Just the idea of Nicho & Maki being your best friends…with benefits. (smut warning!)
Maki’s fucking his thick cock into your sopping pussy, while Nicho’s got one arm wrapped around your thigh, his free hand greedily groping at you breasts and caressing your skin, while he eats you out.
Nicho is nasty with it, letting his saliva drip slowly from his mouth, right down between your folds. Maki groans from above both of you as he struggles to pick where exactly he wants to focus his gaze. His eyes flick back and forth between his cock sinking into you, and the way Nicho’s tongue flicks over your glistening, sensitive clit.
You’re dazed, fucked out without having cum yet, eyes fluttered shut, rolling back each time Nicho suckles at your clit, or Maki hits a particularly good spot within you.
You open your eyes just in time to see Maki also spit on your clit. He’s more aggressive with it than Nicho is, but it’s equally as arousing. Now to fucking mention the way Nicho drags his hand down to rub their mixed saliva through your folds, the substance further lubing Maki’s cock, his thrusts slippery and slow.
Nicho spreads your pussy lips, humming lowly. “So wet for us,” He whispers, just before leaning down to suck your clit into his mouth, making you reel, especially when Maki picks up the pace, sending you straight to heaven— well, hell, you suppose, given the filthy, but arousing situations you always end up in with the two of them.
And to think there was once a time where you were worried you’d regret fucking them.
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cw: fem!reader, no ej you can check his version here
Koga Yudai:
Fisting: Yudai goes crazy at the idea of being able to shove his entire fist into your pussy, the first time you tried it he almost came just from hearing your moans. He hopes that someday he can fit more than just his fist inside you lol.
Omorashi: Another pervert who loves to see you wet yourself for him, Yudai gets so excited at the idea of your belly full of pee waiting for the sex to end just so you can pee, that most of the time he asks you to empty yourself right there on the bed.
Face sitting: PLEASE suffocate this man with your pussy, let him lick you while you rub yourself on his face, leaving it wet with your bodily fluids, put all your weight on Yudai's face and let him suck you until you have the best orgasm of your life.
Murata Fuma:
Foot fetish: This man is crazy about your feet! let him put them in his mouth, suck them, and make a mess with your toes - or even cum on your feet - and he will love it!
Kyonyuu: Fuma really has a thing for big breasts, even outside the realm of fetishes he likes her big breasts to lie on, put his face on them and listen to the beat of her heart or even use them as a stress ball.
Titty Fucking: Following the logic of big breasts, one of the main reasons he likes it is so he can fuck them, put his huge cock between her breasts and make a mess while cumming on them as her tits embrace his penis </3 he likes it so much!
Gokkun: please give Fuma a blowjob and then swallow all his semen or let him cum in a container and at the end of the nite swallow all his semen, he will go crazy!
Creampie: Fuma is kind of obsessed with cumming inside you, so any practice that involves that he likes, especially cumming inside you!
Cum play: as I said, he is obsessed with cum, so if he can cum on your face and then spread it all over your body while you turn into a sticky mess, he will love it!
Wang Yixiang (Nicholas):
Exhibitionism: Nicholas is a somewhat exhibitionist guy, he loves receiving attention, after all, who doesn't? so expect to have sex in his dorm with the doors ajar knowing that anyone could walk by and see you, or have a romp in the dressing room while people pass outside. Maybe you even leave the door completely open while Euijoo is home just so he can walk past Nicholas's room and see you two fucking.
Spanking: He is quite cruel with you in bed, so expect to lie on his lap or be on all fours while he spanks your butt until it turns completely red and you can't stand the pain anymore.
Pussy slapping: Following the line of beating, Nicholas feels an absurd arousal in torturing you by slapping your pussy, especially after you come, damn, he goes crazy seeing you all wet and trembling while he gives you a few slaps.
Cock worship: Nicholas likes to see you surrender to his cock, whether it's dictating the rhythm you suck it or even while you jerk off. Tell this man that you adore his cock and that you can't live without it, and he will reward you very well.
Hi!! Can you do roommate yuma (or nicho or fuma,I aint a picky anon) hearing reader complain about her nails and not being able to satisfy her needs anymore,with him helping by fingering and licking her till she is overstimulated and satisfied?
【 18+ 】 tw ──── roommate!yuma. . sub!reader, fingering, finger fucking, pussy eating, tongue fucking. don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
you were sprawled on your bed, shorts and panties already kicked off, legs spread wide in pure frustration. your long nails—pretty, sharp, and completely useless—had ruined every attempt for weeks. you couldn’t get the angle right, couldn’t press where you needed without scratching yourself. the ache between your legs had become constant, throbbing, unbearable.
“fuck these stupid nails,” you whined—a bit too loud, voice cracking with desperation. “i can’t even finger myself anymore. i just need to cum. i need it so bad…”
you didn’t hear the front door click shut. didn’t notice the soft footsteps in the hallway. but yuma did. your roommate had come home early, and your door was cracked open just enough for every frustrated whine to carry straight to him.
a gentle knock made you jolt.
“y/n?” his voice was low, careful. “you okay? i… heard you.”
your face burned. “y-yuma—! it’s nothing, i was just—”
the door pushed open. yuma stood there in his black hoodie and gray sweats, hair slightly messy from the day, but his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.
“you said you can’t satisfy your needs anymore,” he said quietly. “because of your nails.”
you wanted to disappear. “please forget you heard that—”
“i don’t want to forget.” he pushed off the door and walked toward you, slow and deliberate. “i want to help.”
your breath caught. “help… how?”
yuma knelt between your already-spread legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. his warm hands slid up your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing circles. “with my fingers or my tongue. i don't have nails like yours so it'll just be me taking care of you until you can’t think anymore, yeah?" his gaze flicked up to yours, soft but hungry.
“that is only if you want it. you can tell me to stop and i will forget i heard anything. buttttt if you let me…” you could hear the smirk in his voice as it dropped. “i’ll make you feel so good you forget why you were frustrated in the first place.”
you were already dripping. the ache had turned into a full throb at his words.
“just—fine…don't make it weird,” you whispered.
that was all he needed.
yuma hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shirt and tugged it up, exposing your chest, but his real focus stayed between your legs. he spread you open with two fingers, groaning softly at how soaked you were.
“god—look at you,” he murmured, almost reverent. “so soaked. wish i could be bury myself in this pretty cu—”
"yuma—!" you cut him off with a hushed scold.
he simply chuckled, using one long finger to trace your slit, gathering up your slick before teasing at your entrance—using his thumb to circle your clit. you gasped at the dual sensations.
then he pushed inside—slow, deep, curling immediately against that spot that made your toes curl. a second finger followed, stretching you perfectly. his pace was steady, deliberate, like he’d been thinking about this.
“mm—feel that?” he asked, voice raspy.
you moaned, hips rolling to meet his hand. you did feel that and god, it felt so good. it had been so long. too long.
then yuma leaned in and dragged his tongue flat up your pussy, licking a broad stripe before sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking. the combination—his fingers pumping deep and curling, his tongue flicking and sucking relentlessly—had you crying out within seconds.
“nghh—yu—! oh my go—”
he hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. his free hand pinned your thigh wider as he ate you like he was starving, fingers never slowing, scissoring, pressing right where you needed. you could hear how wet you were, the obscene sounds of his fingers fucking into you while his tongue worked your swollen clit.
your first orgasm hit hard and fast. your back arched off the bed, thighs shaking around his head as you clenched around his fingers, a broken moan tearing from your throat. pleasure flooded every nerve.
but yuma didn’t stop.
he eased the pressure on your clit for only a second before licking slower, gentler, almost soothing—then ramped back up the second your tremors started to fade. his fingers kept moving, slower now but deeper, rubbing that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust.
“mmmph—too much—yuma, m' sensitive—” you whimpered, trying to squirm away even as your hips chased his mouth.
“mhm...i know, baby,” he murmured against your pussy, voice warm and wrecked. “but just one more. i know you can give me one more. let me make it all better.”
he sealed his lips around your clit again and sucked, tongue flicking rapidly while his fingers curled hard and fast. the overstimulation crashed into you like a wave—too much, too good, your nerves on fire. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the second orgasm built impossibly fast, sharper, almost painful in its intensity.
you came again with a choked sob, whole body seizing, thighs clamping around his head as you gushed around his fingers. your vision whited out for a second. you were trembling so hard you could barely breathe.
this time yuma finally slowed, then stopped. he gently eased his fingers out, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip, your stomach as you came down. he licked his fingers clean with a low hum before crawling up your body and pulling you into his chest.
you were boneless, overstimulated, completely satisfied in a way you hadn’t been in weeks.
yuma stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “better?”
you nodded weakly against his hoodie, still twitching with aftershocks. “so much better… thank you.”
he chuckled softly, the sound warm and fond. “told you i’d take care of you.” his fingers traced lazy circles on your back. “next time those nails get in the way, just knock on my door. or don’t even knock. i’ll probably hear you anyway.”
you let out a shaky laugh, nuzzling closer. “you’re a really good roommate.”
yuma’s arms tightened around you, voice dropping into something teasing, darker yet sweeter. “oh—i can be an even better one if you let me.”
happy early pride month my smidarlings ~ ( *¯ ꒳¯*) i know how much u all enjoy my fem!team stuff so i thought to make a series of fics specifically for pride month with fem!team !! there will be sfw and nsfw fics written n posted in no particular order ~~ !
sfw ────
falling for fem!trackstar k
confessing to fuma!k on the rooftop
getting cheated on but falling for the girl ur bf cheated on (fem!nicholas)
princess!reader falls for lady in waiting fem!euijoo
fem fan!jo falls for former idol reader
gyaru!yuma and her 3 confessions
fem childhood best friend!harua
i married my best friend to shut my parents up (fem!taki)
academic rivals w fem!maki
nsfw ────
1. stealth strap w fem!k
2. roommate fem!euijoo
3. g!p mating press w fem!fuma
4. puppy play w fem!taki
5. masc fem ceo!nicholas
6. kitty hybrid!fem yuma (dddne)
7. femme!harua x femme!reader
8. first timing using a trap w fem!jo
9. ab riding w fem!maki
bonus: big sister!weno + big sister!k (dddne)
ⓘ ──── please read
i will be writing these throughout the month of june, but some may not be written ! i will do my best to get to all of them within this month but if i am unable to—they will be written later and or posted in june !
most other wips and reqs will be put on hold to prioritize this series ~ sorry straight people ... i will ocassionally post mxf reqs here and there tho !
𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 open . . . . . :
please comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ~ !
can we get a sub yuma smut pls 🙏 maybe some shower sex
omg sub yuma is my everything ૮⸝⸝´ ٣ `⸝⸝ა
the minute i saw shower i thought of yuma vlog in thailand— him in the pool all wet . . . similar vibes with this hehe~ a post pool “shower”.
love, wanii ᢉ𐭩
❤︎ come around me — sub! yuma
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ your boyfriend pounding into you after a quick visit to the hotel pool. the only sound echoing through the room being his desperate whines.
tags ⸝⸝ sub yuma, unprotected (wrap it up), back shots, needy yuma, baby sitting fuma for a good sec.
you followed him around all afternoon like a lost puppy, always trying to stay out of the camera’s sight. a long day, yuma’s constant adventure is never-ending. first it was going shopping with his members, grabbed food with them, and towards the end of the night he went out to the hotel pool.
he place a soft kiss on your cheek “i’ll be back in around— an hour?” purring into your ear before leaving. nodding tiredly as you wave bye.
you— already curled next to fuma, drowsy eyes barely focused on the nintendo switch screen, brain malfunctioning at every new term he threw at you.
fuma went on for the entire hour, trying to explain pokemon teams to you, how the game worked, even showing off his favorite pokemon. it felt more like babysitting a grown man than anything.
you did have to admit it— it was slightly adorable how passionate he was about the game.
just as your head was about to give in, the loud beep sounded at the door, keycard swiping, flip flops clicking, yuma’s loud laugh echoed at whatever stupid joke nico made. a piercing thud of the door shutting.
“holy shit— it’s freezing in here.” his body leaves a trail of pool water behind him, towel thrown over his shoulder. sunglasses pinning his wet black hair back. fuma raises his head, rolling his eyes from the sudden interruption of his serious pokémon presentation.
“how was the pool?” tired voice muffled into the pillow your head was buried in. he shrug, kicking off his slides, throwing the towel onto the foot of his bed. “it was hot as shit—“ giggling to himself “super fun though— but the camera lens kept fogging up.” his eyes stare up at you, fingers massaging into his skull. “you two?” eyes darting between you and fuma.
“i learned a lot about pokémon” you chuckle, before trying to recite everything you absorbed through your half-asleep mind.
“you weren’t exactly listening—“ fuma cuts in, a small hint of pout on his lips, fingers smashing the switch buttons.
“i was!!” you smack his arm, a bit offended. “it was just a lot—“
yuma giggles, feet stomping over to the bathroom. “i’ll shower now— room service when i get out?” he chirped, head peaking out from the bathroom door. big eyes glistening in the lights.
you nod excitedly, giving a big thumbs up.
it had felt like forever, yuma hadn’t even turned on the shower, and the time only grew longer.
with a sluggish hmph you sat up, “i have to pee” you mumble under your breath.
as you knock gently on the closed bathroom door it nearly automatically opens, yuma gripping your wrist, swiftly tugging your body in. “whoa— what the—“. hand cupping your mouth. arms pinning you to the door. “shh-“ his eyes hungrily staring at you, the softness of his tone inaudible.
you fight his hand off your mouth, clawing at it. “what-?” barely above a whisper. “why haven’t you showered yet— we’ve been waiting for— forever.” he hesitated, lips opening, words that never left turned to sighs. knee pressed between your legs.
he’d never been one to get so embarrassed, his sudden demeanor change was out of character.
yuma just stood there for a good minute before dropping to his knees, hands gliding over your body, tracing the shape until his fingers clung to the waistband of your shorts.
making eye contact with every slow movement. “yuma—“ a long sigh echoing.
you couldn't fight that heated feeling between your legs that burned with his desperate movements. “just at least turn on the shower.” voice laced shamefully.
was this a first? no. yuma had a tendency to get insatiably needy when he was bored, that kind of horny that made him submit to every word you said.
without much talking— there you were, bent over in a lukewarm shower, one hand pressed to the wall, the other covering your mouth. the gentle sound of water covers the thick smacking of skin.
it was an unparalleled time, never crossed your mind that you'd be getting pounded into while muffling your desperate cries from his friend in the next room.
yuma’s hands holding your hips, nails digging into the plump flesh. sinking every last vein into you, pressure pushing deeper into you, thick messy thrusts stretching you beyond comfort.
his rhythm was never consistent, an unrelenting frenzied spasm of his hips. every long drawl until just his tip was wrapped by you, and a merciless thrust— sinking every bitter stretching inch in you, walls squirming around the depth of him.
his restless hips, lips barely attempting at muffling his needy whimpers, head dazed— “gentle-” you hissed out, tone trying to fight the slurring effect of his dick.
yuma instantly slows down— hips rolling in a different tender way, his fingers losing that once-painful grip. his whimpers get softer, a soothed pace of his thrusts.
“i'm sorry~” his voice purring with his needy whines. fingers massaging into you.
his cock twitching, his hips losing that steady gentleness they had just gained, now just desperate rolls.
your nails scratching at the delicate marble walls, vision blurring with his last long thrust, milking every last drop of his seed out with tiny grinds against you. the shower water is still splattering your back.
walls fluttering around his cock, stomach releasing built-up tension until your back arched against his chest.
knowing you'd have to face fuma after this was an unbearable idea.
🗒️ hiiiii~!! please interact with this post and/or my page if you finished it, it helps motivate me to write more!! if you have any requests or ideas you’d like to share my inbox is open atm!! do not copy or translate any of my works.
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warnings: necrophilia, murder, mainly anton in denial as he tries to convince himself reader loves/loved him.
i’m SOOOO sorry it took so long to drop this.. i was lowkey spewing bs i’m so sorry but i hope you all enjoy ˃̶͈◡˂̶͈ barely proofread
anton always thought you were pretty. you were his neighbor and just moved last year with your family to pursue college and be a little closer to campus. you were bright, loud and sweet. a firecracker, people in the small town said, and honestly, he agreed. it didn’t take long for you to make a reputation, of course. it was easy because you just naturally drew people in, and anton was one of them.
what he had for you at first was something small, something he could control without a problem. it was hard not to fall for you, and he found himself looking forward to seeing you everyday after work. he noticed that everyday, like clockwork, you’d check the mail at 6 pm, a little after he got home from work, his key still clicking in the lock. he’d notice the way your fingers twirled your hair in conversation, notice the way you bit your lip every time you thought of something. he was captivated, and as the months passed, his interest for you grew stronger, unbearable, terrible.
he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you, at least engage in a conversation with more than 5 words before leaving in embarrassment or shame. but neither could you. he knew you liked him, you had to. he was put together, he was quiet, he was nice too, and plus, you made an attempt to see him every night whenever you went out to the mailbox. there was no way you didn’t feel the same way, and the strict title of only barely acquainted neighbors pissed him off. it was your fault. if you could speak to everyone else, why couldn’t you make an effort to have a reasonable relationship with him?
he couldn’t stop himself from the thoughts that plagued his mind. 8 months in and the sight of you made him cry, made him smile, made him sick. he didn’t mean to do what he did. everything became too much, all for too little and he blacked out. his feet moved before he could stop them, one step into the house, another farther, farther, farther, until he stood in front of the kitchen drawer. he was at war with himself, the conscious part of him telling him that this was too far, that things could change if he just wasn’t a fucking coward. but then he was behind you as you did your daily checking, knife gripped tight as he plunged it into your neck, over and over and over again until you were slumped and limp in his arms, his work clothes getting soaked in your blood, warm and sticky.
now you were in his shed a day later. he was fully aware or what he’d done now, he’d only hoped no one saw him. he was sorry, he felt guilty, and he tried his hardest to convince himself of that, but every time he thought of you sitting there, dusty shed, maybe a few flies and an unbearable stench emitting from your pretty, lifeless body, he felt nothing but pride and love. he loved you, so much more now that you were dead.
he stood above you, pupil’s dilated and circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. his fluffy hair was messy from him pulling at it all night, tugging in stress and fear. he was scared, to be honest. he was scared of being caught, he was scared of losing you again. so his shaky hands move to your bloody white shirt, tugging it over your head and through your arms gently, as if you’d break if he was too rough. your pants follow after, tugged slightly down your legs. your were so stiff, and he had to plug his nose from the smell. he gags, placing his shirt over his nose before unbuttoning his pants.
he spits on your cunt, rubbing it across your folds before sliding in with a hiss. you were tight, likely a virgin before he took your life. sad, really, you died a virgin. but it was okay, because he would still take you for himself, even while you were dead. he did take you for himself. you were no longer warm anymore, his large hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing. he could just imagine the warmth, he could imagine the heartbeat, he could imagine that you were alive, and with him. in love with him.
each thrust inside of your virgin cunt had him crazed, crying, kissing your cold lips and cheeks, squeezing you tighter as he told he loved you and that he was sorry over and over again. but you couldn’t hear him and would never hear him and how much he loved you now. you felt the same way, and he knew you did. he spilled inside of you at the thought of you being with him, baring his child, having his family with him, knowing that he took the opportunity to do any of that from you. but that was okay, because you were right here, beneath him and taking his seed. he didn’t need your baby, he didn’t need your family. “i think i like you better when you aren’t breathing.” he breathes, pulling out of your lifeless form. if he ever got caught, if he ever lost you for good, at least you had a piece of him inside of you.
can u write a harua smut abt reader teasing him for looking pretty when he wears makeup and he goes teasing reader by sitting on his cock while doing his makeup? 💗
【 18+ 】 tw ──── harua x f!rea . . teasing, pet names, praise kink, kinda switchxswitch, p in v sex, creampie, upwards sitting cowgirl. | don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
you were straddling harua’s lap at the vanity, knees bracketing his thighs, makeup brush steady in your hand. he sat relaxed beneath you, head tilted back slightly so you could work. the soft vanity lights made his skin glow as you carefully blended a warm shadow into his crease.
“you look so pretty already,” you teased, voice low and playful. “but i’m gonna make you even prettier. ugh—your eyes are unfair.”
harua’s mouth curved into a sweet smile, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “mmm, you really think so…?”
you leaned in closer, focused on sharpening the wing of his eyeliner. his hands rested on your bare thighs under the hem of his shirt you were wearing, thumbs stroking slow circles. the position was intimate—your chest almost brushing his, his face inches from yours while you worked.
you were just finishing the second wing when his hands slid higher. he shifted beneath you, finger nimble as he unzipped his pants, and pulled his boxers down just enough to free his flushed cock—already hard and hot against your inner thigh.
“rua—” you started, but he was already lifting you hips so he could hook your panties to the side with two fingers. then he moved his hands to guide you down onto him.
he sank into you in one smooth, deep thrust.
you gasped, the brush jerking in your hand as your cunt stretched around him, taking every thick inch until you were seated fully on his lap, stuffed full. your walls fluttered helplessly.
“mmh—keep going,” he murmured, voice low and teasing right as he pressed a small peck to your lips. “finish my makeup, baby. i want to look pretty while i’m inside you.”
you tried. god, you tried. but every tiny shift made his cock drag against your sensitive walls. you dipped the brush again, attempting to blend the other eye, but your hand trembled when he gave a shallow upward roll of his hips.
“harua… i can’t—the line’s gonna be crooked.”
he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into you. one hand stayed on your hip, holding you down, while the other reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear like he wasn’t currently buried to the hilt in your dripping pussy.
“look at you,” he whispered, eyes playful and amused as he watched your face. “trying so hard to make me pretty while you’re clenching around my cock. your hands are shaking.”
you sensed he was teasing you so you just bit your lip, and forced yourself to continue. you managed to finish the eyeshadow, then reached for the lip tint. when you brought the applicator to his mouth, he parted his lips obediently, but his free hand slid between your bodies and found your clit, circling it once, slow and deliberate.
a whimper escaped you. the tint smudged slightly at the corner of his mouth.
“oops,” he said innocently, though his eyes were anything but. “guess you’ll have to fix that.”
you tried to steady your hand, reapplying the tint while he stayed perfectly still inside you—except for the occasional lazy thrust or the way his thumb kept brushing your clit. every time you clenched, he groaned quietly, but he never let you move properly.
“you’re doing so good,” he praised, voice slightly strained. “making me look all pretty and soft while your pussy’s drooling all over my cock. such a sweet girl. my sweet girl~”
when you finally capped the tint, hands shaking, he set the tube aside for you and gripped your waist with both hands.
“done?” he asked sweetly.
you nodded, barely breathing.
harua’s smile turned wicked. “good.”
he thrust up hard, fucking into you properly now, the vanity chair creaking beneath you both. one hand stayed on your hip to guide your movements while the other cupped the back of your neck, keeping your forehead pressed to his so you could see every pretty detail you’d just painted on his face—smeared lip tint, perfectly winged liner, flushed cheeks—as he ruined you.
“next time,” he panted against your lips, driving deeper, “you can do my makeup while i properly fuck you, hmm?”
you came with a broken moan, clenching hard around him, and he followed right after, burying himself deep and filling you up while his pretty, pink-smeared mouth curved into a satisfied smile against your throat.
he stayed inside you afterward, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he admired his reflection in the mirror.
“see?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “told you i’d look pretty.”
you laughed weakly, still trembling on his cock.
“shut up, harua.”
he just grinned, stroking slow circles on your lower back.
“round two after i let you fix my lips?” he offered, voice sweet and teasing. “i’ll even let you be in control and sit still this time… maybe.”
૮꒰ ˶> ༝ < ྀི˶꒱ა ~ this is actually very interesting! i’ve never really written about this— it was a half-first⸝⸝ i read a fic for it once a long time ago — without realizing this is what it’s called・・・sooo i’m very very sorry if it’s not the best ߹𖥦߹ i tied it in with a similar idea i had and it actually was really fun to test my writing on˚. ᵎᵎ
love, wanii ᢉ𐭩
p.s. ⸝⸝ requesting anything w/ nico or yuma is the way to my heart . ݁˖
❤︎ sleeping beauty — roommate! nicholas
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ dry humping your roommate’s pillow while he’s asleep, his pretty face relaxed as you edge yourself until you can’t take it anymore.
nicholas always had late schedules, most practices running from 5 p.m. to 3 a.m. by the time his sluggish body, sweat-soaked shirt, and messy hair were unlocking the door— his head hit the pillow.
you barely uttered a word to him, schedules never aligned for a good hangout time “maybe next week!” he’d blurt in a rush— bag jingling behind him.
you— left at the counter, spoon picking at the soggy cereal, deep down your heart ached. the “day” never came.
tonight was no different, he came back to the apartment at 3:40 a.m. quickly washing his face, throwing his bag on the couch, and disappearing into his room.
hearing the soft click of his door closing through the walls.
already slouched over your desk, hands jotting down the last paragraphs on your notes. maybe it was the sleep deprivation taking over or maybe you just didn’t want to admit how horny you were that night.
but now daydreaming about riding your roommate until dawn, thighs clenching at every dirty thought that floats into your head. your notes ended up long forgotten. piles of workbooks now thrown to the side.
feet tip-toeing around your room, grabbing a quick swig from a crumpled water bottle before heading over. you didn’t dare knock, hands already fumbling to muffle that loud creaky door he had. body slipping past the small crack you were able to open.
his room was pitch black, the gentle breaths his sleeping self made— a deep long sound blending in with the small melodies muffling through his phone speaker, a relaxing white noise video playing.
not trying to awaken him your foot steps slow, hands feeling around for extra guidance. you’d never really been familiar with the inside of his room, only ever peeped in a couple of times to steal a hoodie or another piece of clothing.
this time you were on a mission— and it wasn’t particularly an easy one. your knees sink into the mattress, hands cautiously feeling around. “why the fuck is his room so dark” murmuring under your breath.
finally you propped yourself in a comfortable position, thighs wrapped around his spare pillow, the heat between your legs pressing against the soft cotton case.
ever so gently rolling your hips against the cushion, hands planted in front of you. eyes adjusting to the absent lighting, a soft outline of nico’s face now visible. his eyes glued shut, mouth partially open, taking long deep breaths as he sleeps.
the friction between your underwear and the pillow sends your head into a foggy cloud, your wetness grinding against the plush feeling. one hand moving to cover the desperate whines choking your throat.
the other hand fisting the black covers below you, trying to stabilize the last bits of control you had.
your skin heating, all while a cold breeze drifts through the curtains, goosebumps covering your body as the contrast of the two felt strangely unsettling.
hips never pausing, the building tension burning stronger, pleasure flooding through your body. just as you were about to chase it— your hips stop.
perfectly balanced on the pillow, knees still damp with sweat. where was the fun in letting this all finish so soon?
as you let the once building high crumble, you continue, hips moving more desperately, biting back the loud moans.
body trembling with every writhing move. the throbbing pleasure peaking once more, letting out shaky breaths at each muscle tense.
hips stuttering a last time, knees buckling, eyes tracing his sleepy face once again before rolling back. dissolving in your own pleasure, a choked sob escapes your slick lips.
liquids seeping into the cotton pillow case, legs shaking as you find yourself sitting there, awkwardly gripping the fabric. eyes tracing over his sharp jaw one last time before fleeing back to your room. unsure if he’d notice the damped pillow the next morning.
🗒️ hiiiii~!! please interact with this post and/or my page if you finished it, it helps motivate me to write more!! inbox is open for any thoughts or ideas you may want to share, whether it be for a fic or questions you would like to ask me! do not copy or translate my work.
❤︎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cute cuddly moments with your boyfriend ~
•⠀ masterlist 𓋰 💬 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘀 ─── ᛫ ot9 x gn!r ✶ cute fluffy moments only~~ don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
K is big but clingy. you’re at your desk, halfway through answering emails, when the door opens. he doesn’t say anything—he just turns your chair around, climbs straight into your lap, and wraps himself around you like a giant koala. his long legs dangle off the sides, arms looped around your neck, face buried in your shoulder.
“mm i’m charging…” he mumbles, voice already sleepy.
every time you reach for your phone he lets out the most dramatic, wounded sigh until you give up and hug him back. within minutes he’s out cold, breathing slow and steady against your skin, completely content to stay right there for as long as you’ll let him.
FUMA strides in when you are folding laundry, he doesn’t say anything at first—he just tosses you over his shoulder with zero effort and drops you onto the mattress. you expect him to follow with something else, but instead he grabs his switch from the nightstand, climbs onto the bed, and pulls you so your back is flush against his chest.
he rests his chin on your shoulder, wraps one strong arm around your waist, and boots up pokémon with the other.
“i missed you,” he mumbles against your ear, voice low and soft. “you’ve been working too hard. let’s just stay like this for a while, yeah?”
he starts playing, occasionally turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek or temple whenever he catches something he likes. every now and then he tilts the screen toward you and quietly asks, “should i evolve this one?” his big frame completely surrounds you, warm and steady, while he plays.
EJ comes home when you're reading in bed. he changes into comfy clothes and joins you without disturbing your book. instead he gently lifts your shirt just enough to rest his cheek on your bare stomach, arms wrapping around your hips.
“don’t stop reading,” he says quietly, eyes already closing. every so often he turns his head to press a feather-light kiss to your skin, then settles again with a tiny contented sigh. the steady sound of your breathing and the warmth of your body is all he needs after a long day.
NICHOLAS doesn’t say a word. he just climbs onto the bed and carefully lays himself right on top of you, his full weight pressing you gently into the mattress. his chin rests on your shoulder, arms sliding underneath you so he can hold you from below.
“stay still,” he murmurs against your ear, voice low and a little sleepy. you can feel how tense he was earlier slowly melting away the longer he stays like this. every so often he turns his head to press a soft kiss to your cheek or the side of your neck. he doesn’t move for a long time—just breathes you in, completely content to have you trapped sweetly beneath him.
JO comes up behind you and rests his chin on the very top of your head, long arms sliding around your waist. he doesn’t say anything at first—just sways you both gently from side to side.
after a minute he mumbles, almost shyly, “you fit right here…” his hold tightens just a little, and you feel him smile against your hair. he stays like that until you’re both swaying in comfortable silence.
YUMA suddenly drops down, laying his head in your lap sideways whilst you’re sitting on the floor against the couch playing a game on your phone—his cheek squished against your thigh.
he grabs your free hand and places it on his head.
“pet me,” he demands cutely. you start running your fingers through his hair and within seconds he’s making actual little purring sounds, feet kicking happily behind him. every time your hand slows down he lets out a tiny whine and nuzzles closer, completely blissed out in your lap.
HARUA suddenly appears in front of you. he tilts his head cutely, puffs out his cheeks, and does a little aegyo pose with his hands near his face.
“harua’s been ignored for too long~” he whines in the sweetest voice, eyes sparkling with mischief.
the moment you cringe slightly and laugh but still reach for him, his whole expression changes. he doesn’t hesitate—he climbs straight into your lap, wraps his arms and legs around you like an octopus, and buries his face in your neck with a happy little noise. he stays glued to you after that, occasionally pulling back just enough to look at you with big shiny eyes before nuzzling right back in. every few minutes he presses a tiny kiss to your neck or jaw, refusing to let go even a little.
TAKI climbs up on the bed, you are laid back scrolling on your phone. he shifts himself so he’s on his stomach—head between your thighs.your brain short-circuits for a second—until he pulls out his switch and looks up at you with big, innocent eyes.
“squeeze?” he asks sweetly.
you laugh and gently press your thighs together around his head. he lets out the happiest little noise and starts his game, completely relaxed, occasionally reaching up to pat your knee like a thank-you. he stays there for over an hour, perfectly content in his favorite spot.
MAKI bursts into the room with energy, then immediately softens when he sees you scrolling on your phone in bed. he launches himself onto the mattress, lands with a soft bounce. immediately resting his head in your lap and wrapping his arms around your hips like he’s been waiting all day to do this.
he looks up at you with those big, sparkly eyes and smiles widely.
“hi baby,” he says, looking up at you with sparkly eyes.
he spends the next hour telling you every single thing that happened in his day whilst you play with his hair. every so often he pauses mid-story, lifts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your wrist or the fabric over your stomach, then drops right back down and continues talking like nothing happened.
the way u write maki is so delish he’s been driving me extra insane lately>.< i would absolutely love to read abt u write him mayb putting reader into a headlock while fucking her from behind?
awwwww tyyy~ i love writing for my puppy boy maki, with all the recent concert clips someone needs to lock him up. confession— i’ve had day dreams about maki doing exactly this, him and fuma with their muscles makes me go crazyyyyy— ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა
love, wanii ᢉ𐭩
p.s. ⸝⸝ don’t try this at home it can cause severe brain damage . ݁˖
❤︎ rush — dom! maki
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ boyfriend maki putting you into a headlock while pounding into you from behind~
it started as messy pounding, his large hands pressing onto your stomach— the thick thrusts into you making your head go fuzzy.
maki’s deep groans roughening, voice cracking with every long roll. one of his hands slowly creeping up to your breast, his long fingers massaging into it. hips striking into your ass, arm slowly creeping closer to your neck, pulling your back into an indescribable arch.
eyes tearing from every sharp stretch, “is this okay?” his desperate voice purring into your ear. large arm wrapped around your neck, gently pressing into the soft curve.
you nod frantically, hands moving to claw at his forearm, it wasn’t exactly comfortable but that burning sensation with every merciless jerk was enough to shut you up.
“is it too tight?” his voice worried— words slurred together from his growing pleasure. the way every inch of his flesh filled your walls, tightly wrapped around the sharp veins, sinking deeper into his sweaty skin with every sloppy inch.
tears welling in your eyes, the stinging headache followed by that edging light-headedness. frantically shaking your head, “no— fuck. . . no it's okay” your words choking through your teeth.
head pounding, vociferous sounds of skin smacking filling every last bit of presence you had, his long deep grunts— whiny voice begging for you to finish.
your lips hung open, engulfed in overwhelming thick air, hands clawing at maki’s forearm with every bit of strength, tears running down your hot cheeks.
lips swollen, stomach tightening, the building pleasure that his hand so desperately pressed against. you sunk your swollen lips around his forearm, teeth holding back your loud noise.
his thick cock twitching against your tight walls, his hips lazily shaking until he finally released, his arm tightening around your neck with one last long rut— knees buckling under him, breathy moans breaking out, your long chased high finally crumbling down.
🗒️ hiiiii~!! please interact with this post and/or my page if you finished it, it helps motivate me to write more!! if you have any requests or ideas you’d like to share my inbox is open atm!! do not copy or translate any of my works.
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thinking of nicholas thumb caressing your bottom lip because he’s loves your lips but you subconsciously open you mouth to suck on his thumb which makes nicho realize reader is much more freaky than they lead on,,, sorry if that’s too wordy
hi nonie i apologize for getting to this so late but i've been so wenopilled it's about time i locked in! ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა
The summer heat was getting to you so Nicholas has offered to cut you up some fresh strawberries cold from the fridge, and here you are — seated on his lap, humming in delight as he fed you a piece.
The sweet taste and coldness makes it so refreshing. Your every movement is unintentional seduction—the way your lips wrap around the fruit, letting your tongue peak to lick into his fingers to chase the sweetness that lingers on his skin.
Nicholas leans forward, transfixed by the sight of you. You close your eyes, your lips parting in pure bliss as the cold, sweet fruit slides down your throat. That small, almost unnoticeable movement— innocent yet enchanting, sends a wave of desire within Nicholas. Every droplet on your glistening skin, every subtle movement, ignites something raw inside him, an irresistible craving that gnaws at his core.
“Want some, Weno?” Your voice breaks through the charged silence, your hands reaching for the bowl in his hands and grabbing a piece before extending the strawberry toward him. he gulps, the question hanging in the air making his throat tighten.
“I'm okay, babe” Nicholas replies, the words strained and his voice rough with barely contained desire, his body tenses. He grabs another piece and brings it to you, watching you eat it, its juices staining your lips.
Instinctively, his thumb grazes your nectar coated lips — your mouth instantly opens, enveloping his digit. His sharp eyes darken, following your every movement from the way your plump lips glisten, the gentle suction as you wrap your tongue around his thumb while looking at him with wide, glassy eyes followed by the soft “pop” as you pull away.
He's had enough.
"Baby,” he murmurs, voice turning deep and resonant, his saliva coated thumb gripping your chin and bringing you closer to him, “let me have a taste.” His lips crash into yours, tongue sliding between them without hesitation tasting the sweet remnants of the strawberries that coated your tongue and mouth, kissing you like he’s been starved for years.
"Open, baby," you obey, lips parting as he leans to spit into your mouth, a shiver runs through your back as you swallow, feeling his other hand trail up and his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, dragging over bare skin. You gasp when you feel the hard press of him through his pants,"so sweet, baby," he mutters against your lips, voice raw with need.
You flutter your lashes at him, voice trembling and breathless, "Weno, I'm craving more." his grip on your chin tightens, his hand leaves your chin, manhandling you 'til your knees hit the floor, seated between his now spread legs.
His fingers tighten around your hair, a gentle yet unyielding command, "I have exactly what you're craving baby." Your hands reach out to rest against his strong, defined thighs, while he leans back against the couch. You take in his every detail; his firm muscles, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes darken with an intense need that could be mistaken as desperation and it fuels your own desire more.
Nicholas' hand remains steady at the back of your head, each motion urging you deeper between his thighs, the rough carpet rubbing against your knees. “Look at you,” he murmurs, raw desire etched into his being, "so eager and willing, you want it that bad, baby?” teasing you with his tone, a smirk tugging on his lips.
He leans closer, his warm breath entangled with yours as his thumb traces softly along your cheek, "I asked you a question, answer." His eyes glimmer with feral desire as he waits your response, You nod your head, words escaping you in a silent admission.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice rough with need as his grip tightens, anchoring you in place. “Good fucking girl, baby.”
Nicholas reaches down with tantalizing slowness and unfastens his belt. The clink of metal echoes in the air as the leather slides free, releasing him from the confines of his pants.
There, before you, is his thick, pulsing length—veins standing out, the swollen head glistening with precum, it makes your pulse quicken and you can hardly look away, your eyes locked on every detail.
Nicholas' hand moves down to cup your cheeks as he guides you closer, feeling the warmth of his touch and the heat of room that turns everything to blur into a haze of lust and desire, “well, go ahead baby,” he commands.
You start with your hands first, fingers wrap around the base of him. Slowly, you stroke him, your hand following the natural curve of his thick, pulsing length and every movement feels electrifying, sending cool shivers all over your body. You become hyper aware of him— his breath quickening, grip on your hair tightening, hips shifting silently encouraging you to keep going.
You slide your hand up and down his length, feeling the way it throbs in your grasp and Nicholas watches, gaze lidded, jaw clenched, "just like that, baby~" he murmurs, his voice thick with barely controlled lust. “Open—” He presses his thumb against your chin, coaxing your mouth open, his eyes boring into yours, “good girl.”
You leaned forward, the tip of your tongue flicking over the sensitive, swollen head and the sensation of his arousal in your mouth is overwhelming, every touch sending ripples of pleasure through him. Nicholas' breath hitches, his grip on your hair tightening “f-fuck, baby, need more …” he urges.
You part your lips further, taking him deeper as you feel the weight of him press against your tongue. His muscles tense under your touch, the fingers that gripped your hair now caressing your head with urgency, guiding you to take him even deeper, driving you both crazy, "that's it, baby … shit, s-so good!"
Your tongue traces along the underside, caressing every ridge and curve. The sensation makes Nicholas throw his head back in pure pleasure, his taste coating your mouth—a mix of his warmth, salt, and arousal that's dizzying to you and him. His breathing becomes uneven, fingers tighten around your head, and you find a rhythm that feels the most pleasurable.
Every soft lick and stroke builds the tension between you until it becomes difficult to hold back. Everything feels overwhelming; the taste, the touch, the smell, the sound of his soft pants mixed with your own moans, "fuck, you're doing so good 'f me baby."
You were encouraged by his soft whines, a growing need to please him so, you sink deeper, and he slides further, until your mouth envelops him entirely. A low groan escapes him as he feels your warmth envelope him completely, “mmhm …. So good, ah! — You’re doing so well for me.”
You pull back briefly, gulps of oxygen filling your lungs as you savor his taste and then you plunge forward again until you feel him hit the back of your throat. He tenses visibly, and his breath catches, no longer holding back as his restraint shatters, "D-don’t … fuck! don’t stop baby.” Nicholas throws his head back, and you can barely look at him through blurred, teary vision, “I’m close, s-shit!” he warns, voice hoarse and raw.
You take him deeper, swallowing around him relentlessly. He finally snaps, groaning as his grip tightens, his hips jerking as he cums into your mouth. The action makes tears well in your eyes, your mouth full as his release shoots down your throat. His chest rises and falls from the intensity of his climax, you swallow with a loud gulp.
The room quiets down to only the sound of your breathing, the aftershocks of your shared pleasure lingering in the air. Nicholas fingers untangled from your hair, slowly ease their grip as he moves to tug his boxers up before pulling you on his lap again, his chest heaving and his eyes half-lidded in satisfaction. He lifts your chin gently, his thumb traces soothing circles along your swollen lips.
“That felt amazing,” he whispers, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, tasting himself on your tongue and pulling away once he's satisfied. "Weno, baby, I'm craving more…" he chuckles, hands cupping your cheeks and squishing them together, "insatiable thing, aren't you baby?"
໒꒰ྀི ˶> ˕ <˶꒱ྀི১ ooooou~ i never really experimented with this so it was a first .ᐟ.ᐟ
i hope this filled all your maki fantasies~ whipped it up as quickly as i could before bed ˙˚ ᕱ⑅ᕱ ɞ˚˙
i hope it was along the same wavelength of what you wanted .ᐟ.ᐟ
love, wanii ᢉ𐭩
❤︎ just the tip — mean dom! maki
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ maki promised to pound into you tonight— just hard enough to make your brain forget his name for a moment. you didn’t expect him to tease the shit out of you until you broke.
your back arched, dripping pussy on full display for maki. his hand massaging into your ass, hips rolling against yours, the tip spreading salty pre cum over your wet folds.
biting down on your lips, the never-ending feeling of his tip sliding against your entrance.
“ngh— just fuck me already” bratty, the heat between your legs was burning, trying to find any way to satisfy it.
his hand quickly raised, smacking down on your ass. “don’t speak to me like that.” sternness carried his tone, the sudden change in his once playful self was alarming.
“w-what . . ?” eyes wide, an involuntary whimper brushing your lips. you look over your shoulder, his jaw flexes, eyes hungrily feasting on your desperate body.
he didn’t reply, just recklessly shoving the thick tip into your pussy, with no warning— a toe-curling long stretch.
but he halted, no longer sinking in until his balls slap your clit.
the plump tip slowly pushing in— a short draw back.
“maki — ?” again your ass met with his hand, a bit softer, still a tearing sensation, the skin reddening. the sound echoed in your head.
leaving your words on his lips, his hips hanging onto every bit of self-control, the painful small drawls of his tip.
you fought the urge to push back against him, wanting to squeeze your walls around every last inch of his cock, sinking deep into the warmth of his messy thrusts.
but no— his eyes still watching the tip stretch in and out, a hint of pain beating through your chest. eyes watering— every sense felt like fire, nerves flaring, the overstimulating short and edging movements.
“maki— please . . .” whaling cries erupt from your throat, he felt so cold in the distance for such an intimate moment. that paining emptiness hollowing your stomach, walls clenched around the unfilled space.
“ fuck — tell me how bad you want it . . .” growling behind you, his tip now halfway removed.
“h-huh??” wiping the tears from your cheeks, the back of your hand cleaning the snot. your face growing hotter, blood rushing to your head.
with how needy you were you felt like his little slut, begging for him to pound so deeply into you, you’d forget this twisted foreplay.
“maki- please . . i can’t take it.” your hips wagging back and forth like the needy puppy you are, teasing his tip around.
he nods, hands gripping onto your hips before a long rough thrust, hips jerking, one hand now holding down on your stomach. his messy thrusts continue . . . the wet sounds now filling you with pleasure~
🗒️ hiiiii~!! please interact with this post and/or my page if you finished it, it helps motivate me to write more!! inbox is open for any thoughts or ideas you may want to share, whether it be for a fic or questions you would like to ask me! do not copy or translate my work.
tw: noncon, dubcon, religious abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, power imbalance, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, rough sex, blasphemy/sacrilege, emotional trauma, bondage, cum play, predatory behavior, psychological horror, sexual exploitation
In the quiet of St. Mary’s Church, where candlelight flickers and the air smells of old wood and wax, you first met Father Anton. You were just a kid, all wide eyes and eager questions, and he was the kind priest who made time for you. After services, he’d sit with you in the empty pews, talking about life, faith, or just silly things that made you laugh. His hand would rest gently on your shoulder, his smile warm, like you were special. “You’re a gift to this church,” he’d say, his dark eyes locking onto yours, making your heart swell with pride. He was your guide, your confidant, and you felt safe in his presence.
Years passed, and those talks became your sanctuary. Even as a teenager, you’d catch his gaze during sermons, his smile cutting through the crowd just for you. It felt like a secret bond, something pure and holy. You trusted him completely, never questioning why he always wanted you alone, why his touches lingered a little longer each year. To you, he was a man of God, incapable of wrong.
Now, at 18, your beauty catches eyes, but none burn like Father Anton’s. His sermons are intense now, his voice smooth but heavy when he speaks to you alone in the church’s dim corners. One evening, after everyone’s gone, he pulls you into a side room, the air thick with silence. “You’ve grown into something special,” he says, his hand sliding down your arm, fingers brushing your thigh. You freeze, heart racing, but his smile is the same one you’ve trusted forever. “Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “God has a plan for you, and I’m here to guide it.”
He starts with lies, soft and convincing. “Serving me is serving God,” he says, his hand creeping higher, making your skin tingle with unease and something you can’t name. You’re naive, raised to believe priests are holy, so you nod, even as your stomach twists. He tells you about a “special act” that will keep you pure, something only the most devoted can do. His words are a trap, and you, trusting and innocent, step right in.
The confessional is dark, the air heavy with secrecy. Father Anton calls you in after hours, the church empty, the door locking behind you with a soft click. “Kneel,” he says, his voice calm but commanding, like he’s delivering a sermon. You do, your knees cold against the floor, the wooden screen between you feeling like a lie. “You carry sins,” he says, leaning close, his breath hot. “But I can cleanse them. God wants this.”
You hear his robes shift, and then he’s there, his cock pushing through the screen, thick and hard, a grotesque shadow in the dim light. “This is your salvation,” he says, and you hesitate, your heart screaming, but his voice is so sure, so holy. “Suck it, and God will forgive you.” Naive, you believe him, your lips trembling as they touch him, tasting the salt of his skin. You take him in, slow at first, your tongue sliding over the pulsing veins, the heat of him overwhelming. He groans, a low, guttural sound, and you think it’s approval, not lust. His hand reaches through, gripping your hair, forcing you deeper until you choke, your throat burning, eyes watering. “Good girl,” he growls, thrusting into your mouth, his cock stretching your lips painfully. You gag, but he doesn’t stop, using your mouth like a tool, his cum flooding you suddenly, hot and bitter. You swallow, tears streaming, believing it’s what God wants.
He leaves you there, trembling, the taste of him lingering like a curse. His manipulation is complete—he’s twisted your faith into his sick fantasy, exploiting your innocence for his pleasure.
His demands grow darker. One night, he calls you to the altar, the church silent under moonlight. “God needs more from you,” he says, his eyes gleaming with something predatory. You stand before the cross, heart pounding, as he lifts your dress, his hands rough on your skin, squeezing your breasts until you gasp. “Your body is a gift to Him,” he lies, and you, naive, nod, trusting the man you’ve known since childhood.
He bends you over the altar, your chest pressed against the cold stone, your skirt hiked up, exposing you completely. “This is your purpose,” he says, his fingers probing you, slick with your fear and unwanted arousal. You whimper, but he shushes you, his cock nudging against your entrance, thick and unyielding. He takes your virginity with a single, brutal thrust, pain tearing through you as you cry out, gripping the altar’s edge. “God loves your suffering,” he growls, fucking you hard, his hips slamming into you, each thrust a violation cloaked in faith. Your body betrays you, pleasure mixing with pain, and you hate yourself for it. His hands grip your ass, spreading you wider, and he cums deep inside, his seed hot and invasive, claiming you as his.
He steps back, leaving you trembling, cum dripping down your thighs, your innocence shattered. He’s not a priest here—he’s a predator, using your trust to feed his depravity.
Anton’s obsession deepens, his “rituals” a daily torment. In the rectory, he sits like a king, robes parted, his cock hard and waiting. “This is your duty,” he says, his voice a sick blend of kindness and menace. You kneel, your faith warped into submission, and take him in your hands, stroking the thick, pulsing length, feeling it throb under your touch. “Worship it,” he demands, and you do, your lips wrapping around the head, sucking slow, then fast, your tongue tracing every ridge, every vein, as if it’s a holy relic. He groans, his hand fisting your hair, forcing you to take him deeper, your throat constricting as he thrusts, gagging you until tears spill. “This is what God wants,” he lies, his voice thick with lust, and you believe him, your naive mind bending under his control.
He cums hard, flooding your mouth, the taste overwhelming, and you swallow, thinking it’s salvation. Then he pulls you onto his lap, spreading your legs, his fingers plunging into you, rough and unrelenting, until you’re gasping, your body shaking with forced pleasure. “You’re mine,” he whispers, and you nod, lost in his manipulation, your innocence a toy for his sick desires.
He takes you everywhere now—the choir loft, the basement, even the sacristy, each corner of the church a stage for his perversion. In the baptistry, he binds your wrists with a stole, your body bare and shivering. “God demands your full surrender,” he says, his cock sliding into you from behind, stretching you painfully as he fucks you against the font. His hands grip your breasts, pinching your nipples until you cry out, his thrusts savage, uncaring, each one a reminder of his power. “Scream for Him,” he growls, and you do, your voice echoing in the holy space, your body a sacrifice to his lies.
He finishes inside you, his cum a hot, invasive claim, and leaves you there, bound and dripping, your faith in tatters. Each time, he pushes further, his manipulation tighter, exploiting your trust until you’re nothing but a vessel for his darkest fantasies, your naivety his greatest weapon.
Doubt creeps in, a faint whisper against his lies. Each encounter leaves you hollow, the shame heavier than the fleeting pleasure he forces on you. In the vestry, he fucks you on a table, your legs spread wide, his cock relentless as he chants, “This is God’s will.” You cry, not from pain but from the growing realization that this isn’t holy. He senses it, his eyes narrowing, and he grips your throat, fucking you harder. “Don’t question me,” he snarls, his cum filling you again, a brand you can’t escape.
You’re trapped, a naive girl bound by the trust you placed in a monster. The church, once your haven, is now his playground, and you, his prey, kneel still, worshipping a man who’s twisted your faith into his own depraved gospel.
In the shadows of St. Mary’s, your story is a whispered warning. Father Anton, the predator in priest’s clothing, reigns, his cock a weapon, his lies a chain. You, his naive disciple, remain caught in his web, believing his touch is divine, unaware that true salvation lies in breaking free from his dark will.
(I don't really like this, I feel like I'm repeating words but I just thought anton fucking you in the priest clothing is so fucking hot so I just wrote what I find hot lol)
in which weeks of hooking up with your nemesis, nico, turns into something more. or - the one where nico edges you until you confess your feelings.
wc: 2k | notes: smut (don't like it? don't read it), raw and rough sex, edging, ass slapping and hair pulling, nico acts a little mean at first, minors do not interact!
The tension between you and Nico was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Everyone in the office felt it whenever the two of you were in the same room together. Which - unfortunately - was often, because you worked on the same projects.
Euijoo once made the mistake of asking Nico about his relationship with you.
To which Nico replied, "We fuck twice a week."
"Oh."
You could hardly believe your ears and you exclaimed, "You told Euijoo?!"
"He asked," Nico replied nonchalantly while stripping off your panties as if nothing was amiss.
"God, you're so fucking annoying," you groaned, shaking your head. Nevertheless, you unclasped your bra and let it drop to the floor.
Nico went to work on his belt. "And you're noisy. Be quiet."
You bristled. "Who the fuck are you talking to?"
Nico looked you dead in the eyes and said, "You. You want this dick or not?"
You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes in a glare, but said nothing. Your gaze fell down his body, lingering on his abs a moment before locking in on his hard cock.
"That's what I thought," Nico snapped, doing a little twirl with his finger. "Now turn around."
Obeying, because for the moment getting sex was more important to you than your temper, you faced the bed and propped up on your hands and knees, arching your back and spreading your legs. "You love being mean to me," you mumbled under your breath.
Nico spat on his hand and cupped your pussy, running his fingers intently between your folds. "You love it more than I do."
You tried not to throw yourself back toward him eagerly, burning with lust at his fingers playing with your pussy. "You could try to be nice to me every now and then," you said a moment later in a small voice.
"And watch this pussy dry up?" Nico scoffed. "No thanks."
"I really fucking hate you."
"I know," Nico said, guiding his cock to your entrance. "That's what makes it so good."
You sucked in a breath as he slid inside, easing his dick inside you with a few drawn-out strokes. Hiding your face in the mattress, you gripped the blankets for dear life as Nico's hands settled heavily on your hips, pulling you toward him as he sank in and out of you.
"Okay?" he asked once he was buried balls deep.
You nodded.
It didn't matter that you fucked twice a week, you still had to adjust to his size. Your body never quite got used to him; still stretching to accomodate his cock like it was the first time.
Nico gripped your waist and let his head fall back, groaning deep in his throat. "Fuck," he hissed, pumping his length in your pussy. "How do you feel so fucking good?"
"Fuck me up, Nico."
Nico was the only person that could make your mind stop. All the failed relationships, the stresses of work, the conflicts in your family, everything was gone when Nico was fucking you to another orgasm that made you see stars.
Your wanton sounds of pleasure filled the hotel room, music to Nico's ears. By now, he'd gathered your hair in his fist and used it to hold you in place, making sure you had that perfect arch in your back and your plump ass was in the air.
"This is my fucking pussy," Nico growled, reeling his free hand and landing it on your ass harshly, making a slap ring through the room. You cried out at the sting, but dared not argue. It was true. No man had ever made you feel this high.
You whimpered as Nico took you for all you were worth, snapping his hips into your ass like he had something to prove or he just wanted to put you in your place again. You'd given him hell at work, as usual, and Nico always used it as motivation to drill the living shit out of you.
The grip on your hair was brutal and so was his pace. His cock was digging against your sweet spot and making your eyes roll back in your head. And yet none of it was as harsh as his words.
"Yeah, my pretty little slut," Nico hissed, slapping your ass again. "This is what you're best at, huh? You were made to take this dick, yeah?"
"Yes," you whined, grappling with the blankets because he was fucking you hard enough to throw you off balance. If not for that vicious fist in your hair, you'd have fallen forward already.
Nico landed two more hits to your ass, but his heart wasn't in it. He was starting to get... annoyed. Actually, it had been building for a while. At first, he loved having the only dick that could get you off, but now he was feeling a little used. You still looked down at him at work, as if he wasn't filling you with cum on a regular basis.
Meanwhile, your feelings toward him had begun to shift too. You weren't looking down at Nico, you were trying to read him. How he could unload all his stress and frustration on you, burying himself inside you for hours, and then walk away like you meant nothing was kinda... painful.
"Nico," you said breathlessly. Your brain was trying to steal control from your body, and your heart was helping. "What did you tell Euijoo?"
Nico shoved himself in your cunt and stopped, taking a nice reprieve to catch his breath. He tugged on your hair and answered curtly, "That we fuck twice a week."
"That's all?"
"Is there more I left out?"
Your heart sank. "No. Nevermind," you stammered, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You were more aware than ever that his cock was currently inside you, but he felt absolutely nothing for you. Suddenly, your eyes began to burn.
Nico let go of your hair and brushed his hands over your hips, smoothing them over your waist. "Talk to me," he said softly.
You shook your head. "We don't talk. We fuck."
Nico pulled out of you.
Surprised and borderline panicking that he was about to leave you there, unsatisfied and empty, you asked, "What are you doing?"
The sentence was barely out of your mouth when Nico flipped you over onto your back. He grabbed your waist as you instinctively locked your legs around his hips and impaled you on his cock again.
You took one look at that handsome face and the overwhelming desire in his eyes, and covered your face with your hands in shame.
Nico, thrusting slowly inside you, said, "Look at me."
You resisted. This was too different, too new. Nico always took you from behind. You never even kissed. It was just sex. Actually, it was hate fucking. Never in a million lifetimes did you think Nico would feel anything for you other than loathing.
He grabbed your wrists and pinned them to opposite sides of your head. Whispering your name, Nico brushed his lips over yours, staring right through you, and warned, "If you wanna come, you better tell me what you're hiding."
"I can't."
"You will."
You sighed loudly, eyes on the ceiling past his head. If you looked into his eyes, you would fold. A tiny noise escaped you as he bottomed out. This didn't feel like sex for fun and pleasure anymore. It felt more like he was trying to torture all your secrets out of you.
Nico kept his grip on your wrists and rolled his hips, making sure his strokes were hitting just right. When your eyes fluttered he knew he had you, he'd been getting orgasms from you like clockwork for months. He knew your weak spots, and he was ready to use them.
"Nico, please," you begged, your voice breathless, like he'd stolen all the air out of the room. You knew gravity had shifted. He wasn't fucking your body anymore, he was fucking your mind.
As for your body, he was making love to it.
"Come on, pretty girl," Nico purred, his eyes burning into yours as he gloved his cock in your tight cunt. "You know you wanna tell me."
You bit your lip, fighting like hell to protect your pride. Meanwhile, your dignity was dead and buried.
"Just give in."
His voice was your undoing. So was his body, of course. You were being stripped bare and torn apart. It was building in your core and in your chest. You were going to explode.
Nico saw and felt it, and he stopped, quickly shoving both your hands above your head with his own, while the other wrapped around your throat.
"Please. Please," you chanted, your orgasm ripped away just when you'd started to taste it. Your body was writhing, trying to get just a little more friction.
"You're not coming until you give me what I want," Nico snapped down at you, his hold on your throat tight, but still letting you breathe. "You think I can't edge you as long as I need to? Baby, you'll regret trying me."
The tears were clouding your eyes now. Fuck, you didn't want to cry in front of him. It was weak and stupid. You didn't want your heart involved, but here she was, making you cry during sex like a bitch.
Nico suddenly cradled your head with both hands, his fingers in your hair gently, and he whispered, "Tell me what I already know, and I'll do whatever you want."
The sudden vulnerability from him made your dam burst. You reached up to grab his burly arms, finally allowing yourself to touch him. "I don't... wanna hate you anymore," you confessed, all the air going out of your lungs as you waited to hear your fate.
"So don't."
You blinked up at Nico in surprise.
He smiled down at you and said, "I stopped hating you the first night we slept together."
Your lips parted in disbelief. "What?"
"I knew it would take you longer," Nico teased, leaning in closer. "You're stubborn."
You gawked at him, because you had no goddamn idea what to say. He didn't hate you? You weren't the only one with feelings that had grown in between all the sex?
Nico grinned like he was fighting a laugh and kissed you, silencing all of your doubts. You could feel it in the kiss and in the way his arms wrapped around you - Nico wanted you to stay with him.
You kissed him back with all you had and carded your fingers into his hair. When Nico gathered you and sat up, keeping you in his lap with his cock still sheathed inside, you locked your legs around his hips and started to ride him.
The two of you moved until you were in sync, your bodies flush together, chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. You kissed each other ravenously, one starved for the other's taste. It would never be enough; you'd spend the rest of your lives constantly chasing euphoria with each other.
You came first, breaking from his lips to tip your head back and moan, eyes rolling into your head. Nico didn't hesitate to nip and suck at your neck, rocking against you to get every drop of pleasure out of you. His deep voice coaxed you with soft whispers, telling you everything you needed to hear.
Still dazed from the high, you grabbed Nico's shoulders and started to ride him like it was your job, determined to get him off harder than ever before, because this time it was different. Every move of your bodies now was like the sealing of a promise of the commitment you'd both been avoiding, but now grabbed at with all your might.
Nico panted against your neck, his hands firm on your hips, guiding your movements. Little nothings spilled from his lips when he finished inside your perfect pussy, clinging to you tightly as he painted your walls.
You fell back to the mattress, taking him with you, and Nico never let you go for a second, as if he was trapping you to him.
"We're never coming back to this hotel, I hope you know that," Nico rasped after a moment, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.
"I think we should go to my place and make a whole night of this," you told him bluntly, licking your lips. Your hunger wasn't sated; it had grown drastically in the last few minutes.
Nico lifted his head, his eyes a little wide. "Oh...," he trailed, smirking at you devilishly. "You're gonna drain me dry, aren't you?"
You grinned, because he was yours now and you were going to take everything he had to give until your bodies gave out.
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you're seeing stars. you have been, for the past few… hours nicho's been gracing you with the devastatingly deep drag of his cock through your warm walls. can you blame him? he had every intention of giving you a break and peppering you in the kisses he always gave after you put up with his insatiable nature; but that look on your face? the needy, wrecked one? you didn't even know you did it, if anything, your brain was off in a million other places revolving around your boyfriend—
nicho loved it. your eyes, glassed over, roaming over his face with a pleading look he'd be a monster to say no to. even the way your lashes clumped together a little with wet, cheeks glistening with the hints of tears, all of it went straight to his dick. you knew it did, considering he hadn't stopped in so long.
you took a moment to respond to that. there were so many sounds coming from every angle; the slick of his cock squelching back into you every few seconds; his heavy panting fanning over your ears; the faint buzz in your ears when his bicep pressed too far against your neck. "still with me?" he said that with that low, teasing lilt to his voice, like he knew full well you were being pushed to your very limit.
a pitiful little sound escaped you when you felt the firm press of his fingers into your cheeks, no mercy in the harsh way he grabbed your attention. "asked you a question, baby," a particularly thorough thrust forced the words out of you, wobbly, a little unstable:
"nicho," his fingers pressed further. "m'here…" the grip he had on you eased, but barely, the pressure of his thrusts somehow growing stronger. your boyfriend had the stamina of a thousand men, whilst you were left to fend for yourself against his voracious appetite.
any hope you had of him giving up and settling down for the night was killed a long time ago. when you'd insisted on laying on your back because you were tired, a glimpse of mercy dawned. perhaps he'd be kind enough to wait till morning?
wrong. extremely wrong. he'd had you held up by his arm for a good while now, locking you in place with a snug practical headlock, pinned down by his body. and damn it, there wasn't anywhere else in the world you wanted to be. stretched around his cock, drooling into his skin? felt like home. was all you could feel, that floaty feeling keeping you in a permanent state of euphoria since your last orgasm.
you couldn't even remember how many times he'd pushed you over the edge. naturally, nicho was keeping count.
"s'the most you've ever cum for me, y'know that?" any other time, you would've been ashamed of the borderline pornographic moan you let out when the pink muscle of his tongue flattened against your cheek, lapping up the salty remnants of his passion littered over your skin. "fuckin' soaked the sheets. pretty pussy can't stop gushing for me."
apparently, you hadn't responded enough for his liking, a gasp tearing out of you when he pulled back, fingers firmly buried against your scalp in order to shove you against the bed. in an act of pure ego, his hips slammed rapidly, faster than before, against the swell of your ass. "gushing for me, i said. leakin' all over the place. who's gonna clean your messy hole up, hm?"
nicho did it on purpose, shutting up for a brief moment in order to make it clear just how wet you were, how good he gave it to you. it surprised even you, the sloppy sound of him pounding onto you without hesitation. the evidence was there—thick, almost dried with how long it had been, translucent streaks of his seed stained your inner thighs, the sheets.
"shit, i guess i have to. always gotta do all the work around here, huh? you just sit there and get dicked down, that's how it works," enough of making his point, he decided, showing the faintest hint of affection in a few strokes of your hair before his hands firmly planted onto your hips. yanking you back, he managed to get even deeper inside you as your insides clenched around him.
all you could let out was incoherent babble, considering he was practically nestled in your throat from below. "that's it, baby.." he growled, tongue lathing over the soft skin of your neck, nose nestled against the surface. "take it all, shit… want you so full of me you forget your name."
you whimpered, whined, clawed at his thighs, leaving the prettiest streaks. it pleased you even more to know he'd be showing them off like battle scars in the morning. "don't need to think, just gotta let me in, baby. let nicho in, there we go… see, she knows who takes care of her."
"do you? mm? do you know who takes care of you like this? makes you feel good every time?"
if there was one thing you'd always remember, not even you own name, it was that. "you, nicho, you! you.. shit.. make me feel good." that devilish smirk pulled against your neck, proud, claiming.
"that's right, honey. nicho makes you feel good all the time. no one else. just nicho."
pairing: maki(&team) x f!reader
rating: 18+ (minors dni)
wc: 1.5k+
summary: Coffee was the plan. Getting bent over and fucked senseless by Maki wasn’t. But when he’s whispering dirty praises in your ear and pressing you into the counter, you’re not exactly complaining.
contains : explicit sexual content, rough sex, kitchen sex, surprise sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, possessive behavior, aftercare, come shot, light dom/sub, consensual but not consensual, pwp, rough then gentle | lmk if i missed any!
cross posted on AO3
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The coffee maker gurgles its last drop into the pot and you reach for your mug, except your hand never gets there because his mouth finds the back of your neck first, wet and open, and you jolt hard enough to slosh cold coffee over the rim.
Maki presses the full length of his torso against you, his sharp jawline catching against your temple when he ducks his head.
"I walked past and couldn't not touch you," he says, mouth at your ear.
There's pressure first, then the realization of what that pressure means—him, hard, seeking friction against you—and he's moving so slowly like he’s waiting for water to boil, testing how long you can stand there pretending this isn’t happening.
He shifts, just slightly, and you feel the drag of fabric, the catch of zipper teeth, the way he fits against you like a key. You should find it annoying, probably, the way he assumes your body is just available for this, but instead your stomach drops and your underwear is suddenly too much fabric, too little relief, your body answering before your pride can object.
"You're too available like this," he murmurs, not quite complaining, his fingers dimpling your skin as he pulls you flush against the hard line of him, "bent over, not paying attention. What was I supposed to do?" He laughs, low, against your neck. "I don't have that much self-control."
The denim does nothing to disguise his shape—thick, heavy, pulsing with heat you can feel through both your clothes. He rocks forward, just barely, and you feel him settle into the cleft of your ass, throbbing insistently with each tiny movement.
It should be infuriating, this presumption, this unspoken claim he's staking with his body. But your breath is coming shorter now, and your hips are moving of their own accord, pressing back into that rigid heat, seeking more contact, more friction, more of the filthy promise he's making without words.
He takes his time hooking your waistband, letting you feel the threat of exposure, the promise of it. Then he drags everything down. Shorts. Panties. Whatever barriers you thought you had. Cool air hits overheated flesh and you flinch, vulnerable, bare in a way that has nothing to do with skin.
But he's already moving, his hand insinuating itself between your thighs, spreading you open with casual entitlement. Two fingers slide through your folds and you feel him feel you—the slickness, the heat, the undeniable evidence of your arousal—and his groan against your ear tells you he's just as affected by your wetness as you are ashamed of it.
"Fuck, baby," he exhales against your neck, the words warm and pleased and filthy against your pulse. His fingers slide deeper, curl just so, and your head falls forward with a sound you can't swallow—a moan that escapes broken and desperate. "Look how wet you are.” You can feel his satisfaction in every line of his body. "Tell me why I should wait.”
He opens you like a stubborn jar lid—twist and pull, twist and pull—each scissoring motion sending starbursts up your spinal column. The slick friction sounds almost tropical, heavy as ripe fruit splitting. Somewhere distant, your favorite mug shatters against tile, ceramic shrapnel you won't discover until later, but right now your universe has narrowed to the counter's edge biting into your hipbones and the devastating fullness of his fingers crooking just so, just there, while your body responds with its own crude intelligence—hips rolling in figure-eights, chasing the drag of his calluses, the promise of deeper invasion.
"Fuck, you're sloppy. Look how you're trying to ride my hand. Can't even wait to be fucked properly." His free hand comes down sharp on your ass, the crack echoing. "Be. Still. Feel me inside you. Feel how full you are. And wait. Wait until I decide you've been patient enough to deserve more.”
Your body is making a sound it shouldn't—something between a sigh and a surrender, audible in the wet friction of him sliding deeper. You're yielding with an enthusiasm that feels almost visible, almost colored, like the deep burgundy of wine staining linen. The humiliation sits warm behind your pubic bone, indistinguishable from the pulse that's building there, both sensations thick and rhythmic and completely beyond your control. You're not just taking him; you're absorbing him, cells dilating, welcoming the intrusion like sunlight.
Then the emptiness hits, his fingers gone and your body clutching at nothing. You hear metal teeth separating behind you, and then his palm between your shoulder blades pushing you flatter.
He spreads your footing wider, your pelvis tilting greedy, and the swollen crown of him—rigid and smoldering—presses where you're soaked and open.
"Arch that back," he commands. "Want to see every fucking centimetres disappear. Want to watch your cunt struggle to make room, watch you drip around me before I'm even halfway inside.”
Then he's entering you in one relentless advance that has you gasping as you feel every vein, every ridge, the detail of his cock taking residence.
You feel the momentum transferring through your skeleton, each impact traveling up your spine, rattling your teeth, making your vision stutter. He sets a pace immediately, hips snapping against your ass, each thrust driving you forward until his hand catches you, pins you, holds you in place for his use.
"God, you're trouble," he breathes, "always here. Always ready. I come looking for coffee and somehow end up buried in you."
The kitchen fills with the sound of skin meeting skin. His hands lock around your hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows above your thighs, pulling you back onto him with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs.
"Maki—please—slow," you gasp out, words fragmenting because he's hitting a depth that has you trembling, oversensitive, your body sparking like a live wire.
He leans in, chest crushing your back. His strokes get heavier, more demanding. "I can feel how swollen you are, sweetheart,” he says, almost apologetic, completely unmoved. "But I need to come. So you'll take it until I'm done.”
The counter becomes a third participant, unyielding, taking your weight as he takes your body, the three of you locked in this obscene collaboration. You feel your abdominal muscles contracting involuntarily, your pelvic floor learning his rhythm, pulsing around him with a cadence that matches his strokes.
You're aware of your hair sticking to your neck, your mouth open and gasping, the sounds coming from you reduced to something pre-verbal that communicates only more through pitch and breathlessness alone.
"Should I let you come?" he asks, breath hot against your neck, thrusts never slowing. "I'm not convinced you've earned it yet."
Your skin ceases to be boundary—becomes instead a field of sensation, each nerve ending firing independently, a constellation of tension and release.
He doesn't stop. He fucks you through your ogasm, through the moment your knees unlock and your spine tries to bow, your interior muscles fluttering around him in patterns that make him groan, that make him snap his hips harder, deeper, using your pleasure as lubrication, as invitation, as means to his own end. The sound you press into the countertop is his name, yes, but fractured, syllables broken by gasps, by the continued percussion of his thrusts.
He withdraws just as he breaks, hand guiding, and you feel the stripes—marking your lumbar, your hip, your thigh. He drags his fingers through it, leisurely, painting you with what he couldn't hold back.
Silence settles, thick and humid, broken only by the exchange of breath. Then his hand comes down hard on your ass, a sharp slap that stings, making you flinch and gasp.
"You took that so well," he says, voice still rough. He runs his palm over the red mark, squeezing once, possessive.
But then he's reaching for a dish towel, folding it warm and damp from the sink, and you feel him cleaning his mess from your skin slowly, wiping away the evidence with gentle strokes that make you shiver.
Only when you're clean does he pull your shorts up, tying the drawstring with a little bow, his fingers lingering to rub warmth back into your thighs.
"I'll make you a new cup of coffee," he says, and he does, right there, moving around you in the small kitchen without leaving your side.
He opens cabinets, fills the kettle, but keeps touching you—hand on your knee, fingers brushing your ankle, palm flat against your back. When he presses the warm mug into your hands, he wraps his own around yours, holding them steady while you drink, watching you with this satisfied, happy gaze. He'd added cinnamon, exactly how you like it, and the sweetness hits your tongue like an apology for the roughness.
"Better?"
You nod.
He hums, satisfied. "Say 'thank you, Maki, for the excellent orgasm.' No? Too shy now?"
"See if you can talk after I do that to yo—"
He catches your threat in his mouth, kissing you slow and deep, pulling back with a satisfied smack. "I'll take that as a thank you. Very creative delivery. A-plus for interpretation.”
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masterlist
debrief time: YALL… i can’t believe i actually posted this 😭ITS MY DEBUT!!!! truth is, i don’t know how to write anything properly at all since english is not my mother tongue. but i love learning and writing and it’s also my silly little way of dealing with my &team parasocialism haha. i’ve actually filled so many pages in my album photobooks with these stories (handwritten and everything). felt brave enough to share one today. many more to come if i don’t chicken out!
hope you enjoyed it 💋 reblogs = my fuel, thank you in advance!
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