teasing your loser boyfriend until he cums in his pants is probably your second favorite hobby.
the first?
well, unfortunately that’s being teased by your loser boyfriend.
“come on, baby,” gojo purred, thumb deliberately ghosting right over your sensitive clit instead of on it beneath your skirt. “thought you said you could take it.”
“shut the fuck up,” you hissed, nails digging into his pale forearm as your brain belatedly recognized the familiar click! of the remote hidden in his pocket, the vibrator pulsing inside you kicking up another notch.
was this his payback for making him moan out loud in the middle of geto’s quiet birthday dinner? or for that one time you jerked him off in a bathroom stall and made him walk around stores for an hour with cum in his boxers?
“m’so jealous of that toy right now,” he murmured in your ear, his thigh pressed hard against yours in the restaurant booth as you eyed the bulge outlined in his jeans. he just had to be that couple every time you went out to eat, occupying every atom of your personal space as he gave you that pretty pout of his. “bet you’re squeezing it real tight.”
“i hate you,” you half-whispered, blood rushing to your face as you bit your bottom lip to hide a moan. glancing around anxiously to make sure no one had noticed what a mess he was making of you.
“you adore me.”
and god, when he grinned at you like that, you couldn’t help how close you were, thighs squeezing together as fire roared through your veins, the pressure building and building-
“too bad you’ll have to wait until till we get home to prove it,” he smirked, winking at you as the toy inside you stopped.
“i’m breaking up with you,” you hissed back, flustered and frustrated as you shamelessly squirmed in the seat, chasing friction as the heat in your core started to dissipate.
“good luck,” gojo chuckled. “you’re stuck with me.”
and apparently with a vibrator in you for the rest of your meal.
mdni. multiple jjk men. fem reader. all fics will feature heavy smut + crack treated seriously. tags will be found in individual posts. gojo art by @keki1205 + div by @pixopix
it's raining...sharks? but, uh, instead of man-eating ones, it seems this one is hungry for pussy! will your ex-husband save you? or do you even want to be saved?
VELOCIPASTOR! starring veloicpastor!geto
WILL FEATURE BONDAGE + GLORY HOLE
as a stripper, you've had your fair share of strange clients. but, uh, a priest turned cult leader with the ability to transform into a velociraptor? yeah, that's a new one.
COCAINE BEAR! starring bear hybrid!toji
WILL FEATURE KNOTTING + PRIMAL PLAY
what's a wildlife activist to do when the bear hybrid she's been studying accidentally stumbles upon a shipment of cocaine? probably not have sex with him. easier said than done.
LAVALANTULA! starring scientist!nanami
WILL FEATURE HUMILIATION + BREEDING
keeping your crush on a coworker secret is hard! a lot harder when the volcano you've both been observing for months erupts - and now you've got to struggle to survive fire-breathing tarantulas together.
GOJO VS. EVIL! starring frat!gojo
WILL FEATURE SEX TOYS + APHRODISIACS
a cabin in the woods. a quiet pond to fish on. a relaxing little getaway where you could enjoy some peace and quiet. what could go wrong? a group of annoyingly attractive college students crashing your sweet spot - and start dying off after you save a beautiful blue-eyed idiot from drowning?
a/n: these fics will probably take me longer than october to finish up but i'll do my best <3 some of them will be shorter, closer to drabbles and few will be longer oneshots :3
confused and lowk grossed out by people who are in their twenties writing romance and smut for underage characters. no age-ups don’t count. yes this is about megumi fushiguro. leave that baby alone he does not have time to be the mischaracterized angsty male lead in your x reader smut he is already in the trenches AND ALSO HE IS LIKE FIFTEEN!!! WHAT!!!!
⡴ gym teacher!sukuna has an embarrassingly known crush on school nurse!reader
lowkey wanna turn this into a full oneshot
if he heard one more twelve year old’s squeaky voice whispering to one another, saying he’s ‘got a crush on the school nurse’ he swears he’s gonna write up the whole grade.
god, it’s even worse when one of the eighth grade girls come up to him when he’s on lunch duty.
“mr., mr. ! did you know the nurse mentioned she likes tall guys when i went into her room for a tylenol !”
“what does that have to do with me ?” he grumbles, scrunching his face while the girl and her friend stare up at him.
“well everyone knows you like like her—”
“GO SIT DOWN!”
he swears the whole lunchroom conveniently goes quiet when he yells that as the girls squirm away back to their tables and start whispering around gossip.
and even worse than the girls that draw hearts around you and sukuna’s staff photos next to eachother in the main office, he’s got gojo. gojo, who ships you two and nags him like worse-than a middle school girl. gojo, who shoves you two together for any school event.
“what game do you have planned for tomorrow?” you ask, leaning over to whisper to sukuna as eighth grade awards are called for each subject, timing claps inbetween your words while names are called. you smirk, “how many kids am i gonna have sent my way next time?”
“just dodgeball.” he leans down to whisper flatly against your ear, still staring down a kid giggling in the seating rows of the auditorium and effectively getting him to stop with his gaze.
“your version of dodgeball is basically to the death, i might have to have paramedics in my room on standby.” you joke, turning to smile at him so sweetly. in his mind, this counts as him making you laugh and therefore counts as a win.
he chuckles lightly, just a quick huff of his chest, but essentially the hardest he can laugh if he’s not looking at a kid getting tackled in class. “these kids will toughen up eventually, i am just teaching them to do it early.”
“were you a weak kid that needed to toughen up? i can really only picture you as a big scary dude.”
“i was actually a severely malnourished child due to my mothers impoverished state during her pregnancy.“ he says, truly not realizing how solemn he sounds in his voice even as he means it as a light hearted jest.
you blink at him, face contorted in confusion and awkwardness. he wants to hit himself.
the only thing that saves him from not saying anything stupid again is the end of the assembly, marked by gojo yelling into a megaphone and for kids to round up by homeroom.
the following week he’s still embarrassed to even look you in the eyes. he’s mulling over how stupid he must’ve looked infront of you while sifting through the equipment closet.
he hears steps echo throughout the currently empty gym before he yells out.
“gojo i’m not covering your lunch break, fuck off—” he turns around to not see the usual suspect he finds during his free period. instead, he sees you, leaning against the door in scrubs and white coat clinging to your body. he stills in his motion.
you speak before he can (if he can speak at all in his embarrassed state).
“i understand the confusion, he bothers me all the time too.” you dismiss, smiling at him with your glossed lips he probably thinks about hourly. waitwaitwait, gojo talks to you all the time ? he’s going to kill that lanky fuck. “just wanted to drop these off for yuri in your next period.” you jostle around a pill bottle in your hand, “she can get fainty on gym days so give these to her just in case to help prevent that.” he knows it’s your job and all, but your concern is honestly kinda cute.
“uhh yeah i’ll be sure to.” he nods, right as you drop the bottle on top of a stack of rubber cones by the door before you walk out. and he would just like it to be known he definitely didn’t stare at your ass as you left.
and he typically makes it easier for himself to deny how down bad he is to you, but now, after you spent a week of saved up sick days out last week, he’s kind of craving your voice. so who can blame him when he calls his 6th grade nephew into his office while he’s supposed to be at lunch.
“look, kid. i’m going to need you to do something, and i’m gonna need you to not be annoying about it, kay?”
yuji furrows his brows, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.
“you,” he gestures to his nephew, “are going to act like you collapsed and let me bring you up to the school nurse. you are then going to be quiet when i talk to her.”
“is it cause you have a crush on her—”
sukuna tenses before cutting him off.
“do a good job acting and i will consider buying you that human earthworm blu-ray. do you hear me, brat?”
yuji’s eyes light up at the mention of the dvd.
“is this impression good enough then?” yuji leans and clutches at his side in fake fatigue while moaning dramatically for help, then immediately straightens up with a smile like he’s waiting for a rating. sukuna shakes his head and genuinely wonders how he’s related to this—in sukuna’s words— pea brained doofus.
he dials your number on his offices phone, sitting tense in his chair while he shh’s yuji. yuji nods and salutes as sukuna continues to roll his eyes.
yuji could’ve sworn he saw him smile when you pick up. he continues to watch sukuna fiddle with the curled wire of the phone as he explains yuji’s apparently dire situation. he can just barely hear the muffled sound of you saying ‘just bring him up and i’ll check him out.” over the speaker of the phone before sukuna hangs up and fixes his hair.
sukuna walks out the door and desperately tries to ignore yuji’s terrible post fainting impression behind him as his nephew follows his step to your room.
just before they step into your room he whispers to yuji as he leans over.
“if you can bring up me being single i’ll take you out for ice cream, brat.”
feeling guilty over not working on your fic is so silly if you think about like why are you stressing over the hobby you do in your free time for fun lol wip not whip
you and choso have been friends since the start of your second year at college, with him being an art major and you being one of his only friends it's no surprise that over time you began to take up half his sketchbook.
he's always insisting you have a face made to be put on a canvas. you don't quite see it nor have a good understanding of what exactly that means, but it makes you feel good.
sitting on the art studio's uncomfortable chairs isn't so bad when he finally reveals the finished product. the way he draws you—it's like he's drawing your soul too. you've never felt prettier than when you see yourself through his eyes.
"well, can i see?" you ask, noticing he finally put down his sketchbook.
"it's not finished yet, i have to go over some of the shading—but you can take a look while i clean up a little." he picks it up between two fingers and stretches so you can reach it without any difficulty.
before standing he speaks again, "i know you've got a busy couple days coming up so i'll do my best to paint it without you here." in truth he would do just fine without you here. he has the sketch, has the colors he'll use planned out in his head—hell, he could draw you from memory at this point. but you don't know that.
you furrow your brows, "you sure?"
"positive."
"kay, just let me admire it for a sec and i'll go."
the second your eyes hit the page you start smiling, its beautiful. it always is. you don't have words for him, you haven't for a long time. there's nothing you can say that he hasn't already heard.
while choso's busy cleaning you decide to look through the rest of his sketchbook, flicking to the very first page. at the top right-hand corner of the page he has the date marked in red pen—which is nothing out of the ordinary for him, but you take note that it begins just a few weeks into his first year.
you turn the pages and smile, noticing how his current art-style seeps into his older drawings, but the next page is something you didn’t expect, something that makes your heart drop.
it sinks lower and lower every time you carefully slide the pages between your fingers. its you—they’re all you. they date back to a time you hadn’t even heard of his existence.
you sitting on a bench, you with your friends who’s faces haven’t been drawn, you reading a book, you listening to music, you—
ᝰ.ᐟ bf!toji who hates seeing you cry until he makes you sob during sex ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni
bf!toji who acts like nothing bothers him, but he secretly notices every little change in your mood. he knows exactly how sensitive you are and treats your feelings like something fragile, even if he tries to act casual about it.
bf!toji is the type to drop his tough guy act the second your bottom lip starts shaking. if you two are watching a sad movie and a pet dies, or if you just had a terrible day and drop your cup on the floor—he's right there. he won't tease you. he’ll just pull you against his chest, let you ruin his shirt with your tears, and rub your back until you stop crying. he genuinely hates seeing you sad.
bf!toji who is completely caught off guard the first time it happens. you’re sitting on his lap, wrapped around him, completely lost in the moment. one of his big, rough hand is holding your hips, keeping you close, while he kisses your neck and slowly moves his thick digits inside your pussy, finding a rhythm that takes your breath away.
bf!toji stops completely the second he hears a small, shaky sniffle. he goes totally stiff under you. he stops moving his fingers and pulls back from your neck, his dark eyes wide and worried as he holds your face. seeing tears running down your cheeks scares him a little.
"hey... look at me. what's wrong? did i hurt you?" his voice is rough and actually panicked. "tell me, do you want me to stop?"
bf!toji watches you whine softly because he stopped. you shake your head, hiding your face in his shoulder and crying out the truth: "n-no, don't stop... it just—it feels too good, ji. i can't help it."
bf!toji freezes, taking in what you just said. hearing that you aren't crying from pain, but because he is making you feel that good? a switch flips in his brain and the panic disappears, replaced by a huge rush of excitement.
bf!toji becomes totally obsessed with this—knowing he can make you lose control just by touching you makes his ego go through the roof. the sweet boyfriend who hates to see you cry in public completely disappears behind closed doors. in bed, your tears mean he's doing a good job.
bf!toji gets really smug and loves to tease you about it. he’ll purposely slow down, touching the exact spot that makes you crazy, watching your eyes fill with tears while he smirks.
"look at you," he’ll whisper, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "crying already? you're so sweet for me. keep going, let me see how good it feels."
bf!toji loves to push you over the edge by building the friction until you can't take it. he’ll pin your wrists above your head, spreading your legs wide so he can look right at you while he slides all the way inside. every time he thrusts deep and hits your sweet spot, a fresh wave of tears leaks from your eyes, and he just stares down at you with a dark, heavy grin, loving how loud you gasp and sob under him.
bf!toji who will change positions just to make you cry harder. he'll flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up high so he can slide in from behind. the angle is deep and intense, and as he grips your waist hard enough to leave marks, you're burying your face in the pillows to muffle your crying. he'll lean down, his chest pressing against your back, and talk right into your ear.
"baby, let me hear it—turn your head and look at me—god, look at how wet your face is just because i'm stretching you out like this."
bf!toji decides that if you aren't crying by the end of the night, he didn't try hard enough. it becomes a game to him. he will deliberately push you over the edge, using his dick and his dirty mouth to keep you completely overwhelmed until you're shaking and crying in his arms.
bf!toji who will actually praise you for crying. while he's holding you tight and making love to you, listening to you sob, he’ll lean down to kiss your wet cheeks and growl, "that's it, gooood girl. cry for me."
thinking about making choso do pushups till failure on top of you and giving him a little kiss for every one he does until hes whimpering and sweating 🙂↕️🙂↕️ yes sir
@satorucest making gojo do pushups till failure on top of you except he isnt allowed to kiss you at ALL or touch you until hes done. except he has to fuck you all exhausted afterwards bc he did too many pushups and tired himself out (this would take an extremely long time thanks to him being #strong) (the strongest, even?)
thinking about making choso do pushups till failure on top of you and giving him a little kiss for every one he does until hes whimpering and sweating 🙂↕️🙂↕️ yes sir
helpless. hopeless. horny. honestly, you should just stamp never been laid on his forehead, but no, it's up to you to fix him
synopsis: matchmaking was your calling. what wasn't there to love about love? never, in all the couples you created, had you ever failed. choso's about to change that.
pairing: virgin!Choso x cupid!Reader
content: mdni, angst and smut, modern au where cupids work for a matchmaking corporation, fem reader, inexperienced choso, loss of virginity, fingering, piv sex, yearning, jealousy, he wants us BAD, falling in love
choso art by @hunnismokah
Unlike some people, you actually liked your job.
There was a certain magic to it, matching people together and watching them fall for each other, the love lingering in the air thick enough you could practically taste it.
Some clients were harder than others, sure, but they usually just needed a little help. None had ever made you second guess your position in this profession.
Until him.
His pale hands nervously wrapped around a cup of coffee, knee bouncing as he looked everywhere except you.
"Um, Choso, right?" You smiled, sweet and polite as you took a sip of your hot chocolate.
"What?" He grunted. Grunted.
His voice was like gravel, low and rough and rigid. Thick brows scrunched together as he looked out the window. Counting birds or staring at passing strangers. You didn't know.
"I'm just here to help you," You chirped. You'd been through the practiced welcome speech twice already and it still hadn't seemed to set in. He'd barely even cracked his front door open to speak to you, only willing to join you at a nearby coffee shop after you slipped him your business card and told him you spoke with his brother.
"Why?" He grumbled.
You struggled not to sigh, to keep your smile in place as you slid over the form his younger brother had filled out begging you to set his brother up.
"Yuji thinks you could use a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, you know whatever you-"
"Girlfriend," He muttered under his breath.
Well, at least you were getting somewhere.
"Okay, well, your brother requested we help you out. And I was assigned to your case," You explained. He reluctantly picked up the paper, frowning at his sibling's handwriting before sighing himself.
"Fine."
You relaxed, shoulders slumping as your smile turned genuine, relieved you wouldn't have to mark his file as a failure.
"Great," You beamed. "So, I spoke to your brother on the phone, and he said you didn't have a lot of experience, but-"
"None," He interrupted you, the thick tattoo across his nose wrinkling as he scrunched it up.
"Excuse me?" You questioned, tilting your head to the side in confusion.
"I don't have any," He curtly said, meeting your stare for the first time since he sat down. His eyes were dark, and you couldn't tell where the pupils started or the irises ended, but they were still just as sharp as the rest of him, threatening to burn a hole through you.
"Like you've never had a real girlfriend before, or-?" You trailed off this time, blinking at him like it'd make it more believable that the ridiculously hot guy in front of you somehow had no experience with women.
"Like anything," Choso repeated, cheeks heating up before he looked away again.
"Well, I mean, what's the furthest you've gone?" That was probably unprofessional, but the question slipped out before you could stop it, more curious than you should be.
"I held hands with a girl once when I was fourteen," He answered.
"Well, um, let's change that, alright?" You tried to cheer him up, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand to reassure him.
You'd set up virgins before.
But a guy that had never been kissed?
It was painful.
Maybe if you cared less, it'd be easier. Just a matter of pulling out your arrows and picking someone pretty out to complement him.
But this was his life. He'd be living with the decision you made - unless he wanted to pay a premium fee to unmatch him from whoever you paired him with. But so far, none of your couples had done that yet.
You would be damned if he was the first.
Even if it meant you had to be his first.
"Put your other hand on my waist," You instructed him, leaning in closer, your chest pressed against his, a pretty blush dusting his pale cheeks as his palm settled on your side. "Good."
For the past few weeks, you'd been setting him up on date after date, taking notes and offering pointers afterwards, debriefing just for him to nod along and never give a real opinion.
You were trying to gauge his interests, figure out what kind of woman he was looking for.
The problem was glaringly obvious - Choso seemed to not have any preferences.
Unable to tell you what he liked or disliked about each one, only declining second dates. He hadn't even kissed a single one of them.
Choso was a catch. Maybe he was a little scary looking at first, scowling and serious, but he was soft, smart, the kind of considerate most girls would kill for. A family man too.
You cornered him about it back at his apartment after another failed date, asking what his deal with, frowning when he admitted that he was nervous about being a virgin.
So you did what anyone would do in your shoes! Offer your services!
"Like this?" He murmured, craning his neck down so his nose brushed against yours, close enough your lips were almost touching.
"Mhm," You nodded, breath catching in your throat as your eyes drifted down to the soft pink of those lips. "You sure about this?"
You guessed he was judging by how hard his mouth crashed into yours.
A little clumsy, taking a couple seconds to adjust, to copy your movements, but pretty quickly getting the hang of it.
You would have to add fast learner to his resumé.
Especially when two seconds later, his hand was holding you in place, stronger than you expected, palm pressing flat and hard on your spine. His tongue pushing in to trace your teeth, to explore your mouth.
You started to pull away just to breathe, but his lips made their way down to your jaw instead, lingering on your skin.
"Should I stop?" He muttered, and you had no clue if he meant to be seductive, or if it was all natural. The husk in his voice and the heat in his hands.
"U-up to you," You stuttered, surprising yourself.
"And if I want to keep going?" He asked, although it sounded more like a dare when his mouth was ghosting over your throat, pressing a tender peck to your collarbone as the hand on your back drifted lower until he was slipping underneath the hem of your dress.
"We can go as far as you want to," You reassured him, purring into him when his sturdy fingers found the band of your panties, pulling it back just to let it snap against your skin.
There wasn't much you hadn't done truthfully.
All in the name of being the best agent of love you could be, of course.
But this felt different, something you couldn't quite pinpoint when he suddenly picked you up and tossed you onto his partially made bed.
The dark comforter crinkling underneath your body, dress riding up your thighs as his hands tugged your panties down.
"Talk me through it."
For someone who swore he'd never touched a woman, Choso somehow knew exactly what to say to make your stomach flip. Fingers dipping into your skin as he spread your thighs, hesitating at the sight of you glistening for him already.
"If you, um, put your fingers in-"
He laughed, abrupt but soft, the sound strange coming from his mouth, but oddly comforting all the same.
"I meant tell me what you like," Choso chuckled, and you blushed.
"Oh," You breathed.
And then his fingers were slipping in, slow and steady. There was nothing unsure about it, no nerves slipping through. Your lips stayed parted, chest stuck rising as he pushed in deeper, an crooked smile spreading across his own mouth watching you start to squirm around his thick digits.
He took his time, exploring you like you were something special, watching every flicker of your face and change in your expression. A pretty look glinting in his dark eyes when he crooked his fingers and you moaned for him.
"There?" He asked, amusement sneaking into his gravelly voice.
You barely managed a nod, pressure building in your stomach when his fingertips tested the sweet spot, pressing back into it while you sucked in a harsh breath. "Mm, mhm."
He chuckled a little when he slotted another finger in to help stretch you out and you made a strangled noise you didn't even know you were capable of.
"T-there," You stammered, letting your head rest back on the pillow when he pushed back in, sliding in-and-out with a filthy squelch, the metal of his rings just adding to the intensity.
It was only then that you realized there wasn't anything for you to fix.
He'd have been just fucking fine without your help if he could finger you stupid first try.
His clothing rustled, his fingers sliding back out with a lewd pop! before he was peeling his shirt off.
And you rarely thought this about anyone, let alone a human, but he really was beautiful. His skin was smooth, carefully carved muscles tapering down to the sharp v of his hips, his dark happy trail standing out against his pale complexion.
Choso noticed you staring, a low laugh escaping his throat, and you felt that flutter in your stomach again, your body betraying you for him.
You sat up, nimble fingers working to undo his button and tug down his zipper, admiring him more than you should admit when he had to stand and pull his pants and boxers down.
His cock sprang up, longer than you expected, pre-cum leaking and smudged around his top. Hesitantly, you reached out, brushing your thumb over his slit just to watch his jaw clench, muscles going taut at the slightest touch.
"Sensitive?" You teased, lips curling up in a smile as he threw you an annoyed look, unable to answer when you dragged your thumb across the collect the pre-cum there.
Brining it to your mouth to taste, struggling to keep your face smug when the lump in his throat was bobbing so hard while you made a show of licking it clean.
You hadn't even fully pulled it out before you were being pinned to the bed underneath him.
Wrists caught between his heavy grip, pressed into the pillow overhead, his lips suddenly attached to your throat and leaving hickies everywhere he could. Cock grinding against your clit, clumsy and desperate, practically rutting against you before he was even inside you. Making out and jumping like teenagers at a party.
"Ch-Cho-" You gasped, wiggling a wrist free to grab a handful of his hair and tug to get him to look at you.
"Too much?" He breathed, brows furrowed in concern like his cock wasn't still throbbing between your bodies.
"Not enough," You murmured, leaning up to press a kiss against the corner of his lips.
It turned out he was a good listener too.
He only paused to put a condom on, struggling at first to slip it over the tip before he tugged it in the rest of the way.
Your hips hooked over his waist, fingers dimpling your skin as he pounded you into the mattress, murmuring to ask if you wanted more in your ear while he found a steady rhythm.
"That's it," You hummed, fingers combing through his hair as he groaned and sank in deeper.
"You have to tell me if I suck," Choso warned, surprisingly serious as his sharp focus zeroed in on your face.
You giggled, and he throbbed inside you, still buried to the hilt as he grimaced, clearly struggling to stop himself from cumming already.
"You don't suck," You reassured him, reaching up to trace all the sharp lines of his face.
He nodded, barely a short bob of his head, staring at your lips like he wanted to suck on those instead.
"Cho," You murmured his name, enjoying the way it felt like he melted into your body, your touch, your breath. "You can kiss me."
Each one was better than the last.
Longer and rougher, getting more comfortable with every single second he was connected to yours, swallowing your moans with needier ones of his own. Picking up the pace out of need, probably leaving indents of your bodies into his bed, smothering you with more affection than you ever expected.
It'd been a while since you'd slept with someone so concentrated on you. How he watched your body, studied your reactions and responded in kind, even when he was kissing you, even when he was busy burying his cock deep enough his top was grinding into your cervix.
You were close, thighs starting to tremble, breathing getting strained as the pressure mounted higher, burned hotter.
Unsure, one of his hands slipped down, dancing anxiously over your clit and testing how quickly you twitched against his touch.
"Wanna make you cum first," He grunted when he hesitantly pulled away, clearly chewing on the inside of his cheek.
"You don't need my permission," You tried to laugh, but you were pretty sure he could hear your voice shaking a little when the rough pad of his thumb dragged over the bud again.
"I want you to want me to," He frowned, his nose brushing back against yours.
"I want you," You reassured him, the earnestness in it genuine.
Choso was barely holding on to the tethers of his restraint. Hearing the words leave your lips only made him fuck you harder, your nails sinking into his shoulders to hold on while he suddenly started rubbing harsh circles over your clit like he needed this more than you did.
Which might've been true considering he came the second after you did, spurred on by the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, swallowing your moan of his name with another heated kiss.
His head dropping down against your collarbone, sweat sticking his forehead to your skin as he sighed.
You didn't move. Let him lay there, trying not to think about the fact you'd just taken his virginity and he fucked you better than half the guys you'd been with before.
"Is-" He paused, sucking in a sharp breath. "Is it always that good?"
"Sometimes. It's better when you're in love with someone," You murmured, wrapping a loose strand of his dark hair around your fingers, watching the way it soaked up the light through his window.
"Oh," He muttered back, his body settling over yours, heavy as he exhaled.
"Yeah," You swallowed hard.
It was a little awkward. The smell of sex hung in the air, the dull hum of his air conditioning running in the background, the setting sun outside casting long shadows across the room.
"Sleep with me tonight," Choso finally said. Whether it was a request or a demand didn't matter much, you guessed. You knew you were going to comply before your lips even parted.
You still blinked, more flustered than made sense.
Sleeping with him shouldn't feel so intimate, but he readjusted, rolling over and dragging your still pliable body on top of him, running his fingers through your hair with your face pressed against his chest.
"You were great," You admitted, only able to say it when you weren't looking directly at him.
"Promise?" He sighed softly.
"Yeah," You nodded.
It was a weak attempt to remind yourself that this was all apart of your job.
This was supposed to be about teaching him.
But under the weight of his body, with the warm scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket, you couldn't help but indulge yourself.
A few minutes wouldn't hurt.
Or maybe a night.
You just hadn't meant to sleep with him until the morning.
Something was touching your wings when you woke up.
You almost jumped, panicking as you tried to crawl out of bed and a heavy hand held you there, only relaxing when Choso's thick morning voice whispered in your ear, "Where are you going, angel?"
"Sorry, you weren't supposed to, um, see-" You stammered, heat flooding your face as his other hand trailed over the edge of your feathers, sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers ghosted over an embarrassingly sensitive spot.
You preferred to never let your clients see what you actually looked like. It wasn't that you were ashamed. The wings were cute, you guessed, pretty standard for a cupid. But you liked walking with them, blending in with the whole human disguise.
"It's pretty," He muttered sleepily, oblivious to the heat he was stoking back in your stomach. "You're pretty."
His casual sincerity felt more like a stab when he was on a date with another woman the next day. And the one after that.
Sure, you set it up, but still.
Watching him offer small smiles and open doors for gorgeous girls, sipping coffee across the table or going on walks in the park, listening to them with the same attentive ears that had been tuned into your moans not that long ago.
You rejected your jealousy.
But when he returned to you at the end with a shake of his head and an apologetic shrug just to end up pulling you back in his bed for more hands-on experience, you couldn't help but be soothed by his smooth hands and sweet kisses.
Letting the next couple weeks slip by in a haze of failed dates and late-night fucks.
Until her.
A pretty blonde reaching a manicured hand out to push his bangs back and study his face. Stuck at a table across the street when he let her.
You felt a pang inside your chest watching him laugh at something she said, leaning in and brushing a crumb off of her cheek.
There was the kind of crinkle by her eyes you'd seen a thousand times before. A crush turning into a spark, the seed blooming as his thumb dragged over her lip.
He would choose her.
And your job would be done once their date was.
You frowned to yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and ordering a second dessert while you waited, ignoring the voice in your head telling you to look over at them.
This used to be your favorite part.
The moment two people became more. Not strangers or friends, but something exciting and electric.
You should be happy. Attempted to convince yourself that you were. But it was bittersweet to think this would be the last time you saw him.
Sometimes you'd check on other couples you set up, but this wouldn't be one of them. Couldn't be.
"Hey."
You almost fell out of your seat, startled as you glanced over your shoulder behind you.
Choso was awkwardly standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. Staring at you like he had something to say and didn't know how to.
"It's her, isn't it?" You plastered your best smile on, told yourself that he deserved this, dusting your dress off and standing up.
His date was standing outside the restaurant, giggling on the phone with someone, probably calling one of her friends to say she met a guy and blah blah blah.
Choso hesitated, but you were already stepping out into the closest alley, swapping your disguise out, wings fluttering as you picked a pretty pink arrow from your sheath, starting to notch it before he blocked your shot.
"Wait," He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing.
"What?" You hesitated, relaxing the string.
"I don't want her," Choso spat it out. His face was pale, eyes uncertain as those dark brows met in the middle, a deep crease between them.
You froze.
"But I thought-" You paused, dropping the bow down entirely. "Weren't you having fun?"
"She's not you."
He shouldn't have said it.
You shouldn't want him to.
But you stood still, letting the words sink in and snap the stitches carefully holding your feelings in place.
All the heavy tension shifted between you, all the words still not spoken hanging there. It was wrong. This was wrong.
"I love my job," You murmured, not entirely positive if you were saying it to him or yourself.
"I know," Choso replied, and the warm understanding on his face pierced through you more than an arrow ever could.
"I can't leave it," You added, breath hitching painfully.
"I know," He repeated, stepping closer.
You wished you could bring yourself to step back, to put the distance between you before the two of you could cross the line between client and matchmaker in a way you wouldn't be able to repair.
He read your reluctance the same way he read your soul, with the type of easy acceptance you didn't want to reject anymore.
"I'd choose a couple days with you over a lifetime with someone else," He spoke quietly, but he was sure. Jaw set and lips pressed together in a hard line, those dark eyes begging you to believe him.
"I can't ask you to wait for me," You whispered. Even if you wanted to.
"You don't have to ask," He admitted. "I'll wait anyway."
And wasn't his stubbornness the reason you were even here?
He wasn't the kind of man who'd budge once his mind was made.
"If you find someone else-"
"I won't," He promised before you could even finish. "I'm yours."
You'd never realized how badly you wanted to hear those words before.
HR might have a fit about you using your time off to come visit your human boyfriend but technically, you weren't breaking any rules since you hadn't used any of your arrows on him yet.
The alternative was spending eternity wondering what if you had said yes to Choso. Would search for his face in every crowd and wish you hadn't left him standing here. Regretting loving him would be easier than regretting leaving him.
You swallowed your pride, taking a shaky step forward to caress his cheek, fingertips brushing over the line of his tattoo, the hard ridge of his nose. Leaning in to ghost your lips over his, taste the hint of wine still lingering there, the sweetness he saved just for you.
indie what do u think about authors using ai when writing fanfics?
this has been bothering me for some time because i grew up on wattpad and just recently joined tumblr and ao3, but i came across some ai written stuff (they didn’t say they used it, i just recognized the sentences as such) and dk if it’s the jjk fandom thing or what??
also read some really cute work from this author who really interacts with readers on here and is rlly nice, but something about their last chapters is reallyyy bothering me and i lowk feel kinda heartbroken loll myb i’m just in too deep but i feel like there’s genuinely no point in fanfics if the fuckass robot is writing it for u :((
(im definitely in too deep)
what are ur thoughts ?
i hate it i hate it i literally loathe it ai written stuff has absolutely no place in fandoms it is so baffling to me bc it's supposed to be FOR FUN i would much rather read something 'badly' written then read something that is stealing from other creators to generate slop
but at the same time we should NOT be baselessly accusing people bc the ai is generating stuff that is literally from other's actual work and will copy writing styles. i've had a few friends and mutuals who very much wrote every single word they ever posted and still get accused over nothing just because of hyphens or italics or phrasing. i think people also have off weeks or times where they make themselves push out chapters even if they aren't really feeling it, but i think we should assume the best in someone unless we are given a very good reason to believe otherwise
anyway it's just such a double edged sword bc as much as i hate this stupid ai shit, it is extremely demoralizing and demotivating to spend a lot of time and effort and love into a work just to get accused of it being ai bc everyone is terrified of it
say it with me now ai has no place whatsoever in creative spaces 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ PERIOD NO WHAT IFS NO BUTS NO EXCEPTIONS
humans have been making art for thousands of years without any technology. art is HUMAN. and it should stay that way. SAY IT WITH ME AGAIN AI HAS NO PLACE AT ALL IN CREATIVE SPACES AND THE ARTS 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥
if there was a competition for the worst assistant ever, you’d not only go home with a gold medal but a spot in the guinness book of world records too.
you haven’t been on time for work in weeks, you manage to fuck up his coffee order 50% of the time, you double-book his meetings more often than he can just ‘let slide’.
these could all be excused as slip ups, you only get away with it all cause you’re letting him bend you over his desk every now and again. however there is a reoccurring offence that he just can’t excuse.
the way you dress. tiny skirts, tight shirts that always have a few buttons undone, thigh high stockings instead of tights.
though you could blame the last one on him, does he expect you to buy replacements for all the pairs he’s ripped to shreds?—still, it’s getting to be a problem. you’re standing in suguru’s office more than at your own desk.
“i won’t be asking you again. will you stop wearing this into the office? it’s distracting.”
the word ‘distracting’ has your ears ringing—you hear it over and over, every day. “i think you’re the only one that’s distracted, if you learned how to control your dick maybe you’d be able to focus on your work instead of my collarbones.” you snap.
a heavy sigh escapes his throat as he steps toward you, and he looks anything but pleased. looks like you should’ve kept that smart mouth of yours shut.
after a sly scan of the office through the glass he grabs your face with one hand, smushing your cheeks together. “is that how you speak to your boss?” his voice is soft unlike his grip. “and you’ve got much more than just your collarbones on display.” he adds.
“mmnno shhir.” you mumble, unable to speak properly.
a smirk creeps up at the corners of his mouth, “at least you still remember how to address me.”
he releases his hold on you and simply turns back to his desk and continues his work as if nothing ever happened, fingers reaching for the pen he uses only to twirl around between them.
taking it as a sign you’re free to leave, you make your way towards the door. the noise of your heels tapping against the floor echoes through the room with each step, he’s always been good at making you feel on edge by just.. being there.
right when you’re about to push down on the door handle, he speaks. “if you have any plans after work you should cancel them.”
if this were some sort of romantic comedy his words would imply he’s planning on taking you out to a fancy restaurant. but it’s not. it’s more of an erotica, and you can’t say you don’t prefer it that way.
you look forward to a different type of meat being shoved down your throat after-hours—so much so that you sit at your desk with sopping panties all day, clenching your thighs together for the most minimal amount of relief.
it’s a shame that pretty pair went to waste.
“mngh—i heard a rip—did you just rip those?!” lifting your head off of the table and turning it to the side you find his eyes glued to the teared lace. “i told you stop pulling them to the side and just take them off!”
he gives your ass a few light pats, “i’ll give you a bonus this month to make up for it.”
“better be.” you mumble under your breath—the same breath that’s stolen from your lungs not even seconds later as he slams his thick cock back into you with one harsh thrust. “repeat that for me?”
there’s two options with him. either give some form of an apology, or be a brat about it. even with the lack of air travelling to your brain you know which one gets you the sex you need.
“s-said thanks.” the words can barely escape your throat but your voice is still laced with sarcasm and the snarkiest tone you can manage.
the unnecessarily short skirt you’re wearing doesn’t need to be pushed up more than it already is, but he still tugs it up to give your ass a harsh—SLAP!—that makes you jolt. “that’s not what i heard.”
“should i just find a replacement for you?” SLAP! “look for someone who knows their place?” each smack stings harder than the last—also doesn’t help that he’s continuing to jam his leaking cock inside your pussy.
“at least—ngh—let me put in my two weeks..” you choke out, hands gripping the edge of the table so he doesn’t pound you through it.
his pace stutters and you hear the sound of drawers slamming, for such an organised man it’s taking him quite a while to find what he’s looking for.
“open.” there’s a pen in his hand, a pen that’s being shoved in your face. yet you can only focus on him. the loose strands of hair stuck to his face, the tie that looks like it could slip off with a gust of wind, the beads of sweat dripping down his neck.
not for long though, a hand grips your jaw and forces it open. you instinctively bite down on the pen he slipped between your lips, and only then do you catch sight of the piece of paper laying flat on the desk.
“sign it then. need your signature.” you weren’t expecting him to go through with it, but you always stick to your word—or as he would put it, you’re a ‘stubborn brat.’
doing your best to fight gravity and lift your head up as he’s driving his hips into you, your tongue slides the pen to the back of your mouth and you use your molars to bite down on it.
of course the second you try scribbling down something legible onto the page, a certain spiteful man behind you decides now is the best time to speed up the drive of his hips.
the ink goes everywhere, shaky lines and zig-zags fill the page—nothing even resembling a signature.
saw my ex in the wild today and he just gets hotter ᴖ̈
doesnt help that its now teeshirt season, he hasnt clothes shopped in years and therefore all his shirts are a little too small, he’s working out again and he was playing volleyball ᴖ̈
