ā first and foremost: minors, please do not interact with me. stay out of my ask box/dm's.
ā hi! welcome to my blog. i write for haikyuu and jjk, and my works primarily consist of n*fw + dark content. please read through my taglist to block what you need to!
ā this is not a request-based blog, but feel free to send whatever thoughts/thirsts/concepts you have to my inbox! i'll always answer. if youāre interacting through anon, READ THIS FIRST
ā my mainly wlw/nblw dc femdom blog is @staranix
ā my ao3 is texturexsurprised.
ā current anons: š®, š„
ā the last drabble + fic i wrote: sugawara + denial, take me home
ā upcoming drabble + fic: uhh, ????
this is too much work. look here for a vague list of fics for the future
iām glad to hear that :) ive been doing well too! lately iāve been feeling sleepier than usual for some reason... iām regularly sleeping for 8 hrs these days when i donāt have to wake up early which is NOT the norm for me lol
I loved your one way ticket fic ā¤ļø corruption and degradation are two of my favorite kinks and Hanamaki is one of my favorite characters. It was written very well!
thank you for the lovely lovely ask! i also absolutely adore hanamaki and thought this concept would work well with him ;)
hanamaki takahiro is not unemployed, contrary to popular belief. he just doesn't tell his friends what he does for a living.
wc: 3.6k
tags/tw's(PLEASE! PLEASE! READ TY): explicit n*fw, dubcon to noncon/RAPE, yandere vibez, manipulation, abuse, lotsa degradation, slight dumbification, some internalized misogyny?, fingering, cunnilingus, penetration, sex worker!reader, porn producer + talent makki, fem + afab reader
additional disclaimer: probably incredibly inaccurate portrayals of sex work + the amateur porn industry. this is very far removed from real life, in case you couldn't tell
a/n: written for @seijorhi's deal with the devil collab! not proofread as always <3
i donāt want minors interacting with my content
When you first see the ad, blue and pixelated and in all caps - HOT GIRLS WANTED!!! FREE FLIGHT INCLUDED - you hesitate for just a moment. Youāre not stupid. Youāve seen the stories, read the warnings, heard all about the cautionary tales of girls who clicked the wrong button at the wrong time on some sketchy, underground site. You know what happens to girls who think theyāre all grown up, who get themselves into deep, deep shit.
You know better than this.
Then you take a look outside your window, eyes flickering over the sleepy, rural backwater outside the thick glass pane, and the hesitation vanishes.
The email you draft up is short and concise - Iām interested. Email me back. - and attach three images: one where youāre winking, lips curved up in a sly smile, one with a very low-cut top, and one of yourself in the tightest, shortest dress you own.
You hit send too fast for the second thoughts to settle in, and close your laptop before you can press the undo button.
Now, in his time as a producer, Hanamakiās filmed and worked with his fair share of pretty girls. Sweet little things with long hair and doe eyes, glamor girls with the perkiest, gravity-defying tits, girl-next-door types who sport glasses smeared with cum - heās seen it all.
But thereās just something about the way you look in your pictures.
He canāt quite put his finger on what it is, Maybe itās the innocence that the images exude, despite how lewd they are. Maybe itās your face - god, you have the perfect face for porn, donāt you - or maybe just your big, round eyes, full of hope and promise and naivety.
Youāre too good to let other men handle. The minute Hanamaki lays eyes on those pictures, he wants you to himself.
He replies to your email, keeping his tone casual, and when you respond right away, he allows himself a grin. Beautiful and easy? Heās too lucky, really, considering the way you just fell into his lap.
He buys the plane tickets within the week. He knows youāll take him up on his offer. He knows exactly what girls like you are like, the way youāre all looking for something bigger, something better - anything at all, as long as you get to escape the drudgery of the small towns and the suburbs. Itās terrible being stuck in the same place for so long, and even worse when faced with the prospect of spending the rest of your life there. Girls like you long for something more than just a family and a white picket fence, and heās all too familiar with the sweet sense of desperation that desire comes with.
After all, itās his job.
-
When you step off the plane, eyes scanning around the sea of strange faces, it takes you a while to pick out Hanamaki. His strawberry-blonde bangs cling to his forehead, damp with sweat and curling in the humidity. When he finally catches your gaze, he flashes you a lazy smile, eyes sparkling with humor, and waves you over.
āHey. Told you you wouldnāt get lost,ā he says.
You manage a shaky laugh. āYeah, wellā¦ never been this far away from home before, so you know how it is.ā
He knows very well how it is.
āCāmon,ā he says, reaching out a hand to carry your luggage for you. āLetās get you settled in - the sooner the better, right? After all, weāre gonna be roommates.ā
He winks at you, carving out a path amid the crowd to the nearest exit. Thereās a strange, unsettling feeling in your gut, and it suddenly hits you - youāre alone. Youāre by yourself. Thereās no family here, no friends, none of the familiarity of your hometown.
All you have is Hanamaki, and as he twirls his car keys around on his finger, his eyes narrowing playfully, youāre seized by the unshakable feeling that youāve fucked up.
-
āThis is the āYes and Noā list, by the way,ā he says, pointing to a dense section of tiny font. āJust mark off the things you wouldnāt be okay with doing.ā
The thick wad of paper heās dumped in front of you is apparently the contract thatāll dictate the next few months of your life. You canāt really be bothered to read all of it, and you skim through most of the non-disclosure bits before you arrive at the section youāre most interested in: the terms that dictate your limits on set.
You swallow uncomfortably as go down the list of sex acts, one by one.
Creampie - Yes
Blowjob - Yes
Throatfucking - No
Facial - No
Bondage - Yes
Degradation - No
Thereās a whole bunch more after that, each described act sicker and more depraved than the last, and you can feel your stomach churning unpleasantly as you scrawl a hasty signature at the bottom.
āAnd once youāre done with that, we can get the cameras rolling,ā he adds, patting your shoulder. He leans down, breath warm and sticky by your ear. āYouāre gonna be a star.ā
You feel sick.
When you first arrive, youād let yourself be lulled into this false sense of security and comfort. He took you out to dinner every night, brought you into clubs youād never even dreamed of before, treated you like an absolute princess. Youād almost forgotten what you signed up for in the first place. Youād almost forgotten that deals go both ways.
āNervous?ā he asks. You nod hesitantly.
He knew full well the answer to that. All girls are nervous at first. Sex is something thatās supposed to be intimate and private, and even if thereās no emotional connection, thereās always an inherent vulnerability that comes along with stripping all your clothes off. Itās not natural for cameras to be recording someone cumming and drooling all over the sheets.
But thatās just part of the fun, isnāt it?
He canāt help but focus on how exposed you look, all scared and pitiful as you apprehensively eye the camera. He sets it up with a few practiced motions, clicking the record button, and ignores the strain of his cock in his pants. Heāll get to that part soon enough.
āDonāt worry,ā he assures you, climbing onto the bed. Thereās a glint in his eyes that makes you very worried. āIāll be gentle this first time.ā
After that - well, he canāt make any promises. His self-control isnāt always the best.
He puts a pillow under your head, laying you down so the camera can capture a better angle, and hooks a finger under the waistband of your shorts.
The feeling of his skin brushing against yours sends a sudden wave of nausea through your body. It all feels wrong; his hands shouldnāt be touching there, your shorts shouldnāt be coming off, his lips shouldnāt be pressing against yours, no matter how soft they feel -
āSo sensitive,ā he purrs, trailing a finger along your damp, clothed pussy. You squirm involuntarily, little gasps and moans pouring from your mouth as he massages your clit. āPutting on a show for your future audience?ā
The little bit of resistance left inside you shrivels up and dies.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. You donāt remember much except the heavy feeling of your chest, as if the four walls of the room were squeezing in on you, constricting your airways until your breaths are quick and shallow and desperate. Thereās a word for that you donāt remember until much later - panic.
His fingers roam over every inch of your exposed skin, lips pressing against your thighs and pussy, coaxing your hole with gentle, teasing touches until it drips for him. You donāt remember anything at all except for the slick, wet trail of cum pooling between your thighs at the end of the night.
As for Hanamaki? Heās having the time of his life. Thereās nothing quite like that moment of initiation - that first time - and he savors every single delicious reaction he pulls out of your body, every little twitch and shiver, all the lewd gasps and moans. You might be blanking out, but heās hyperaware. He loves corrupting sweet, pure girls like you whoāve gotten in over their head, and he especially loves watching the realization set in.
He thinks this one is gonna go viral.
-
You wake too early the next morning, shivering in the cool air. The windowās open, and you can hear the sound of birds, the rustling of the trees, the faint hum of traffic in the distance. It feels calm. Peaceful.
Well, as peaceful as itās possible to feel, considering youāre a few thousand miles away from home. You turn over onto your side, wincing at the feeling of soreness between your legs.
Then you hear a moan.
Itās a shameless one, loud and unabashed, and itās coming through the paper thin walls that separate your room from Hanamakiās. Thereās a brief moment of annoyance - couldnāt he have gone and taken a shower? Couldnāt he have done it in the shower? Or maybe just kept it down, perhaps?
Thereās a noisy mix of grunting and squealing, the audio tinny and distorted, and you realize heās watching porn. It shouldnāt be much of a surprise, really, but the annoyance quickly turns to disgust after a few seconds pass.
āF- fuck yeah, baby, just like that, just like that, youāre doing perfect donāt stopdonāt stopdonāt stop - right there, good girl - ā
Thereās a soft moan, coming from what you assume is the porn heās watching - itās your voice.
ā- god, youāre so fucking good to me, so pretty and perfect, gonna make you all mine, mark you up, gonna ruin you, sweet girl - ā
You dive back under your comforter, trying to muffle both your ears, but heās so fucking loud the neighbors can probably hear him. Itās useless to try and block out his gross, overdone moans, the wet squelching of his hand pumping his dick, the heavy breathing that makes you feel sick.
Why did you ever agree to his offer?
You stay under the comforter for what feels like forever, trying to steady your breathing, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as possible. You find yourself frozen long after heās done jerking himself off, long after the pitter-patter of the showerhead turns on and then off again. You want to stay there forever.
A knock sounds at the door, and you swallow nervously when you hear the telltale creak of the hinges.
āWake up, sleepyhead. I made us breakfast. Gotta keep your energy up if we want to film something else fun later.ā
You stay silent.
āHey,ā he says, footsteps shuffling closer. āYou there? Hello?ā
Heās mere feet away now, concern apparent in his voice. You squeeze your eyes even tighter, as if you were one of those toddlers who lacks any understanding of the concept of object permanence, because maybe if you pretend heās not there -
āGeez, youāre really all knocked out, huh?ā he says, lifting the comforter off of you. āYou alright?ā
Your eyes are reddened from the silent crying, your fists clenched at your sides, and your throat feels dry and scratchy.
āHanamaki,ā you say, voice shaking. āI want to go home.ā
Thereās a moment of silence that seems to stretch on for ages. He sits down beside you on the bed, taking your hand into his lap, and strokes his thumb over the back soothingly. He chuckles softly, and something that feels vaguely like fear settles in the pit of your stomach.
āYouāre joking, right?ā
Your eyes fly open, and you jerk away from his touch. āNo, Iām not. I want to go home. I donāt want to do this.ā
āShame,ā he says, shrugging. āThey usually last a few more shoots. A few more months.ā
He moves the comforter back so it covers your body, pulling it up to your chin. Itās a mockery of comfort, a parody of compassion.
āI just have one question,ā he says, eyes narrowing. āGo home to where?ā
āBack where I came from. Where you ordered the stupid fucking plane ticket from. My boring hometown, where my parents and friends and family live. Home, Hanamaki. Donāt play dumb.ā
Thereās another brief moment of silence. Itās as if heās thinking, processing - or maybe the time heās taking is for your sake.
āYour idea of home is a bit more fragile than you think, you know.ā
āThe fuck do you mean?ā
He sighs, kicking his feet up onto the bed. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and loads the video that the two of you had filmed yesterday - the same video heād been watching this morning.
āI give it a week before your friends find out. Your parents, a month tops. Thatās the best case scenario.ā
His words feel like a punch to the gut, and youāre pretty sure something breaks inside you when he turns the phone screen and you see yourself on there. Your face, your hair, your body - itās undeniably you.
āWeāve got a few thousand views already. Once somethingās on the internet, itās on there forever. And everybody watches porn. You know that, right?ā
He takes your hand back into his lap, but this time, his grip is iron. His fingers grip your wrist so tightly it hurts, and when you try to pull away, you realize just how much stronger he is than you.
āYou wonāt be going anywhere.ā
-
He waits another day or two to film the next scene heās got planned out. Youāre still moping around the house, all sad and sullen, slamming the door in his face whenever he goes to graciously check in on you. It looks like youāve settled on giving him the silent treatment, but at least youāve stopped trying to steal his car keys. Another few weeks, and youāll get over yourself. Heās sure of it. Youāre a big girl, after all.
Heās got big, grand plans for you. Youāve got something special - youāve got what it takes - and heās not stupid enough to waste talent like that.
In fact, thereās something a little more niche that heās been waiting to try ever since he first laid eyes on you.
He sets up the camera in his room, adjusting the focus and exposure to his liking, and inserts a new memory card into the empty slot on the side. He might need the extra storage tonight. His equipment really isnāt anything fancy - itās more than enough for his purposes - but for just a moment, he wishes he had something a little fancier to do you justice.
āCome on in,ā he says, straightening out the sheets one last time. āWeāre using the fancy lube today.ā
You push open the door and enter the room, shooting him a withering glare. Itās a bit hard to take you seriously in that gorgeous lingerie he bought for you, though, the matching set stitched with all white lace and smooth silk. You look gorgeous. Angelic, even.
He doesnāt have to use chains or rope to keep you in place, although heās not discounting such methods at all. Thereās a certain threat in the way he keeps your bedroom door locked at night, the way he forces you to eat dinner with him everyday. Youāre not a guest; youāre a prisoner, and one with nowhere to run to.
Hanamaki pulls you in for a soft, light kiss, lips brushing experimentally against yours, and deepens it to something slow and sensual when he feels you start to squirm. He presses your shoulders down into the mattress, climbing on top of you, and his touch feels like fire where it burns a path across your skin. You feel that familiar sensation of dizziness, of lightheadedness; every ministration of his skilled and purposeful, a deliberate attempt to steal the oxygen from your lungs and leave you choking on your own ashes.
His lips begin to make their way down your neck, glossy with spit and swollen from the kiss, finding your pretty tits, laving over the skin of your stomach, trailing downwards until he gets to your throbbing clit. He can feel your arousal, even through the fabric, and he presses the flat of his tongue to your slit.
Thereās a soft, broken moan somewhere above him, and he feels a sudden rush of victory. He starts lapping at your pussy, pushing the tip of his tongue to mold the wet lace to the outline of your cunt, his fingers trailing up and down your inner thigh as he eats you out. He innocently nudges aside your panties after soaking them through, peering up at you from between your legs, and flashes a crooked smile.
āYouāre gonna cum for me, pretty slut, whether you want to or not.ā
The nickname sends a brief jolt of confusion through your gut - heās never called you anything like that before, even when heād threatened you. Itās demeaning, base, wrong. Youāre not - youāre not that kind of girl.
He can see the turmoil on your face, and heād be lying if he said it didnāt turn him on.
āBet I can make you moan like a whore, too.ā
He doesnāt give you time to react, flicking his tongue through your tender, dripping slit, mouth slurping greedily at your swollen clit. He loves eating girls out, loves the taste, loves the scent, loves the reactions - the poorly stifled moans, the useless attempts to still the twitching and jerking(theyāre the natural physical reactions to pleasure, after all), and the pathetic, unstoppable orgasm that he gets to wring out every time.
Your face is flushed with heat, blunt teeth digging into your tongue, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Youāre trying to think of someplace else, something else, anything at all except the man in between your legs - but it feels so good. You canāt ignore the pleasure that the licking and sucking ignites, canāt distract yourself from the tightness twisting in your clenched cunt that threatens to burst at any moment.
He pulls away.
āHmm,ā he says, sitting up, brushing a thumb over your pussy. āWanna see you go stupid on my cock today instead.ā
āHanamaki, I -ā
āWhatās the problem, sweetheart?ā he asks, maneuvering you easily into his lap. āYouāre not a stupid whore? Not a dumb slut? Not my sweet little fucktoy?ā
You can feel the outline of his cock pressing against the softness of your thigh, hard and long and terrifying. Your throat feels suddenly dry.
āHanamaki,ā you say, voice breaking quietly. āDonāt say those things.ā
He reaches out to caress your cunt, fingers dipping into your entrance, and you squirm backwards to get away from the touch. Still so sensitive, he thinks. So cute.
āI think Iāll say what I want,ā he says, plunging two fingers deep inside.
Itās not hard to stretch you out, finger curling and stroking your little hole until youāre writhing around his dexterous fingers. Youāre already aroused from the attention heād given your pussy earlier, the mixture of your juices and his split soaking the entrance, his finger slipping in and out easily.
Thereās almost no resistance when he pops the head of his cock inside your slick pussy, and he lets out a loud moan at the feeling of warmth that envelopes him. And since youāre so well prepared already, thereās no need for him to hold back, is there?
āReady?ā he asks, laughing. āAlthough the answer doesnāt really matter if taking cock is the only thing youāre good for.ā
The pace he sets is fast and hard and unforgiving, each rough, sloppy thrust bottoming out against your cervix. Even as you cringe in pain, wincing as his skin slaps against yours, the delicious stretch of his cock against your sensitive walls still feels so good. Itās a dizzying mix of pain and pleasure, one that sends you into overdrive, heart pounding and legs shaking as you whimper.
āHiro - ah! - please slow -ā you cry.
He shoves two fingers in your mouth before you can finish, shutting you up and making you gag slightly. āOh, so now Iām Hiro? Not Hanamaki anymore, huh?ā
Each hard thrust is jolting you up and down on his lap now, his fingers digging into the skin of your tummy as he stuffs you full. Are those tears, baby? He thinks you look so pretty, sobbing and drooling for him like that.
āFuck,ā he moans, burying his face in your neck. āFuck, Iām gonna cum. Cum with me, slut, cāmon. Milk my cock dry.ā
Hanamaki really is a gentleman; he saves his load until he can feel you tightening around him, until your breathing starts to hitch and youāre squirming back and forth. Itās silent in the room except for the lewd, gross sounds of skin-to-skin contact, slippery and wet and exaggerated.
āThatās it,ā he breathes, pulling you off his cock.
His cum is dripping out of your tired cunt, the thick, white liquid spread all over your thighs, staining his pants, wetting your sheets. Itās a pretty sight. One that he wants to see again - no, one that he will see again.
āHanamaki,ā you sob, your body shaking all over. āThe contract said you wouldnāt say those things.ā
Did it? Well, thatās too bad. He doesnāt really read those things too carefully. Boundaries and limits are so often flexible in these situations. At least, thatās what heās learned over time.
He reaches out, grabbing your face with his fingers and squishing your cheeks together. Itās terrifying to be held so close to him, eyebrows raised and a nasty grin on his face. You feel so small, so vulnerable - completely at his mercy.
āNext time, Iām gonna use your throat and cum on your face.ā
Itās a promise.
i really appreciate reblogs + comments if you enjoyed this!
listen. listen. i know i said i was gonna not get on tumblr bc i have to finish this kita soulmate au but please considerā
a perfect summer day, with the sky almost the same color of the sea, dotted with puffy white clouds like dollops of foam, and gardening with nanami kento.
it takes the two of you weeks to plan out the garden. golden mornings curled up on the couch flipping through packets of seeds. days of spring raināall fogged windows and wet earth and the soft drumbeat against the roofāspent squinting at tiny instructions, learning about ph and little details until your vision swam. sketching out the plots whenever inspiration struck.
(nanami goes to work one day with a fine-lined sketch of a veggie section inked high on his wrist. he'd been nearby as you'd blearily sipped coffee, and he'd let you take his forearm without realizing what you'd intended. you quickly lose your sketching rights.)
the planning stage was fun, but you're both ready for your garden to start taking shape.
nanami pauses in the middle of packing dirt around a shrub's stem and sits back on his haunches. there's a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. his hair is damp at the edges, all darkened gold, mussed from running his hand through it as it drifts over his eyes when he's planting.
"it's crooked."
"hm?" you say, watching the way nanami's biceps flex as he leans forward to shift the hydrangea shrubāalready laden with big cotton-candy puffs of blue flowersāin the hole.
"the shrub. it's crooked."
you blink.
"wait, what?"
there's the smallest curl at the corner of nanami's lips. you huff. that little tilt grows stronger.
"the shrub is crooked," he repeats.
you tilt your head.
"it gives it character, kento," you tell him.
he considers you for a moment, his umber eyes tracing over your skin. he glances back at the hydrangea, at the tipsy tilt of it. "character, hm?"
"yup."
"alright," he says. he starts pushing dirt around the base of the plant again, packing it in tight. "i suppose there are worse things."
you nod, beginning to mold the warm, damp soil between your palms and pushing it forwards. "there are."
"besides," nanami says mildly, his eyes on his work, "we'll have years to see if it grows in crooked too."
hanamaki takahiro is not unemployed, contrary to popular belief. he just doesn't tell his friends what he does for a living.
wc: 3.6k
tags/tw's(PLEASE! PLEASE! READ TY): explicit n*fw, dubcon to noncon/RAPE, yandere vibez, manipulation, abuse, lotsa degradation, slight dumbification, some internalized misogyny?, fingering, cunnilingus, penetration, sex worker!reader, porn producer + talent makki, fem + afab reader
additional disclaimer: probably incredibly inaccurate portrayals of sex work + the amateur porn industry. this is very far removed from real life, in case you couldn't tell
a/n: written for @seijorhi's deal with the devil collab! not proofread as always <3
i donāt want minors interacting with my content
When you first see the ad, blue and pixelated and in all caps - HOT GIRLS WANTED!!! FREE FLIGHT INCLUDED - you hesitate for just a moment. Youāre not stupid. Youāve seen the stories, read the warnings, heard all about the cautionary tales of girls who clicked the wrong button at the wrong time on some sketchy, underground site. You know what happens to girls who think theyāre all grown up, who get themselves into deep, deep shit.
You know better than this.
Then you take a look outside your window, eyes flickering over the sleepy, rural backwater outside the thick glass pane, and the hesitation vanishes.
The email you draft up is short and concise - Iām interested. Email me back. - and attach three images: one where youāre winking, lips curved up in a sly smile, one with a very low-cut top, and one of yourself in the tightest, shortest dress you own.
You hit send too fast for the second thoughts to settle in, and close your laptop before you can press the undo button.
Now, in his time as a producer, Hanamakiās filmed and worked with his fair share of pretty girls. Sweet little things with long hair and doe eyes, glamor girls with the perkiest, gravity-defying tits, girl-next-door types who sport glasses smeared with cum - heās seen it all.
But thereās just something about the way you look in your pictures.
He canāt quite put his finger on what it is, Maybe itās the innocence that the images exude, despite how lewd they are. Maybe itās your face - god, you have the perfect face for porn, donāt you - or maybe just your big, round eyes, full of hope and promise and naivety.
Youāre too good to let other men handle. The minute Hanamaki lays eyes on those pictures, he wants you to himself.
He replies to your email, keeping his tone casual, and when you respond right away, he allows himself a grin. Beautiful and easy? Heās too lucky, really, considering the way you just fell into his lap.
He buys the plane tickets within the week. He knows youāll take him up on his offer. He knows exactly what girls like you are like, the way youāre all looking for something bigger, something better - anything at all, as long as you get to escape the drudgery of the small towns and the suburbs. Itās terrible being stuck in the same place for so long, and even worse when faced with the prospect of spending the rest of your life there. Girls like you long for something more than just a family and a white picket fence, and heās all too familiar with the sweet sense of desperation that desire comes with.
After all, itās his job.
-
When you step off the plane, eyes scanning around the sea of strange faces, it takes you a while to pick out Hanamaki. His strawberry-blonde bangs cling to his forehead, damp with sweat and curling in the humidity. When he finally catches your gaze, he flashes you a lazy smile, eyes sparkling with humor, and waves you over.
āHey. Told you you wouldnāt get lost,ā he says.
You manage a shaky laugh. āYeah, wellā¦ never been this far away from home before, so you know how it is.ā
He knows very well how it is.
āCāmon,ā he says, reaching out a hand to carry your luggage for you. āLetās get you settled in - the sooner the better, right? After all, weāre gonna be roommates.ā
He winks at you, carving out a path amid the crowd to the nearest exit. Thereās a strange, unsettling feeling in your gut, and it suddenly hits you - youāre alone. Youāre by yourself. Thereās no family here, no friends, none of the familiarity of your hometown.
All you have is Hanamaki, and as he twirls his car keys around on his finger, his eyes narrowing playfully, youāre seized by the unshakable feeling that youāve fucked up.
-
āThis is the āYes and Noā list, by the way,ā he says, pointing to a dense section of tiny font. āJust mark off the things you wouldnāt be okay with doing.ā
The thick wad of paper heās dumped in front of you is apparently the contract thatāll dictate the next few months of your life. You canāt really be bothered to read all of it, and you skim through most of the non-disclosure bits before you arrive at the section youāre most interested in: the terms that dictate your limits on set.
You swallow uncomfortably as go down the list of sex acts, one by one.
Creampie - Yes
Blowjob - Yes
Throatfucking - No
Facial - No
Bondage - Yes
Degradation - No
Thereās a whole bunch more after that, each described act sicker and more depraved than the last, and you can feel your stomach churning unpleasantly as you scrawl a hasty signature at the bottom.
āAnd once youāre done with that, we can get the cameras rolling,ā he adds, patting your shoulder. He leans down, breath warm and sticky by your ear. āYouāre gonna be a star.ā
You feel sick.
When you first arrive, youād let yourself be lulled into this false sense of security and comfort. He took you out to dinner every night, brought you into clubs youād never even dreamed of before, treated you like an absolute princess. Youād almost forgotten what you signed up for in the first place. Youād almost forgotten that deals go both ways.
āNervous?ā he asks. You nod hesitantly.
He knew full well the answer to that. All girls are nervous at first. Sex is something thatās supposed to be intimate and private, and even if thereās no emotional connection, thereās always an inherent vulnerability that comes along with stripping all your clothes off. Itās not natural for cameras to be recording someone cumming and drooling all over the sheets.
But thatās just part of the fun, isnāt it?
He canāt help but focus on how exposed you look, all scared and pitiful as you apprehensively eye the camera. He sets it up with a few practiced motions, clicking the record button, and ignores the strain of his cock in his pants. Heāll get to that part soon enough.
āDonāt worry,ā he assures you, climbing onto the bed. Thereās a glint in his eyes that makes you very worried. āIāll be gentle this first time.ā
After that - well, he canāt make any promises. His self-control isnāt always the best.
He puts a pillow under your head, laying you down so the camera can capture a better angle, and hooks a finger under the waistband of your shorts.
The feeling of his skin brushing against yours sends a sudden wave of nausea through your body. It all feels wrong; his hands shouldnāt be touching there, your shorts shouldnāt be coming off, his lips shouldnāt be pressing against yours, no matter how soft they feel -
āSo sensitive,ā he purrs, trailing a finger along your damp, clothed pussy. You squirm involuntarily, little gasps and moans pouring from your mouth as he massages your clit. āPutting on a show for your future audience?ā
The little bit of resistance left inside you shrivels up and dies.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. You donāt remember much except the heavy feeling of your chest, as if the four walls of the room were squeezing in on you, constricting your airways until your breaths are quick and shallow and desperate. Thereās a word for that you donāt remember until much later - panic.
His fingers roam over every inch of your exposed skin, lips pressing against your thighs and pussy, coaxing your hole with gentle, teasing touches until it drips for him. You donāt remember anything at all except for the slick, wet trail of cum pooling between your thighs at the end of the night.
As for Hanamaki? Heās having the time of his life. Thereās nothing quite like that moment of initiation - that first time - and he savors every single delicious reaction he pulls out of your body, every little twitch and shiver, all the lewd gasps and moans. You might be blanking out, but heās hyperaware. He loves corrupting sweet, pure girls like you whoāve gotten in over their head, and he especially loves watching the realization set in.
He thinks this one is gonna go viral.
-
You wake too early the next morning, shivering in the cool air. The windowās open, and you can hear the sound of birds, the rustling of the trees, the faint hum of traffic in the distance. It feels calm. Peaceful.
Well, as peaceful as itās possible to feel, considering youāre a few thousand miles away from home. You turn over onto your side, wincing at the feeling of soreness between your legs.
Then you hear a moan.
Itās a shameless one, loud and unabashed, and itās coming through the paper thin walls that separate your room from Hanamakiās. Thereās a brief moment of annoyance - couldnāt he have gone and taken a shower? Couldnāt he have done it in the shower? Or maybe just kept it down, perhaps?
Thereās a noisy mix of grunting and squealing, the audio tinny and distorted, and you realize heās watching porn. It shouldnāt be much of a surprise, really, but the annoyance quickly turns to disgust after a few seconds pass.
āF- fuck yeah, baby, just like that, just like that, youāre doing perfect donāt stopdonāt stopdonāt stop - right there, good girl - ā
Thereās a soft moan, coming from what you assume is the porn heās watching - itās your voice.
ā- god, youāre so fucking good to me, so pretty and perfect, gonna make you all mine, mark you up, gonna ruin you, sweet girl - ā
You dive back under your comforter, trying to muffle both your ears, but heās so fucking loud the neighbors can probably hear him. Itās useless to try and block out his gross, overdone moans, the wet squelching of his hand pumping his dick, the heavy breathing that makes you feel sick.
Why did you ever agree to his offer?
You stay under the comforter for what feels like forever, trying to steady your breathing, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as possible. You find yourself frozen long after heās done jerking himself off, long after the pitter-patter of the showerhead turns on and then off again. You want to stay there forever.
A knock sounds at the door, and you swallow nervously when you hear the telltale creak of the hinges.
āWake up, sleepyhead. I made us breakfast. Gotta keep your energy up if we want to film something else fun later.ā
You stay silent.
āHey,ā he says, footsteps shuffling closer. āYou there? Hello?ā
Heās mere feet away now, concern apparent in his voice. You squeeze your eyes even tighter, as if you were one of those toddlers who lacks any understanding of the concept of object permanence, because maybe if you pretend heās not there -
āGeez, youāre really all knocked out, huh?ā he says, lifting the comforter off of you. āYou alright?ā
Your eyes are reddened from the silent crying, your fists clenched at your sides, and your throat feels dry and scratchy.
āHanamaki,ā you say, voice shaking. āI want to go home.ā
Thereās a moment of silence that seems to stretch on for ages. He sits down beside you on the bed, taking your hand into his lap, and strokes his thumb over the back soothingly. He chuckles softly, and something that feels vaguely like fear settles in the pit of your stomach.
āYouāre joking, right?ā
Your eyes fly open, and you jerk away from his touch. āNo, Iām not. I want to go home. I donāt want to do this.ā
āShame,ā he says, shrugging. āThey usually last a few more shoots. A few more months.ā
He moves the comforter back so it covers your body, pulling it up to your chin. Itās a mockery of comfort, a parody of compassion.
āI just have one question,ā he says, eyes narrowing. āGo home to where?ā
āBack where I came from. Where you ordered the stupid fucking plane ticket from. My boring hometown, where my parents and friends and family live. Home, Hanamaki. Donāt play dumb.ā
Thereās another brief moment of silence. Itās as if heās thinking, processing - or maybe the time heās taking is for your sake.
āYour idea of home is a bit more fragile than you think, you know.ā
āThe fuck do you mean?ā
He sighs, kicking his feet up onto the bed. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and loads the video that the two of you had filmed yesterday - the same video heād been watching this morning.
āI give it a week before your friends find out. Your parents, a month tops. Thatās the best case scenario.ā
His words feel like a punch to the gut, and youāre pretty sure something breaks inside you when he turns the phone screen and you see yourself on there. Your face, your hair, your body - itās undeniably you.
āWeāve got a few thousand views already. Once somethingās on the internet, itās on there forever. And everybody watches porn. You know that, right?ā
He takes your hand back into his lap, but this time, his grip is iron. His fingers grip your wrist so tightly it hurts, and when you try to pull away, you realize just how much stronger he is than you.
āYou wonāt be going anywhere.ā
-
He waits another day or two to film the next scene heās got planned out. Youāre still moping around the house, all sad and sullen, slamming the door in his face whenever he goes to graciously check in on you. It looks like youāve settled on giving him the silent treatment, but at least youāve stopped trying to steal his car keys. Another few weeks, and youāll get over yourself. Heās sure of it. Youāre a big girl, after all.
Heās got big, grand plans for you. Youāve got something special - youāve got what it takes - and heās not stupid enough to waste talent like that.
In fact, thereās something a little more niche that heās been waiting to try ever since he first laid eyes on you.
He sets up the camera in his room, adjusting the focus and exposure to his liking, and inserts a new memory card into the empty slot on the side. He might need the extra storage tonight. His equipment really isnāt anything fancy - itās more than enough for his purposes - but for just a moment, he wishes he had something a little fancier to do you justice.
āCome on in,ā he says, straightening out the sheets one last time. āWeāre using the fancy lube today.ā
You push open the door and enter the room, shooting him a withering glare. Itās a bit hard to take you seriously in that gorgeous lingerie he bought for you, though, the matching set stitched with all white lace and smooth silk. You look gorgeous. Angelic, even.
He doesnāt have to use chains or rope to keep you in place, although heās not discounting such methods at all. Thereās a certain threat in the way he keeps your bedroom door locked at night, the way he forces you to eat dinner with him everyday. Youāre not a guest; youāre a prisoner, and one with nowhere to run to.
Hanamaki pulls you in for a soft, light kiss, lips brushing experimentally against yours, and deepens it to something slow and sensual when he feels you start to squirm. He presses your shoulders down into the mattress, climbing on top of you, and his touch feels like fire where it burns a path across your skin. You feel that familiar sensation of dizziness, of lightheadedness; every ministration of his skilled and purposeful, a deliberate attempt to steal the oxygen from your lungs and leave you choking on your own ashes.
His lips begin to make their way down your neck, glossy with spit and swollen from the kiss, finding your pretty tits, laving over the skin of your stomach, trailing downwards until he gets to your throbbing clit. He can feel your arousal, even through the fabric, and he presses the flat of his tongue to your slit.
Thereās a soft, broken moan somewhere above him, and he feels a sudden rush of victory. He starts lapping at your pussy, pushing the tip of his tongue to mold the wet lace to the outline of your cunt, his fingers trailing up and down your inner thigh as he eats you out. He innocently nudges aside your panties after soaking them through, peering up at you from between your legs, and flashes a crooked smile.
āYouāre gonna cum for me, pretty slut, whether you want to or not.ā
The nickname sends a brief jolt of confusion through your gut - heās never called you anything like that before, even when heād threatened you. Itās demeaning, base, wrong. Youāre not - youāre not that kind of girl.
He can see the turmoil on your face, and heād be lying if he said it didnāt turn him on.
āBet I can make you moan like a whore, too.ā
He doesnāt give you time to react, flicking his tongue through your tender, dripping slit, mouth slurping greedily at your swollen clit. He loves eating girls out, loves the taste, loves the scent, loves the reactions - the poorly stifled moans, the useless attempts to still the twitching and jerking(theyāre the natural physical reactions to pleasure, after all), and the pathetic, unstoppable orgasm that he gets to wring out every time.
Your face is flushed with heat, blunt teeth digging into your tongue, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Youāre trying to think of someplace else, something else, anything at all except the man in between your legs - but it feels so good. You canāt ignore the pleasure that the licking and sucking ignites, canāt distract yourself from the tightness twisting in your clenched cunt that threatens to burst at any moment.
He pulls away.
āHmm,ā he says, sitting up, brushing a thumb over your pussy. āWanna see you go stupid on my cock today instead.ā
āHanamaki, I -ā
āWhatās the problem, sweetheart?ā he asks, maneuvering you easily into his lap. āYouāre not a stupid whore? Not a dumb slut? Not my sweet little fucktoy?ā
You can feel the outline of his cock pressing against the softness of your thigh, hard and long and terrifying. Your throat feels suddenly dry.
āHanamaki,ā you say, voice breaking quietly. āDonāt say those things.ā
He reaches out to caress your cunt, fingers dipping into your entrance, and you squirm backwards to get away from the touch. Still so sensitive, he thinks. So cute.
āI think Iāll say what I want,ā he says, plunging two fingers deep inside.
Itās not hard to stretch you out, finger curling and stroking your little hole until youāre writhing around his dexterous fingers. Youāre already aroused from the attention heād given your pussy earlier, the mixture of your juices and his split soaking the entrance, his finger slipping in and out easily.
Thereās almost no resistance when he pops the head of his cock inside your slick pussy, and he lets out a loud moan at the feeling of warmth that envelopes him. And since youāre so well prepared already, thereās no need for him to hold back, is there?
āReady?ā he asks, laughing. āAlthough the answer doesnāt really matter if taking cock is the only thing youāre good for.ā
The pace he sets is fast and hard and unforgiving, each rough, sloppy thrust bottoming out against your cervix. Even as you cringe in pain, wincing as his skin slaps against yours, the delicious stretch of his cock against your sensitive walls still feels so good. Itās a dizzying mix of pain and pleasure, one that sends you into overdrive, heart pounding and legs shaking as you whimper.
āHiro - ah! - please slow -ā you cry.
He shoves two fingers in your mouth before you can finish, shutting you up and making you gag slightly. āOh, so now Iām Hiro? Not Hanamaki anymore, huh?ā
Each hard thrust is jolting you up and down on his lap now, his fingers digging into the skin of your tummy as he stuffs you full. Are those tears, baby? He thinks you look so pretty, sobbing and drooling for him like that.
āFuck,ā he moans, burying his face in your neck. āFuck, Iām gonna cum. Cum with me, slut, cāmon. Milk my cock dry.ā
Hanamaki really is a gentleman; he saves his load until he can feel you tightening around him, until your breathing starts to hitch and youāre squirming back and forth. Itās silent in the room except for the lewd, gross sounds of skin-to-skin contact, slippery and wet and exaggerated.
āThatās it,ā he breathes, pulling you off his cock.
His cum is dripping out of your tired cunt, the thick, white liquid spread all over your thighs, staining his pants, wetting your sheets. Itās a pretty sight. One that he wants to see again - no, one that he will see again.
āHanamaki,ā you sob, your body shaking all over. āThe contract said you wouldnāt say those things.ā
Did it? Well, thatās too bad. He doesnāt really read those things too carefully. Boundaries and limits are so often flexible in these situations. At least, thatās what heās learned over time.
He reaches out, grabbing your face with his fingers and squishing your cheeks together. Itās terrifying to be held so close to him, eyebrows raised and a nasty grin on his face. You feel so small, so vulnerable - completely at his mercy.
āNext time, Iām gonna use your throat and cum on your face.ā
Itās a promise.
i really appreciate reblogs + comments if you enjoyed this!
iām glad you got to see your friends. social events are a great refresher after a long time doing other things.
iām doing well, for the most part. weāre a bit short staffed at work rn so things are a little stressful but hey at least itās more money for me at the end of the week. iāve also been dedicating my free time to different things and i feel a lot better now that iām actually accomplishing what iām setting out to do. iām using it as self care and self discovery time (which is what i desperately needed after all this time of work and no play).
ah that sucks to hear about your workplace :( but like you said, iām really glad youāre feeling productive with your free time! like you said, it can be great for self care, and i also think thereās a certain sense of accomplishment that comes with it as well. i hope youāre having fun along the way, too
