillette.”

The last of his self-control snaps as your breath carries every reminder, changed by your hormones.

You are pinned to the kitchen wall in an instant, skirt hiked and panties pushed aside, his forked tongue tasting every inch of your mouth.  His teeth graze your lips and he tastes tiny drops of blood as your moan catches against his tongue.  His fingers delve, finding you not only wet but eager.  He pulls away just enough to take in your swollen lips, flushed face, half-lidded eyes.

Beautiful.  And he intends to make you even more so.

He holds your gaze, under no impression he is composed any longer; your eyes flicker to his lips and you wiggle against him, creating friction that sends a delicious shiver up his spine.  Neuvillette presses you against the wall further.

“There’s no going back,” he says with what little control he can muster.  “You won’t be leaving his house until your womb is full or the season ends.  The former is far more probable.”

It’s your turn for your breath to catch and you swallow audibly.

“Then at least take me in bed, first?” you ask.

The bedroom isn’t far.  In the haze of your musk, Neuvillette manages to swiftly throw you onto the bed, unfasten his belt, and return his mouth to yours with unprecedented speed.  His tips nudge you, one aligned at your clit and the other at your entrance.  Neuvillette cannot help the growl that escapes him as he pushes into you to the hilt.

His strokes are deep and your walls clench, already demanding seed from him; he hasn’t even begun properly and you would see both of you undone in mere seconds.

That won’t stop him.  Not in this state.

You buck against him, meeting stroke for stroke but far too eager to keep a solid pace.

“Both, please, Neuvi.  I can take it,” you whine.  “Want to take it.”

You never have before.  His heart quickens and his cocks throb at the prospect.  He feels pre-cum drip from his exposed tip.

He obliges you without hesitation, withdrawing entirely and slowly parting you with both members.  You are tight, perhaps too tight, and he fights the urge to bury himself immediately.

And then, all is lost.

He can feel nothing but the warm velvet of your walls.  The room fills with your delicious moans and cries and the wet sounds of your coupling, the slap of skin on skin as he lifts your legs and pounds into you.  He has perfect access at this angle.  As your orgasm rips a silent scream from you, Neuvillette shoots deep inside, pumping into you as you ride out the first and then a second peak.

Neuvillette doesn’t leave you and instead helps turn you both onto your sides, facing one another.  You roll your hips, still eager, but your movement is languid and fatigued, your eyes glazed over with satisfaction and exhaustion.

A good session, but not successful.

Not yet.

The mere thought makes him twitch inside you again.  But first, he must let you rest.  It was a delicate balance now between caring for you and seeing to it that his seed took.  And it will.  It is only a matter of when, for he is nothing if not dedicated.

“Sleep for now, mon cœur,” he whispers.  “We are far from finished.”

#neuvillette #neuvillette/female reader #neuvillette x female reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette genshin #neuvilette x reader #tw: smut #tw: breeding #Limited to AO3 temporarily while I navigated mobile nonsense

[gojonanami]

SEEING YOU TONIGHT, IT'S A BAD IDEA RIGHT? - SATORU GOJO

summary: seeing your ex was always a bad idea, but not if it was satoru gojo.

cw: 18+ readers only, smut, f!reader, innuendos, ex-boyfriend!Satoru, praise kink, thigh riding, degradation, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), breeding kink.

a/n: gojo and bad idea right by olivia rodrigo has been living in my head rent free and here's the product :).

word count: 3,873

It was dangerous. 

Look at this picture I drew Nanami. Can’t believe he didn’t want to keep it. 

Gojo attaches a picture of a crudely drawn dick, and you snort at your phone. 

It was a dangerous game the two of you were choosing to play. 

Small. Is the response you choose. Short but funny. And just enough to elicit a response you want. 

You know the real thing is much bigger. 

And there it was.

The game the two of you chose to play back and forth always ended here one way or another - and usually it was him who drove it there in the first place. 

Is it? I don’t remember. 

Then come over and I’ll remind you. 

But that didn’t mean you were completely blameless either. 

You bite your lip at his text. You really shouldn’t. 

You’re just horny. 

That’s right. 

Another message. 

For you. 

Fuck him. But that’s what exactly you wanted to do again. 

You told yourself the last time would be the last time. After he had fucked you and left you high and dry, you told yourself you wouldn’t fuck your exes or let them fuck with you. And you didn’t — except for Gojo. 

He was always the fucking exception wasn’t he? 

And he was the exception to your ick to double texting - because you supposedly took too long to respond to his message. 

Should I show you what you’re missing? 

And it’s a picture of him fresh out of the shower, with the most shit eating grin on his face. Water ringlets traced his body with absolute reverence, his thighs teasingly visible, reminding you how you had come undone on them the last time you hooked up, and the towel of his was frustratingly too low on his waist. 

What’s your new address? 

Fuck.

And that’s what you were going to get done tonight. 

You didn’t know what to wear. But did it matter because it was going to come off anyway. You opted for a little black dress, one that was a little too short and little too tight. 

You pull up to his place - off campus - and it’s a new shiny high rise building that you stare up at with squinting eyes. Show off. 

“Trust me, I’m not overcompensating for anything,” and you whirl around to see him waiting for you, “but you know that don’t you?” 

“Oh do you ever shut up?” and he leans closer, tilting his sunglasses off his face, lips curled in that goddamn grin. His blue button-up and jeans made your breath catch -- god it had been so long since you've seen him out of his usual Jujutsu Tech uniform.

“I plan to, later tonight,” and you scoff, as he leads you to his building, a hand on the small of your back that sends sparks flying up your spine.

“Memory recalls you don’t shut up much during that as well,” and his hand snakes around your waist as you both walk in, nodding to the doorman as he lets you both into the elevator, “don’t you live at the school? I was surprised when you told me that have a place off-campus,” 

“Well I prefer to live in a place free of teenagers sometimes,” his arm leaves you, slipping into his pockets, as he raises an eyebrow, “unless you were looking forward to fucking in our old school,” 

You glare at him, “Gojo-“ 

“That’s not what you called me in Yaga’s classroom that one afternoon when everyone was away-" He says cheekily.

“Oh my god, Satoru, shut up,” and you crush your lips to his, and he’s grinning. His arms slip around your waist as if they never even left. But these weren’t the same lean arms that pinned you to a desk as he ate you out that one afternoon - no these were the ones of a man who has trained and seen battle time and time again. You were always surprised at how broad Satoru had gotten over the years - it shouldn’t be a surprise as he was always the “strongest” but he was lean and fit before, slender almost - but now, as he pressed you against the wall of the elevator, fingers digging into your ass, his body engulfed you. 

And you were already addicted to the feeling. 

If it was any more obvious, you don’t hear the ding of the elevator as you arrive at his floor, as he pulls away, “going to have to part for a second sweetheart, need to unlock the door.” 

But he pulls you along by your hand, and somehow that gesture is all the more overwhelming than anything you had done in the elevator. 

You watch him scan his keycard, unlocking the door, “How much does Jujutsu High pay you?” 

And he smirks, “Perks of being the strongest,” but you frown at that — you know those were few and far between. 

But he pulls you inside, pressing you against the door, “Now where were we?” He hums against your neck, his hands slide over your bare thighs, “I’ve missed this-“ 

“Could have fooled me,” you sigh as he kisses your neck, “I haven’t heard from you in a year,” 

“I am a very busy man,” and he lifts you with such ease, hands wrapped around your thighs, your dress so easily riding up, “wear this just for me?” 

“Just for you, and maybe on a few dates,” and his head tilts, expression flickering with jealousy for a millisecond before his god complex returns. 

“And yet here you are with me,” and he’s kissing you again, his tongue parting your lips with ease, as if he’s trying to erase any evidence of another person’s touch. You moan when he sucks on your bottom lip, “so pliable, aren’t you sweetheart? Just fall to pieces under my touch,” 

And his words serve to make you squirm, but as a challenge as well, as your hands tug him by his collar, “and you don’t? I recall that afternoon in the classroom, and I had to pray no one walked by so they wouldn’t hear your moans when I rode you,” 

But he’s annoyingly unfazed, his breath warm against your skin, “I love a woman who takes charge, that’s why I can’t get enough of you,” and he’s closing the gap between you, kissing your lips, before tracing kisses down your jaw and neck, until his teeth graze your pulse, “should I leave a mark?” 

“Gojo-“ 

“Oh I’m definitely leaving a mark now,” and his teeth dig into your neck, sucking and licking, drawing a moan from your throat, “does anyone else make you moan like this?” 

“Why are you interested in —ah—“ and he’s tugging the straps of your dress off, “that?” The last word comes out as a whisper. 

“No bra? And you’re so insistent that you weren’t flirting with me over text,” and he snaps the strap against your skin, “it’s always flirting when it’s us, sweetheart,” 

“You didn’t answer my question,” you grumble and he’s carrying you now, your arms around his shoulders, “Gojo-“

And he’s pressing you to the wall outside his bedroom, and he’s taking off his sunglasses - and no matter how many times you’ve seen his eyes - no matter how many times you’ve stared into them — they always make you feel like you’re drowning — breathless and slow, like you submerged in water, unable break to the surface. 

“Are you going to continue to call me that?” And he’s being rough as he teases your thighs apart, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress, “because I may take you right here - let all my neighbors hear you cum on my fingers, my mouth, or my cock - dealer’s choice,” and his kiss is bruising, as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, relentless as always, always trying to prove himself, and he had nothing to prove. 

And it only took his hand shaking up your thigh to press on the wet patch of your underwear to make you break. 

“Satoru, fuck-“ and his grin makes you shiver. 

“Good girl,” and you nearly come undone from those words alone, as he carries you to his bedroom, tossing you into his bed without much to-do. 

You bounce against the springs of the mattress slightly, but he’s on you in a moment, perched over you, as he meets your lips in a desperate kiss, as if he had parted from your lips ten years ago as opposed to ten seconds. 

You are pulling at his shirt, trying to get it over his head, but he pins your arms down before you can, “not yet, baby,” 

You’re strong but not when he’s using his strength to hold you in place, “Satoru-“ and he’s using his free hand to slide your straps down lower, “that’s not fair-“

“I was born unfair,” and you snort, but it quickly turns to a groan when his hand squeezes your breast. 

“So sensitive,” and he leans his head down to suck on your nipple, “no one tastes as good as you sweetheart,” 

“And how many others have you tasted this year?” And he doesn’t pause, only switches to the other, as his fingers tease the other nipple. 

“I could ask you the same,” and you gasp as his teeth graze your nipple, “Satoru-“ and he pauses now, “tell me,” 

You grit your teeth, “No-"

“Then I’m going to suck a hickey here,” he kisses right above your nipple, “and you won’t be wearing these low cut dresses for a while,” and his teeth bare against your skin, and you jolt against him, “tell me,” he repeats. 

You lay your head back, “I said I went on a few dates, I didn’t say I have slept with anyone else-ah-“And he’s sucking the mark, his teeth biting and nibbling on the skin, as he soothes it with his tongue, “you said you wouldn’t-“ you whine, and he smiles, before pressing his lips to yours. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he cups your cheek, “shyness suits you,” 

And he’s tugging your dress downward, rolling it down to your stomach, and you’re pulling at his shirt, until he helps you get it off his shoulders. And your eyes rake over his chest, “Like what you see?” 

You flush, “I never said you were bad to look at,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Princess, I’m the best to look at,” and that draws a laugh from your lips, which he eagerly swallows, pressing his lips fervently to yours, looking to worship the mouth that just made that heavenly noise, “I haven’t been with anyone else,” he breathes, a centimeter from your lips, “since you,” 

“Really?” And he tilts his head. 

“Just for you, sweetheart,” and you don’t waste a moment. 

You’re flipping him on his back, and he’s staring up at you — in shock and then in lust filled eyes, a thick haze that settles over your body, as you press your lips to his again, and he surges to meet them. 

Your fingers are fumbling with his belt, and he’s trying to pull your dress down your legs. You part for a moment, standing to pull it off, before settling on his lap again, but his hands pull you to settle on his thigh instead. 

He flexes his thigh, and you stifle your moan, your cunt squeezing around nothing, “come on, ride my thigh,” your wetness soaks through and he groans, “you’re certainly wet enough for it,” 

“Fuck-“ and he flexes again and again, until you’re grinding against his thigh, and his cocky grin makes you want to slap him. 

“Sweetheart, you’re soaking through,” and he grunts, helping you ride his thigh, the muscle and fabric rubbing against your clit, making you moan, “that’s it, c’mon cum on my thigh like a good slut,” 

And that sends you over the edge, the squelch of your pussy on his leg growing only louder, as your juices run down his pant leg, “glad I could do that twice,” and he’s kissing your neck, “maybe we can make it a third,” 

And you meet his lips in a lazy kiss, your lips sliding across his at first, until it grows more insistent, and you’re back fumbling with his belt, pulling it off, and undoing the button of his jeans. 

“So needy,” he smirks, and he lifts his waist, to help you pull off his pants, “didn’t know you needed my dick that bad, Princess,” but the smugness leaves as you palm him through his boxers, a hiss leaving his mouth as you slip your hand inside, teasing the head with your fingers. 

“What was that again? Who’s needy?” You grin — you love watching him fold for you like this, as blood rushes to his cheeks and cock, he’s nearly panting as you palm him, and it’s such a pretty cock — was there anything about him that wasn’t unfairly perfect? “Fuck, I forgot how big you were - gonna split me in half, aren’t you?” But you’re going much too slow for his taste, as your fingers tease him, smearing his pre-cum over his length, as you lick it from your fingers, “and you always taste so good,” 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re toying with me,” he nearly growls, as you pull off his boxers, snapping the elastic against his skin as you do.

“But you’re my favorite toy,” and your fingers return around his dick, squeezing lightly, and that’s his final straw. 

You don’t even realize your back is hitting the bed until you’re already pinned under him, and he’s smiling between your thighs now, “two can play at that game sweetheart,” and he kisses your inner thigh, “and I always win,” 

And he’s pulling down your panties in a moment, letting a reverent fuck leave his lips as he stares at your swollen lips, “So pretty,” and he noses at your inner thighs, before his teeth dig into your sensitive skin, and your breath stutters, “and all for me,” 

“Satoru-“ and his fingers are parting your folds, making your hips jump at his touch, and he can’t have that can he? And he’s pinning your hips, as he stares at your pretty swollen folds, “stop teasing-“ 

“Like you stopped teasing me, Princess?” He raises an eyebrow, but he slips a finger inside, “but I’ll be nice, unlike you,” and he’s pumping his finger knuckle deep, slipping into places you could never reach yourself, “fuck, you’re practically swallowing my finger,” and a second finger is stuffed inside you, “can’t wait to feel this pussy around my cock,” and you’re shaking when he finally leans down to press a kiss to your pretty clit. 

“S-satoru,” you moan, a mess, as he fucks your walls hard with his fingers, the lewd squelching ringing in your ears, as he continued to pry apart your thighs, leaning down to press his lips to your clit again. 

And you whimper, before moaning, as he sucks at it, lapping at your pussy, as he continued to fuck you, “so sweet when you’re all fucked out, keep making those pretty noises, sweetheart,”

And you have no choice when his tongue slips in the stead of his fingers, fingers choosing to play and pinch your clit, a symphony of moans and whines leaving your throat, as you move to cover your face. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he coos, kissing your pussy as he speaks, “you’re going to make me self-conscious and we wouldn’t want that, would we baby?” And his words are not helping as he redoubles his efforts, pausing only to speak, as his hands sneak under your thighs to press you impossibly closer to his mouth, intent on devouring you, “look at me - wanna see my pretty baby’s face when she falls apart for me,” 

And you look, his face smeared with your cum, lips glossy and nearly dripping with it, as he grins, before feasting on you again, makes you fall apart as he wants, “cum in my mouth,” he murmurs, “wanna fucking live in his pussy,” 

And you’re coming undone, fast and hard, but he doesn’t seem to care, slurping and sucking every drop you bestow upon him, “I know where I got my sweet tooth now,” and he’s still eating you through your orgasm, as you shudder and shiver from his touch. 

“Fuck, ‘Toru, I swear to god-“

“I’m right here baby, you don’t have to swear your allegiance to me,” and he’s licking his fingers clean, making a show of it, “pretty sure you did that when you screamed my name when you came,” 

“You fucker,” and he’s giving you lazy kisses again, trying to bring you down from your high, just to bring you back up again, and you’re palming his erection now, “need you,” 

“What was that?” And he’s so smarmy, it makes you want to slap him or kiss him or possibly both, “say it again,” 

And then you squeeze his dick, making him grunt, “I said I need you,” and you’re brushing the head of his cock against your folds, again and again, making him groan, “any questions sensei?” You add mockingly, but that only serves to make him grin wider. 

“So fuckin’ eager for me to split you open with my dick huh, Princess?” His pre-cum dripping onto your fucked out pussy, “can’t go a second without being filled by me? I know sweetheart, I hit all the spots you can’t reach with your fingers right? Bet all those others can’t reach them either,” and he’s kissing you, hard, as he presses his cock into you, bumping against you, but never slipping in, “then I’ll just have to spoil you tonight, won’t I?” He notches himself against your slit, his traitorous mouth leaning down to suck at your tit before he finally eases into you. 

And you forgot just how big he was, as he finally sinks into you, his cock parting your folds, impatient as ever as he sinks slowly at first and than all at once, “you can still take me, and you always take me so well,” he groans, as your walls squeeze him, nearly making him cum right there, “you were made for me, made to fuck me,” he’s panting now, as you’re ready to fall apart under him. 

“Then fuck me,” and he does just that - no semblance of self-control left - not that he had much to begin with. Not when it came to you.  

He loves hearing you moan his name, over and over, as he begins to thrust in earnest, hips slapping against yours, making you gasp and your head roll back, “Satoru, Satoru, fuck-“ 

“Come on baby you can take it, look at how good you’re taking me, such a good girl,” and he grasps your chin making you look at where your bodies met, his cock slipping in and out of you with ease, a white ring of your cum around its base, “that’s it, c’mon, you make me feel so fucking good,” 

And then he’s slipping out of you, as you whines but now he’s pulled you into his lap, “baby, I can’t be doing all the work, now can I?” 

His thighs are sticky and wet with your fluids, as you start to ride him, your thighs meeting his with rough snaps, “So fucking gorgeous,” he groans, leaning in to suck at your tits again, “I’ll never get sick of this view, need to fuck you like this again,” and he meets you with a brutal thrust of his hips as he grasps your waist that brushes against places you only could dream to touch, and he grins as your head lolls back, “there is it, just where I left it, Princess,” 

“S’close, ‘Toru, I can’t-“ you murmur, as he cups your cheek and presses a hot kiss to your lips. 

“Then cum for me on my dick like a good little slut, and scream for me, make sure my neighbors know how good this cock is,” and he’s grasping your waist, fucking tou hard as you cum around his cock, and you scream his name as you do, but he fucks you through your orgasm, grunting and groaning. Your release slips down his dick as you squeeze him, “good fucking girl,” He’s close too - his thrusts becoming deeper and sloppy, “where you want me to cum?” 

And your legs are wrapping around his waist, “Fill me, want it inside,” and Satoru can't help but moans your name. 

He's grunting, sloppily thrusting now -- he's so close, your walls clamping down again and again, “Want me to breed you, sweetheart,” he grunts, bottoming out, “then let me fill you, fuck-“ he moans as he cums, spurting his hot, thick cum inside your walls, and you’re nearly keening against him, but he holds you steady with his fingers against your hips, nails digging crescents into your skin, “gotta make every drop count, now don’t we, love?” As he slowly pumps into you, pushing it deeper, “now what’d people say when you get pregnant by your ex? Hm? Wanna baby trap me, princess? You don’t have to do that to get me to stay,” 

And he’s still inside you as he stills, cupping your chin, “I don’t huh?” You tilt your head, as he presses a kiss to your lips, “then why did you leave in the first place?” 

His grin twists into a frown, sighing, as he can't meet your gaze now, “Did you really want to be with me?” And you open your mouth, “being with me is as good as placing a target on your back, and I’m not always going to here to help-“ 

You glare at him, “I don’t need you to protect me—"

“Except the one time you do,” he says softly, “and then what? I could deal with losing you, but I don't ever want to have to mourn you," his words are quiet, "we’ve both lost too much-" and his voice wavers, “I didn’t want you to be another thing I lost, but you were anyway,” and he gives a small chuckle, “I didn’t wanna end up alone, but without you, I’m still alone,” he gives a pitiful smile, “fitting for the strongest, huh?” 

You hold his cheeks, forcing him to look at you, “You don’t have to be alone. I can’t make promises that I’ll be okay - that would be a pretty shit promise to make, we both know that, but,” you kiss his lips sweetly, the corners of his lips lifting at your taste, “I can promise I’ll do my best to live, I’ll do my best to support you, I’ll do my best to love you - if you can promise to do the same,”

And his lips crack into a grin, “Love, huh?” 

“You’ve grown on me,” you tease, but he can’t let that stand. And he shifts his hips, making you moan, as he lays you down, slipping out of you, to smear his cockhead down your folds, watching you convulse around nothing as his cum slips out of you, “Satoru—fuck-“ and his fingers are scooping the liquid back inside, pushing it back in, “what are you doing?” you grumble, half annoyed, half moaning. 

And he only smiles, “Gotta make up for lost time, don’t we princess?” And he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips, before reaching for his phone, “now let me take a picture — gotta let Nanami know someone appreciated my drawing.” 

“You send that picture, and we won’t need to worry about me surviving anymore, because I’ll have killed you,” and he rolls his eyes, snapping the picture anyway. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t send him this picture, that’s for my personal use,” he winks as he slips his fingers from you, licking your mixed releases from his digits, “but I’ll let him know how much you enjoyed it,” and he’s leaning over you again, “and how much you will again,” 

“And every night?” You smile up at him, pulling him closer. 

And he replies before you pull him into another kiss, “Only way to shut me up.” 

#sab [mlist] #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfiction #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo fluff

[capslocked]

PANACEA

male reader x sakura && kazuha

17k words

Sakura can't expect you to actually be down for this - the setup, the miscommunication, the endless drama, all that messy work, and for what, your girlfriend-in-eveything-but-name-only's peace of mind?

You lean in. "Declining. Politely. Please."

“C'mon, It’s foolproof. Have I ever steered you wrong?” she says with a click of her tongue. “We can fix her.”

(It isn’t foolproof. She has. And you can’t.)

-

If you’re going to get tangled up in origin stories, this is probably a good place to start: at this gaudy bar, on the gaudier side of Ginza, with the shops you can’t afford to shop at - whose clientele can’t afford to be seen with you. It’s not your first pick, and you can say this because it so very often is, that this one’s all Sakura’s idea.

To be specific, it starts when Sakura grabs you by the wrist - Kazuha pinched by the fabric of her dress - and shuffles you both into a coat closet, which is as empty as the frost-less days of spring might expect. It was probably a mistake, thinking she wasn’t serious, but it’s that uncanny talent of hers, to always find someplace or another to steal away.

And look, you’re not crazy about the bar scene. Not here. You never have been.

When you’re at home, when you’re alone - when it’s you and Sakura - it never takes long to fall into that sensual rhythm of give and take, but here, under the dim light of the closet, it’s no different. You can feel the corners of her wry, delighted smile beginning to quirk as she steals those little shudders at the end of each exhale.

Maybe it’s the abundance of time you’ve had to become familiar with how Sakura can set the stage: 

The soft press of her mouth on yours, the speed of her kisses, those little licks, to that less-than-gentle pull at your bottom lip. It’s like she is everywhere, all at once - the warmth of her breath ghosting along the cartilage of your ear, the curve of your throat, her teeth hovering above where your pulse thrums and your skin runs thin.

Nevertheless, something quite new, a touch of novelty. This girl in black - built like a gazelle, all legs - who you think might quietly prefer to be addressed by her full name. Kazuha Nakamura, who would rather not make a fuss over the fact you forgot it the first twenty times or so - but she does have that look about her, that, if she asked you to, you could imagine dropping everything, anything, just to be at her beck and call.

That if she were in your shoes, you could imagine her wanting to do the same.

And then she asks for the most mundane thing.

Kazuha looks at you, not the way she looks at Sakura, but there is a stilled softness, a sweetness, that has her asking for permission - like she isn’t asking to do what she’s about to do - and when Sakura gives her a little tug at her skirt, Kazuha slides onto her knees.

“What did I tell you,” says Sakura, right into the angle at your jaw, pulling tighter on the end of your tie. She wraps it once over her wrist into something she can make a real grip out of. “The girl’s head over heels.”

A touch at your thighs, touches hooked into the seam of your pants and furling elastic - noticeably different from the hand kneading circles into the nape of your neck and carding through your hair. You laugh when you realize Kazuha has your fly undone and her shallow breath is hot against you, anticipating. Part of you is shocked, though another part equally thrilled. She’s actually going to do it.

Which, imagine that.

“And just what is it we’re doing here?” You lift your mouth off Sakura’s several times, chins brushing, colliding, kisses coming together and falling apart again. Your hold on Sakura’s waist firms up, steadying her as you try to reason with her. “What do you figure happens if we bring her home?” “Oh, I have no clue,” Sakura admits. “We’ll probably fuck her, and then fuck each other again when we she leaves.” “Hm,” you start, shakily, coping with the tongue that’s begun licking up from the base of your cock. It’s agonizingly slow - fuck, it’s only the seal of Kazuha’s pouty lips cushioning themselves around you. Which feel perfect, but only so perfect to the extent that it makes you want so much more. Sakura’s looking at you like she knows you’ll take it if you have to. Like she knows Kazuha will let you.

“Well.” You’re pushing some of the dark, glossy hair that had fallen in front of Kazuha’s face out of the way, and you start to posture, “I’m not about to start complaining, but-”

Sakura shoots only the slightest smirk in your direction. She’s got that usual unrepentant expression, eyes wide and brilliant, framed by those long eyelashes that happen to land more or less exactly on what you’d describe as your type.

“You have to see how this could backfire.”

She blinks once, twice, a few times, her expression remaining all but even, studying your face. “It’s not going to backfire.”

Your lips part to voice some final concern, but if that isn’t a ship long sailed. Here you’ll be marooned, shipwrecked - something you’ll have to come to terms with later - because you’re left only with siren calls: the soft sounds of Sakura’s lips smacking, of Kazuha’s; left with only a gaspful of air when she finally steals you into the wet heat of her pretty little mouth.

See, these hookups, your dalliances and escapades - the truth is that none of this really comes to you as a surprise anymore. Because if anything, Sakura has always had that tendency, a real proclivity for it. She was mischievous right from the jump, from when you first met her, and she’s only grown bolder. But the thing that you’re having to learn anew, beyond the way Sakura gets her mouth onto yours, how she’ll make a mess of your hair and leave marks on your neck, how her tongue glides effortlessly past your teeth, is with a second set of lips - that blowjob Kazuha is now settling into, mouth inching further and further down your cock - there’s suddenly a little less surefire to your wit, to your raillery.  

(Because here, you’d anticipated for impressive, perhaps even overwhelming, but with these two - well, there’s a lot to unpack. There always will be.)

The plan is - or at least it was -  to catch an Uber back to Sakura’s apartment. All three of you piling into the backseat, acting casual and pretending like you weren’t just trying to engineer how to share a kiss between three people. How’s that for logistics? Though that was moments before Sakura dropped a doting kiss into Kazuha’s hair and helped ease her down onto the carpet of the coat closet. And when you consider letting out the moan that festers in your chest, the one growing ever more unruly each time Kazuha’s tongue slowly curls around the head of your cock, you hesitate, swallowing down on nothing. 

“Fuck,” you say quietly into Sakura’s mouth. You’re not in public, technically speaking, which is not at all the reassurement Sakura insists it is. 

Sakura twists her fingers into your hair a little bit, just enough to sting, and asks, “does that feel good? Kazuha’s perfect mouth on your cock?”

“Yeah,” you admit, slightly annoyed - slightly under duress. The pressure of Sakura’s thumb a little harder into the soft muscle of your neck can usually coax out whatever it is she wants to hear. “Of course it feels good, Sakura.”

“I’m glad, it should.” Sakura nods. “And look, she’s just a natural, isn’t she?”

Oh, Kazuha - the poster child for a debate on innate talent and hard work, because as she works more of you into her mouth, you realize she’s both, a total package, an all in one. You’re not easy to take, and she presses her lips down, and draws you deeper like she’s done it a thousand times.

Though it pains you to ever admit Sakura’s right, about anything.

“How about we dial it back,” you say to Sakura, and for the first time, you look down at the mess of midnight hair in front of your waist. It’s glossy, even here in the dim glow of a dusty closet, and it’s just as silky to the touch. As you pilfer more of it through your fingers, you watch the glistening length of your cock vanish between the pouty pucker of Kazuha’s lips - bowed perfectly into this red elegant arch. 

“Are you sure? You seem like she’s just about killing you,” Sakura says. It’s the wince here and there. That slight quiver in your lip. All dead giveaways.

“Listen-” 

“Shh-shh,” Sakura soothes you gently, and starts to ease your jacket off your shoulders until it lands in a puddle of fabric at your feet. “Why don’t you just let her take care of you, huh?”

Sakura has her hand fit under your jaw again, urging you down to kiss her, but you’ve not quite finished taking in the sight of everything - of Kazuha, kneeling and bobbing her head back and forth - really settling into this hasty tempo. She takes more of your cock each time, and when you can feel her mouth tighten around you, to where her throat narrows and offers you a truly filthy sensation, you watch her eyes open, with lashes fluttering away stray tears and looking straight up at you. Pupils blown, dark as the dead of night, and every bit as sinful. It’s hard to even start to believe, that the girl who was paranoid a few weeks ago that she looked nothing like the fake ID Chaewon had given her is here on her fucking knees, slobbering on your cock.

“What’s the matter?” Sakura asks, pouting ever-so-slightly as she realizes you’re not going to lean into her again, and settles with a hot, open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable,” you start, kind of sharply. It’s the way her black mini dress hugs her body - this masterwork of genetics, of countless hours in the gym, a miracle in the flesh. It’s the way one of its flimsy straps is falling down her shoulder and she’s so busy sucking your cock that she can’t be bothered to pull it back up. You don’t look away. You can’t. And jesus, your voice is coming out more broken, more graveled than you expect. “I should - if she’s going to swallow my cum, I think I should get to watch.”

“You hear that?” Sakura asks, and Kazuha chokes on you, just a little. There’s spit at the corner of her mouth when she pulls herself back, runs her tongue over the head of your cock, and tries again. Sakura’s laugh comes out rather amused. Her two favorite people in the world, finally getting what they deserve. “You’re so perfect, Kazuha, you’re going to make him cum.”

Kazuha lets you slip from her lips, and for the first time since she last said anything at all - muttering, please, please, I want to suck his cock - she pulls a stray hair out of her mouth, looks up at you and says: “On my face. I want it on my face.”

“Jesus,” you murmur, gripping Sakura’s waist harder into you. A sort of reflexive response. Because, fuck, if that isn’t well within your wheelhouse. If she’s asking - if you can oblige -

Kazuha lifts her gaze toward Sakura, eyes beaming. “Can I? With your boyfriend’s cock?”

“Kazuha, sweetie, he’s not my boyfriend.” And you can almost hear Kazuha trying not to roll her eyes. It’s just not a technicality she’s ever been interested in - you’re not taken, but you’re definitely not single, and that’s the part that’s only ever mattered to her. Sakura lets her hand fall to the base of your cock, angles it up for Kazuha to instinctively start licking its sensitive underbelly, fingers threading through your balls and fuck, the little kisses she saves for those are going to fucking end you. “You have to ask him.”

Kazuha’s got her brown, bambi eyes fixed back on you when she does. And it’s just a litany of nonsense, as she tries to look you square on, asking you politely to cum on her face. "Please, can I have it? Please, please. Cum on my face. Cum on my pretty face. I want it so bad, please. Please, I need it."

She’s a self-starter at some things, but the profanity, the dirty talk, these simple methods of seduction, you’ll ease her into them. You figure you’ll ease her into a lot.

Because you’re taking note of how her soft lips pucker as you cup her face. Fucking hell, she’s breathtaking.

“I’ll try not to get it in your hair,” you tell her. In a tone that makes it feel like a compromise. Something just shy of completely corrupting, though heavens knows you want to. This want - to get your hands in her hair later, bordering on something near abusive - otherwise, it comes across as this gentle dominance radiant with authority. Something she quickly melts into, eyes twinkling up at you, and you can’t resist digging a little deeper, asking, “that always been a fantasy of yours, sweetheart?” 

“She watches porn with Yunjin.” Sakura leans into your ear. “Like, a lot.” Like, it’s borderline concerning, she explains.

The shade of crimson burning across the bridge of Kazuha’s nose is as beautiful as she is, and you’re piecing together some of the puzzle. “I see,” you say, more serious. 

For the girl who Sakura described as naive but enthusiastic, you’ve become rather lost, maybe a little too quickly, somewhere deep in the pull of it. Quick, quick, slow. Quick, quicker, painfully slow. The draw of Kazuha’s soft lips back and forth along your cock. Every now and again, you can feel her tease the head of your cock against the back of her throat, just short of dragging you past her palate and holding her nose nearly flush to your groin. 

She pumps a fist around your shaft harshly, delivering an indiscriminate pleasure. You can hear her steady her breath, and almost without missing a beat, she lets her spit drool onto your cock and familiarize itself with her fingers, corkscrewing around you faster. Tighter. 

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Sakura starts hot and close, breath fanning over your cheek, and yielding her idea a moment to the sound of Kazuha’s hand sliding up and down your shaft. It’s such a filthy noise, lathering spit and precum between her slender fingers, the obnoxious squelch of it when she grips firmer and starts to pump you in earnest.

“When we get home,” she continues, “I think you should get that dangerous mouth of yours-”

Okay, fuck. Fuck. You’re spitting the word out, groaning as your eyes snap shut - the moment Kazuha gets her lips back around you, hollows her cheeks, she inhales sharply.

“-oh?” Sakura teases, flirting her lips about the edge of your ear. Her breath is hot, close, closer. “Maybe your mouth isn’t the one I need to be worried about.”

In an instant, you’re nuzzled deep into Kazuha’s mouth, seeking damp, seeking heat. With the flat of her tongue, she has you reeling from base to tip, and oh, god, the teeth. Just the slightest, sharp scrape of her teeth as she works her mouth on you faster, sloppier - without caring for so much as a concern about the tears cornering in her long dark lashes, or the makeup smudging beneath her eyes. It’s electrifying, and it has you bucking forward into Kazuha’s little mouth, until you’re swallowed nearly in full.

But behind that, it’s silent. Behind the smacking sound of Sakura’s lips pulling harshly at yours, behind the half-chokes punctuating how hard Kazuha’s lips are trying, it’s just breaths. Sakura’s, relaxed. Kazuha’s, careful and measured. And yours, panting, desperate.

It didn’t matter what image Kazuha had in her head before, beyond the generic appeal of your smile or how you’d rub the back of your neck when you laughed, or the way your forearms looked when you rolled your sleeves up. The silence Sakura creates when she seals her mouth over yours, kisses drowning those slight shuddering whines, it reveals to Kazuha the more present truth: you’re not just perfect. No, you’re perfect for her, and with the right touches here - of which Sakura is eager to demonstrate - ever so wonderfully brittle.

“Mnpph.” Kazuha simply hums, sucks up and down, over and over. 

“Come on,” Sakura breathes against you, barely above a whisper, then says it once more as she twines her fingers with yours and makes silky knots of Kazuha’s hair for you to hold onto.

“Fuck her pretty mouth,” she tells you, and you do.

With two greedy handfuls of Kazuha’s hair, with Sakura’s hand sliding down the buttons at the front of your shirt until she’s replacing Kazuha’s at the base of your cock, you rock your hips forward, experimental. Kazuha makes a strained sound, but nothing like the protest you were listening for - and so you do it again.

And again.

It’s unreal how she doesn’t react at all, just splaying her fingers out along your thighs, ready to brace herself as your thrusts into her mouth start to quicken. Given how things started - coupled with the fact that she looks so satisfied and serene - she’s doing outstanding. And if the air dragging through your teeth isn’t enough to make that clear, Sakura’s sure to guarantee you’re all on the same page:

“Just like that,” she tells her. “You look so pretty taking his cock, love. You’re doing so good, keep going, just a little more, and he’s going to cum for you.” 

So then, there Kazuha is, bruising her knees and yielding her lips, her mouth, her throat to you - with the girl she idolizes giving her the praise she’s always craved, these sickly-sweet affirmations, a petal-blossom of assurances. They ignite something laid deep within her, something that makes her work that perfect mouth onto you just a little harder, a little deeper, a little more slacked.

She wants you to cum so badly. 

You can feel her tongue flatten again, and without hesitation, while you fuck unabashedly between her wet, messy lips, she delves, she massages, she laves. 

For god’s sake, she worships.

Sakura is grinning, because she knows. She can feel the familiar way you’ve begun to throb, how the pulse in your neck is racing and blotchy and hot - she recognizes instinctually that all the damage your teeth have now done to your bottom lip could only mean one thing - you’re spiraling. You’re cracking under pressure, and so, so quickly. And then, nonchalant as ever, she just teases, “going to cum?”

You laugh, dryly. You are. You’re forcing the mundane into your thoughts: rainwater sliding down a pane glass window, paint swatches, the sound of your alarm clock, ringing, ringing, sucking - slurping, choking and spitting and gagging and fuck, Kazuha’s making a god damn meal out of you. You’ll let her.

“I’m pretty fucking close,” you finally admit to Sakura, holding Kazuha’s face firm. It’s not a warning. It’s an admission of guilt: you’re fucking ruining her makeup. There’s mascara dark as india ink, as dark as her jet black hair, streaking down her cheeks, and you’re imagining her glassy, tear-filled eyes, the ones that are currently screwed shut, impossibly tight. But she doesn’t wince, she doesn’t whine - and aside from the choking sound her throat makes when your cockhead stains pre-cum onto the back of her throat - she keeps her lips sealed tight, totally demure. Perfectly submissive.

“In her mouth,” Sakura orders dryly. 

You still can’t look away from the place where you and Kazuha are joined together, cum and spit and lipstick clinging to your shaft, her mouth, her chin. You’re simply stuck imagining the amusement stretching across Sakura’s face when she tells you again, voice resolute - fuck your load into her mouth.

It’s nothing that might ever take a lot of convincing, but you’re being gracious, being polite, trying to take Kazuha’s side. “We both heard her. She said she wanted-”

“Unh-uh, no,” Sakura tuts, rubbing a knuckle into the base of your spine. “Not here, you can make whatever mess you want when we get home.”

You thrust again, loosening one grip, tightening another. Vaulting toward the edge.

A mess, mess, mess, mess; a proper one, of her, crying and clamoring, shaking and stuttering, you know we will, you know it’s what she wants, Sakura’s explaining. Trying to explain. Fuck, it’s hard to pay attention to anything beyond your cock sheathed deep in Kazuha’s throat, but Sakura’s voice carries that usual gentle quiver, like she isn’t describing the filthiest assortment of ways you’ll get Kazuha off, how you’ll both get off. Going to fucking take her apart - she’s murmuring, kissing into your neck - until she’s sobbing for it. 

It’s not difficult to imagine. There are these images taking shape in your mind’s eye, photographically vivid, near pornographic, and god, Kazuha’s body is magnificent: how it curves, how it flexes, how it bends. You’re so close to unloading in her throat when you can practically hear Sakura’s posh, practiced smile flirting her voice into your ear. “If you’re worried she won’t swallow it, I will.”

For once, you don’t manage to say, no, not yet.

“Mnnph.” Kazuha strains, sinking deeper into the floor, hands falling to her knees. Nothing short of full surrender.

And it’s all over in a flash, before you can even register it.

Though in fact, you’ve seen it. You know it. There’s the warmth, the wet, the tightness of the seal that Kazuha makes around your cock, and the way she just fucking stays there, her mouth unmoving as you spill down the back of her throat. You try to catch yourself on the doorframe, and there are a thousand and one things you want to say to her - tell her, ask her, beg her, please, sweetheart, please, fuck, fuck, baby, I can't-

But you don't.

Instead, your teeth are grit and your jaw is tense and your hand is knotted into a fistful of her hair and you can hear yourself barely manage to get out each sinful consonant: “I'm cumming,” and then nothing else.

In the silence, you can see the lumps roll down the column of her throat, of her swallowing, and it doesn’t end. It doesn’t stop. Kazuha’s lips stayed locked around you, and she sucks, she swallows, and sucks and sucks. Like she doesn’t even know you’re reeling.

“Oh…” Sakura says, over a tiny laugh, the kind that’s dripping with mirth. She traces a line with her finger, from your jaw over your chest and down to your hip.

Realistically, the relatively innocent touch shouldn’t make you crazier than her hand gently wringing out your cock, or the way Kazuha’s chest rises and falls with a heavy, satisfied breath, or -

The look she has, staring up at you with her heavy-lidded, sated eyes:

It’s the sort of look that’ll be stitched into your thoughts and haunt your dreams for months.

(It’s the sort of look that leaves an impression, one that cuts deep and engraves:

Adoration. Arousal. Awe.)

Sakura starts to pull her fingers through Kazuha’s hair, smoothing down the parts that were mussed, and she leans down, planting a kiss at her temple. And then another. And another. She whispers something into her ear - a request, a command - something more, until Kazuha finally lets you slip from her mouth.

It’s a disaster.

There’s a translucent thread of spit hanging from her chin, and her tongue runs a semi-circle over her lower lip to collect the last bits of cum clinging to her skin. It should be criminal, how she looks up at you through those long eyelashes, a mess of black makeup and glassy eyes; how her cheeks are rosy, and her lips swollen and parted.

How she can smile through it all and still manage to look like this is what she was made to do. Like she can go a second round, like she could go several - you can practically hear her saying it: let me get your cock back in my mouth. I can do better. I can be better.

But she never gets the opportunity. You crack the veneer of that unearthly silence first.

"Sakura."

"Yeah?"

"I have a question," you say steadily, and Kazuha makes a wounded expression as you pull up the zipper on your pants.

"What's that?" Sakura asks.

“How close is that car?”

“Should we wait outside?” Kazuha starts to say, but it's a garbled mess. She’s still wiping her lips when Sakura reaches into her clutch and pulls out her phone. There's the saliva, the spit, the cum. You can't help but think you've ruined her voice. That it might not sound the same, even a week from now.

“Yeah.” Sakura brings her fingers to Kazuha's chin, tilts it up towards her, and then she kisses her. “We probably should.”

-

This is where it gets kind of complicated, because you know Sakura, know her better than most. 

She’d been enrolled in one of your elective courses way back when. Had been the kind of girl that immediately stood out, the kind that left a mark. You were likely the more studious one, by comparison. Grounded. Whereas she had her dreams, a dream of a life, a dream of the world - and the two of you just had this way of keeping each other level-headed. When you think back to it, and for as long as you can remember: it was one, the other, a constant pendulum, always swinging back. You know what keeps her steady, what makes her tick, and she knows you just as well.

Though about this thing you share, the thread between you, it’s not something you pretend to understand.

"Maybe we could define it," you suggested, once.

"No." That was her answer. "I don't know. We're just doing what we do, right? We're just having fun."

"Okay, sure," you said. "I get it. But you know how these things are. They’ve got a tendency to go belly up."

“Oh absolutely,” she remarked, casually, leading you to believe that she both understood the peril and was somehow totally unfussed by it - she probably always had the upper hand. See, she’s gorgeous, but also there’s just that pinch of cute in the mix that makes you believe she’d never hurt you. Makes you believe that she never could. 

And that was before it metastasized into where you’re at now: 

She’s got a toothbrush on your bathroom counter. There’s a pair of shoes too, at the front door. Shirts in your closet, a jacket of hers that’s managed to claim its own hook. She’ll throw her underwear into your wash while you’re measuring detergent and give you these gentle eyes that make all these silent demands, look the other way, please, just ignore me.

There’s the coffee already in the brewer, light roast, the one she likes. There’s her side of the bed, it’s neatly made. Always. She's neat like that. And it’s all a bit much, if you’re being honest.

Because, yeah, it's not exactly conventional. What the two of you are doing is this total, unmitigated disaster. 

So the fact that Sakura wanted to invite Kazuha out -

The fact that Kazuha actually showed up -

The fact that Sakura is now helping her out of her dress in the entryway of her apartment and is kissing her neck and her shoulders and telling her, sweetie, come on, let’s go, let's get you in the shower -

Yeah, this is the part that is sort of fucking complicated.

It's a lot, even for someone like you.

- So - of fucking course it backfires.

You’re hesitant to say I told you so, but Sakura can read the sentiment right off your face. You don’t need to say anything.

Though that’s a realization that only catches up with you once a week goes by and the progress you’ve made in regards to the whole Kazuha situation is categorically negative.

Because, here it is: her lipgloss on the rim of your water glass.

The lid of her moisturizer sitting on the kitchen counter.

According to Sakura, it’s not supposed to go like this, though a lot of people, if asked, would suggest you should probably not be playing with this girl’s heart in the first place, and then there’s the issue that yours is starting to look more and more precarious, like a house of cards. Forget it, they’d probably suggest - move on, be done with it. You haven’t thought so far, in days, hell, even hours, to decide that it might be good for you. You’re usually rather decisive. But, Kazuha? Yeah. Deciding to not think about her was never going to happen.

In the sense, anyway, when the surprise cold of a winter-in-spring day still has you wearing your sandals where there's a blizzard - memorable in how there are flecks of melting white everywhere, like frozen lace, and a sensation lingering at the tip of your fingers, numb and insensate, which -

Or maybe the same is true of frostbite - or, better, hollowness: how it lingers and persists, that faint sting.

"Kazuha." You sigh, closing a book shut. It falls onto the coffee table and slides to rest, and there’s more: her perfume bottle on the side table, the socks on the couch, her favorite shirt balled into the crease of the cushions, and the sweater that she’s apparently keeping draped over one of the kitchen chairs.

You think you’re starting to understand her perspective, if at least a little.

-

It’s only a handful of days later, when Sakura wakes up to a long, bumbling text from Kazuha. She’s still in bed, holding the edge of your comforter up over her breasts like you haven’t seen her naked a million times before, and she’s twisting her lips, tapping away at her phone screen. 

The text is long, you realize as Sakura’s reading it out to you. 

Its message is a bit disjointed but legible nonetheless, more or less asking, hey, can i come over?

-

Hand to god, this was never about the fucking. Well, not exactly.

The truth is you really did want to get to know Kazuha - in whatever ways, under any circumstances - in a less...messy setting.

Not just to get her off, or to hear her make sounds she never even knew she was capable of; to have the luxury of seeing how she lets a stray moan echo in the back of her throat when she tries not to get too carried away; how she bites at the raw cushion of her cheek when Sakura works a hand beneath her shorts - like she's always desperate to shut herself up, lest someone call her out on it - because, the whole point to this, it's never really been about the fucking.

But, never you - and certainly never Sakura - were going to be able to keep your hands off her.

It isn’t totally your fault either. It can’t be. Kazuha’s at your front door, and she’s wearing the smallest dress imaginable. The tiny little piece barely qualifies as a sundress, and she knows it. Some sort of pattern recognition - she’s putting two and two together - the type of bodice that clings tightly to the gentlest curve of her chest, the skirt hem that stops right at the tops of her thighs, and you think, fuck, she’s just too damn beautiful for her own good.

Then it’s the other thing: she’s so nervous that her hand is nearly trembling around the strap of the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. It's not your fault she's so pretty. So shy. So easy.

The moment she steps inside, you can see it in her face, that same neediness, the same hunger from yesterday, the day before, from last week - at the bar, when she was kneeling in front of your cock, looking at you like you’d just offered her the world.

(And in so many ways, you did.)

“An overnight bag?” Sakura sounds moderately amused. "Correct me if I’m wrong Kazuha, but I thought you said you just needed to drop by," she continues, not in any grandstanding manner - just factually, straightforward. "How long are you planning on staying?"

You watch her bite her lip, and you’re trying not to react, but there’s a noticeable twitch in your brow. You start by puzzling out the weight of the duffel bag as you help it off her shoulder. “Feels like a couple of nights."

Kazuha nods, sheepishly. “Yeah.”

And she should be ashamed, you think. She knows exactly what she's doing, probably wearing those little lace panties if you had to guess - or maybe nothing at all - the pair of black heels, and her hair is down and wavy, and her lips are full and painted pink, and she smells like the best kind of trouble, and if she isn’t trying to get fucked -

"I'm sure we can figure something out," you tell her.

She smiles at you, and there's that fluttery, flirty kind of a gesture, the kind of coy, coy shyness that could just make anyone's heart swell.

"Want to help me find a spot for this in the bedroom?" you ask.

She nods again, and the blush coloring her cheeks is this soft, subtle shade of crimson.

"Yeah," she breathes, "yes, please."

-

Let the record show, Sakura kisses her first.

You watch her hands thread into the silkiness of Kazuha's hair, the way they firm up and hold her steady, how she draws her body into her own. It's the kind of kiss you see in a movie, the one that should happen in a rainstorm, with an orchestra swelling, the camera panning, a fade-to-black. You're watching the way their lips meet, how she holds Kazuha close, the ease in her shoulders when she feels Sakura smile against her. How it all just seems to click.

It's the sort of thing where you could watch forever.

And, honestly, Sakura is gentle with her - maybe as an overcompensation, a correction for the fact that she’ll get her mouth between her legs later and make her scream - but here she is, tender, warm, touching her delicately like otherwise she might break. The same as she was in the backseat of the car, the first time, the same every time after that. But she doesn't let the opportunity slip through her fingers either. Kazuha's body ends up pressed back into the mattress, and the sound of her breathing is slightly haggard, just like the rise and fall of her chest, as Sakura's pulling up the hem of her dress.

“Hey,” Sakura starts, with a kiss at the corner of Kazuha’s mouth, and then the other. And then a few more, until Kazuha is blushing, smiling, and she asks her, "do you want this off?"

Kazuha sits up and leans into her, and they both laugh softly, because, god, Sakura is fumbling with the zipper on the back of her dress. She tells her to hold still, and gets it down in a second. It's just the slightest sound - a little shuffle, the swish of fabric pooling on the floor, and then Kazuha is in nothing but a set of lingerie, the heels that make her legs look so long you start to ache, and and with only a moment’s hesitation, the two of them are kissing again.

"Kazuha…" she says, "you know, I didn't take you for someone who owned lingerie. This is nice."

And it is.

There's the dainty fabric hugging Kazuha's body, the way her chest looks, the bra, the lace, how her nipples are just barely peeking through the thin material, and how she's just letting her fingers trail along the top of her panties, this tiny triangle of satin and lace.

"What," Kazuha says, "you don't think it's me?"

"It's very cute," Sakura agrees, running her thumb over Kazuha's lower lip, and as you settle in next to her, skirting touches first at her bare knee, tracing up to where her skin is softest on her thighs, she adds, “but you don’t need to dress up for him.”

"I don't mind," you murmur through busy lips - dragging kisses up her leg. "I think it’s hot."

"Then I suppose she should keep the shoes on," Sakura suggests and lifts her own shirt over her head, heaping it somewhere near the laundry bin. Her hands come up to her tits, holding them in place, and as she lets go - lets them bounce back into place - the smile she gives Kazuha’s is so, so soft. 

This genuine flash of affection.

You get lost in them both a little. For a minute. Two. The three you all tangled up, bodies folded into one, arms coiled over each other, lips crushed, until finally, there is a need.

Something frantic, burning, clawing. Something insurmountable.

Kissing and kissing.

And kissing - and kissing - and -

Then you’re kneeling at the side of the bed, between Kazuha’s legs, sucking at her hip. Her skin. Pressing your mouth to every place it can reach. Up and down her thighs - running hot over the stitches and marks and stains from where your lips have dragged, peppered, blotched and bruised. Where you will, more.

In the past week, this image has hardly left your mind, sticky and unmoving. Kazuha in your bed, on your sofa, in the bath, over the cool countertop of the kitchen island - wanting to be touched, wanting to be used - chasing every possible high - you had her begging to cum on your fingers, on your mouth, on your cock. In every possible way.

That probably should have been enough. 

But after Sakura strips down to nothing, wrestling her feet from her shorts, panties hanging loose from the edge of her ankle, she mounts Kazuha, straddling her waist, bringing her hips right atop hers - rolling them down, further, inching closer and closer -

It isn’t. Oh, it isn’t, it won’t be. It never would be.

“How many times are we going to make you cum,” Sakura wonders aloud, a single finger making a slow circle around the outline of Kazuha's bra. "Huh. Two?" She’s smirking now, you can hear it. "Three? I could probably convince him to go for four."

Sakura kisses hard into her neck, and it’s reflex that sends Kazuha spinning, coiling - closing her legs around you. Or at least she attempts to, but you get your hand slipped between her thighs first, and you’re leaning forward, leaning in, pressing these tantalizing kisses to the side of her knee, drawing your thumb under the arch of her foot. You can just see it, the dark blush she's starting to get between her legs: this lovely, sweet, rose-colored flush. Radiant with heat, with want, with need.

You could have your way with the two of them, you realize, take and take and take; they could put on a show, all for you. And it's not just about the pretty picture they make in bed together, Sakura and Kazuha, who are both the type to belong on covers of magazines, on billboards. Sakura's a deceptive panoply of curves, and Kazuha’s all toned muscle - her built-like-a-trackstar physique looking amazing above you, underneath you, on all fours -

But Sakura, well. There are those things that get her going.

You slide your thumb across her pussy, and you can hear the moment her breath catches, somewhere downstream of all those sweet nothings she’s saving for Kazuha, the kisses into her jaw, her neck, crashing fast against her lips. Those nothings, filthy and sweet, obscene and tender.

“Fuck, Kazuha, I didn’t realize how bad I needed this,” Sakura is saying, telling her. Promising. Her hand is brushing through her hair, making sure she doesn’t flinch away, and god, they’re so close. Sakura’s toned stomach at the dip of Kazuha’s ribcage, laid flat - the way Sakura’s breasts press into Kazuha’s chest has them spilling out ever so slightly at the sides, and Kazuha has her hands all over the ridges of Sakura’s back, dug tight into her shoulders. 

“He’s going to fuck us again. Until we can’t take it anymore,” she adds, almost reverent, and you are, you will, your fingers catch the elastic of Kazuha’s panties, drag them to the crease of her thigh and -

It’s fucking perfect, how they’re both so impossibly wet. 

Sakura turns back to give you one last look. She tends to be bossy, she likes to feel like she’s in control, and maybe that’s why she can’t get over how Kazuha melts beneath her, but it’s not enough. She’s snapping at you, “I need you to eat me out. Right now.”

You arch an eyebrow, acting surprised. “Right now?”

“Right now,” she repeats, shifting her hips pointedly.

“This very second?” You’re teasing, you’re a little irritating when you want to be, you’re well, you’re a lot of things, but you’re also working at the button of your pants, rubbing a thumb over the fabric of your underwear where it’s stiffening, tightening, all at the sight of these two in front of you.

“I swear to god,” she practically growls at you, the sound catching in her throat.

“So demanding.” You laugh. You have to. And your breath fans right over the folds of her pussy. She hates that. She loves that.

“If you don’t start now-”

But the thought never finishes.

Because you're leaning forward, and your hands are gripping tight, pulling you into her, and -

Fuck, it's not fair, she tastes fucking fantastic. With your mouth at Sakura’s pussy, licking past her heat, she spreads her knees just a little further apart. 

Then there’s your hand, ghosting across where Kazuha needs you most, and you let the pad of your index finger roll, circle, drag and drift everywhere else. She shudders, gasping into Sakura’s mouth; you lick up, tongue through the perfect squeeze of Sakura’s lips - perniciously lapping, licking - and she’s returning to Kazuha the very same.

It's indulgent. Not that you hadn’t known it would be.

But Sakura - god, she grinds her hips down, down, down, against you, against Kazuha, and you can just hear the pair of them kissing. It’s messy, hard, hungry. There’s wet sounds, sloppy ones, and tongues, lips, teeth - Kazuha is moaning, Sakura is sighing - fuck, you could settle in here, like this, for days.

Because here’s the first truth: you’re an expert at eating Sakura out. Possibly the best.

You’re not being boastful here, it's just a fact. You know how she tastes, how to get her off - and Kazuha learns this firsthand.

And just like that, the best part about it is, when you flick your tongue flat against Sakura's clit, when she breaks her kiss enough to spit out some curse or another, Kazuha can feel it.

When you push two fingers into Kazuha - deep into her - curl them, massage, crook, tug -

Well, Kazuha can feel that too. Made certain by the way she croons into Sakura, how she holds on tight, grips hard. How Sakura does the same, rolls her hips - there’s so much to digest, just in how Kazuha breathes out your name, and by the way Sakura sighs, by the way she chokes back these whiny, winded moans. You’re afraid to miss any of it. Any single second.

And so it goes like this: your tongue working Sakura over; Kazuha writhing on your fingers; her hips shifting, squirming; Sakura rocking herself back onto your face, onto Kazuha’s cunt, onto the sharp edge of her hips - all while you’re sucking and kissing and licking - until you have one dripping down your chin. The other ruining the sheets.

Until you have Sakura practically unraveled, frayed and falling apart, that thread nearly unwound from its spool, messy and inarticulate.

Until you have Kazuha whimpering, and Sakura’s voice hushed into a whisper, speaking these words you can barely make out: 

“You’re doing perfect, Kazuha, baby, keeping your legs open for him, for me, for us-” 

It’s just the right amount of praise, of adoration, all of it cracking, splintering, breaking apart - Kazuha laboriously tries to kiss her quiet, breathing her in - and when you use the hand that isn’t mercilessly fucking two, three fingers into Kazuha’s little cunt to grab at that perfectly-sculpted ass, Sakura starts to lose it. She falls apart.

Loudly. 

“Oh god,” she sputters, again, and again, and again. Because you grab more. A handful. Your entire fist. Spreading Sakura open so that your tongue can reach further, licking in, in, in.  It starts at her thighs, a tremble, this quaking - Kazuha not far behind her: swallowing these desperate, useless sounds, gulping down air like it’s in short supply.

The room is filled, flooded, drowning, with just their voices, the pair of them moaning nearly in tandem. With the sound of your fingers fluttering, blurring, making the wettest mess between Kazuha’s legs.

Until -

Sakura cums first. And she cums hard. 

It crashes over her like the kind of thing you read about in a magazine: a flash, a spark, an explosion. It rolls up through her spine, over her ribs. You can hear her try to catch her breath and come up short, Kazuha drinking every ounce of it. How she collapses, folding - Sakura resting her face in the crook of Kazuha’s shoulder; your tongue doesn’t stop. 

Sakura doesn't ask it to, she can’t. And you keep on, keep going, making her cum and cum and cum. There’s something so satisfying about it, so inexplicably filthy - you, with Sakura’s cum all over your mouth, and Kazuha, this hot, wet flustering tangle of limbs. When you finally rise to your feet, you can tell she’s so near her own finish that the tension in her muscles is winding up, running hot over the skin of her neck. She looks so good getting fucked like this.

"Fuck," Kazuha's sighing, panting. "I can't, I need-"

Her hands are everywhere: up in her hair, down her neck, gripping the sheets, fisting at the bedspread. If it wasn’t for how Sakura had crumpled into a heap on top of her, mewling softly into her shoulder, she’d be rubbing fast circles at her own clit. 

"You want my cock," you ask her - well it’s not really all that much of question, but the look on her face tells you, yes, yes, fuck, yes.

You say it to her, and Sakura says it too, with a kiss at the side of her jaw. So good, look at you - she’s murmuring, not even coherent - so fucking good.

“Here, Kazuha, just hold on for me,” you tell her, stepping out of your shorts, and, to be honest, you’ve never seen anything so desperate. So ragged and needy. It inspires the worst kind of half-truths, these wicked assurances that slip from your lips as your palm drags the length of your cock. I’ll be good, I’ll go slow, I’ll go easy, I’ll do anything for you - oh, she’s putty in your hands, and she’s not going to fuss over the technicalities; how you’re hooking under her thighs and sliding her forward on the mattress, settling her into that angle that’ll let you absolutely ruin her cunt. 

You could tease her - you have, and you would, in a second - but the fucking noise you earn out of her when draw the shape of your cock over her wet lips is like music: a broken moan, the kind you could bottle up, save forever, the kind that has you thinking aloud, “what a good little slut, Kazuha, fuck, aren’t you just perfect. I’m going to fuck your pussy now, okay?” 

And you mean it, when you say it, when you push your hips forward, when you watch her take it. There’s the head of your cock, the way her pristine little pussy seems to open - to suck you in.

“I need - you need to fuck me.” She's barely able to say your name, begging - please, need it, hurry - it’s like Kazuha’s ticking off, minutes to midnight, gasping out: "please, please, please."

You slip inside her. Even when you’ve come to expect it, you’re still left next to speechless, because, fuck - how she can stretch. 

It’s hot, it’s heaven, it’s hopeless, and as you sink further, bottoming out, there’s all this heat - the wetness - she had to have been just made just for you. Which is wild, you think, considering you’ve done nothing to deserve it, but her gorgeous little cunt is right there, quivering, hugging every inch of you while she throws her arms around Sakura’s neck. 

You start to pull back, and then, thrust, once, twice. Just to let her know, to feel how tight she is. 

“Shh,” Sakura’s soothing her and kissing her to silence as Kazuha holds on so, so tightly. You watch the pointed ends of Kazuha’s acrylics, faux set of french nails, dig deeper into Sakura’s shoulder blades, the fine edges of bones, the muscles and the tendons - it’s all so visceral, and so quickly - her eyes screw shut, and she’s biting the inside of her cheek so hard you can see the indent. Only letting it go when you snap your hips back into her, deeper, faster - (There's something almost instinctual about it, in all the most upsetting ways.

So, here’s your new angle: it’s not usually like you, or it shouldn’t be. With you fucking fast into her sopping cunt and making her sob with it, like you need her at the furthest point, you want it the tightest possible, when she has her ankles hooked together around your waist, until she’s crying and cock-addled, all fucked-out and satisfied - with a load of cum buried so deep in her, she’ll be thinking about it for weeks.)

Sakura lets the kiss go with a loud smack. And when she turns those brilliant eyes over her shoulder, she's got that dreamy, lop-sided kind of smile of a girl who'd just been sent to the moon and seen stars.

 "Okay, look," she chides, voice uneven, but entirely the usual sound. Her arm reaches back until her fingers splay out across your hip. “You’re going to break her in half, you know, if you fuck her like that-”

"No," Kazuha whispers. Or rather, chokes. "Harder," she’s urging you, wanting you, needing you. "Please. Don't stop."

Your pace has gone reckless, rough, relentless, but this isn’t even all on you. She’s shaking. The building, the crescendo, you’d already taken the time, with two fingers, taken more with three, slowly winding her clockwork tight, tighter, tightest - like she hasn't quite yet realized: you might never stop fucking her.

There aren’t words really, and there haven't been, it's nothing but nonsense. Guttural moans, high whines, your hips fuck into her and you’re choking off an expletive here, another there. But still, she’s an open book, and you’re reading every page. You know each of those transient thoughts in her head, every single word, even if she fails to give a voice to any of them.

Cumming - Kazuha’s trying to mouth out, the silent shape of each syllable falling off her lip - I’m going to fucking cum. And you see - 

she is,

so fucked.

It just hits her: suddenly, impossibly fast, rolling her in like a tide.

Sakura is there to hold her down as she washes up. She gives her succor, she tells her not to worry, whispering this gentle hush, hush, shh - pressing a kiss to the side of her cheek as your cock dives deep and makes an audible mess of her pussy. Makes a mess of the blankets, the bedding, and you think, if she’ll be here all weekend, you’ll be in and out of the laundry, load after load. 

“I’d be willing to bet you'd take anything he gave you,” Sakura says. She’s laughing, recovered mostly, and somewhere in the doting affection and tenderness is the indistinct bite of a sneer. “Wouldn't you, you little, little fucktoy. Look how good your cunt stretches for him, for his big cock. You’re just so easy, aren’t you? Oh, Kazu, you are just so - so good for us."

Kazuha’s gasping in incoherence. "I can't - oh god, I can't - please, please-"

In the moments before, it's like every toned muscle, every taut nerve in her body had braced against one another. She takes your cock like the perfect little thing she is, and then - the twinge, the twist, the fucking release - it’s too much. She can barely make a noise out of that pretty mouth of hers, wrenched open in delighted agony, but her body is screaming. 

Here you could spill into her in a fucking heartbeat, so it feels almost wrong when you pull yourself from her cunt, teetering there instead. 

“Kazuha,” you say, slapping your cockhead against her sore clit, and it’s so sensitive that it makes her keen. “Do you think you can take it, if I fuck your cunt a few more times. Is that what you need? This pretty thing full of cum?"

It’s cute, her commitment to the bit - the bashful, the blushing, the biting into the edge of her hand. You can’t help but find the kind of innocence in direct contradiction to the sight of her: legs thrown wide, cunt absolutely fucked raw and dripping, painted in the glow of an orgasm that ripped her voice to shreds.

“Nope. Sorry sweetheart. Too slow.” Sakura’s lifting herself, shifting her hips, and she quickly has a hand reaching back to your cock. Her slender fingers encircling your shaft. Holding it, stroking it.

Like it needs any help.

"Do you have even the slightest idea?" she continues, talking out both sides of her mouth - this time at you. “How fucked you both are? I don’t think she’s going to let you off the hook until she’s got your cum inside her.” Kazuha whimpers into her hand, merely at the thought. “It’s a little cruel I imagine, to keep her waiting too long, but trust me: when we’re finished, I’m going to ride your cock - not going to stop until you fucking cum again, and then maybe, Kazuha should too.”

Probably by virtue of proximity and time, you know Sakura could go on like that forever, and it's true: when the moment is right, she's going to take what she wants, going to slide herself onto your cock like it’s hers. Right after you let Kazuha sit on your face - letting her rub herself off, however she likes it - then maybe even have her mouth. Your cock between her lips, watching those pouty things flush hard all over again.

The throuple, the three of you, this plurality you’re still not entirely sure you’re used to - not so sure you should be getting used to - there's time you figure, for Kazuha. There has to be. And Sakura again after.

But in terms of the here and now, you’ve got a set fingerprints burning into Sakura’s impossibly narrow waist, a fist around your cock, brushing Kazuha’s slick right into the wet between her lips - just a matter of alignment - and - and -

“I don’t think you should be drawing this out.” A course correction. Sakura slides lower, hips up higher, proffering, and she’s drawing back at the soft, supple skin across her thigh, letting you take her all in. Her face is flush against Kazuha’s, combing a finger through her hair, telling both of you, “our little girl looks like she can’t wait another second.”

"Hm," you're starting to say. “I suppose you’re right.” The least you could do was add the one-two of another suggestion, but then your cock is lined up perfectly with the tight muscle of her ass, and, well.

It’s like you said, you know Sakura.

There’s a sharp draw of air sucked in through her teeth as you get her started. And fuck, she’s tight, so delectably tight - with each bit, the barest touch of your tip at her rim at first, before your hand finds leverage in the curve of her back, easing her onto your cock like she’s some obscene piece of artwork. 

Even then, getting slowly fucked open, she has the capacity for these thinly veiled barbs: 

“This, Kazuha, like this - that’s the way you deserve to get fucked. Your perfect little cunt, your ass-”

You should probably be familiar with it, about how she is always, always plotting, always scheming - in control of things that should be well beyond her grasp - this is all on her own.

So as your cock stretches, inches, spreads her out - it isn't at your mercy. Though not quite at hers, either.

“Oh, fuck,” You have to steady a breath, because it feels better on you, you think, it must. Because Sakura has you squeezing past the ring, and oh, you can only imagine how it feels on her, taking it inch by inch. How full Kazuha would feel. God, imagine what you could do with a girl like her, it would ruin her. Ruin her in the best way. 

“Sakura,” Kazuha says, faintly.

You can hear Sakura biting down on nothing when she answers, “Kazu, yeah.”

“Is he… are you...”

Her sentence never really finishes. Kazuha’s holding onto Sakura with both hands, one under her jaw, another in her hair. Her eyes are trailing along, studying the serene lines of her face, how they wobble ever-so-slightly when you pull your hips back and sink into Sakura’s ass again. And again. Until you can tell your cock is starting to settle, to hit this particular angle, that perfect sort of spot - that makes her body start to grow soft, shiver, and spill over.

Sakura tries to shake the hair out from in front of her face, and you get to watch Kazuha. Watch as she delicately brushes it back behind her ears, and they lean in. They kiss. And it's nothing like before.

“Words, sweetie,” Sakura tells her, hot against her lips, “say what you want to say.” Kazuha bites at her lip, and when Sakura draws her into another kiss - an open-mouthed one, a long, lingering one - their tongues push together, meet together, dance together, the words leaving her throat with hardly any sound at all: 

“I want, him, I want - to be fucked, I want him - I want…”

Sakura interrupts her, and in the exact same lilting cadence, that same smug tone, she says, “you want him to fuck your ass, Kazuha, right baby?” Kazuha starts to blush profuse - bright pink up the sides of her neck and in her chest, this roseate smolder seared into her cheeks. Some part of you is disappointed she can’t see the whole picture, because for you, it’s all in frame: you spread a hand across the full round of Sakura's ass, squeezing as you pull out, sliding it along to press your thumb into the base of her spine as you push yourself inside her again. “Come on, of course you do,” she goads, the obvious edge in her voice looking for a reaction. And she can have an audible one from you, because Sakura looks like an absolute dream, the outline of her back flexing, muscles moving like machinery under her skin. Her legs strain against the mattress as she starts to fuck back. Taking control of it, of you, of her. You know her game, you’ll play along.

Your gaze flickers, first to Kazuha, back to where your cock is fucking Sakura open. Until it vanishes in between those two faultless curves. Buried to its base. Until the rhythm gets there. Until it takes you. There are certain things that, at this stage, are just inevitable - this momentum, or call it the weight of desire - and suddenly, Sakura’s fingers wind tightly around one of your wrists, guiding you, trying to show you: deeper is good, harder, more, rough, rougher - trying to tell you to wrap her up and fuck her - truly fuck her. “With this beautiful fucking cock?” Sakura is saying, somehow unrushed and harried at the same time, in her half-there, half-catching-her-breath kind of way. “Oh Kazuha, you just want to be an awful mess - an utter fucked-out mess. Under him and on him and filled; tell me it isn’t that you want your perfect asshole getting fucked raw and hard by his big thick dick-” As she sinks down onto your length, leaning backwards - which, god, she's probably fucking gaping - you bring an open palm down hard onto the taut, creamy skin of her bare ass, and she yelps. “Maybe we should just show her.” You pull Sakura's little frame up into you so you can say it right into the shell of her ear, and your thumb smooths a line from the bony edge of her hip, up to her navel, with your fingers splayed out over the concave flatness of her tummy. “It would be so much easier, for all of us.”

She squirms into your shoulder, agitated, but with another snap of your hips into her slick, puckered hole - with a satin-like kiss onto her lips - she bends to you, surrenders to you. She has to. Kazuha can’t look away. Pushing her fingers into her cunt. She’s watching you fuck Sakura and hold her tight. Watching closely how you’re going to take her apart. The way it all comes down, the beginning of the end, it starts with a kiss. Another.

A series of them, quick. Crushing your mouth onto hers. Sakura hums this meek sound into your mouth the moment your hands are up on her perfect tits, cupping them, squeezing, kneading, listening to her pitchy little whines when you roll your fingers around her nipples. 

Kazuha. Sakura.

Circling fingers, mussed up hair.

Folded knees, rippling skin.

There's no shortage of imagery for either one.

Lewdness, vulgarity, the truly depraved - the dark places the brain goes, the deepest recesses: the buried fantasies. You are fucking her harder and harder and faster and faster and - god, Sakura loves it, she wants it, her tiny body clinging to you - pulling you back every time your cock threatens to drag free from the confines of her tight ass - pulling you back every time your mouth leaves a spot, a smear, an unbearable, unendurable mark into the line of her shoulder. “Please, you need, it's, god, it's just, you feel so perfect,” is what you’re shaking out of her, broken, breathy. 

The screws of the bed are just about wailing with it, her chest is in full motion, the picture perfect arch of her neck is red, pink, raw. And how her skin glows, you have no idea, but her eyelids are fluttering open, closed. Open, closed - all the while using the hand that isn’t pinned behind her back to tease at her swollen little clit. “Oh,” you say, grinning, “what happened to using my fucking cock for exactly what I'm made for, hmm?”

"Don't - don’t get all funny," she huffs at you, face too stricken with your cock throbbing in her asshole to scowl. Then her body relaxes, and it seems to work. That, and the quick circles she's rubbing over her cunt, the one soaking down onto Kazuha’s legs, into the mattress, the sheets, everything. You fuck her harder. She rolls her shoulders back. And somewhere beneath, lost in the fold of the sheets, the pooling sweat, there's something so unguarded - this sick little voice in the back of your thoughts, thinking - mine, mine, mine, mine - and it’s so incredibly territorial. It doesn’t get any quieter when you look down either; Kazuha’s eyes, heavy and hazy. They have to be. She has two fingers sunk inside her. And they look like they're doing the work for you, because it's like she's been waiting for ages, ever since you sank the length of your cock into Sakura's ass. She hasn't stopped rubbing figure-eights and circles over her cunt. She hasn’t stopped, and you don’t think she ever will. “Cum, please, I want you to cum,” Sakura is frantic at you, breathless, a little miserable, and you think you could, with your own hand and just from the way Kazuha is moaning and panting and getting herself off. "Just, fuck, get that cock in her, cum, fuck, don't-"

You could lose your mind here, and it's what they’d both want.

(That is, until Kazuha calls out: fuck me, please fuck me.)

Which makes you aware. Reminds you: not even yet - you’re fucking Sakura so hard, so fast, you’re ready to burst -

“Fuck,” you spit, with your cock sliding out of Sakura’s ass and watching her recoil. 

Actually, it’s almost too late. You’re almost too slow on the draw. And for a few seconds, all you have are your senses: there’s the wet, failing noise, your skin is fevering hot as liquid fire, and the smell, blossoming saccharine sweet, turgent like gasoline.

Actually, you can’t keep your eyes open, not for a moment. You’re cumming everywhere.

On the inside of Sakura’s thigh, into the bedding, and when you get your cock into your fist and point it at Kazuha’s cunt, you spill a puddle of cum right onto her puffy, reddened lips - pumping, jerking - there’s more on the flawless plane of her stomach, hot white streaks across her body like you’re debasing a masterwork, a canvas beholden to the perfected female form. Now tarnished, and sloppy and slutty -

But, you’re fucked. You’re spent. Kazuha sees the pale in your face. You can read the wordless worry there, but what she does with it is obscene.

Just the tips of two fingers, and she traces a line down from her chest, picks a lazy path through the splatter on her skin to rub it into her pretty, soaked pussy. You watch as she pushes it all in, like it could be - where it’s supposed to be - all filthy, the fucking definition.

There’s a listless groan, and a shake of Sakura’s head. She’s running her hand over her brow, through her messy fringe and flipping it away. “Jesus, Kazuha, gross, if you want it inside - put his cock in there, seriously. Go sit on it, ride him till he can't help himself.”

(Always the smooth-talker, Sakura.)

"Wait, wait," Kazuha says, scuffing her feet against the comforter, knocking her head back as far as her shoulders will let her. "I’m close," you're barely able to catch the words, paper-thin and shivering, "just need..."

Sakura shimmies off of Kazuha and lands on her feet, gait looking kind of silly.

“Oh, Kazuha,” she says, with the kind of dejected little sigh that you’re used to hearing when you say something disappointing or objectionable and Sakura has to set it right.

She shoves you off with a gentle push from her fingertips and moves until the two of them are reshaping themselves into this soft, cozy pile. By the time they finish, she's got her fingers hooked around Kazuha's thighs and her face buried between her legs.

“There, there,” Sakura’s whispering as she laps and circles her tongue around Kazuha’s cunt, the needy tragedy of a shape that it’s in. She makes a long lick up and through the glisten between her legs before pushing her finger in, just a knuckle, curling - then two. You feel it. You’re half-hard and aching, maybe ready to go. You feel those familiar phantoms of rising pressure, in your thighs, your hips, your chest. The familiarity of how Sakura soothes her into it, inches closer to her, you never knew it looked like this.

“Fuck, Sakura, you-” Kazuha’s eyes are widening and the bones of her neck are straining, her lips parted into a perfect, pleading little bow. The duvet spills through her fingers as she searches blindly for somewhere, anywhere - she needs, and needs, and needs - needs to stay, to find an anchor, to come up for air -

She is gasping. It’s fucked: the friction, the fever-dream.

Because Sakura has her nose on her clit, mouth fucking her fast and senseless, precise, eager to please, and the way her fingers flutter in and out of her cunt looks nothing short of amazing.

It looks even better when her orgasm hits, or when it vanishes, as the case may be, because for her none of it manages to last that long; there's just this crazy moment where Kazuha goes white all over - it starts in her face, spreading across her torso, and her back snaps forward in a cresting wave before she falls. Flat and alluring and inviting.

It makes Sakura almost laugh, right into her skin. “That’s our good girl.” Kazuha is laying there, fucked-out, sodden in her own slick, destroyed. She has a hand over her face, one between her legs, feeling over her skin and what it's turned into now. Her beautiful, blemishless skin, just…smeared with you. Smothered. 

It's impossible. How could anybody function at even half their normal rate when it all just ends up here?

“Okay, alright.” Sakura crawls back on her hands, peering back. Her chin glistens and she kisses the taste off of her lips before sucking a couple fingers into her mouth to clean up. Then she lifts her arm, looking at you with a steely expression, and points to the chair in the corner of the room. 

Her smile kicks back up into the corner of her mouth, elastic, and she just says, “A promise is a promise, yeah?”

(Of course. Of course she does.)

-

It’s hours later, when a foot sharply jabbed into your rib wakes you in the middle of the night.

You have the wherewithal to take inventory, to tally it up: Sakura, Kazuha sprawled out across the sheets, the night sky flashing and splintering into iridescent sparks of darkness outside the bay window - rainfall now slowly pelting across its pane.

At the sound of a snore - a novel one, one that must be Kazuha’s - Sakura turns and drapes the sheets up to her waist. She’s half-asleep. The softness in her eyes obscured by the short, drowsy blinks of her lashes.

“What time is it?” she asks, trying to will herself back to sleep.

You tell her: “Don’t matter.”

-

The "full disclosure" here isn't of a whole lot of use. Not really. But it's all there, at least, this surface-level pretense of an explanation. 

It’s late August, a summer ago, and you can still picture the unbothered look on Sakura’s face when she brings it up.

“So, like,” Sakura starts to say. She’s inspecting a pair of stilettos, weighing them carefully in one hand. They would look lovely on her and the price tag isn’t anywhere near enough to dissuade her. “What’s your take on Kazuha?”

“Um.” You’re there, beside her, shuffling out the way so a mother and her squalling child can pass. “Is that a name I’m supposed to recognize?”

There are several people in line behind you and not a single one of them are pleased, judging from what you can infer from the grumblings in their pockets and the anger bristling amongst their expressionless faces.

You could ask: please be patient with us, it has been a long few months - I can tell by how Sakura has this irritated look in her eye and hasn't called me by my pet name since we woke up from a midday nap, or how she's barely said anything other than oh and yeah or umm or sure since. That said, there have been bigger, larger-scale concerns, so forgive us, please, we love each other, or something like that.

Instead, you lean against a wall, by a clothing boutique display full of eye-searingly-bright polo shirts, and pull out your phone.

“Seriously?” Sakura asks. “You’ve met her like, twenty times.”

You don’t look up from the screen. "Well, when you give me some kind of clue, I'll see what I can do."

This gets a tight-lipped frown. She leans in on her toes, whispering it into your ear: "The one I said is a little crazy about you."

“Ah.” It clicks. Kazuha, that one. “She was the one with Chaewon the other night right? Dark hair, yea-high? At the gala - helping Minju look for her boyfriend. Did you ever hear about where they found him? By one of the bathrooms on the second floor, with an arm around Eunbi and-”

Sakura creases an eyebrow.

(And what a glare, really. It makes her face look like the backdrop of a brick wall in some mediocre, early-2000s film noir.)

“Another quarter in the gossip jar.”

“Oh, but asking me some loaded question about a girl I hardly know is let-me-guess: perfectly kosher.”

“Loaded?” Sakura huffs, tugging at her sleeve. She pauses, though, her expression almost flounders because she can never truly ever explain why the rules don’t apply to her. “Is that the word?”

“My answer,” you tell her, “is unchanged. She’s sweet and nice and a sort of, conventionally attractive.”

"Really; nothing about her does it for you?"

A loaded question gets a loaded answer, so: “No, not particularly.”

"And what happens if the question becomes less 'what do you think' and more 'I want her to rail me,'" she says, somewhat chilly. “You know, as a hypothetical.”

She wants you to look up at that, and well you are, because you realize it now. “Oh my god. Sakura, you still haven’t told her about us.”

Sakura just makes a face, of a type of: puzzled and concerned quality, and it’s kind of cute actually. She’s perfected the look.

Although, really, she shouldn’t have to explain anything - why you sleep over some times, stay the whole night. Or several. Nothing has to be answered after. It’s you, Sakura, and it always has been. But it’s a problem. Each morning, Kazuha’s eyes get a little sadder, and that kernel of shame inside Sakura grows ever larger.

“Sakura,” you insist.

“I know, I know, I know.” She bites her lip, thinking, and hums under her breath. “Lying about it obviously isn’t helping, but being straight with her sounds…” Sakura’s expression dips. “You know she just has that - that disposition, those never-been-hurt-once kind of eyes. Disappointing her is like choking out the little mermaid with a bike chain.”

“You could set her up.”

“Trust me: Chaewon and I have tried.”

“And it doesn’t take."

Sakura shrugs. “She gets nervous easily, or something. Didn’t get enough attention from boys while in ballet school I suppose - and then here you come along and smile at her like you don’t know what it does to people. Which, careless by the way.”

“Well, it explains the legs.”

Sakura scoffs. “Conventionally attractive, huh, seems like you’ve cast a wide net.”

It earns her this pinched look, your mouth set in a tight line, and Sakura smiles - all smug-like. By this time, she’s narrowed it down, a pair of shoes in each hand, and she holds them out to you, sighing.

"Which ones."

You point at the heels Sakura has in her left: a sleek pair of green pumps with a thin gold buckle across the ankle strap.

"Hmm. Kazuha likes the color green, by the way. A lot."

"That's nice. I'm a fan of neutrals."

Sakura clicks her tongue. “You really don't have anything to say about her."

"Nothing comes to mind." You hold a tote bag out in front of you, waiting for her to plop the shoes in. "Although, she's tall - taller than you - hey, with the heels maybe you could finally kiss her."

“Ha, funny,” she says, and then, pursing her lips, you see the lightbulb go off: Sakura is struck with an idea.

You don’t go out of your way to hate her ideas. She has so many of them. It’s just that they have this tendency to be pretty damn awful.

“Can I, politely decline?” you ask, once Sakura finishes whispering into your ear, and sinks back to the soles of her feet.

Sakura blinks, innocently. (She can be so obnoxious when she wants to be.)

"No, I'm serious," you tell her. Sakura can't expect that you're actually down for this - the setup, the miscommunication, the endless drama, all that messy work, and for what, your girlfriend-in-eveything-but-name-only's peace of mind? "Declining. Politely. Please."

"C'mon, hear me out. It'll be fun."

You tip your head, onto some more dismissive angle or another, but Sakura takes it to be a whole different type of signal: that you're actually warming up to the idea.

(You're not.)

"Fun," you repeat.

“Well,” she says, cracking a grin. And that’s when you know - that her mind is set, immovable - like she’s laid the foundation, poured the concrete and is now standing in it, knee deep, spitefully triumphant. "It sure as shit ain’t going to be boring."

-

It was supposed to be like dominos, falling sequentially, until at last, the final one is knocked down and all three of you can move on with your lives.

This is how things tend to work out: Sakura, a bit of a schemer, and you - well, you a bit of something else.

-

It’s begun raining biblically by the time the three of you’ve gotten dressed, eaten and had something that even remotely resembles a functional, human interaction.

It’s over a cup of tea and a modest stack of papers - Sakura's sitting at the dining room table with her knees tucked into her chest and has taken to typing something on her laptop. It’s a whole thing, she refuses to write by hand like you. And Kazuha feels it’s within reason to start playing twenty questions. Starting simple, mundane: how did the two of you even meet? How have you not told me this story? How did it become, whatever the fuck this is?

Sakura rolls her eyes, thinking, please, how juvenile, and opens her mouth to explain, then pauses, unsure. She thinks it through - the simplest iteration, the most plausible interpretation, or at least something that makes the two of you seem a little less unhinged - but when those gears grind to a halt, Sakura's teeth click together and the words fail to make any headway at all.

You lean forward in the quiet, and end up telling Kazuha the usual story, how it kind of went down, telling her that neither of you "are looking for any sort of commitment."

(That's, by the way, exactly the turn of phrase Sakura once told you when she explained she didn't want a "monogamous, committed relationship," once upon a time, in fact - just a wayward daydream - a hazy, silly memory.)

Kazuha laughs, softly. "Cool." She does a bit of nodding, biting into a slice of toast, the crunch singular and resolute. She seems to understand.

Then she cocks her head, a frown shadowing in on one side of her mouth. "Okay, um, you're not...doing that with anybody else though right?"

"Doing what?" Sakura asks, seeming kind of amused.

"Dating - fooling around, that kinda stuff."

You let go of the ballpoint pen in your hand and take a deep breath.

"Kazu," Sakura says, clamshelling her laptop emphatically. “We are not going to (1) have a threesome with anybody we’re not absolutely candid about and then (2) fucking lie about it after.”

“Cool.” Kazuha bobs her head again. “Cool, cool, cool.”

-

So actually, maybe it’s not a total disaster, you think. It’s all with a bit of luck, and a whole lot of foolishness, but it’s however those sayings tend to go. You can’t take life too seriously, or you’ll never make it out alive.

-

Here's what tips you off: Sakura is deep into a game of Bloons on her phone when you cum on Kazuha's face.

Well - after your load spits a long stripe onto her tongue - and once the heady taste of it makes her recoil on instinct, but then she sinks a little further onto her knees and settles, with her mouth open wide, and her tongue out like she’s being baptized. She simply lets the rest of it happen. And let’s be perfectly clear, she wants it to.

She’s jerking you with her fingers, smearing it all over her. On her cheek, her forehead, across the bridge of her nose, the luscious swell of her pink lips; every gorgeous and perverse spot and stain becomes something Kazuha has earned.

Sakura’s laying totally horizontal on the couch and has yet to lift a single one of her eyes from the screen, humming approvingly, "is she letting you jizz on her face?"

You look up at Sakura's even expression, catching how she's peeking from beneath heavy eyelids, with two thumbs swirling over the face of her phone.

"Guess she is," you reply, turning a smirk into your shoulder, rolling a thumb along Kazuha's temple as a viscous glob of cum dribbles over the edge of her brow and into her lashes. "Fucking filthy little cumslut."

Kazuha lets your cock slip out from her lips. Manages still, a pretty little smile.

It’s not just that she likes it when you degrade her a little, which, honestly, you wouldn’t have ever pegged, but Kazuha likes being made to wear her sin so that it never leaves her alone. Here she is, now realizing that dirty, divine truth: getting called names, used and treated like a cumrag. 

Now, she can’t get enough.

The grip you’d woven into Kazuha’s dark silky hair to fuck your cock into her lips is the same you use to rein her in, walking her from the unassuming doorway where she’d gotten herself down on her knees for you and reached her fingers into the waist of your pants - over toward the couch where Sakura’s lounging in the world's smallest pair of shorts and a tank top.

Sakura’s still going on about this level she can’t figure out when you bend Kazuha over the arm of the sofa. “It’s this fucking chimps stage,” she says, blowing her bangs out of the way. “It’s the only intermediate one I haven’t full cleared-”

Kazuha gasps - and the sound comes out near reverent - when you pull her underwear down her thighs and slip your cock into her cunt.

Fuck, she feels incredible. You’ve claimed two greedy handfuls of her ass, watching her head drop between her shoulders as she steadies the air that rattles out of her, and you just keep sliding into her - deeper and deeper until your cock is fucking her apart, spreading her open, so very full.

“Have you tried, not spamming plantations?” you ask Sakura, the syllables slowing, making room for the rough cadence of your breathing, as you drive your hips in. “Since they, you know, don’t actually pop anything.”

“Hey.” Sakura’s lip quivers like it’s about to pout, but never does. “It’s rude to backseat.”

You’re fucking Kazuha slow, but you’re also tilting your hips down, going for the deep, sharp angle that you’ve found she likes - the kind of stroke that get’ll her sobbing if you really lean into it. You don’t miss the soft moans that drift out of her either, or the way her pussy throbs and grasps and swallows every inch of you.

“And see, that’s a common misconception,” Sakura continues to drawl, squinting up at the screen, “this game isn’t actually about popping the bloons. It’s about making as much money as humanly-”

She looks up. Sees, finally. 

You press your hips right down to the curve of Kazuha's ass and bottom out inside her. Confirming what you already knew: the way it feels to fuck this needy, insatiable, incomparable body. Sopping wet. So hot, too. So tight, snug around your cock. It's unlike anything, and seeing Kazuha like this, folded over and racked with a shudder - when it all comes down to it, it's just that simple.

It's this fucking little pussy. That fucking curve of her ass, peerless in nearly every conceivable way. It urges you to move, irresistible. To push past that tight, snug grip and pound her relentlessly.

However she wants it.

“You look pretty today, Kazuha,” Sakura tells her as she leans forward, nonchalantly and holding back a smirk, and she starts to inspect the damages: the red that taints her ears, the blush creeping in, the face you're drawing a few curls of her hair aside for Sakura to stare at.

There is, of course, the more obvious - the most obvious - all the cum still painted onto her pretty face. You find beneath your fingertips that it’s sticky all over her cheeks, the kind of sticky that is quickly drying, almost tacky.

"I always look pretty," Kazuha gathers the composure to say back at her, like her arms aren’t trembling with the effort to hold up her lithe frame.

Sakura laughs, the sound coming like a plucked chord.

And it is true, that beneath a few splatters and streaks of your cum, Kazuha looks pretty, is pretty. She's pretty because of what she is, with what she was born with, born without - and if she's sinking her teeth into her lip, covered in cum, biting down on this moan, the next, the one that shivers through her whole body when your hips snap reckless into hers, that is more proof of her flawless disposition. That is something special one could be lucky to witness: her panting and squeaking and pressing her palms into the leather beneath her so you can slam the cock inside her to its very hilt - then fucking her, razing her like a blaze, spreading her apart until she's writhing and clawing at the sofa with every strike of your cock to that sweet, spot within her.

"You just look so particularly, um," Sakura does a bit of tilting her chin, thinking, "fucked."

Kazuha smiles despite herself. Maybe there was this vision of her before - prim, polite - demure, reserved; with the role now filled out, it couldn’t have fit less.

Sakura lets her phone fall between the cushions, and leans forward, dragging her thumb along Kazuha’s jaw - smearing more of you into her skin - dipping it just barely into her mouth so that Kazuha can suck on the tip.

“So,” Sakura starts, tipping Kazuha’s chin up on a fingertip and studying how each motion urges forward a tiny, punched-out breath. “Are you two planning on doing anything else today besides fucking each other senseless?”

It’s a hard sell. Not with your hands on her narrow, wrought little waist, and certainly not when her cunt keeps rippling around you, pulsating, spilling over - dripping like she can't take it any longer. Kazuha's a bit out of sorts, has been for more than a few moments, but this one, especially. With the stilted way she's saying, "could, we go again, if, ah," then sucking a hard breath, "if, we," and "if you think," and "please, please, please."

“Just to be clear,” Sakura runs her tongue between her lips before her gaze tracks up to meet yours. “This is on you; she wasn’t like this.”

“What, you mean cumdrunk?”

Sakura runs her hand through Kazuha’s hair “Something like that.”

All the while, she is sliding one of her hands under the cotton of Kazuha's shirt, bringing another one up the sensitive expanse of her leg, thumb stroking just inches from where your cock is gliding in out of Kazuha’s aching cunt. You almost find it a shame that Sakura's never in any rush to actually fuck Kazuha, taking her apart piece by piece first, not allowing for an ounce of hurry.

Not to mention the effect she has on her - something intense, something almost electric - and there are sparks, when she leans in and silences Kazuha’s moan with a soft kiss, somewhere between their lips, as Kazuha melts -

And dissolves -

And opens her mouth -

Your hand finds the jut of Kazuha's hips, squeezing gently, using her body to pull her into you. Pumping, thrusting. Then back and in, again, and again. Kazuha goes a little boneless; this soft, quivering mess. There's one final teary squeak - and she just, takes it.

"God," you whisper out, in an almost perplexed admiration; her cunt looks so good like that. Taken. Fucked. In use.

It’s like some wild and wonderful thing - the absolute fucking wreck she is now - her bottom lip sticking out, Kazuha sighing, "m-more."

Sakura peers over her, eyes sharp, head held high. “Better not keep her waiting.”

As it were. It all goes on and on and on.

-

So,

Here’s what people usually fail to consider about “fucking each other senseless” when they’re discussing definitive day plans:

In general, it goes off the rails - like when your hand closes around the column of Kazuha's throat and the bathroom is abruptly fogged in sex-infused haze as you're fucking your cock between her legs. The tip nudging just past the smooth of her folds, slipping along the ridges and curves of her thighs, or when it all builds up to something else and the head of your cock is a sloppy mess against the little dip of her asshole and you fuck her there, too.

Sometimes, it gets very silly. When Sakura pouts at you and pulls your fingers from Kazuha's cunt to have her lick at them and there's an instant jolt that hits at the look in her eye - dilated and black, smirking, hungry. 

Then, maybe Sakura slips a hand down Kazuha's pants, gives her a little, "good girl, huh? Little fuckin' cumslut. And you can do it with your mouth full, too, hmm?"

She’ll do this thing so practiced, you’d think she’d done it a thousand times. She’ll slow the roll of her hips down on your cock, for a rare respiteful second, and press a sharp bite to the shell of Kazuha's ear. You get that gleam off her canines when Kazuha lets the words drop, mumbling with Sakura's fingers on her jaw and yours buried three knuckles-deep inside her mouth. "Yes ma’am, yes I can."

And there's when things get very serious. Maybe, in particular, a time, a moment -

(Let's call this moment one of many, but just to use it as something of an example.)

-a phone, going off and ringing, ringing, ringing.

You haven't seen the numbers - you're kind of too busy with your cock in Kazuha's cunt and her riding the edge, circling her hips on the line of your thigh, rolling into it and soaking your skin. Until she freezes, going rigid.

(Yeah,

No shit, she's the one getting Yunjin on the other line. A few days out of town, she has this text - call ASAP. ASAP means: she is now in this awkward spot, of pulling her own soaked underwear off of your wrist, trying to compose herself, not moan or writhe. You're trying to act natural, as Kazuha hastily arranges you both - nudging you onto the bed, letting Sakura wrench your shirt off from behind.)

By the time Kazuha's listening to Yunjin retell some story - no, yeah, she went out and got a new car. Then this funny thing, so she came across the scrapyard, and this other thing - did you know it costs a dollar fifty? She's got a shovel in the back, still can't believe it! - your hand is closed around your cock, trying to, gently, in vain, get some sort of handle on it.

But everything else happens way too fast: Sakura's foot falls across the meat of your inner thigh, and her expression is all, please. Don't you want to put me in my place? Please, for her - it'd mean so much to, just to, ride that massive, fat fucking cock-

Fuck, she's a bad influence, your best friend. Your lover, in all senses.

Anyways - your tongue in her mouth -

Your arm around her waist -

Kazuha gets it figured out. Yunjin's good to talk for a couple of minutes, and while your head is thrown back on a pillow, hearing Kazuha work out all this small talk about her shiny new volkswagen, your brain is somewhere between exploding, overstimulation, overload - Sakura's mouth, her tits, her pussy - whatever, wherever - just, fuck, she's -

You're just…fucking her. Truly fucking her. She's grinding, rolling her clit, making these choked noises. She’s not as flexible as Kazuha, who’d let you turn her into a pretzel or force her into the splits and pound away until there’s a load leaking from her pussy - until there’s several - but there’s something else about Sakura’s tight, grasping cunt, how you it quivers and milks you, a soft, soft silk that wants to tug at you, consume you -

Kazuha’s on the phone, wrapping up, telling Yunjin, “okay, I love you, bye, I love you, yes, okay, I love you, bye, I’ll talk to you later, soon, I love you. Yes, I’ll get to it. First thing tomorrow.”

Sakura’s on a sort of different thread, leaning into you and telling you to put a hot load into her cunt, your pretty girl, please - her mouth toying with the soft lobe of your ear, working in the angle of her hips on top of you and dragging her cunt against all the right parts of your cock in tandem, then asking: "is this little pussy gonna get filled up like hers? Make a mess and ruin me?"

And, there’s you -

Going fast, faster - you want more of her, she wants more of you - her tiny frame shaking with need, your hips slamming into hers and pushing her up the mattress and making a fucking mess of her perfect cunt. Your fingers are clasped over her mouth. Hers are probably clasped around your very soul, because you think:

This girl.

This girl -

Fuck, it isn’t complicated at all.

-

(As it is most years, the full bloom lasts about a week. There’s a cherry tree outside the window, one, three floors down from your apartment; its flowers are in their final days. A warm breeze whispers a cascade of petals to the earth below, and from this distance, they look almost dream-like, like snow falling soft.

You lie to yourself: maybe, if it could stay just like that, maybe forever.)

-

For weeks, Kazuha comes and goes. More of her belongings enter than ever leave the apartment - shoes, laundry, hair ties, the occasional purse or two. Her books take up the most space, overflowing to the point where the stack is spilling off the kitchen table.

It all serves to solidify the unspoken agreement among the three of you, that this isn’t going away any time soon.

At present, she’s currently in a moment of going. 

You and Sakura watch from the fire escape as her figure on the street below climbs into a cab and heads off in a vaguely-western direction.

With your backside to the railing and your elbows looped over the iron bars, the cigarette smoldering between your fingertips curls up a single smoky tendril. Beside you, Sakura has her sunglasses shielding her eyes from an early-evening summer sun. Her lips, just the subtlest pink shade of coral - pink, rose - start to pick up the colors of fleeting daylight. You watch her focus flit between you and the horizon, unreadable, inscrutable and turn back on the asphalt.

There's this wind that fills out her skirt and reveals a sliver of her thighs, a space in time where her legs aren’t painted red and her hair looks a bit lighter.

Sakura points the fronts of her sneakers down as though to really study the pavement below. "What's with that face?"

"No face," you say.

"Yes face," Sakura insists, tipping her head.

A strand of her bangs swings along the line of her cheekbone to where she tucks it, delicate, behind her ear. And then:

"Y'know."

You tap off a line of ash. "Do I?"

She rolls her eyes and replies, simply, "us."

-

Some mornings, there's coffee.

Some evenings, another show gets binged, or a movie.

Some nights are always reserved for bed, a three-person scrum at the very center and warm bodies laced over one another.

This one - tonight - is always the hardest to predict.

There was no denying the thud. There were no stifling the sounds - the cries and pleas, the streams of  no, please don't stop, which you think must’ve been coming from Kazuha. There were other voices too, fainter - they slipped right out your head, unabashed.

Another came from behind, Sakura moaning out a hoarse "there you go baby, just like that. Take that little cunt of hers." And on, on and on: Kazuha whimpering and mewling out an obscene pitch - fucked over and out, full and satisfied.

With that, you can't even tell which is better. Looking down, the lovely sight of your cock filling Kazuha's pussy - spreading her wide open for you - so indecent, and hot, and, really, there's that fantasy that she has that can play out on repeat. Laid out on a mattress and used, exactly as she's always wanted to be. Fucked, again, again, again - full of cum.

Only somewhere along the way it all slows down. To the basics, the essentials.

See, there’s a place by the tidal river that you and Sakura like to go, sometimes, just to take a break. It’s a clearing in the trees that by mid-summer will be swarming with bugs, but is for now, mostly okay. And if you’re going to get tangled up in origin stories, this is probably the best place to start:

"What about that one?" Kazuha asks, pointing up at another ambiguous point on the vast dark canvas overhead. Her head is in your lap, and she's tearing up the grass with her other hand.

Sakura squints. "Hmm. Let's see. That one over there is Gemini, I think." She moves her finger, dragging Kazuha's gaze across the heavens. "That star cluster right there. I call it The Bee. But if you want the real name, you can call it Messier 35. The French got to that one first, I guess."

Kazuha seems to ignore her, the brief aside, to stare, to dream.

“Sakura, hey,” she says in a half-whisper, its sound trailing into the dull drone of cicadas, the croaking cadence of bullfrogs, like a will o’ wisp into the night sky. “Where’d you learn all this stuff?”

“She didn’t,” you tell her. “She makes it up as she goes along.” 

Kazuha twists around to level her with this pout, half-crooked, almost grinning. Sakura just shrugs, blameless. There’s grass falling off her sweatshirt and speckling her knees. Her ponytail is crooked, her smile bright and beaming and contagious - you find it a wonder how you ever manage anyway.

“What about that one, you think?” she asks Kazuha, gesturing vaguely to a cluster of three bright flecks, glistening against the gradient, and Kazuha’s head tilts to follow Sakura’s index finger.

(And it’s totally worth pointing out the sort of cosmic irony here being that if any of you knew a lick about anything, you could say oh that? That’s Orion’s belt, binding together the great hunter himself - to his quiver, and to the bowstring, his pride, and to his most prized possession: his arrow, gleaming, eternally shining in the midnight glow of faraway planets and twinkling, blinking stars.

None of you are astronomers after all. Not you. Sakura, maybe, if you ask Kazuha. But for the time being, you'd never know.)

“Dunno,” Kazuha says, "but it must mean something."

You and Sakura share a long breath.

The three of you staring up into the infinite blue.

#sakura smut #kazuha smut #le sserafim smut #izone smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #izone sakura smut #le sserafim kazuha smut #le sserafim sakura smut

[heich0e]

“Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Your head pops up as the unexpected voice makes itself known, twisting your face towards the sound only to see a figure standing at the end of the alley. He’s silhouetted where he stands—a shape more than a person. You can tell he’s tall, broad, and has a knot of hair tied up loosely at his crown. 

Geto Suguru steps into the light where you can see him better, though it makes his sudden appearance no less surprising. 

“Did you drink too much?” he asks, treading a few steps closer as he eyes you worriedly. You pull yourself up from where you’d been crouching on the ground.

“No, no. Just getting some air,” you reply with a stiff smile, dipping in a bow and quickly adjusting your pencil skirt once you’re back upright.

He has his tie loosened over his shirt with the top button undone, and his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen. He considers you for a moment, and his attention makes you want to fidget but you fight the urge.

You watch as he pulls packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt and offers it out to you. “Do you smoke?”

“No, thank you,” you say with a quick shake of your head, smoothing your hands along the front of your skirt and then moving to step past him back towards the entrance of the restaurant. “I should go.”

He angles his body in your way before you can.

“No need to leave on my account,” he says, peering down at you. His face is partially in shadow because of how he’s standing, angled between you and the mouth of the alleyway that leads back to the busy street, caught in a small dark patch between the streetlights and the light affixed to the grungy brick wall. He tips his face up and the light touches his features once more, catching in his brown eyes as he waits in anticipation of your response.

“I should get back inside.” It’s strangely difficult to meet his gaze, so instead you look past him towards the street as an unwelcome heat surges up your throat to flood your face. A car passes quickly by the alley, and you watch as the headlights come and go in a flash.

“Why?” the man before you asks, placing the cigarette he’d fished out of the pack to his lips. He uses his teeth to keep it there while he fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. “You’re clearly having a terrible time in there.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his in shock.

“No I’m not,” your reply is notably indignant, even though his accusation is valid.

How would he know anyway?

“The smiley, nice-girl bit’s gotta be getting old, isn’t it? Pouring everyones drinks. Cleaning up everyones messes.” He laughs, though it’s only to himself, before clicking his lighter to life and holding it to the tip of his cigarette until it catches. The cherry burns red and bright on an inhale, and smoke slips from his lips as he adds, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not your boss.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist, but your performance isn’t particularly convincing. 

Truthfully, the very last thing you wanted to do after a ten-hour work day—capping off a fifty-hour work week—was come out drinking with your colleagues. You’ve never really liked these kinds of gatherings, even if the company is the one footing the bill. They always get a bit too rowdy for your liking. Always drag on a bit too long. And you know that you’ll inevitably be the one stuck forcing your plastered boss into a taxi in the wee hours of the morning, while the rest of your equally-sloshed coworkers find their own ways home.

But the department chair, the very same one you’re sure will be singing karaoke with his tie around his forehead in only a few short hours, had been adamant that everyone in marketing attend the gathering since the sales section was joining in too. 

Hence the sales employee standing toe-to-toe with you, blocking your path.

You know Geto Suguru, but only indirectly. The sales and marketing departments are separated by a single floor in your company’s office building, and often work on projects together. Geto is a section lead in sales, with a long, illustrious history behind him before he worked his way up to that role. He’s made a lot of money for the company, and a lot of friends along the way—what with his easy charm, silver tongue, and undeniable good looks. His reputation precedes him—in both good ways and bad.

The fact that he’s here talking to you—a fresh-faced, relatively new-to-role nobody in comparison to his lengthy history with the business—is what you have a hard time wrapping your head around.

“Sure, sure.” Geto waves his hand dismissively, ash fluttering off in tiny specks from the end of his lit cigarette. “I’m sure you just love making all those copies, remembering coffee orders, and running that section lead of yours’s errands too. Oh, and don’t forget when he takes credit for your ideas.”

Your stomach drops. 

He keeps going.

“This upcoming brand collaboration is exciting,”—he takes a puff of his cigarette, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you—“too bad no one knows it was you who came up with it, huh?” 

Your fists clench tightly at your sides, your lips pressing together in a thin line.

Geto blows the last of the smoke in his lungs from the corner of his pursed lips, away from you.

“That’s the first honest expression I’ve seen on your face all night,” he says with a sly smile tugging at his lips.

Your hands are shaking.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask him weakly.

He tilts his head to the side, like your question confounds him.

“I’m not doing anything,” he says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. “Have I said anything that isn’t true?”

You bite your lip, staring down at your pretty, professional pumps as you stand on the craggy pavement of the alley.

“You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t direct it at me for pointing out the people who keep screwing you over,” Geto says, and the way his voice sounds a bit nearer and the smell of his cigarette gets stronger tells you that he’s dipped down closer to you even though you don’t watch him do it. “No one’s gonna hand anything to you if you don’t fight for it.”

You glance up at him, your expression and your tone equally flat. “And what if I’m not a fighter?”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he says, chuckling a bit as he backs away from you.

You watch him as he watches you—contemplates you, like he’s sizing you up. He drops cigarette suddenly to the ground, still only half-burned, and crushes it with the toe of his shoe. You hold your breath as he takes another step towards you.

He leans forward.

“Hit me.”

“Pardon me?” The bewildered question rushes out of you all in one gasping breath, and you take a loping step back in shock.

“Come on, just one,” the man goads you further, rapping against his jaw with the knuckle of his index finger as a smile twists his lips up at the corners.

“You’re drunk,” you spit out incredulously, shaking your head and quickly moving to step past him.

“I’m not.” He sidles smoothly into your path once more before you get the chance to flee, like he’s half-a-step ahead of you at all times. 

It’s infuriating.

“Alright, then you’re just insane,” you offer instead.

You knew the sales department had a reputation for being a bit wild, but this is beyond all your expectations. This is nothing like the charming, easy going Geto that you’ve heard all your female colleague gossiping about in the break room.

His smile falls, and he crosses his arms over his chest. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m still your senior, y’know,” he says, and his voice is a little bit colder now. More admonishing.

You’re very acutely aware of that fact without him saying it.

You huff out a frustrated little breath through your nose, crossing your own arms over your chest in a mirror of his stance.

“I’m not hitting you.”

Geto’s brow quirks curiously.

“Why not?”

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

“Because that’s assault,” you counter his question shortly.

“It’s only assault if I press charges—which I won’t.” You know he’s telling the truth but it doesn’t make it any more convincing. He tilts his head to the side again, and a silky strand of his dark hair slips into his eyes. “Haven’t you ever hit anyone before? It’s cathartic.”

Your lips part in an expression of astonishment. “Of course I haven’t.”

The man in front of you looks mildly surprised at your answer.

“Do I look like someone who goes around fighting people?” you ask him incredulously.

“You look like you’ve got some repressed rage in you,” he says with a smirk, and the expression only worsens when he sees the way you react to it.

He taps his cheek again before tucking both his hands behind his back and leaning in close to you, like a man offering himself up to the executioner’s block. He shuts his eyes.

“C’mon, just a little one.”

“I won’t.”

“You should.”

“I won’t.”

“How come?”

You take his face in your hands suddenly, tilting it up to meet your gaze.

“Geto-san,” you say quietly, your tone bordering on desperate. “I’m not going to hit you, so please stop asking.”

He opens his eyes slowly, his dark lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you. After a moment he smiles, and his eyes curve into narrow crescents as he leans subtly into your touch.

It’s quiet in the alley, but your heartbeat is quick underneath your skin.

“Can you blame a guy for trying?” he asks you coyly.

You’re still cupping his cheeks in your hands. 

They’re warm.

“You really are crazy,” you reply softly to his question, though it’s not much of a reply at all.

He hums, turning his face so his nose drags across your wrist. His lips brush against your palm as he speaks once more. “I’ve been called worse.”

You don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.

Slowly, the dark haired man picks himself up to his usual height. He’s closer to you now than he’s ever been—and thanks to the little cat and mouse game that the two of you have been playing, you’re very nearly pressed against the alley wall. You can’t even see the street anymore beyond the expanse of his wide shoulders.

Everywhere you look, you only see him.

The realization sits hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“I know you’re a good girl, but what are we gonna do about all that stuff you’ve got pent up in there?” Geto lifts his hand and presses a featherlight touch to your sternum over your diaphragm, his fingertips trailing delicately against the smooth plane where the arch of your ribs ends. Your breath hitches painfully as you stare up at him, a sticky knot at the back of your throat preventing you from forming any response—not that you can think of anything to say. 

Geto smiles down at you, his expression soft.

You see the faintest flash of sharp teeth behind his pink lips.

“Don’t you want me to help you let it out?”

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #f!reader

[slvttyplum]

ʚɞ Locked in | Nanami Kento

Synopsis: Things get steamy when you and your coworker Nanami get stuck in the office.

Contents: Brat taming, smut, just steamy smut.

This was a collaboration with @shrimparmy

The last thing you wanted to do was spend Friday night at the office, but here you are. 

Your team packed up and hauled off half an hour ago, leaving you and Nanami Kento to wrap up the finishing touches on a project that would be due come Monday. As co-leads of your department, the responsibility fell on you both to ensure everything was ready for the big launch. 

In most cases, it would be an annoyance, sure, but your current situation was much worse. Nanami Kento was the reason for your migraines. He had his own way of doing things that coincidentally always clashed with yours. And the most irksome thing? He was usually right.

You push away from the table and rub your tired eyes. Blinking once, then twice, you scan the laptop screen incredulously. 

“Nanami…”, you alert the blond man sitting across from you, making him startle from his intense focus on a stack of files. “I think we’re finally done”.

“You submitted the final documents?”, he asks with his brow raised, certainly in disbelief of your claim.

You nod.

“The test run was clean?”

You nod. 

“You—“

“Yes!”, you huff. “The docs, the test run, the protocols, the models—everything, Nanami. It’s all there”.

He silently nods, then removes his glasses to clean them. 

You frown, “Not even a ‘thank you’?”

“What exactly should I be thanking you for?”

The nerve of him. The project would have both of your necks on the line, and for once—just this once—you felt Nanami and you were making progress. Through the work of sheer luck, you’d gotten on well enough to finish the project without a hitch. 

You swore it was thanks to your hard work. 

Nanami said it was all his doing.

“Would it kill you to admit I’m good at my job, Nanami?”, you cross your arms over your chest only to catch Nanami glancing at the cleavage peeking out from under the undone top button of your blouse.

He flicks his eyes up to yours, casually, smoothly enough that you question if he was really checking you out. But you know. Because it wasn’t the first time you caught Nanami Kento’s lingering stare. 

His eyes grazed your legs when you crossed them, feeling fidgety and restless during long meetings. He watched how you bit the tip of your pen while deep in thought, smudging the plastic with your lipstick, and he wanted desperately to see those pretty lips around something else. If you had eyes on the back of your head, you’d see him staring at your curvy ass in the tight pencil skirt you wore last week while you presented the pitch for your next project. 

“I suppose the work you do is sufficient for your role”, he says finally.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Sufficient? Really? That’s it?”

“You possess the skills necessary…”

“Great”, you spit out the word like something bitter and close your laptop. “I’m going home and you, Nanami Kento, can go to hell”. 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stomp to the frosted glass door of the conference room and—

—it won’t budge. You try again, forcefully this time, to pull down the cold metal handle, but it’s stuck. Prying it up doesn’t work, wiggling it doesn’t work, nothing seems to work and your nerves are wearing thin.

“God damnit!”, you growl and stamp your foot. So much for your dramatic exit and snarky one-liner. “Nanami, help me open this fucking door”.

For a second he hesitates, briefly thinking of a smart-assed retort about being too busy going to hell and all, but remains quiet and walks over to you. 

With force, Nanami attempts to open the door. The veins in his hands and arms begin to bulge under his skin, and his jaw tenses more with each pull of the handle. The metal frame begin to creak, so you stop him before the two of you end up having to explain to your boss why the conference room door is lying on the floor off its hinges. 

“Nanami”, you set a hand on his arm. Touching him for the first time ever feels foreign and decidedly intrusive, but not at all wrong. “It’s no use… it’s jammed”.

You shrug and try to lighten the mood, “It’s no big deal, right? The custodians will breeze through any minute, I’m sure”.

Nanami smoothes back the strands of blond that have fallen forward and frame his angular face. “I’m afraid not. Custodial doesn’t come until tomorrow morning”.

***

You both look down at the same time to where your hand rests on his arm, on the space where his sleeves are rolled up so his muscular forearms are exposed. God, you really hate when he does that. Whenever he loosens his tie or rolls up his sleeves and all your attention is drawn to his neck and his arms and you feel that warmth spreading through your thighs, that pulse that beats against your core, against your will. 

You blurt out “Sorry”, a bit more abruptly than you intended, making Nanami smirk. 

Your usual spit-fire temper seemed to dwindle by the second in the midst of this dilemma. Perceptive as usual, Nanami took note of the blush creeping across your cheeks. 

“You and I could get along, you know. If it wasn’t for your attitude”. The off-handed manner that he says it makes your blood boil, with the same cool confidence you always saw in the office. 

“You think you know me, but don’t know shit, Nanami”.

As much as you loathed to admit it, his authoritative demeanor did something to you. Nanami was the boss for a reason; he talked and people listened. He directed and they obeyed. 

“Personally, no, I don’t know you. But I know the signs…”, Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his full lips drew into a calculated smirk, “of someone who needs to be taught a lesson”.

Your mouth going dry and your breath hitching, your mind going blank as you step back and your ass hits the desk. Nanami puts his hand on your hip and leans down closer to your ear. 

“You have five seconds to tell me to stop, otherwise…” Nanami doesn’t finish his sentence and leans down further and whispers something inaudible before pressing his soft lips against yours. 

The action takes you a second to get adjusted to but you still decided to kiss him back, for some reason it didn’t make you feel disgusted. His lips moving with yours in sync and his cologne and minty breath filling your nose making your eyes flutter close. 

Nanami’s other hand come up to your hips then both of them going down then back up to grab your ass. His mouth sloppily going down to kiss your jaw then your bare neck. 

His lips and tongue sending shivers down your spine, your hands coming up to grab his shoulders, and his hands going to scoop your ass then down the back of your thighs picking you up. 

“You taste so good. I need more of you.” He says, his voice low. He licks one last stripe on your neck before placing you on the desk and getting on his knees, close enough to your core that you can feel his warm breath.

Nanami lifts up your skirt and reaches up to the hem of your panties and quickly pulls them down, not caring enough to fully pull them off so they’re left to hang around your ankle. 

A little bit of sense is left in you when you slap his hand away and gulp, clenching your legs closed. His eyebrows furrowed at the sudden change in behavior. 

“What? Talk to me.” He puts his arms on both sides of you, pushing against you so you feel the bulge pushing out of his pants rubbing against your thigh. 

Indignantly, you cross your arms. “This isn’t right, so just stop.” 

Nanami scoffs, gripping the bottom of the desk and licks the bottom of his lip briefly. “You want this, let’s not play childish games.” 

And with that, everything fell through.

His hands reaching up to your thighs and gripping your flesh as he spreads them before leaning in and placing a stripe down your wet aching core. 

The sensation sent full tingles erupting throughout you, it felt like someone put numbing cream all around your body; the way his warm saliva came into contact with your skin made your eyes roll back.

His fingertips digging into your thigh as his tongue slips between your folds a couple of times before he licks your clit. A moan slipping out of your mouth and your hand rising up then down to grab onto his hair. 

Little hums coming out of Nanami’s mouth as he continues to lick and slurp on your now dripping core. He could not get enough, the way your cunt reacted every time he licked made his pants tighten. 

He removes his hands from your thighs, puts them up to your core and takes one finger from each hand to spread out your folds and takes one big stripe. 

“Fuck…” Is all that came out of your mouth and other hushed moans as he continues to lick. There was something so sweet about how you tasted, he could devour you for hours, but he wanted something more from you.

Your knees try to collide but it’s impossible when you feel this good. Nanami removes his finger from holding open your folds and slowly slides his middle finger inside of your tight entrance. 

“Wait, wait”, you pant, but Nanami doesn’t listen and continues to push his thick finger inside of your wet pussy. Your walls clenching and pulsing around him, his finger slowly slides back out before fully pushing it inside of you again. 

Another moan slides past your lips and your head is thrown back from the overwhelming amount of pleasure being put on you. You moan up toward the ugly drop-ceiling dotted with the buzzing fluorescent lights as he pumps his finger inside of you, and the realization that Nanami is eating your pussy right in the office hits you like a truck. But it matters less and less because you’re only getting wetter and needier when he slides another finger inside of you and slowly licks your clit with broad strokes of his tongue.

A large lump forms in your throat from the moans you were holding in, making it feel like you were going to burst any minute—and you were right, you were going to burst—but not in the way you thought. 

His fingers continuously pump in and out of you with great speed as you try not to shake or collapse from how good you feel. One final moan and you let out a series of whimpers and your eyes squeeze shut. 

Nanami rises from his kneeling position at your dripping pussy and before you could even say anything, he pulls your arm and snatches you off the desk to bend you over. 

You’re still in a state of high from finishing, but you realize what he’s doing and you let him. More than anything, you need him inside you and by the way he’s pushing your legs apart with his and holding the small of your back down with his large hands, you know he wants it just as much. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this… for so long.” He’s practically panting by now, breath heavy and laced with arousal. “… been wanting to give you what you need”.

“Please, Nanami”

And with that Nanami quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants along with his briefs. His dick springs out and he puts a hand on your ass, giving it a grip then another on the base of his dick. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” You can almost hear the self-satisfied smirk in his words. 

Lining himself up with your entrance, he slowly slides himself in. A long drawn out moan escapes his mouth and the same for yours. He’s pumping so slow, so sweetly at first, rewarding you with the his cock filling the space within you so perfectly. Your hands grip the desk as he slides out of you again then back into you again forcefully. 

Nanami places his other hand on your other cheek and sinks his fingers into the supple flesh as his pace gets faster, little murmurs and moans sliding past his lips. 

He couldn’t comprehend how good he felt, his body was heating up each second and his heart was beating outside his chest. If he didn’t want to cum right that second then he had to hold himself back. 

With that he takes his hand off your ass and quickly unbuttons his shirt the best he could with one hand to cool down, exposing his chiseled chest and tight abs that flex every time he sinks his girth into you. He never stops or turns sloppy, his pace is steady and the tip of his dick presses against your sweet spot every time. 

The sound of your flesh colliding with his makes your head fuzzy. It’s almost as if it were a dream—surely not something that could be happening in real life, but every time he shoves his dick into you, every time your pussy makes wet sounds for him, you’re brought right back to reality. 

The way your hands grip the desk, you could feel them going numb. Your knees buckling and your mind hazing out, it was like you were on the edge of a cliff about to go sky diving, high off so much adrenaline that you’d do anything.

“You like it, tell me you like it.” There was no question in his tone, more of a statement he was letting you know, because he fucking loved it. 

He loves how your wet pussy slides on his hard length with ease and every time he slams into you, your walls clamp around him and the way your ass ripples whenever he pushes you into the desk; it was perfect. 

At the height of it all, drunk off the pleasure being fucked into you, you start fucking him back and try to move yourself on his length but your climax sends your knees buckling. Nanami takes notice and places a firm grip on your hip, holding you in case your legs give out. 

“I love it.” Your words drip out like honey and with that Nanami throws his head back, incapable of holding back a second more. You’re right there with him, eyes squinting shut while the curses leaving his lips bless your ears like a sermon.

Quickly sliding out of you and slotting his shaft between the soft, supple cheeks of your ass, his body convulses against you at the same moment his warm liquid oozes past his tip and into the arch in your back. 

“I love you.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami #nanami x you #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #jujutsu kento #jjk kento #kento smut #kento x reader

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Just Friends II | Han Jisung

Synopsis: The party may be over but for you and Jisung the fun isn't. In the dark confines of his room the real party starts.

Pairings: au Han Jisung x Female Reader

Content Warning: Heavy smut, Oral (F Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Fluff Ending.

Author's Note: This is a continuation of Just Friends. A part two was asked for so here it is. I hope this does part one justice. I tried lol. Please read part one before continuing so that you get more context.

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

The house is dark and quiet when you and Jisung stumble through the front door. Not just because of the party still coursing through your body but more so because you can't keep your hands to yourself now that you've gotten a taste of him. He seems to be just as desperate for your mouth as you are for his.

His hands, fuck. His strong hands are everywhere. Gripping your ass, sliding up and under your shirt to get rid of the damned thing that keeps him from seeing your body. The only time he pulls away from your lips is to lift your shirt over your head. Once the two of you are in his room he tosses it somewhere, where it landed, you couldn't care. You pull his face back down to yours, kissing him like you'd die if you didn't. He moans on your lips when your needy hands find their way into his hair and pulls on the soft strands. All the while his fingers make quick work at popping the clasps on your red lace bra and freeing your heavy breasts. When Jisung pulls away from you it's a miracle that you even let him.

“I wanna see you, y/n. I wanna see all of you. I need to.” He tells you. His voice is soft but there's a hint of something more to it. Something so dominating that you have to force yourself to not throw yourself on him.

Stepping back at arms length from you he admires your breast and he practically drools over how big they are. Bigger than he could've imagined seeing them free from their confines. God the amount of times he pumped himself into his fist at night in this very room to the thought of leaving hickies all over your tits.

“Damn I'd let you suffocate me with those babies.” He says and you let out a surprised laugh.

Yup he's still your goofy best friend. Still you're relieved at how nothing has changed between the pair of you. That was your main worry about acting on your feelings. All your worries now however are out the window. Right now you wished he'd just fucking touch you again. You're dying to see what he tastes like, dying to see if you can make him come undone with just your tongue. That would have to wait as Jisung seems to have other things on his mind.

Without warning, he’s leading you backwards until the edge of the bed is at the back of your knees and with a cocky smirk he pushes you backwards onto your ass. You let out a soft oof and he hovers over you chuckling. The way your tits jiggle is a beautiful sight to him and he can't wait to watch them bounce while you ride him into the mattress.

As if you can read his mind, you lick your lips and with your index finger you beckon him but he isn't about to let you have control, not just yet. He's a hungry man going through the midnight munchies and he's got his mind set on something sweet. The only thing that will satisfy his craving is the sweet nectar of your cunt. Jisung gets down between your legs and rips your jeans down off, flinging them into the darkness of his room.

The only light comes from the glow of the full moon through the crack of his black curtains. He unwraps you like a greedy kid unwrapping his first candy bar after a night of trick or treating. You're naked in his bed now and he's looking up at you with such an intense stare. Wide brown boba eyes look at you, his face getting closer and closer to your sore and sensitive sex, thanks to the pounding he gave you fifteen minutes ago. When he's within an inch of your pussy he can still see remnants of his cum inside of you but it doesn't stop him.

“Let me taste you y/n. God I just wanna drink you, devour this pussy until your legs are shaking and you're screaming my name.”

He doesn't wait for your response. Whatever he's seen on your face is all the answer he needs. His tongue is lapping you up and he's teasing you with his thumb in a soft circular motion. The movement reminds you of the days that you and he would be stuck in here playing video games. You'd almost always lose or die, getting so distracted by his hands. The veins and the way he'd flick his thumb over the joystick almost exactly like he's doing to your clit right now.

He's so good at it too that after a minute your head is dropping back onto the mattress and your lids go heavy. Jisungs arms wraps around your thighs lifting them up to rest on his shoulders as he fucks you with his tongue. Pushing it in and out of you, licking you and down like ice cream on a cone. He tears himself away from your heat but his thumb keeps the same rhythm alternating between pressure and no pressure.

“Mmm baby, this pussy tastes so good. Y/n I want you to cum on my tongue. Can you do that for me beautiful?”

“F- fuck Ji. If you keep doing what you're doing, then I'm going to cum right now.” You moan arching your back.

You hear him chuckle and his face disappears once again, diving his tongue past your folds and consumes you. He doesn't stop, not even as your legs are shaking around him and the growls leaving him vibrates through you, only to bring you to your climax sooner rather than later. Your moans get caught in your throat leaving you a panting and crying mess on his bed. As much as he wanted you to ride him, he knows there'll be other opportunities, right now his cock is aching for you. Besides he can watch your tits bounce while he fucks the shit out of you. Your cries almost made him cum right along with you right there on his bedroom floor.

Crawling up onto the bed with you and keeping your legs right where they are, he slips his cock inside you while your body is still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Ah, Jisung.” You whine and gasp underneath him, the pressure feels so intense. He feels deeper this way and you feel fuller.

He takes the hem of his shirt in between his teeth and mumbles curses in both Korean and English biting down on the material hard. Just looking at you, so dazed and so thoroughly fucked is like one of his fantasies come to life. He just wants to cum inside you over and over all night. Eventually though, you'll leave his bed and if you two fuck again after tonight, when all logical thinking returns, he won't get to feel you how soft your walls are when they squeeze his cock again. It's why he's trying so damn hard to not cum right now.

He slows down, taking your legs and wraps them around his waist. Leaning down into you he takes one of your aching hard nipples in his mouth sucking and biting down gently and slowly fucks you. Pulling all the way out of you leaving just the tip in, he fucks you like that. Slow and never going more than an inch inside of your cunt while he edges the both of you. When he finally gives you every inch of him again, it's so sudden that you moan louder than you intended. You've tried to be quiet only so that Jisung's nosey neighbors don't over hear you two but fuck… He feels so incredible inside of you.

“Ji… oh God! I'm going to cum, babe. Faster please. Fuck me faster.” You beg.

He can't say no to you, not his sexy girl. He was dying for you to cum again so he could fill your pussy anyway. Resting one hand on the wall and the other beside your head he steadies himself and moves as fast as he can. His thrusts are frenzied, erratic, even a little crazed but he pounds the head of his cock into the sweet spot that has you seeing stars and leaving scratches all down his chest calling his name out over and over.

“Yeah that's my baby. Fuck, I love the way your pussy feels when you cum around me y/n. Ah, gonna fill you up y/n. Fuuuuck!”

His final thrust is so hard, you’re certain he bruised your cervix. It hurts so good and you can feel it when he shoots his seed inside of you. You watch his face as he shoots ropes after ropes of cum inside your throbbing cunt as it contracts around him. This beautiful pained expression on his face as he bites down on his bottom lip. His brows furrowed and his small perfect pink lips part letting his moans and huffs out. As his breathing slows you reach a hand up, brushing his dark hair away from his sweaty forehead. Opening his eyes he smiles shyly, pecking you on the lips, still buried inside of you.

He doesn't want to move, he can't, not until he has to, he wants you again and again. He wants to take his time with you. But time isn't on either side of yours tonight. His parents would be home soon and you needed to be out of there before you two get caught, quite literally with your pants down. Slow kisses however, only stirs up things and Jisung is moving again.

He takes his time like he wanted, fucking you slowly, a lazy pace almost as if he’s making love to you. Your bodies are pressed so close together but it's not enough for him. Jisung wraps you up into his arms, holding you closer, hugging you tighter, moving in and out. Pushing inside of your sloping wet cunt as far as he can. His cum, still warm inside of you, only makes things more slippery, easier to move inside of you with barely any effort.

You feel your third orgasm building up inside of you. Starting from your legs, moving up and up until you come crashing down. Your moans are lost in his kisses this time and when he cums his entire body shakes. Sex with Jisung this way, you feel pleasure all over. He sighs looking down at you and for a second he just holds your stare. Very quietly he whispers, “I love you y/n. Always have since you kicked my ass in dodgeball in middle school.”

When you giggle he groans, feeling your body shake while he's still inside you. His cock is far too sensitive to pull out just yet.

“I love you too Jisung.” You whisper, “Now pull out so we can change your sheets before your parents get home. We've made a mess.”

He chuckles doing what you asked but he doesn't let you go far. He hasn't let you go far since and now as his wife, there's no way in hell that he will ever let you go.

The End♡

#han jisung #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han smut #han jisung fanfic #han jisung fanfiction #han jisung hard hours #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung oneshot #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung fluff #stray kids han #han jisung drabbles #skz han #stray kids smut #skz smut

[lovelettersfromluna]

can i request one of your girls' drabble, ellie is edging u while filming 🤭

Oh god….the camgirl!Ellie saga continues….

an: if any of you would like to see more of these little drabbles from my series pls feel free to inbox me! I love writing these two so so much

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MDNI!!!, edging, dom!Ellie, camgirl!Ellie, live stream sex, dirty talk, usage of toys, fingering, clit slapping, nipple play, let me know if I missed anything!!

In all honesty? You don’t think you’d ever get fully used to being fucked in front of thousands of people.

Virtually, that is.

Ellie had slowly introduced you to it, allowing you to be on camera whenever you were ready, and opting out whenever you weren’t.

It wasn’t entirely different from pre-recording something and then just posting it. It was still a camera pointing at you and Ellie while you played with each other…

Apart from the constant pings that came through Ellie’s computer.

“Jesus Christ…I’ve never seen them so…active..” Ellie would breath out softly after your first time live streaming, her own disbelief clear as she scrolled through the amount of tips you two had racked up after a quick stream of her eating your pussy.

That only further proved that the crowed fucking loved you, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a rush that came with putting a show on for them.

And that’s how you eased into it, knowing how much they loved you and Ellie together. The amount of messages that Ellie had received when you came back to her page was almost overwhelming, her audience practically foaming at the mouth for more content of you two.

It’s how you ended up on you bed, your back pressed against Ellie’s chest, her hands spreading your legs and giving the camera the perfect view of your soaking wet pussy.

Her soft lips were pressed against your neck, large hands roaming over your body, playing with your nipples, your hips, your stomach, your thighs, every single part of your body receiving the pleasure of feeling her calloused hands on your soft skin…

Expect for where she knew you needed her most.

The whine you let out was pathetic, your eyebrows furrowed, swollen lips forming a pout. The camera stopped just below your nose, allowing the audience to see just how fucked out you were from the sight of your messy, maroon tinted lips.

Ellie’s chuckle rang through your ears, making your aching pussy throb as her slender fingers rolled your nipples between the pads of her digits.

“She’s so fuckin’ needy….doesn’t she get so cute when she’s like this? You guys know I could probably get her to say whatever I want as long as I let her cum…pathetic…” Ellie hummed out, a soft hiss sliding against her tongue as her hands slid down your body, settling between your legs. Both of her hands came down, spreading your pussy further, your lips making a wet, sticky sound at the gesture.

“Fuck…you can fucking hear how wet she is…all that for me baby?” She hummed softly.

Your hips thrusted up, eager to make her fingers slip and somehow settle on your throbbing clit.

Ellie had been at this for what felt like an eternity, rubbing your clit, finger fucking your poor little pussy and bringing you right to the edge, all for her to stop and leave you high and dry. Your cheeks were wet with desperate tears, lips swollen and pouty from all the biting you’d done, it didn’t help that the mirrored image of the two of you made you even hornier.

You loved seeing Ellie’s hands playing with your body.

Ellie chuckled softly, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Such a needy girl…come here baby…lemme make you feel good…”

The moan you let out was hysterical, your back arching almost painfully as her fingers went to your clit, rolling tight circles into the bundle of nerves. Her eyes never left your face, always loving the way you came undone against her no matter what she did.

“That’s it…that’s my good girl…feels good, huh? You’ve been so good for me baby…been so good for everyone watching…” she praised you.

And she was right, the amount of tips that would come in whenever Ellie would start playing with your pussy again was almost appalling, the comments all praising you for being a good girl, urging Ellie to keep going, wanting nothing more than to see you cum on camera.

But this was far too fun to end so quickly…

Her fingers stopped working against your clit, and you let out a loud whine despite the fact that you expected her to stop. Ellie always liked going long during streams like this, when you were so needy, and desperate, and fucked out that all you could do was give her whatever she wanted.

When Ellie hears the whine leave your swollen lips, her hand comes down quickly to give your clit a light spank, which makes your body jump, and makes you moan loudly. You quickly grab her wrist when she raises it again, shaking your head as you stare up at her with hazy eyes.

“D-don’t! I’ll…you’re gonna make me cum if you…fuck…do that again” you whimper out.

Ellie raises her eyebrows at this, her eyes drifting over to the camera for a minute to catch sight of the mess between your thighs. Her hand comes up, gripping your cheeks and squishing them together before she smashes her lips against yours in a messy, needy kiss, the sounds of your tongues lapping together mixing in with your moans and creating something truly erotic.

“Gonna be the death of me someday, baby…fuck…” she whispered softly against your lips, only loud enough for you to hear, too quiet for the mic she has set up to catch.

Those moments are frequent, when for a split second, the act of being two performers is dropped, and it’s Ellie, your Ellie, coming through and letting you know just how fucking obsessed with you she truly is.

Makes your heart flutter every single time.

You giggle softly, smiling against her lips as you simply give her a quiet nod as if to silently agree with her, and you can feel her smiling against your lips too.

But the sweet, syrupy moment between you two dissolves quickly, because while you’re far too deep in the feeling of Ellie’s lips on yours, you can barely register the feeling of her reaching behind her and grabbing something, and you can barely hear the sound of the vibrator she bought for you buzzing.

And you wouldn’t have realized she had it at all, if it wasn’t for her pressing the buzzing head of the toy against your drooling core, making you gasp loudly.

Ellie smirks almost proudly when she watches you turn your head from her to look down at the toy she has buzzing against your clit, against your labia and against your weeping hole, giving all of you the attention you’ve wanted all night long.

“F-fuck! H-haaa….i won’t…m’not gonna last long..” you stutter out, trying your best to close your legs, running away from the intense buzzing of the vibrating wand.

“Nuh-uh…you stay right there, and give the people what they want….come on baby…you deserve it” she demands, voice dripping with dominance as she pries your legs apart, keeping you spread open for the camera.

Your eyes are so blurry, and you can’t even hear the sounds of the tips coming in through the noise of the vibrator and your own moans.

“Fuck! Fuck I’m…you’re gonna…oh my god!!” You cry out, back arching once again, pushing your head against Ellie’s shoulder as you came hard, the sound loud and guttural, sure to leave your poor throat hoarse in the morning.

“That’s it baby…fuck yeah…so fucking pretty…that’s my pretty girl..” Ellie praises over and over again as she holds you down, keeping you against her as she helps you ride out your orgasm, stopping you from running away from the toy.

When you finally come down, she removes the toy from between your legs and tosses it somewhere on your bed. Her hands let you close your legs, and exhausted whine leaving your lips as you let her hands massage your body, hiding you away from the camera.

You were now entering a time that was reserved for only you and Ellie, you learned that it was just for you two by how quickly she ended the streams whenever you had finished.

“She’s all done for tonight you guys…we always appreciate putting on a show…” she hums out softly.

Your eyes were already so hazy, and you could feel the exhaustion from the orgasm taking over the second it had washed over you, and probably even before then. You couldn’t even say goodbye to your audience properly, because Ellie was ending the stream and closing her laptop before you could even lift a finger.

Ellie chuckled softly, pulling you down to lay with her as she grabbed your blanket and tossed it over your naked body.

“Did so good for me baby…so proud of you…” she sighed against your skin, peppering your face with kisses as she watched your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

Honestly? You couldn’t wait to get her back on the next stream.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

[space-matt]

Could I request a Matt x reader.They have been dating for a while but the reader has never left that honey moon stage.One day Matt is not having a good day and the readers presence make him on edge.He ends up blowing up on her calling her overbearing and clingy.Things shift and she becomes more distant,for a while he feels ok but he starts to miss the relationship they way it was before.when he tries to talk to the reader she cries to him about the whole situation.He is really sorry and does his best to make it up to her.

I’ll make it up to you 

matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: It's really true that you understand the value of things when you lose them.. Matt figured it out too late, but will he be able to make up for it?

request: yes 

author’s note: thank u so much for the request!! I hope you’ll enjoy it ♡ I added the song that helped me to write it. For everything I’m here!

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English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

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revised

Still lying in bed you feel the heat coming from the window left half open in Matt’s room, with your eyes closed you stretch by turning to the other side meeting a boulder of a blanket, you reach out your hand in search of your favorite person but to your surprise, your hand leans on the mattress, so you open your eyes trying to focus and notice that half of the bed is empty.

You've been together for seven months and thirteen days now, and you have to say that they are the best months of your life; Having never had previous relationships, it can be said that Matt is your first true and actual relationship in your 20 years of life. 

Everything had started as a pure joke between you two to make fun of Chris and his girlfriend Maddy, but the more time passed, the more you began to feel real feelings towards the boy who unlike you had liked you for a long time, but for fear of being considered only and solely a friend, he wanted to avoid putting his heart in the foreground and listening to the rational part of his brain. 

But fate wanted that one evening while you were saying goodbye to go to your own house, the moment you were about to press a kiss against his cheek, Matt turned earlier than expected causing your lips to collide, making you immediately move away but when you stopped to look into his eyes you saw in both of them a spark to burst a breathless kiss.

It must be said, from that moment you have been together, indeed perhaps precisely because it is your first relationship that you try to always make everything go for the best unlike Matt who still had his first relationships during his adolescence that, however, according to him, ''they can't compete with you''. Of course, it scares you that sooner or later it may get bored or otherwise lose interest in you, but you still try to eliminate this thought and be the best girlfriend in the world. 

So you get out of bed by completely opening the window so that the room can change air, leaving the bed undone; Take your change in the drawer that Matt has free so that you can put some of your things when you stay at his house to sleep, and you head to the next bathroom without noticing who is in the open space connected by a small corridor to his room.

Meanwhile Matt was lying on the sofa, the TV turned on in the background, with the phone in his hand looking at the various social networks but his mind was elsewhere, indeed the day had started in the wrong direction.

All night you did nothing but stay attached to him not making him move, which didn't make him sleep a wink and that's why he was quite nervous.

His brothers were still in their respective rooms changing, as they would then be out all day under your precise instructions, as you wanted to spend a day entirely with Matt before leaving for spring break in two weeks. 

When Nick and Chris find themselves in the living room ready to go out, Matt pulls up his head ''Do we have any meetings today?'' He asks confused getting up and putting the phone in his pocket ''The two of us yes, you have the day off today.. enjoy it'' Chris replies with a grin on his face which vanishes when he hears a puff from him ''Wow I didn't expect all this enthusiasm '' exclaims ironic Nick going to the door of the house ''Please let me come with you, I need to disconnect, I need air'' Matt responds whispering so as not to be heard by you ''Sorry MattyB but no'' says Chris taking a can of Pepsi from the fridge and then he goes out too.

Another puff comes out of his lips knowing he has to stay with you all day, and resignedly throws himself back on the couch closing his eyes.

When he feels your steps approaching a sense of annoyance and nervousness pervades his body, he can't even understand the reason for all this but it's already been a couple of days that he just wants to have a moment for him, but with you in the middle it's almost completely impossible.

On the other hand, you do not notice anything different, perhaps because taken by too much love even the most obvious things go unnoticed by your eyes in the shape of a little heart. 

All happy you go to the kitchen take water pouring it into a glass, you notice Matt on the sofa, you leave the glass on the counter and go in his direction lowering yourself to his height ''Babe, let's go out for breakfast?'' you ask trying to caress his hair but at your touch, he moves by sitting down looking at you ''I can't, I have to go out'' he responds annoyed without even looking at you, leaving you a little surprised but doesn't give up trying with a ''Then when you come back we can go for a ride at Lake Hollywood Park, right?'' hopeful in one of his answers but the only thing he pronounces is a ''See you later'' without greeting you and leaving the house, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room. 

The hours go by and so does your enthusiasm, you start thinking about the worst situations in your mind, which do nothing but increase your paranoia;

Okay maybe you recognize that in the last period, you have always been with them but although it has been almost a year since you moved to Los Angeles, you have not been able to make many friends due to your armor that you tend to raise when it comes to new people. But with Nick, Chris, and Matt it's different, you've known them since you were little, and with them, there was never a need to create a wall to protect you, because they are your guardian angels.

You've always gotten along, except for a few quarrels which is normal, but you've never noticed before behaviors so distant from Matt, as if your presence wasn't welcome.

When you hear the door open you hope that your boyfriend's figure will come out of the stairs but you recognize the voices of Chris and Nick, you resign yourself completely on the couch with your pajamas and the tray of ice cream on your legs.

''Ookay... why are you at home? Didn't you have to go out?'' Nick asks looking at you confused ''By the way where is Matt?'' Keep looking around ''I have no idea'' you answer him in a subtle voice while you eat a spoonful of vanilla ice cream, you feel the tears stop at the corners of your eyes, so you don't see you turn your head on the other side putting the teaspoon in the tray ''He came out this morning and never came back, I tried to text him and call him a couple of times but I didn't receive an answer'' you keep whispering closing your eyes making the tears fall.

You feel the package of ice cream being removed from your legs and two arms that surround you, from the essence that envelops you, you recognize that is Chris and with your eyes still closed you abandon yourself in a liberating cry after holding it all day ''Shh, it's okay'' he whispers massaging your back ''You know that now and then he has its relapses and behaves like this'' he keeps trying to reassure you.

You pull up with your nose and detach yourself from his arms ''But with me, he had never behaved this way.. at all he always came to me'' you explain looking in his direction receiving almost an expression of pity on his face ''What do you say if we order something and watch a movie here all together? We will make you choose'' announces trying to cheer you up But on your part, he only receives a nod with your head.

Even though he had spent the whole day outside walking around the crowded streets of Santa Monica, his mind did nothing but think about the time to get home, the only thought of having you always stuck made him take his breath away, of course he cared you but this so much physical contact, at that time, was leading him to detach himself from everything, but especially from you.

That's why he had waited for a late time to come back, so as not to have to face you trying to postpone everything to the day of your departure. But you know how his thought works more than yourself, in this way after finishing watching your comfort movie together with the two boys, you decide not to go to sleep right away but to stay on the couch not being able to stay alone in bed without Matt by your side, with the knowledge of having done something wrong. 

The fact that there was no communication between the two of you was new, you have always been the anchor of each other, and not being it in a short time has completely upset you, especially not understanding how to act, and consequently how to find a solution. 

The silence that reigns in the house is broken by the noise of the keys that are inserted into the door patch, your heart begins to beat quickly but you remain motionless sitting with your gaze turned in his direction, while he tries to slowly climb the entrance stairs but when it reaches the last one, he stops seeing you pulling his eyes up ''you shouldn’t have waited up for me, there was no need'' he says changing towards the fridge taking a bottle of water but no longer being able to hold back your thoughts for you ''What have I done? It's all day that you avoid me indeed it's days that you behave strangely'' you blurt out getting up to get closer to him, and given your height difference you are forced to pull up your head to look him better in the eyes.

As you stand in front of Matt, you can feel the bitterness in his words cutting deep into your heart. "What did you do to me?" he asks, his voice laced with anger and frustration. "There's that you've become overbearing and clingy. I can't take it anymore. You're always sticky, I never have a free moment, and if I have it, you're always there" he exclaims with clenched teeth and a hard look.

His words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you take a step back, not believing what you're hearing. "We weren't like that before, and now I understand why no one has ever wanted you" he adds with wickedness, making you feel small and insignificant.

You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat. You know what you've been through, and you've always hoped that Matt would understand. But instead, he holds it against you, making you feel like an outcast.

"You're an asshole" you finally manage to say, raising your voice as tears slide down your face. It's not like you to use such harsh words, but you're hurt and angry, and you can't help it.

At that moment, Matt opens his eyes, and you can see the surprise and shock on his face. He had never heard you say such a thing to him. Among all people, it was always you who used a calm tone, even in the most difficult situations.

Seeing you rush into his room, he follows you around, but when he sees that you start to take your bags, he realizes that he has exaggerated. "What do you do?" he asks, trying to take your arm. But with all the anger that you had in your body, in very little, you wriggle from his grip. "Let go of me" you say in a dry tone.

"I'm not going to stay in the room with you anymore. I'll go to Nick's, and I'll bring all my stuff" you finish, closing the zip and dragging the bag on the ground. As you come out of his room, you find yourself facing the two guys who, from the screams, immediately catapulted to see what had happened.

As you ask Nick for help, you feel exhausted and drained from the situation at home. Without even turning to see him, his hand takes the bag from yours and you head up to the room with the older brother. In the distance, you hear Chris saying, "Dude you have already done too much damage, let her be."

Days pass by, but the situation at home remains the same.

After receiving some harsh words, you decide to build a wall between you and Matt and try to avoid being alone with him.

You attempt to behave like a mature person, spending more time with the two brothers and going out on your own when they can't accompany you.

Matt, on the other hand, feels good when you're not around. However, as time passes, guilt starts to creep in, and he realizes that he doesn't want to push away the one person who means the world to him.

He understands this even more when you don't even look at him at the airport and leave without a single glance. "Why did I do wrong to her?" he says to himself as he watches you go through security checks. "Because you're a jerk, that's why" answers Nick, watching him with a serious expression.

Although he regrets his actions, Matt is determined to make things right between you two. Without telling anyone, he packs his backpack with only the bare minimum and heads off to the other side of the country.

Spring break is coming to an end, and leaving your family and friends in Boston again feels like a stab in the heart. This time, it hurts even more because you know that once you get back, you'll have to fend for yourself completely, starting with finding an apartment.

You and your family were having a pleasant evening playing board games when you heard the doorbell ring. "Were you expecting someone?" you asked, moving your pawns on the board. "No, we weren't. Why don't you go and answer it?" your mother replied, gazing at you with a gentle expression. You got up from your spot, a little confused.

As you reached the door, you saw Matt standing outside with a bouquet of your favorite tulips and a puppet with the words <I'm stupid> written on it. The sight of the flowers made you smile, but you didn't let your guard down completely.

''Please, I have to talk to you''

"You have five minutes" you told him as you closed the door behind you and sat on the porch, keeping a distance. He handed you the flowers and the puppet, and you accepted them, putting the flowers next to you and holding the puppet in your hands.

"I'm sorry" he began, fiddling with your fingers. "I know I'm not good with words, but I realize now that I was wrong to say what I said.

I shouldn't have blamed you like that. I just wanted to talk to you and explain my side of things."

He paused, looking down, and when he looked up again, his eyes were watery. You felt your own eyes fill up with tears, too.

"I don't want to lose you" he said, touching your cheek. You closed your eyes and put your hand on his. "I was an asshole, but I understand that now that you're gone."

You spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was a low blow. You've never made me feel so small and helpless before. But I have to admit, I've been clingier than usual lately. That's just my way of showing you love, and if you don't like it, we can end it here."

"No way" he said, taking a step closer. "I flew over 2,500 miles to see you and tell you I love you more than anything. We just need to communicate better and make sure we're both happy. I'm here because I want to be and make it up to you." concludes by looking into your eyes '' I love you too... but please let's not hurt ourself anymore'' you leaned your forehead against his and felt his lips on yours in a gentle kiss.

When you pulled away, you grinned and grabbed the puppet. "Would you be him?" you asked, laughing together.

----------------------------------------------------

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#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #romance #travel

[ssahotchnerr]

omg the math homework one but aaron is the one who's bad at math (ok canonically he's probably very good at math) so you go over to his place one day and find him hunched over jack's math homework with his hand tangled in his hair trying to figure out a 3rd grade math problem. and jack has already lost interest and is watching cartoons on the TV while aaron is losing his mind. im thinking of that one incredibles scene where bob is like "THEY CHANGED MATH"

calling bullshit

just the image of aaron losing his complete mind over math 😭 omg <3 cw; mention of food, aaron is just 😭😒🤨🥰

you let yourself into aaron's apartment, takeout in hand. you enter into the usual scene - the lamp's lit in the corner, casting a warm, cozy glow. some laundry is perched on the chair, yet to be put away. jack's sprawled out on the couch, some show blaring in front of him. the only unusual thing, aaron seems to be absent.

"hey jackers." you stand beside him, brushing back some of the wispy hairs draped over his forehead. he doesn't acknowledge you too much, as his eyes are glued to the tv screen, simply murmuring a 'hi' in response. "where's your dad?"

"doing homework."

your nose crinkles in confusion. "homework?"

you receive a nod from him in response, and leave him be in search of aaron. you find him in the dining room, vaguely slouched over the table, frustratedly running his hand through his hair. it's quite disheveled, poking in all different directions. his tie is thrown exasperatedly onto the table as well, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"yikes." your tone is half laugh, half genuine concern. "difficult case?"

aaron straightens his posture, leaning his head back to look at you. his sweet brown eyes are heavily annoyed. "take a look at this."

you grimace slightly. "oh, i don't think i would be much help-"

"just, trust me. take a look."

you cautiously peer over his shoulder, expecting to come face to face with gruesome, murderous details of whatever case his team happens to be working on. but rather, you see multiple math worksheets - jack's name in his childlike, messy-yet-legible print in the corner of each.

you bit down onto your lip to refrain from laughing. "oh, this kind of homework."

"why the hell would they change math." aaron gruffs, tossing his pencil onto the table. "it's universal, isn't it? means the same damn thing everywhere. so who cares if you carry the number this way, or line up the problem this way."

"well, i mean-"

"this is third grade math, i'm a grown man and i've been sitting here trying to make sense of this new way how to do it. it's complete bullshit, if you ask me." a large exhale escapes him, his annoyance now heightening into slight anger. "and they say, this is the new simpler, easier way of doing it? again, bullshi-"

"okay." you laugh, placing a gentle kiss on his head. your hands wrap around him from behind, allowing you to soothingly run your palms along his chest. "how about you try and calm down. i brought food, so we'll eat, and you can take a break. afterwards, all three of us will sit down and figure this out. sound good?"

aaron releases another tense breath, relaxing back into his chair at your touch, and nods silently. you turn your head, placing a kiss on his neck. it's the closest skin of his you can reach, and his skin's warm from his aggravation.

not without giving him another kiss, you trail into the kitchen. but, you can hear him mumbling incoherently under his breath. "-everyone ends up using calculators anyway."

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