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stray-cat-21 · 2 years

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Valentines and Peaches 🍑

Summary: when (Y/n) finds out Eddie has plans with Chrissy she gets a little jealous and drinks too much causing Eddie to have to take care of her.

“I can’t believe we are going to a party at Harrington’s place tonight!”

“I know bow down to queen (Y/n) for scoring us an invite!”

“Your welcome boys now should we go tell our fearless leader? I know it’s not his style but he could make crazy cash from people wanting to get high.”

A small silence falls amongst her friends and they suddenly stop moving sharing a look. (Y/n) pausing turning to look at them with a confused expression. Jeff nods to Gareth who sighs scratching the back of his neck. “Spill it what’s up?” (Y/n) questioned her hands now resting on her hips. “Eddie won’t be able to go tonight.” Jeff starts suddenly finding his shoes to be the most interesting place to look.

“Where will Eddie be?” (Y/n) asked probing further still confused. Eddie being the towns resident freak meant he never had plans without the group unless it was a deal. “He has plans with Chrissy apparently.” Gareth explained with a sympathetic look on his face. Any hint of emotion dropped from (Y/n)’s face melting into saddened shock. “Chrissy as in Chrissy Cunningham?” She asked.

Gareth only nodded and it felt like (Y/n)’s whole world collapsed no exploded. Her heart had dropped to her stomach where it felt like it was now in pieces. Eddie Munson, her Eddie Munson who she had been in love with since middle school had a date with cheerleader Chrissy fucking Cunningham. She breathed out a simple oh before turning on her heel to continue on their way into Gareth’s basement where this week’s meeting was held. The boys followed behind now worried for their friend knowing of her long time crush.

The man in question was already seated talking to the remainder of the group. (Y/n) was quiet not greeting them like always deciding instead to just plop down into her seat to Eddie’s left Gareth sitting across from her. “Hey peach.” Eddie greeted with a wide warm grin on his face. (Y/n) nearly winced at the nickname knowing if him and Chrissy hit it off she might request that he stop calling her that. Hell she might request that he drops their friendship all together.

(Y/n) smiled wide down at the cute valentines her friend’s had given her. She had been new to the school that year and by February had already become quite popular as far as fourth graders go. Looking up from her desk looking around at where everyone is gathered in their small groups enjoying the classroom’s Valentine’s Day party except for one student. Eddie Munson was sat alone in the back of the classroom. His cheek was pressed against his palm as he stared into the wooden table top.

(Y/n) frowned seeing no Valentine’s anywhere, he hadn’t been given a single one. Furrowing her eyebrows she quickly reached into the desk pulling out her prettiest pieces of construction paper and her very best markers. After a few minutes she had a nicely cut out heart shaped card with little frills lining it. Now all it needed was a message. She tapped the capped end of the marker against her chin her eyes wondering around looking for inspiration.

When they landed on her little lunchbox she had the perfect idea. She quickly but carefully wrote out what she wanted to say making sure to even put a little heart over the I and under an exclamation mark. It was exactly what she wanted so (y/n) pulled the finishing piece out of her lunch box before pushing her chair to sit right in front of his desk. Eddie looked up slightly revealing his big brown eyes were shiny with tears and the remnants of others could be seen against his pale cheeks. (Y/n) gave him her warmest smile pushing the two items towards him.

Eddie’s eyes confusingly flickered from her to the items. Truth be told he thought for sure it was some trick. That inside the card would be some hateful message about how he was a freak or trailer park trash. “Open it silly!” (Y/n) giggled practically bouncing with excitement. Even though he didn’t respond his heart warmed at the sound and he swore he had never heard something so pretty.

Eddie reached across picking the card up and opening it despite his anxiously thumping heart. When his eyes read that instead of an insult was a cute little quip with a shakily drawn peach he was completely surprised. The writing said ‘You’re a peachy Valentine Eddie-(Y/n)’ and he nearly started crying again. “T-this is for me, really are you sure?” He asked lowering the card enough to look at her over it. “Yeah and it comes with an actual peach get it?” She beamed grinning so proud.

Eddie was truly dumbfounded that someone had gone through the trouble of not only making him a card but making sure it had both his name and her own. And she had done so openly no hiding from not wanting to be associated with ‘that Munson boy’ as a lot of people referred to him as. He blinked a couple times ignoring the stray tear that slipped down his cheek. “No one’s ever given me one before.” He admitted looking at the card that was so carefully and considerately made. “Then I’d love to be your first valentine Eddie.” She giggled.

“Yeah me too (Y/n).” He beamed showing off a toothy grin. It had taken her all of five minutes to make him feel like the most important person in the room instead of the most unwanted boy in the world. The lunch bell rang nearly causing Eddie’s heart to sink knowing the moment would be gone. “Can I sit with you at lunch?” (Y/n) asked hopefully. “Sure thing peach lets go.” He beamed testing out the new nickname that only made (Y/n) smile bigger.

She hardly looks up to flash him a small smile staring at the decorated table instead. Eddie knew something must be bothering her so he glances over at Gareth who simply shrugs. “Alright let’s get this going so we can beat Lolth before the party!” Jeff says clapping his hands together. Eddie snorts an amused grin on his face. “Party, who invited the freaks to a party?” He asked amused.

“Steve’s party? Oh yeah he told me he wanted to invite (y/n).” Dustin inquired. “Yep Jeff Gareth and I are going to go get wasted.” (Y/n) said smiling up at Gareth. “Lady (Y/l/n) is letting us be her escorts for the evening.” Jeff grinned. “Lucky us huh.” Gareth winked.

Eddie shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the sudden feeling of being left out. Was he really replaceable with Steve Harrington, and when exactly did (Y/n) and Gareth get so damn chummy? “Can we get to the game some of us have curfew.” Mike sighed. “Yeah enough talk of parties and on to the game.” Eddie huffed. The group settled into their game playing their their usual parts in the nights activities.

Pulling a cold beer out of the fridge Eddie huffs in annoyance. The clock on the wall read 10:15 the party was probably in its prime and far from over. His friends were probably drinking and having a a great time. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if (Y/n) was having more fun than she would if she had spent the evening crashing at his trailer like they so often did. “Who am I kidding of course she is it’s a fuckin party over a trailer with the town freak.” He sighed.

The phone ringing caught his attention and for a minute he had hope thinking it was her calling saying she went home early. He gave it a moment in hopes that she wouldn’t figure out he had been sitting home alone. Taking a deep breath he picked up the phone. “Eddie?” Gareth questioned a drunken slur to his voice. Eddie’s smile dropped and he slouched against the wall the phone pressed to his ear.

“Gareth what’s up, aren’t you at king Steve’s party?”

“Yeah dude we are but I think you should come get (Y/n).”

“What why is she okay? What’s wrong?”

“No no she’s fine she’s just really drunk like wasted.”

“Okay well it’s a party she’s allowed to do what she wants. She’s a big girl she can handle herself.”

“No she’s like really wasted and Andy from the basketball team keeps flirting with her I think he’s gonna try to get her to go home with him.”

“Fuck okay I’ll be right there do not let her go with anyone got it? Keep an eye on her!”

“Yeah of course I’ve got her just hurry really don’t wanna get my ass kicked by him again.”

Eddie slammed the phone to the receiver storming out the door. He raced to the van and sped it out of the park. Worry was filling him as he went way over the speed limit. Normally he was a lot more careful but with his best friend being in danger of drunkenly going home with someone who would no doubt take advantage of her he didn’t care. After what felt like years to Eddie he was pulling into the crowded driveway of the Harrington household.

Shoving the squeaking door shut behind him he sprinted up to the house. Gareth was stood next to (Y/n) his arm draped around her shoulders. She seemed to wobble slightly like she was having a hard time standing still. Andy was stood in front of her glaring daggers at Gareth. Eddie could just barely make out their conversation.

“Come on with me baby I’ll show you a real fun night. I’ll make sure you get home okay.”

“I like fun maybe I should go Gareth he said it’ll be fun!”

“You heard her freak she wants to come with me.”

“Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged.”

“Gare bear this isn’t fun anymore I wan-wanna go to Eddie’s place gimme my keys.”

“Come on baby I’ll take you to my place we’ve got a hot tub. It’ll be way more fun than Munson’s drug trailer.”

“You got ears don’t you? She’s not going with you!”

“Let the girl decide freak. Come on (y/n) at least let me drive you.”

“No need I think I can take her myself.” Eddie shouted approaching the group. Upon seeing him Andy cursed under his breath but (y/n) lit up pulling herself from Gareth’s arms. “Eddie you came!” She cheered hiccuping. Stumbling over her own feet she ran to him threw her arms around his waist. “Hey peach I’m here to bring you home okay?” He assured her.

She shook her head quickly pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “No! Wanna go with you Eds please!” She begged pouting her lip out. Eddie smiled a little nodding his head. “Alright alright we’ll go to my place.” He chuckled.

“Fuck this.”Andy sighed stomping away from the group no doubt to find someone else to be his conquest of the night. “Thanks for calling me man, you guys gonna be alright?” Eddie asked looking over to his friend. Gareth grinned giving him a thumbs up taking a sip from his red solo cup. “Yeah all good Jeff got Aliyah from drama to give us a ride. You just worry about getting her back in one piece.” He smiled.

With that Gareth wandered back into the party while Eddie lead (Y/n) back to the van helping her into the passenger side. “Let’s go home peach.” He smiled. “Eddie to the rescue, super Eddie!” She cheered clapping her hands. “Gareth wasn’t kidding you’re really drunk.” Eddie pointed out worry in his voice. (Y/n) slumped against the seat her head rolled lazily towards Eddie.

“Psh good ol Gare bear always so worried about me. He’s like a big brother except I’m older so he’s like a little brother.” She rambled. Eddie snorted nodding at her statement being as Gareth was pretty much the human equivalent of an angry chihuahua. The car pulled into the driveway of Eddie’s trailer but (y/n) didn’t seem to move her eyes glued to her best friend’s face.

“You’re re-really pretty Eddie.” She cooed batter her eyelashes at him. “Thanks you’re real pretty too peach.” He chuckled pulling himself from the car before moving to her side. “No Eddie you’re like really really pretty.” She whined. Eddie nodded an amused look on his face as he scooped her up from the seat carrying her bridal style. When she threw her arms around his neck she played with a few strands of his brown curls.

Eddie Munson shifted on his feet as he stood in the driveway of the (Y/l/n) household. A piece of cardboard gripped tightly between his fidgeting hands with her last name scrawled on it in black sharpie surrounded by doodles of dragons and dice. Wayne Munson leaned against his car watching his nephew with amusement as he waited for her arrival. “Here she comes uncle Wayne I can see their car!” Eddie cheered jumping up and down.

It was the summer before sixth grade and (y/n) had been visiting family out of state for two and half months. The pair had remained pen pals but not being able to see each other had been hard. Eddie had been counting down to this moment from the very minute he tearfully watched her car drive away. The little brown station wagon had hardly come to stop when (y/n) came barreling out of the car crashing into Eddie’s arms. “Peach you’re back I missed you so much!” He cheered hugging tight against his chest and slightly lifting her off her feet.

“Missed you too Eds!” She giggled once her feet were safely planted on the ground. Now that she had a second to look really look at him she could see the small changes that occurred over the summer months. Having a new home with his uncle his hair was becoming longer since unlike his father Wayne allowed Eddie to grow it out. He also had grown in height becoming taller than (Y/n) by quite a bit. If she was being honest (Y/n) liked these changes a lot more than she thought she would just as he liked the changes she had brought to her.

“Your hairs so long now.” (Y/n) pointed out playing with a strand of it. “Do you like it? I thought it might make me look like a real guitarist.” Eddie muttered suddenly feeling nervous over the fact that she might hate it. “I love it you look so metal!” She grinned making Eddie’s face light up. “I know right, Wayne said he won’t even make me cut it for school I can grow it as long as I want to!” He exclaimed making Wayne smile down at his nephew.

“It makes you look really pretty Eddie.”

The trailer door let out a loud squeak as Eddie threw it open stepping by them both through the door. There was a small silence between them as he carried her to his bedroom gently placing her on the messy bed. While he moved to his dresser searching through a pile of shirts on top she laid down taking in the smell of him that lingered on the sheets. “Still conscious peach?” He questioned smelling a shirt to judge its cleanliness. She hummed in response clutching the pillow to her chest.

“Wanna talk about why you got so drunk?”

“Cause I was sad Eddie like real sad.”

“Yeah but usually when you’re sad the cure is snacks and movie not alcohol.”

“Sweets can’t fix a broken heart.”

That phrase stopped Eddie in his tracks. A broken heart? Who could have broken her heart and how did he not know till now? He was angry but also jealous and it made for a really shitty combination. Finally he pulled out a clean Corroded Coffin shirt he had made and cut up as well as clean boxers.

“You telling me someone made my girl this upset? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

If the broken heart comment caught him off guard this question damn near broke his brain completely. Of course he found her pretty, he found her absolutely beautiful. Too beautiful to be sitting in his disaster of a room. If it wasn’t for the blush on his face trying to figure out how to answer Eddie would have been a lot madder. How dare any asshole at that party make her feel like this.

He stands in front of her handing her the clothes. (Y/n) grabs them stumbling her way over to his mirror standing in front of it. She pokes at her cheeks, then her stomach her eyes scanning over her body sadly. Eddie stood back watching her confused, sure everyone gets self conscious but how could someone make her this insecure so quickly? He clears his throat moving closer.

“Of course I think you’re pretty peach. I always have”

“Sure I’m pretty but I’m not cheerleader pretty. I don’t have her pretty blond hair that just sits so perfectly in her scrunchie. I don’t have her body.”

Her? Who the hell was her who was she rambling about? She manages to surprise him again by reaching down and pulling her shirt over her head letting it fall to the floor. (Y/n) is now standing in front of him with just a bra covering her chest. She pushes her breasts a little higher a little closer together mentally comparing them to hers.

Eddie forces his eyes to the ceiling staring at anything but her. “Why don’t we get you dressed? Then we can talk about this ‘kay?” He swallows. She nods pulling the shirt over head. Eddie has to move to the bathroom changing into his own clothes while (y/n) changes her pants.

When he comes back she’s still standing there but at least with clothes on. He spots something from his mirror sitting in her hands his very first valentine. The colors was slightly faded and the edges had a few tiny tears but it had been well preserved despite the state of everything else. “Still my favorite valentine.” He whispers standing next to her. She smiles at the card tears welling in her eyes.

A lot of memorabilia from their friendship is littered over the room. Ticket stubs from movies and concerts, Polaroids, and the rest of the valentines are put in a shoe box kept safely in his closet. “Guess if you get a girlfriend I won’t be able to be your valentine anymore.” She mumbles letting a tear slip out. “Peach I don’t think that’s somethin you’ll have to worry about.” Eddie snorts. She puts the valentine back on the mirror so her tears don’t smudge it.

“It is though. You’re gonna get a pretty girlfriend and leave me and I’m gonna miss you!”

“Sweetheart really I promise you will always be my number one girl. Trust me no one in Hawkins wants to date the freak.”

“That’s not true. You’re gonna date Chrissy and you’re gonna marry her and have she’ll have your babies and she’s not gonna want you to hang out with me anymore.”

“Chrissy Cunningham? What’re you talking about why would Chrissy wanna date me let alone have my babies? Why would I want her to have my babies?”

“Cause she’s gorgeous and funny and actually really sweet and she smells nice and probably thinks you’re pretty.”

“Well sure she’s cute but you think she’d let me show our kids Ozzy? I don’t think we’d make a good match.”

He’s teasing joking really just desperately trying to get a smile from her. But he’s also incredibly confused why she’s so positive he’s marry Chrissy. The girl hadn’t spoken to him for years till she needed to buy weed. Hopefully in the morning when she was sober (Y/n) would be able to make sense of all this. After all he didn’t even get the opportunity to sell to Chrissy since he was too preoccupied with her.

When he sees the tears falling from her eyes he pulls her into hug wrapping his arms around her shoulders. The silence is back as she cries into shoulder. Knowing she’s in this much pain broke Eddie’s heart more so than the jealousy of her caring about some other guy did. “Peach I’m gonna get you some water but I want you to get in bed alright?” He whispers kissing the top of her head. She merely nods pulling out of his grasp.

On the walk to the kitchen he feels himself slightly sulking at the thought of her being this upset over some other guy. The picture of Wayne, Eddie, and (Y/n) at his graduation caught his attention from the fridge door. Eddie had every intention to kiss her the minute he hopped off that stage but unfortunately his own insecurities had gotten in his way just like they had been since they were fourteen. She was basically the only reason even stayed to graduate rather than giving up his second time.

When he returned with the cup of water (Y/n) was on her side of the bed eyes beginning to drift. She was laying on his pillow but he couldn’t find the need to care. “Peach I’m setting this right over here okay? And don’t be afraid to wake me up if you need me.” He says in a soft voice placing the glass down before crawling into bed himself. “Eds you sleep like the dead I don’t see that happening.” She mumbles with a yawn.

He lets out a chuckle knowing she’s right. (Y/n) moves to where her head rests against his chest arm around his stomach. “Goodnight Eddie.” She whispers holding him a little tighter. “G’night sweetheart.” He responds placing another kiss on her head. She’s asleep in no time leaving Eddie alone to his thoughts.

When (y/n) wakes up she quickly realizes not only is she in someone else’s room but there’s a man snoring underneath her. The brief panic in her chest subsided seeing the familiar comforting surroundings of Eddie Munson’s bedroom. Her head is throbbing but at least now she knows where she is even if she can’t remember how she got there. She sits up with a small groan trying to recall the events of yesterday but she can’t quite piece it together. Eddie groans slowly opening up his eyes.

An amused smile finds its way to his lips seeing (Y/n) clutch her head. “Morning sunshine how’re ya feeling?” He asked sitting up. (Y/n) playfully smacks his chest rolling her eyes. “Awful how the hell did I get here?” She groans grabbing the cup of water he had made. Eddie passes her a bottle of pain killers next which she accepts more than grateful hoping to numb the pain.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“I remember going to the party but after that it’s a bit of a blur.”

“Gareth called me last night from Steve’s. Said you were really drunk and that one of the dickwads from the basketball team was trying to get you to leave with him.”

“Oh god right Andy. I owe Gareth big time. And you I mean you drove all the way down there when I’m sure you had other-”

She cuts herself off mid sentence with a gasp her hands covering her mouth. “Oh my god Eddie I’m so so sorry I ruined your night.” She practically whispers. Her voice is strained and harsh like she’s completely disappointed in her self. “Peach you didn’t ruin anything you couldn’t.” He insists despite his confusion. She shakes her head tears reforming in her eyes as she remembers why she had gotten so drunk.

“But your date I totally ruined your date! I’m a terrible friend.

“Date what are you-”

“I’ll call Chrissy myself okay I’ll explain that it was completely my fault and that you were just being a good friend, a good man taking care of a drunk girl. I’ll tell her I’ll leave you alone from now on okay? I’ll make this right she won’t have to worry about me any-”

“Hey stop! No stop!”

His words are harsh and quick but she doesn’t miss the hurt in his eyes. “You better not leave me alone I want you right here with me no matter what you understand me?” He starts off stern and confident but not in his usual cocky fake way. Eddie’s heart had nearly stopped when she had said that she’d leave him alone. That was one of his biggest fears that she’d find a way to abandon him just like his parents had.

“B-but Chrissy.”

“What’s all this shit about Chrissy? You keep talking about me dating Chrissy or for gods sake her having my babies I want you to tell me what’s going on right now.”

“I ruined your date with Chrissy last night Eds and I’m so so sorry.”

“Peach is that what got you so upset? You thought I was goin out with her? Why would you think I’d go out on a date with Chrissy?”

“Gareth and Jeff said you were supposed to see her last night.”

“Yeah for a deal she was supposed to meet me after she left Jason’s to get some pot that’s it. I didn’t wanna tell them that cause I didn’t think it was something she’d want going around.”

“Oh.”

“You know you’re cute when you’re jealous peach.”

Her eyes widen and her head whips to the side to look at his smiling face. It’s not a mocking or teasing smile just his genuine dopey grin. “I-I wasn’t jealous.” She gulps clearly a lie. He grabs her hands on his own running a calloused finger across the skin. There’s a beat, a pause lingering the tension between them.

“I could never go out with Chrissy Cunningham when the girl I’ve always wanted is right here.”

“Eds what are you-”

“Peach it’s always been you. No matter what you thought in that pretty head. I’ve been falling in love with you since our that valentine you gave me. I want you not her. Don’t ever doubt that you are so much more than good enough. Especially for me.”

The tears are back falling down her cheeks again as she takes in his confession. She knows he means it hell in her heart she’s really not truly that shocked. “What do ya say peach wanna let me take you out tonight like a real date?” He whispered pulling her hand to his lips peppering kisses up her wrist. She can’t hold back the grin any longer as she nods excitedly. “Yes Eddie I’d really like that.” She giggles.

Eddie’s grinning now too no longer having to hide his feelings for his best friend. She throws her arms around his body hugging him tightly. “Fuck I can’t wait till tonight to do this.” He mumbled before he smashed his lips against her own. The kiss is quick a little messy but it’s the kind of kiss that make the butterflies in her stomach turn to fireworks. The kiss was broken by them both smiling too much to keep moving.

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x female reader

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sebin · 3 years

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☕️

#this photo is so cute to me let me talk about it for a second #i can’t pinpoint specifically what it is but something just. i can’t stop looking and i can’t stop my heart from flipping #look at the way his lips curl not in the reflection like his side profile is SOOO PRETTY #the way his lil eyelashes are showing too 😭 i want to kiss them!!!#he has the prettiest chin too it’s so cute i just can’t stop looking at it and look at his NOSE !!!!#i would write a whole essay on that. it’s so cute and round and such a nice size and shape #his nose suits his face so well #he has this tiny little bump under his nose too and you can only see it really clearly on some side shots and idk it’s just the cutest thing #all his features are so unique like even his teeth are just so uncommon #there’s nobody like youn there’s nobody with the same talent and the same visuals and he blows my mind every single day #he looks so cute all bare faced with a half drank coffee just looking in the mirror and i can’t get over it #who looks that cute doing the bare minimum??? youn does. every time.#everything about his features is so cute like i said it already but i can’t stop looking at the way his lips curl... he’s so pretty he’s #literally breathtaking.#AND HIS HAIR. IT LOOKS SO SOFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THE SHIRT HES WEARING LOOKS SO CUTE AND COZY #i bet this guy smells so good like something you’d never forget honestly. almost nostalgic feeling that makes u feel safe i don’t know 😭😭#he’s just so cute he’s so cute. i love him or something fr #seungyoun

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celestialarchon · 3 years

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Polaroids

NSFW | Xiao x female reader smut | 18+

warnings: rough sex, teasing, degradation/slight humiliation, dirty talk.

grammar is imperfect. deal with it. this is my first smut post so it might not be great!

“ah, where i’m from we call these polaroids,” your eyes were bright as you pointed to the photos spread across Xiao’s room in Wangshu Inn.

Xiao grunted in response, annoyed by your focus on this silly kurious kamera. You’d spent over a week adventuring and taking photos to fix the stupid kamera. He wanted your attention but you were still focused on the silly bits of photography. You turned to him holding out a kamera, beaming.

“this mortal contraption is useless to me,” Xiao scowled but took it from your hands.

“eh?” you turned to him a bit offended by his tone, frowning. “it’s to capture the memory of such pretty things. if you don’t want it, it’s fine but i don’t need two. there’s no need to be so cranky.”

Of course, you had noticed his pouting before but thought showing him the pretty little polaroids would lighten his mood. You stood to grab and your bag and gather your photos but were stopped by the yaksha’s cold grip on your wrist, he pulled you close to him and placed your old kamera on his bed to free his other hand. Xiao’s eyes were dark as he looked down at you, he sighed and gently kissed your forehead. It was seemingly innocent but you knew by the look in his eyes you were in trouble and you could feel your heart beating quickly and excitement building in you. His lips moved down the side of your face as he held you against him tight, trailing down to your neck. You pressed your lips together as he found your sweet spot and sucked gently. He hummed, gripping your waist tighter and using his free hand to summon just enough energy to tear the clothes from your body. In one swift movement he pulled rope off a nearby table and bound your hands, pushing you down before what he’d done could register in your mind.

Blush crept up your face as you lay on the floor in shock. He smirked down at you, seeing you surrounded by the photos that had kept you busy from him. He adored how flustered and helpless you looked. You scowled, knowing he was enjoying this far too much but unable to control the growing heat in your core. You felt weak, just knowing he was going to do all sorts of lewd things to you. Xiao picked up the kamera he’d thrown on the bed and turned to you with lust filled eyes, letting out a growl.

“to capture the memory of pretty things,” Xiao held the box gently and chuckled as he clicked the button, “so damn pretty.”

Before you could stop yourself you whimpered in embarrassment and protest, trying to wiggle free of your bindings but Xiao noticed. He tossed the kamera on the bed once again, and pounced on you. His hands were firm, holding you down as his hungry lips met yours. He swept his tongue across your bottom lip, wanting to explore and overwhelm you. When you didn’t give him immediate access, he spread your legs rubbing his knee on your heat. Your lips parted in shock and pleasure and he slipped his tongue in the cavern of your mouth. You gave up on fighting him, allowing him to take your lips aggressively and trembling as he continued to grind his knee on your core. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you still and smirked again at your panting.

“Already so worked up?” he titled his head and moved his rough hands to your chest, massaging your breasts, “hm, i can’t wait to capture how pretty you look when i’m done with your pathetic body.”

Xiao pulled away from your body just a bit leaned down, kissing your neck and chest gently, his hands creeping towards your core. You whimpered as his fingers brushed the bud and he growled, sinking his teeth into your neck and sucking. A loud moan escaped you and it set a feral part of him off. He slammed two fingers into you, leaving dark marks all over your body. He was ruthless, pushing his slender fingers in and out of your wetness quickly and forcefully, ravishing the whimpers and moans that erupted from you. The erotic noises you made under him only made him want to work you over more. He pulled away from your skin watching your every move as he slipped in a third finger.

Xiao relished in the scene before him. The way you were so helpless and submissive, tied up under him. Your moans spurred his dark lust on further. He knew you were his and he could do what he pleased with you. He leaned down murmuring in your ear how slutty and pathetic you looked for him. He was so hard but containing himself solely so he could teach you a lesson. A lesson to never ignore him or be distracted from, especially for silly mortal things. He grinned feeling you tighten around him but never stopped.

“X-Xiao,” you could barely speak as his fingers never stopped and you were close again, “please ah kiss!”

Xiao merely rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead.

“n-n-no!! kiss hnng lips!” you demanded.

He laughed darkly, spreading your legs further and moving down. Kissing and biting your thighs, he curled his fingers in you again.

“ah! n-no,” you protested but he didn’t listen.

Never once slowing the movement of digits in you, he kissed your bud. You squirmed but he ignored you, licking up your slit. His tongue soon was devouring you, licking and sucking on your most sensitive spot. His eyes never left you as you threw your head back and became nothing but a moaning mess. Only when he saw drool running down your chin tears in your eyes did he slow down, removing his fingers and smashing his lips onto yours. Seeing the tears in yours eyes set him off and he couldn’t wait any more.

Xiao’s lips left yours and you were suddenly turned over, ass in the air. He growled and slammed into you with no mercy, thrusting into you as you cried out. You had no time to adjust to him but the pain of his large member was quickly replaced with pleasure.

“how dare you ignore me for a fucking week?” he pulled you back by your hair, “do you know how mad that makes me you fucking bitch?”

You couldn’t speak as his hand gripped your hip roughly pulling you onto his cock. He let go of your hair and moved his hand to your throat, growling as he pounded you mercilessly. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you came. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, not slowing as you screamed in a haze of pleasure.

“Ha,” his voice was dark and rumbling in your ear “you really are so pretty taking my cock like this angel. so cute when your cunt is a mess like this. you’re such a slut for me aren’t you?”

Your vision blurred from tears and pleasure, drunk on lust you could only cry out as he railed you. His thrusts were sloppier and he started to grind his cock into you as he bit down on your neck roughly. Drool ran down your chin again as he filled you up, grunting. Even so, he continued to thrust into you. His feral noises and endless stamina only turned you on more. He shoved your head down to the floor and gripped your hips tighter, fucking you with inhuman force.

“You like that don’t you? Yeah, look at your pretty little cunt filled up with my cum and my cock.” His words were rough.

The overstimulation was too much. All you could do was take it as he fucked you from behind, releasing inside you repeatedly.

“How cute, you don’t think i’m done with you do you you whore?” He smirked as your eyes rolled back and you came again.

Xiao fucked you until he thought you’d fall unconscious. He sighed pulling out of you, grabbing the kamera for the last time. the device that started it all. he glanced at your messy body, ass still in the air with juices dripping down your thighs and puddling below you. still tied up with your hands behind your back and dark marks littered your body from where he had bitten you. your cheeks were read and stained with tear marks. he smirked and pressed the button.

“to capture the prettiest memories” he muttered and picked you up, knowing he needed to care for you now, “such a good pretty girl, i love you.”

you could only nod in response.

#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin imagines

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elysianslove · 3 years

Text

euphoria ; itadori yuuji

synopsis; a serene beach date, followed by intimacy at home

pairing; itadori yuuji x fem!reader

genre; fluff, smut

warnings; smut! unprotected sex, which i do not condone this is fanfiction people. curses i guess? yuuji being cute as fuck <3

note; all characters are 18+ . please don’t read the smut if you’re a minor. there’ll be a page break separating the fluff from the smut! this shit is like over 4k words rip im sorry if there are mistakes

━━ it's not the first time he's seen you in a swimsuit. it's not even a bikini this time, and he's seen you in much more revealing clothing. you've laid bare next to him as the sun seeped through the curtains and woke the two of you up, and taken countless showers with him, soaked in the water inside a bathtub, his revealed chest to your naked back. and yet, yuuji gawks at you like it is the first time.

you only huff out a laugh as you slip the cover up off your shoulders, kneeling down to roughly fold it in your bag. his gaze is piercing, but you like the lingering presence of it. he whistles as you stand to your full height again, before eagerly removing shirt with a grin, reaching for the neck hemline and pulling it off. "so hot," he tells you, earning an eye roll from you. you're not given much warning before his strong arms are wrapping around your waist, picking you up off of the sand.

"yuuji, put me down!" you exclaim, but he only lifts you up higher, tossing you up on his shoulder.

he grips your waist with one arm, the other reaching up to grasp at your thighs as soon as you see the waves of the beach dance over to where your boyfriend stands. he continues inward, the water rising up to his waist, before he whispers out a measly apology, something like, "sorry, babe," before he's throwing you off his shoulder into the salty water.

a scream ripples out of your throat as you flail around, but there's no stopping it. you hit the water suddenly, initially freezing cold, before you move your limbs frantically to push your head out of the water. scowling at your boyfriend, who's cackling as if he were a wizard that's defeated his lifelong enemy, you push your hair out of your face. "what was that for!" you ask, swimming over to where he is.

he sinks below the water before you, his chin hovering over the water as he laughs. "it was out of love," he argues. "i wish i'd recorded it; your scream was hilarious."

instead of wallowing, you paint a mischievous grin on your lips as you plant your feet onto the sand beneath you, and leap up, aiming to dunk your boyfriend's head beneath the water. he's trained though, maybe not exactly for situations like this, but his reflexes are as sharp as ever. he catches your wrists easily, shifting his grasp of them in one hand, before using the other to grab your waist and push you beneath the water again. your eyes sting at the intrusion of salt water, throat burning, but the only true, lingering thought on your mind is just how easy it was for him to deflect you like that. you're terribly aware of yuuji's athleticism and strength, and yet it always manages to catch you off guard.

"no fair, yuuji," you say, pouting up at him as you blink away the residue of salt in your eyes. "that's twice in a row!"

yuuji only laughs again, reaching out for you beneath the water. his hands settle on your waist, but it's a soothing touch this time. no mischievousness behind them, only safety and security. he urges you closer to him until you rest your forearms on his shoulders, and then he leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose. "i promise no more slam dunking in the water," he tells you, lowering his lips to finally meet yours. you kiss him gently, enjoying the taste of salt that linger on your tongue when he opens his mouth for you. maybe it's a little lewd of you, openly making out with your boyfriend in a public beach's waters, but who can blame you really? he's breathtaking.

and you don't hesitate to him so. "you're mesmerizing, yuuji," you confess, lifting a hand to brush through his damp hair. some strands are sticking to his forehead, the pink of them more evident underneath the sunlight. you think that maybe he's left you this way, so mindlessly in love with him, because of the kiss. but really, you always feel this way for him. even if subconsciously.

"maybe i should slam dunk you more often," he teases you, but ultimately, he leans in for another kiss. "i think you're pretty neat."

"pretty neat, hm?" you wonder.

he hums. "yeah. the coolest girlfriend i could ask for, maybe," he continues. "prettiest, too." you humor him, and nod diligently. "by a long run, baby."

you press one last kiss on his lips, a quick peck, before pushing yourself out of his arms' hold, laying back atop the water. "help me float," you ask him, and then you feel his hands settle flat on your back, leaving a trail of heat along your spine. he's clueless of his effects as his face hovers over yours, shielding you from the sun, and you're insistent on keeping it that way, offering him a small smile.

he helps you dance above the waves for a few minutes, occasionally asking you random questions that you, honest to god, weren't sure if anyone had the answers to. and then, inevitably, he pouts down at you, complaining in a low voice, "m'hungry, babe."

thankfully, you'd prepared in advance for this date. rushing out of the water, with yuuji's hand in yours, you race across the sand to where your belongings were, an umbrella propped up for shade. you shiver as a breeze travels past you, painting goosebumps along your skin while your boyfriend urges you to move faster. as soon as you're there, he picks up your towel first, quickly wrapping it around your trembling frame and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm you up.

"all good?" he wonders, and you nod, even if you're still freezing, because he's still yet to dry himself off. finally, the two of you settle on the ground, a cloth beneath you acting as barrier to the sand, and you pull out the snacks you'd packed from your bag. all of his favorites. "you really are the best," he tells you, moaning as he takes a bite into his food. you offer him a sincere smile, shuffling nearer to him for both his body heat and to rest your head on his shoulder while you eat.

there really is no telling how time will pass when you’re with him. sometimes it’s slow, languid, the universe taking its time to stretch out the moments between you two, allowing you to lose yourself within every little thing. every kiss felt like a hundred, every embrace lasted years, every glance left a lingering tingle at the bottom of your spine. other times it’s quick, breathtakingly fast, but you still feel everything as strongly as you would on the opposing days. your heart just beats a little faster, racing to catch up with the way time speeds around you. his touch is fleeting, but the effect he has on you is always eternal. today, the earth seems to slow down with you, to accommodate with your need and desire to feel every moment to the fullest. it sympathizes with you, makes sure you catch even the tiniest of movements from yuuji, like the way his eyes blink rapidly to rid himself of the intruding salt dripping from his hair, or the way he’s moving closer to you to rest his head above yours.

god, you’re such a sap.

there’s another breeze that flies by, and you shiver again, instinctively pushing yourself closer to him. yuuji takes note, lifting his arm to wrap it around you, encasing you in his warmth.

“if you could be any animal, what would you be?” he asks you. it’s not sudden, the type of question, but his voice so near you is.

you only shiver again as you shrug. “i don’t know. never really gave it much thought,” you admit. “maybe a seal or something. they seem to be doing great.”

“a seal?” he wonders, then cranes his neck to look down at you with an approving grin. “nice one, babe.”

you snort, pushing your head into the crook of his neck, sighing against his collarbones. “what about you?”

his grip tightens around you as he rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly. then, he replies, “maybe an eagle.”

“because it symbolizes freedom?” you ask.

yuuji shrugs softly. “maybe. or just because i’d like to fly. i’d carry you on my back and take you wherever you want,” he fantasizes.

“baby,” you start, sitting up straight to face him. “that’s what planes are for.”

the look on his face emits loud laughter from you, but he pinches the skin of your upper arm with a playful scowl, scoffing, “yeah but planes aren’t free, are they?” you hum, falling back into his embrace. he easily places his arms back around you, fitting you against him perfectly, before he speaks again. “where would you want to go?” he asks.

you sigh, “anywhere with you.”

he freezes for a moment, before he lets out a giggle. “you sap! god, you’re so in love with me.”

you can’t find it within yourself to tease him because, yes, you really are so in love with him. and you had meant it. his laughter fades out into happy sighs, and then he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “i’m so in love with you too.”

maybe you should’ve anticipated that this is where you’d be the moment you arrived back home with yuuji. it’s not that you minded; if anything, this is probably your fault more than his. it was evident in the way even the smallest of his touches, specifically today, lit a familiar fire in the pit of your stomach. inevitably, you figured, you would have found yourself in his lap anyways, knees perched on either side of him, legs spread and a flush traveling from your cheeks down to your chest.

you’d gone home with him with tired eyes and a glow to your skin. showering together hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, either. it was simple, intimate, also hilarious when a wad of shampoo had fallen into one of yuuji’s eyes, prompting screams from him you never thought you’d hear. it’s after the shower that trouble started.

he had lazily leaned against the bed, only a towel wrapped his waist, his head tossed back against the wall. the tired sigh that left his lips mesmerized you, but you knew your thoughts were to remain as that, simple imaginations, because there’s no way either of you have a speck of energy for anything. you’re proven wrong when your boyfriend beckons you over onto the bed, not giving you much chance to even slip off your robe and into something slightly more comfortable. instead of allowing you to sit next to him, he’d lead you over onto his lap, propping you up, before capturing your lips in a lazy kiss.

you’d returned it, of course, because nothing feels better than kissing yuuji. nothing feels better than kissing yuuji with your hands on his neck, on his sturdy chest, down to strong stomach. the kiss turns feverish quickly, his grip on your covered waist tightening considerably before they travel down to your hips. he lifts himself up to sit more upright, guiding you closer to him, closer to where he wants you to be, before pushing you down harder onto him. against his mouth, you moan instinctively, hands traveling to tug lightly at his hair. a breathless gasp escapes his lips when you finally start grinding your lower body against his, his hands enforcing a bruising grip on your hips. you’re still covered, and so is he, but it isn’t long before the adrenaline truly takes over, and yuuji’s lifting his hips up to rid himself of the towel.

you’re about to follow suit, but even beneath you, he takes charge, untying the robe and slipping it off your shoulders hastily. neither of you dares to break the kiss as you’re finally completely bare before each other, and yuuji reaches forward to wrap his arms around your waist, pushing your chest flush against his. the action elicits a moan from the both of you, and you feel your nipples hardening as they brush against the muscle of yuuji’s chest. tiredness is long forgotten as your hips begin to grind aimlessly along his lap, and, in response, yuuji unfastens his left arm from around you, using the right one to steady you on top of him, as he brings one hand down between your legs.

his fingers brush against your folds, and he groans loudly at the first feel of you. he pulls back, breathlessly, to look into your eyes, noticing how hazy they’ve become, your pupils fully blown. then, he says, “wanna make you cum on my fingers, yeah?” a whine tumbles out from your lips and you nod frantically, giving him your answer to his indirect ask for consent. he collects some of your wetness on his fingers, before slowly slipping in his middle finger. although your mind had expected it, the intrusion is sudden to your body, and you lift yourself up reflexively. yuuji’s stronger than you though, and the grip of his right arm doesn’t falter as he sinks his finger deeper into you. he watches you through half lidded eyes as you throw your head back, welcoming easily the feeling that’s slowly beginning to overtake you.

he pulls out his finger to the first knuckle before pushing it back in, repeatedly, until he hears a breathless, “more,” fall from your lips. your wish is his command, and when he pulls his finger out, a second joins, filling you up even before. it’s incredible how easily you’re falling apart right before him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your chest heaving as his fingers speed up their ministrations. he leans forward, clasping his mouth around one of your nipples, earning an even louder moan from you. your chest rises against his mouth, and his teeth clamp down lightly, pulling at your nipple, abusing it, as his fingers continue to drill in and out of you. his thumb reaches up to rub lightly against your clit, strengthening the fire filling your veins.

you’re making a mess of him, you’re sure, and you have half a mind to finally open your eyes and glance down at him. he’s fixated on you and your pleasure, mouth eager on your chest, arm flexing as he pushes two of his fingers in and out relentlessly. “m’gonna cum,” you whine helplessly, trembling in his grasp. he hums against your chest, letting your nipple fall from between his lips as his tongue dances along the perks. “yuuji, i’m gonna cum!”

he laughs, looking back up at you when you throw your head back, uselessly attempting to rock your hips in time to meet the thrust of his fingers. teasingly, he retorts, “nothing’s stopping you, darling.”

you’re already shaking in his grip, gradually losing more control of your body’s reactions. then, his eyes meets yours as he looks up, the same time his fingers are curling inside you and his teeth reach out to tug at your nipple —

you scream when you cum, sobbing helplessly as his fingers work you through your orgasm. your thighs involuntarily flex and you lean forward, unable to hold yourself up. his mouth leaves your nipple to allow him the pleasure of watching you properly. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant in a whisper, head falling onto his shoulder. his fingers don’t stop however, and you have to reach in between you to grip at his wrist in a silent plea.

yuuji laughs again, finally slowing down his hand’s movements until he eventually pulls his fingers out. “feel good baby?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as he feels your breathing slowly steady itself. you’re still slightly trembling atop him, but you know that you’re not even close to finished for the night.

you hum in response, nodding against him. lifting yourself up, yuuji beams up at your state, skin flushed and hair damp — he’s not sure if it’s the sweat or the shower from earlier, but either way, you look too gorgeous for your own good. unexpectedly, he feels you lift up his hand, gripping at his palm, before your mouth falls open, tongue slipping out, and you place his sticky fingers onto the muscle. his breathing halts when you wrap your lips around the digits, and he silently curses when he feels you suck lightly, tongue dancing over, around and in between his fingers.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he admits to you, and you hum again around his fingers diligently. “come on,” he urges you, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and placing both hands on your waist. “can’t let you have all the fun.”

you giggle, nodding in agreement as you place your hands atop his. “want me to be on top?” you suggest.

“yeah, if you want me dead,” he jokes, before easily flipping the two of you over. you can’t help the squeal that cuts from your lips, but he swallows it easily with his mouth on yours, replacing it with a throaty moan. you can feel his dick hard against your thigh, leaking precum, smudged along your skin. he lifts himself up further along your body, pressing down against you until his heavy cock is trapped between your lower abdomens.

“yuuji, come on,” you whine up at him. your hand slides down to between you two, gripping the head of his cock, thumbing the slit. his figure falters above you, his arms trembling slightly at the feel of your hand around him.

his hand comes down to yours, swatting it off, before shifting down slightly to line himself up at your entrance. with his other hand, he spreads your legs further apart, hooking one onto his arm. once he’s satisfied, he settles the tip of his cock near your dripping sex, reveling in the noises that are spewing out of you — countless moans and breathless chants of please, please, please. he loves you always, but especially like this, all spread out for him, the heat of you nearly sucking him in as he teases your pussy.

“you look so pretty like this, baby,” he voices. you whine again as he rubs the head of his dick against your clit, throwing your head back and reaching out to grip his arm.

“please, yuuji,” you beg, and maybe if he had an ounce of self control within him at this rate he’d drag this out a little more. he’d tease you endlessly, till the sun came up again. but there’s a hunger within him that’s pleading and begging to be sated, so against all odds, with his fist wrapped around the base of his cock, he slowly enters you.

you muffle a cry at the feel of your walls stretching around him to accommodate him, and he can physically feeling you spasming around him already. he groans as he continues to sink in, his hand reaching out to fist the pillow by your head. your breath is heavy, labored, when he finally bottoms out. you feel so warm around him, it’s dizzying. “fucking tight,” he groans, his jaw tight.

he steadies himself, waiting for you to relax slightly. he doubts he’d be able to move even a little with how tight you felt around him, but slowly, surely, he feels you lift your hips slightly. “more, yuuji,” you mumble, eyes cloudy. he lifts his hand from near your head, gripping your hip instead, and with your leg lifted up on his shoulder, he pulls out, before slamming back in. your back arches as a loud moan rips from your throat, mindlessly cursing, “fuck!” he does it again, encouraged by the noises you’re making and the way your body’s reacting to him. you’re so fucking wet, dripping down onto the bed beneath the two of you, but he can’t even begin to think of anything but the fact that he’s reducing you to this state.

he continues to thrust diligently into you, his hips snapping against yours repeatedly. with the angle he’s fucking you, he continuously hits a specific spot within you, leaving your head cloudy and your spine tingling. he’s splitting you open in half at this point, but all you can do is lay there, muscles tight and exhausted, skin slick with sweat and chest flushed, rising and falling rapidly. your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you’re convinced he’s fucking you stupid as your eyes roll back, your back arching off the bed.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praises you. “so good, pretty.” his voice is breathless, deeper too, and you look up at him for a split second. his eyes are trained down to where your bodies are connected, watching as you take him so well, his gaze never wavering.

when he leans forward, dropping your leg to wrap it around his waist instead, you know he’s getting close. his cock twitches inside of you, his hands coming to rest by your waist on the bed. his fingers, suddenly, come to work at your clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves harshly. “it’s too much! too good!” you wail, and he drinks it at all, his fingers growing slick again with your wetness.

“i wanna feel you cum all over me,” he tells you, thrusts somehow deeper. you let out a broken sob, your nails digging into his shoulders as he works you over to the edge. he’s given no warning other than the relentless squeezing of your pussy around him and your repeated cries of “cumming, cumming, cumming!” before you’re trembling beneath him, struggling to catch your breath as your hips lift up off the bed. the orgasm continues to rock through as yuuji’s thrusts grow sloppier.

“where do you want me?” he shakily asks. despite the overstimulation and the over sensitivity, you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his quiet moans music to your ears so close to you. “darling,” he groans, gripping your waist as he uses your body to bring himself closer to his high.

“inside, yuuji,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his temple. “please, please, plea—“ a gasp tumbles out as he suddenly stills, your words sending him over the edge. his muscles flex, slightly trembling within your arms, his small pants spreading heat along your skin.

slowly, he fucks into you, riding out his high, pressing chaste kisses along your neck and throat. “love you so much,” he mumbles, finally stilling.

you feel sticky, sweaty, and not at all clean in comparison to when you’d just stepped out of the shower. but you also feel blissful, euphoric, hazy and completely satisfied. yuuji lifts his head up finally, lifting himself up slightly to pull out of you. his cum trickles out slowly, but he pays it no mind as he flops half of his body atop yours, and you let out a pained laugh.

“yuuji!” you whine. “you’re heavy.” he only hums tiredly, his arm slung along your middle, his cheek against your shoulder. you bring a hand up, the one he isn’t immobilizing, to brush away his hair. his eyes are barely kept open, but he still manages to smile dreamily at you. your fingers ghost over his features, admiring them, tracing his soft skin, unknowingly lulling him to sleep. “okay, king of aftercare,” you joke, and he huffs out a laugh.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “aftercare tomorrow.”

you nod, beaming brightly, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. his chest begins rising and falling slowly, telling you he’s already asleep, but when you mumble out, “i love you so much, too,” and press a kiss to his cheek, you swear he smiles.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuji itadori x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori smut #itadori yuuji smut

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fishstyx · 3 years

Text

featuring. college au!gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru

wc. 9.2k

genre. dark/taboo, smut, angst

tw. 18+ nsfw, non/dubcon, toxic/abusive relationships, manipulation, victim blaming, dry humping, penetration, masturbation, irresponsible practice of bdsm, hair pulling, mild exhibitionism, size kink (both 6’3”, gojo can lift you), implied corruption kink, degradation, creampie, intoxication/alcohol, incel behavior, misogyny, dacryphilia

synopsis.

“Parading around as my personal fucktoy get you that excited?” he starts with a smirk, wide eyes drinking up your sharp inhale as if it were his own, inspiring pinpricks of heat to rise to your cheeks.

He hooks the hem of your skirt with his thumbs when he’s met with silence, pulls you from the doorframe just far away that he can release the elastic with a snap, silent snigger on his lips when it elicits a small sound of surprise from you. You nod in response, frantic bob of your head drawing a low growl from his chest and a “that’s right, I know what’s best for my pet,” as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

notes. title inspo: love the way you lie (eminem, rihanna). you’re dating gojo, a charming, manipulative, self-entitled bastard. geto is, of course, his best friend, written as an aloof, self-righteous, bitter incel. please stay safe, read all the warnings, and enjoy. this is the most personal fic i have to offer. it draws from not-so-savory past relationships... i hope it remains the only testament to them. <3

links. broken toys. (sequel)

You were stunned into silence when he first suggested it.

And how couldn’t you be? Any sane person would, or at least should, have recoiled at the proposition. Isn’t that right?

But he makes it seem so harmless, so innocent, somehow. Like it’s no big deal, far from uncharacteristic for either of you—just a walk around campus, nothing new there. He tells you this like you’re overreacting, slow on the uptake, taking far too long to reach a final decision. The rational part of your mind says it’s out of the option. But the irrational part is louder, all-consuming, domineering.

The irrational part says, out of all your options, it’s the only viable one.

“Come on, babygirl. What’s the harm of trying it out once?”

It’s always this way, always has been. He takes your hands in his with a dramatic swell, the sparkle in his eyes big and bright and gleaming, and you bite back the urge to pull away. You would break your gaze if you could, if he didn’t look so determined, if that twinkling blue galaxy wasn’t sweltering with hope and adoration. But you can’t, and he does, and it just about swallows you whole.

The fact of the matter is, Gojo Satoru wants to take you out on a leash today.

Never mind today; he wanted this yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that, never one to shy away from his desires as you deliberated the entire time. By now he’s asked you to do this one, single thing for him far more times than you can count—initially playing it off as a joke, slowly feeling you out, gradually seeing how far he could push and pull until you explicitly told him no.

Except it’s never just one, single thing with him, and you—with the way you dance around the topic, hoping to give him the illusion that you might give in, or perhaps yourself the illusion of control—you never say no.

A simple line of defense, yes. Even you agree with that. But its execution? Around Gojo, it seems anything but.

Geto would beg to differ.

Geto.

The only other person privy to your latest concerns. The only other person you can bear knowing. And he’d be disappointed if only he could see you now.

Who are you kidding? He’s already disappointed.

A vague outline was all you gave him. A vague outline, you knew, not-so-deep down in your heart, was all you dare tell him—or anyone at all, really.

Because, sure, you’ve adopted a rather experimental lifestyle around Gojo, but that was supposed to be private. Reserved for behind closed doors, you thought, until now.

You were right in that the brooding brunette didn’t need every last grueling detail of Gojo’s newest request. He’s his best friend; he’s seen you at every single step of your whirlwind relationship together. The fervid beginnings, when the two of you couldn’t be physically separated, let alone in different rooms from each other. The ups and the downs, each one more intense than the last, each one blowing up in your faces before you ran back into each other’s arms and kissed and made up. You knew that much.

What you didn’t foresee, however, even as you recounted your latest grievance to him, was that nothing you were saying was new. To Geto it was regurgitated rhetoric, distorted and distressed, yesterday’s news—whereas you saw it as a unique conquest, a new hurdle to overcome.

“It almost amazes me how you can come up with so many new ways to say the same old thing,” he said, slanted eyes dull with apathy as they panned away from yours. “Almost.”

You could only choke on your words in response.

What Geto told you next is now a hushed murmur in the back of your head. It reverberates against your skull, pinballing against the walls of all that empty space and showing no signs of slowing down. It tells you to just say the magic word and it’ll be over, every last bit of Gojo’s borderline demands, washing away all of that white noise if only you’d breathe some life into it. That one word, the one that plagues your mind night and day, it begins to materialize upon your lips, poised and ready to spring into action, flexing on the tip of your tongue as if it were a wind-up toy.

Just say it already.

Just say no.

But you’re always holding your tongue around the both of them, together or alone, whether on the bony roof of your mouth or its flexible, fleshy floor, biting your words back for an eternity and more. Perhaps you were only faking yourself out, simply going through—no, barely feinting at the motions so you can come back to this chapter of your life and say that you tried. The moment passes, the pause your boyfriend gave at the sight of your mouth ajar long over, his words beginning to bleed into your reality once more.

And he’s saying, “I bought such a cute collar for you, too,” voice rising and falling with lovelorn disappointment. You can’t help but wince at his gentle timbre, all too painfully aware that such a small investment is far from the root of Gojo’s displeasure. You can hear it in his tone, too, how his carefree singsong runs steely as his thoughts begin to wander, settling on a resigned indifference.

So you wander, too. Tear your eyes from his in search of something, anything that might lend a reason to divert your gaze. Your fingers encircle white leather before you realize it, turning the thin strip over in absentminded idle, silver o-ring jingling in place. The metallic clank doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You should at least try it on before I return it, don’t you think?”

And you can’t find it in your heart to disagree, stiff choker tightening around your neck as he fumbles with the clasp. You trace the sanded edges before latching a finger—two fingers—beneath the leather material.

Perfect.

Perfectly irritating. Irritatingly perfect. It sits in the center of your neck without slipping, just snug enough that you can still breathe easy, comfortable and almost disturbingly so.

“Well?”

White lashes flutter idly as he considers your reflection as if studying it. And with the hint of a smile behind you, large hands on your waist in the mirror’s image, you start to think for the first time that the collar really is a pretty number, and a shame and a waste to throw away.

Because he looks so pleased now, creased cheeks and crinkled eyelids as he smooths his palms over your hips, like maybe you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever held. Because instead of the pouting you’ve come to expect, the declarations that you’re “no fun,” or that you’re “overreacting,” or that you need to “relax” you’ve come to accept, he simply brushes your hair to the side and rests his cheek against yours, warm breath just about tickling your chin.

It begs the question.

“Will you love me more if I do this for you?”

And it sends his eyes into a frenzied state, hungry void for pupils swallowing crystal irises with unabating greed, all frisky lashes and overeager ridges.

Ideally, he’d take your hands in his, tell you that that wasn’t his intention at all and beg for your forgiveness. Ideally, he’d hold you close, say that he loves you no matter what and promise to never push you this far again. You know all of these self-evident truths and more, yet you still can’t stop your heart from skipping a beat when he tells you, voice hushed in awe, triumph washing over you in spite of yourself:

“Of course I will.”

It’s different when you actually go through with it.

You try not to regret your decision immediately when you’re chained to Gojo’s hand in public, dog leash swinging in the wind as you round the campus loop. What a waste of a beautiful day for you to be hanging your head low, tips of your ears burning with shame. You don’t even believe that you’ve agreed to this yourself as you search the faces ahead of you for a trace of anyone you might know, pushing down the urge to cross your fingers behind your back.

But Gojo himself? He loves the lingering stares to tiny little pieces, practically basks in the attention as he pushes his sunglasses back so they rest above his hairline. Airy tufts of white spill over the tinted lenses, billowy strands coming to rest upon his forehead. When you think of it as your gorgeous boyfriend showing you off, it makes it all a little more bearable, has you standing up a little straighter. But your heart nearly stops every time you think you recognize the passerby, and eventually you dread the sight of absolutely anyone in the distance, for fear they will finally be a person who knows and calls you by name.

Gojo takes quick notice, realizes you hardly want to take another step in this undignified manner, and thinks to himself that there must be a better way to go about the arrangement.

His solution is to turn your walk of shame into a crawl of shame.

“On your fours,” he says, delighted when you actually crouch to the pavement, thankful for an excuse to hide your face. He ruffles your hair and slaps your hand away when you try to pull your skirt down, enamored by the way it rides up and reveals the lacy material below. You suppose it’s a trade-off you’ll just have to take, and in a confession that gets caught up your throat, you don’t wholly mind it: the pairs of eyes you can feel burning through you, though real or imagined you can’t be entirely sure. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were Gojo. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were you.

In the corner of your eye, you think you see someone sneaking a picture, but you don’t dare lift your head for a closer look. Instead you track the ground for rubble, hoping you’ll get away without scraping your knees, shaky line for a pair of lips as micro cuts come to crisscross your legs.

The rest of the walk is spent with you crawling the ground, light breeze tickling your backside, every part of you flaunted as if you’re Gojo’s most prized possession. You had better be, you think to yourself as you circle back to his building, and luckily enough, he’s about to make good on that expectation.

Maybe it’s the collar around your neck, or maybe it’s the surge of relief you get from returning, but by the time you meet the first glass door, you’re aching for whatever Gojo’s planned next.

He’s moving on predatory instinct the second you’ve set foot in his apartment, flushed lips curling around your own as soon as he pulls you up from all fours. A hollow knock sounds behind you as your heels strike the door, lower lip traced with a wet warmth until you’re gracious enough to grant him full access. He easily cages you with his entire frame, pressing that cute pink muscle in your mouth flat before writhing his own to the rhythm of his heartbeat, booming and ricocheting and alive.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you, of course, his hands beginning to roam all over your pliable form, all over his property, skirting along your outline and creeping closer still to the innermost curves of your contour cutout. Flitting fingers brush against your navel, dancing lower as you suck your tummy in by reflex, stopping right before the tingling bundle of nerves that just might explode as soon as he touches them.

But he takes pause instead, presses his forehead flush against yours, jewel colored eyes waiting on you with intent. You swear they can see right through you, even sheathed behind a cluster of wild white lashes, gauge everything there is to know about you faster than you can say “blue.” The moment freezes over, two bodies still and unmoving until you suddenly remember your need for air, gasping when you realize you’ve been holding your breath.

Your body bounces back from the force with which he tosses you into the mattress, giggles erupting from your throat when he climbs atop of you, tugging at your leash. A thin stripe of saliva trails up and down the column of your neck, laving intermittently over the leather that encases your flesh. A coppery taste, of earth and salt and smoke, dances on his tongue as his front teeth sink into the stretch of your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh. You sink into the bed as you ease into his touch, but he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable.

“Touch yourself, then,” he says, “if you like to be watched that much.”

It almost sounds like a suggestion, especially with the way in which he uses the lightest touch to brush the stray hairs from your forehead, but you know better than that. Your fingers fly to the wet patch on your panties, thin material almost see-through with your slick, working the fiber flat against dampened skin. An echo of a chuckle reverberates throughout the room as he watches you, undoubtedly pleased by the way in which the fabric clings to your already dripping folds.

Large hands have your legs spread wide open by the time you’ve traced the outline of your clit, your little show put on full display for him. They stay pressed against your thighs as you venture loose, round motions around your sensitive nub. Too timid. You tighten the circles into a coiled spiral, mustering the courage to go harder, faster, the friction of cotton against delicate skin drawing small mewls and sputters out of your trembling form. The delayed relief is sweet, your arousal crying into the pads of your fingers as you pick up the speed. The image burns itself into his brain, watchful eye unfaltering as you play yourself to your heart’s content.

The very air itself seems to buzz as you hold the other end of his gaze, thick fingers running along your sides as you start to roll your hips into the palm of your hand. He’s bent over you with the twitch of his pants, too worked up to remain a bystander any longer as he blows and sucks up your neck. The open-mouthed kisses only hasten the buildup, sensation shotgunning down your body from the surface of your nape.

But the coil in your core knots itself far too early for your taste, and you reel your hand back right before you can realize your peak. You opt to drag a lone finger down your slit instead, afraid that with too much pressure, you’ll come undone before Gojo has the chance to get his fill.

Too late, too slow; he takes notice of your negligence immediately, eyes darkening at the pitiful way your hand skitters with abashment. He pulls away from the crook of your neck to get a good look at your dwindling handiwork, smirking to himself when you shrink in response.

“Having a little trouble there?”

His voice is deceptively singsong as he takes your sluggish hand in his, guiding your knuckles back to that aching button that has you arching your back and curling your toes. He repeats the motion, half a mind to force an orgasm out of you right then and there when suddenly, a whimper—yours—sends his eyes darting back towards your own.

“No, not like this,” you say with strained breath, and he quirks an eyebrow in response, working your fingers into the fabric despite the interruption. “I want more, I need…” your voice trails off, a sorry attempt at stalling.

“Need what?” he asks as he catches on, shit-eating grin somehow audible without you even looking. You don’t know how he does it, how he locks his desires up as you squirm underneath him, waiting ever so innocently for a proper response.

“Need, need you,” you say under your breath, and he cocks an eyebrow, a clear sign of an underwhelming response.

“Oh? I couldn’t quite catch that, princess.”

As if.

“I need you inside of me. Please, claim this filthy cunt,” you whine, determined to play, determined to win. Your hips buck into your interlaced fingers, searching desperately for the one word that’ll send him over the edge and finding it as the leather accessory rides up your neck—as if to remind you of its existence—“Master.”

And it does, it sends a jolt of heat to his groin, has him kicking his pants off and pinning your wrists into the sheets. It’s got him surging with primal need, tugging the pathetic mess of your soaked panties to the side with limitless hunger.

Because even though he’s drawn many names from your lips before, they’ve always been ones he’s insisted on, ones he’s downright pestered you about. Even the simplest “Satoru” was, admittedly, a struggle to pry out of you the very first time you got tangled in his sheets; you shielded your eyes then, cheeks burning and voice low as you whispered it in his ear. And look at you now, sprawled out beneath him as you edge yourself with a hand steeped in your own concoction, begging for his cock with that delicious nickname of your own admission, and it rings throughout his head like an addictive melody.

Master.

You can hardly recognize the noises he fucks out of you for the remainder of the night. He showers you with an unsavory slew of awful names, phrases you’ve never even heard aloud before, tells you that you’re his “freaky cocksleeve” and a “bitch in heat” as he jerks your leash without warning. And that’s exactly what you are, twitching for him like an animal as he screws you senseless, the most guttural of responses rising from your throat as he asks:

“Who do you belong to?”

And of course you respond, between labored pants, “You, master,” muscles taut as you fight for air, fingernails scrambling for purchase on his back but finding absolutely none.

It’s not until you’re entangled in a breathless mass that he pulls your head into his lap, strokes your cheeks and coos that you’ve been a good fucking girl, a thick mixture of his seed seeping from your gaping hole.

Morning always comes when you least expect it, sneaking up on you and peeking through the blinds before you’re ready to get going.

Gojo’s still passed out cold when you creep out of bed, only the most languid of movements used to pry yourself out of the mattress as your arms and legs ache for need of rest. The dull pain humbles you, delayed post-nut clarity finally hitting as you rub into your bleary eyes.

It feels like you’ve been struck by a train.

Your gait is but a tiptoe as you stalk towards his dresser, trembling hands slowly rummaging for something, anything that can provide you some cover. Your classes are starting soon, and whether his are, too, or whether he’s simply skipping out today, you know better than to rouse him from his toil-induced slumber.

It’s nearly inaudible, the sound of the door closing behind you, clank of metal but a whisper as the soles of your shoes kiss up carpeted floor. You’ve left it unlocked, just the way your boyfriend likes it, a small assembly of what you hope he’ll recognize as breakfast perched upon the kitchen table—the last traces of your visit left behind in a neat and tidy little package.

Your eyes find Geto’s once you turn down the hallway, small black beads peering into yours before taking a lap around the block to assess the damage. He must not like what he sees, this tousled morning-after apparition, faint patches of indigo and violet creeping out from under your—no, Gojo’s—oversized sweatshirt, because it’s a solemn sigh that hits your ears next and not a “good morning” or even a simple “hey” that acknowledges you.

Because he knows your average person wouldn’t notice the marks, too sheltered by all that thick cotton riding up your neck, purposefully pulled up just far enough that you wouldn’t see them unless you were looking. He knows your average person couldn’t have the slightest idea how you really scratched up your knees, pointillistic constellations of reddish purple threatening, however empty that threat is, to inch up your thighs. He scoffs.

“What do you even see in him?”

The words cloud the air before he’s completely aware of them, surprising the both of you as they surface.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water: for starters he’s charming, engaging, lively and free-spirited. He’s beautiful and he adores you, you want to say, but even though you have all the correct phrases picked out, all strung together in the same time and place, they don’t seem to roll off your tongue quite right.

You seem so tired, forced laugh falling short where it should flutter out of your mouth, the usual cotton candy you spout crystallizing before it can materialize.

“I could ask the same of you.”

It traipses out of your mouth before you can give it permission, easing itself into the atmosphere before sinking like a stone. Truthfully you don’t care to hear an answer, if only to avoid giving your own. You usher yourself out, pushing yourself past the towering wall of a human and stalking down the nearest stairwell.

Gojo knows just how to toy with your pride. But Geto? Geto knows how to slash it down to shreds.

The silence is deafening.

Geto sighs once you’re out of earshot, turning his heel to continue his trajectory. If anything, he didn’t want to run into you today, either. He cringes at the small collection you’ve no doubt assembled yourself, of iced matcha and a granola bar, staring him in the face as he stalks into the apartment. For some reason it only feeds into his mounting dread, the rising unease of what he might find waiting for him in the bedroom.

So he raps the bedroom door with his knuckles instead of barging in like he normally does, hoping in vain that he can get its sole inhabitant to lumber out himself. But of course Gojo doesn’t make it easy, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn before stretching his lanky limbs with an equally obnoxious groan.

“You said to swing by this morning,” Geto half-yells, half says to himself, already prepared to turn tail and leave. He’s honestly surprised when he gets a legible response instead of the hungover mumbles he’s grown used to.

“Oh, that? Come in, it’s unlocked,” Gojo calls out, each syllable punctuated with tardiness. So Geto braces himself, puffing his chest out before giving the doorknob a firm handshake, stepping deeper into the belly of the beast.

Geto was prepared to see many things when he walked through that door. Something like lipstick stains and flavored condoms, S&M paddles and ribbed dildos. Instead he’s met with something completely other, the evidence already cleared away. Whatever late-night exploits you enjoyed are long gone, not a trace left behind by now, privy only to a grown man slumped over the edge of his mattress, grabbing around under the bedframe.

“Ahh, got it!”

With sleepy eyes Gojo lifts his head and presents to Geto the chrome colored box he’s fished out. It’s small and compact and ridiculously outdated, a conspicuous red button jutting out of its interface. He holds it up to his friend’s face, and the device finally registers.

A voice recorder.

“What, they still make those things?”

Geto schools his features easily, wiping the shock off his face before it can even materialize. It’s not exactly a lie; he knows he shouldn’t be surprised at all that Gojo has kept such an antiquated device for the occasion.

“You act as if you’ve never seen one before.”

It’s a smirk that’s plastered all over their faces now, one that nearly matches the one across from the other, and knowingly so. The two burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, Gojo slapping his knee and Geto clutching onto his sides. They’re not sure who starts it, but one of them high fives the other.

Girls like you are oh so naïve.

Your wish is granted for about a week total.

Gojo keeps his promise, of loving you more and loving you better, throughout the remaining weekdays.

He takes you out for brunch, picks you up after class, and best of all, doesn’t ask anything more of you, doesn’t ask for anything better.

He opts to shower you with gifts instead, of stuffed animals and chocolates and bite-sized amenities, insisting that you take them all, no strings attached. Your nightstand overflows with his presents, mismatched tokens that remind you of his affection even when you’re not together. And although neither of you explicitly verbalize it, it seems like his way of apologizing. Silently.

You whole-heartedly accept.

This is the Satoru I fell in love with, you think to yourself as he pets your head one sunlit afternoon, grogginess setting in after a particularly big meal. You nuzzle into his lap and relish in the soft filtered light, sprawled out on your side on the living room sofa. He has you gazing upwards at a tap of the shoulder, all softened eyes and unkempt locks of hair, the smell of sandalwood and fresh dry cleaning enveloping you entirely as he leans in for a faint forehead kiss.

“What’s up?” you half ask, half mumble, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Just wanted to see my princess’s face,” he says, a fleeting grin on his rosy lips. A hollow thud sounds as you play-punch him in the chest, but you roll over from your side to look up at him anyway.

“You happy now?”

“Overjoyed.”

The two of you lock eyes, slivers of white hair undoing themselves from behind his ear as your breath syncs up slowly, gradually. He stares at you with such longing that you would think you weren’t laying right atop of him, and you struggle to hold your ground.

“Are you—”

“Yup.”

You groan, eyes overcome with on demand prickling. “No thank you,” you proclaim as you squeeze them shut, uninterested in indulging him a staring contest. Moments pass and your eyes stay closed, a tide of tiredness washing over you. You loosen up, head rolling back as you allow yourself to relax.

Big mistake. He takes it as an invitation for his hands to descend upon you, attacking your sides in an attempt to tickle, and you jerk away instantly.

“What the—Sato, cut it out!” You bat his arms away, one eye open as uproarious laughter fills your ears.

“If you’re gonna fall asleep then at least let me lay down too,” he says, drawing out the last word as he props your upper half up. He takes your place on the sofa before pulling you on top, and you huff as you fall into a pile.

“Jerk.”

“Your favorite jerk, though.”

Oh, he definitely feels it when you smile into his chest.

The weekend arrives without issue.

Wednesday night you’re watching the sunset over melon sodas.

Thursday night you’re falling asleep on Facetime.

Friday night you’re in the midst of downtown Tokyo, multicolored lights casting your faces in ethereal glow as you work against the hustle and bustle of regulars and tourists. Karaoke songs eat up the most of your visit, Gojo’s voice slowly going scratchy until the crowd finally works the nerve to drag him offstage. You spend the remaining time hopping restaurants, ordering exactly one dish at each location, slowly working your way through a full course meal. The waitress who serves you nothing more than a plate of gyoza gets an especially generous tip.

Dessert is by far his favorite dish: a deluxe parfait, served in a tall, American-style glass and filled to the brim with sorbet. You can still taste the fruit toppings, fresh and fragrant and honeyed on your tongues as you swap saliva in the back of his car. He cups your face with one hand and holds the small of your back with the other, pressing dangerously close against your body. When you finally have the chance to breathe, a thread of spit trails between your lips, in memory of your union. It glistens in the color of the muted city lights, persevering through the window tint in all of their electric might. A mischievous glint reaches his eyes, and all of a sudden he’s pulling you on top of his lap.

“We can get away with this much, can’t we, princess?”

And you oblige, patch of wetness already creeping through your panties as he starts to move, clothed cockhead grinding against the curve of your ass. He’s louder than usual, quivering groans crumbling as they reach your ears, his hips rolling in stuttering motions. You feel as if you’re aflame, pulsating with need, decadent sweetness enveloping your senses every time he pulls in for a kiss, every time he grazes you with his pubic bone. Your clit sings with praises as he pushes you down by the hips, whispering how good you’re being for him, how gorgeous you look in the dress he bought you, and you make a silent wish in the faint moonlight that the moment will never end.

But it seems that good things always meet their end, and come Saturday night, the monster rears its ugly head again.

Because on Saturday night, Gojo’s got you hanging on his arm, the two of you ascending concrete steps to the usual place. Same group of people, different game every week. The two of you are greeted with sweet sighs and boozy smiles, clink of bottles surrounding you as they prepare this week’s drinking game. Gojo’s a lightweight and Geto sticks to designated-driver duty, so it usually works out just fine.

Just not this week.

If Gojo was the sun, then Geto was the moon.

It always seemed to Geto that his best friend had everything in the world he could possibly need: looks, charisma, and status, all readily available to him without much effort of his own. And honestly? He loathed him for that.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, Geto knows there’s absolutely no way he’s making it to the party. Instead he opts to spend Saturday night alone in the comfort, or perhaps the prison, of his own room.

Because the sun is a star that births brilliance, instilling vitality and inspiring vigor wherever it goes. Whereas the moon only picks up in the after hours, left to guide the lost and the wandering in the nighttime. He feels like he’s always scraping the bottom of the barrel, the pool of women he can choose from limited to the gaggle of bumbling stragglers who lament, still, the absence of the blinding sun. And for the past twenty or so years of his life, those bumbling stragglers have not so much as glanced back at him, too enchanted by the liveliness of day.

Worst of all is that softheaded people, scatterbrains just like you, they think they can fix Gojo, super-fucking-nova Gojo who burns it all up, destroying everything in his course of direction. Part of Geto thinks it’s absolutely deplorable, the way in which pea-brained whores throw themselves at him, hankering for his attention and jumping through all the hoops necessary to get just that. But part of Geto also wants to have his own stake in the fun, and Gojo—pretty boy, genetic-lottery winner Gojo knows this all too well.

The glint of the moonlight taunts Geto as it reflects off the silver-toned box in his hand, bold “STOP,” “REC,” and “PLAY” lettering practically chanting his name in the dim illumination. He was told that the handheld device was safer with him, well out of your reach in the confines of his single dorm, and he supposes that’s the truth, what with the lack of foot traffic in this cramped room that lacks of fresh air and sunlight.

It’d be doubly safer if he’d just tuck the abomination away, stick it deep in the corner of his sock drawer or perhaps somewhere underneath the bed frame, but he’s kept it well in sight ever since he first laid hands on it. He clutches it tightly as if it just might disappear when he lets go; chances like these are rare for him, to be so close in proximity to the wanton whines of someone he knows and sees almost daily. And if it’s anyone’s fault that you’re still fucking an immature bastard, a privileged manchild who gets pretty much everything he wants, it most certainly isn’t his own.

It’s just so exhilarating, to be able to cradle the cool metal in one hand, throbbing cock in the other, drawstring sweats already halfway down as he thumbs at his flushed, pink head. He’s kicking his pants off as he leans into bed, flat of his slicked-up fingers laving over the sopping tip that cries and weep for release. He’s already imagining it, the kinds of o-shaped faces you make with a leash dangling from your neck, bubbling with excitement and intoxication and jealousy at the mere thought. But he doesn’t start the audio yet, fumbling for his stash of lotion before moving to fist his cock in its entirety, twitching creature red with excitement as he jerks it up and down.

It feels so intimate to him, the fact that you’re so close yet so far away, musical mewls available on demand whenever he so pleases. He quickens the pace, palm of his hand practically flattening the vein on the underside of his cock as he starts to buck his hips into his tightening fingers. He’d just love to ram his dick down your throat one day, but for now he’ll have to make do with his hands.

He hits “PLAY” with bitter determination.

The very first sound of crumpling bedsheets has him curling into a full-body tingle. He’s close, so close he can almost taste it, but he keeps his concentration on the audio speaker, waiting for something, anything to heighten his arousal. He sucks in the cold air between his teeth, curses threatening to pour from his lips at how right, how wrong it all feels. The anticipation is short-lived, however, broken by the sound of Gojo’s voice, just barely recognizable in the speaker’s tinny, superficial quality.

“My, my,” the silver-haired deviant says, corners of his mouth undoubtedly upturned as he leans into the microphone.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Geto?”

The voice recorder hits the floor at the sound of his own name, blood pressure rising as his arms and legs tense up in disbelief. His own orgasm slips away and out of reach in an instant, petering out in wretchedly slow motion as his stiff cock throbs with pitiful languor. He wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to curse the world for ever thinking you were actually within his reach, wants to chuck the accursed gadget across the room and watch it scatter across the floor in glittering smithereens. Or maybe he just wants to cradle his head and sink into the ground, face his back to the despicable device for the rest of the night as the cold seeps into his sides, but he’s not even sure where the damn thing skittered off to and his head is spinning and his eyelids clench shut and the world just grinds to a halt.

Gojo doesn’t take the news well.

Gojo doesn’t want to take it at all.

You’re chatting up the party’s host, a premed student in the same year as him, when you first notice him glancing at his phone.

“So how are things? Between you two, I mean,” Shoko asks as she follows your gaze.

“Couldn’t be better” is your absentminded answer, and she stifles a laugh—a perfect relationship with the Gojo Satoru? But you’re only half listening as she expresses her disbelief, eyes never quite leaving Gojo’s back as he shifts away from the mass of people and shuffles towards the windows, cell phone in balled-up hand.

The first call is inconspicuous enough—Geto has a habit of running late, after all. But when you excuse yourself to the bathroom and come back find to Gojo still holding the phone to his ear, half crouched with his lips screwed up in a pout, you know something’s off. Part of you doesn’t want to take your place beside him, but he pulls you down by the wrist, grip strong enough to leave dime-sized bruises.

They’re explaining the game of the night before you can ask him what’s up: a pitcher of beer will round the group of players, all sat in a circle on the carpeted floor, each and every one taking turns trying to steal the last drop. It’s a familiar setting, the music but a hum in the background as the participants buzz with idle chatter, but the person beside you feels alien somehow. The woolen material pills underneath your toes as you curl them into little balls, eyeing him with a sideways glance. You know better than to raise the issue when his foot’s tapping the floor with such force, rapid rhythm almost matching the incessant pace with which he thumbs at his phone. He’s calling Geto three, four, five times before changing tack, demanding an explanation through text.

Shallow breaths are all that fill your lungs as you keep as still as possible, trying your best to get a good read on the screen. If the slump in his shoulders is any indicator, you’re sure he’s seething at the words that light it up. But before you can make out a single phrase, he’s slamming the phone down with one hand, clenching the pitcher of freshly poured beer with the other.

His turn to take the first swig.

He ends up gulping until you’re sure he’s out of breath.

“Whoa there, Satoru,” the person next to him says when he sets the pitcher down, nearly emptied. “What the fuck was that?”

His wrist rises to wipe the corner of his mouth and he exhales sharply, as if his simple reply requires strenuous effort.

“DD bailed on us,” he announces, “fucking flake.”

“Maybe we should have you sober up, then,” someone else, likely Shoko, calls out from across the room.

The change in his demeanor is instant.

“Ah, we’ll make it back in one piece, won’t we?” Gojo’s glance darts sideways, playful lilt betraying the ice he has for eyes.

The room hushes, waiting for an answer, and you sit up straight when you realize who he’s asking. You quirk an eyebrow, amused. With his cheeks already flushed, what seems to be a pointed gaze unfocused and glassy, you can’t help but beg to differ. You know the answer he wants to hear with every bone in your body. But every fiber in your being knows the truth.

“Bullshit.”

The entire room erupts and it’s decided, against his will, that you’ll be spending the night.

Everything falls apart from there.

Shoko shows you to a guest room once the others begin to clear out, dark circles carved out by cool white fluorescents that cast shadows behind her puffy eye bags.

“Sorry it’s so small,” she says, gesturing at the lone mattress, creeping moonlight like a spotlight on its linen-lined surface.

“It’s everything we could ask for,” you say as Gojo falls into bed, sprawling out against the twin sized sheets. “Thanks for letting us crash.” She shoots him a tight lipped smile before placing a deft hand on your shoulder, brown locks cascading as she leans into your ear.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

The night is long and never-ending.

Teeny tiny bits of skylight taunt you from above as Gojo proceeds to keep you awake well past twilight. He’s tossing and turning in the guest bed, kicking the blanket off the both of you with spiteful purpose, inviting in the cool night breeze. It nips you from your face to your toes, colder still even as he tightens his hold on you, and you decide to finally break the silence.

“You still mad about that one thing I said?”

He scoffs, huff of breath like a shot to your neck.

“You seriously have to ask?”

You tense up immediately, spine straightening flat against his chest as he continues, edge to his voice swelling as it looms behind you. “Honestly, who do you think you think you are? Always acting like you’re better than me.” Razor thin needles lodge themselves into your scalp as he pulls your hair back, your chin meeting chilled air as you offer up a whimper.

“It’s not like that.”

He only tightens his grip on your hair, pulling it back harder still.

“Think I need to remind you of your fucking place,” he mumbles as he presses into you, something stiff rocking against the fat of your thighs.

“Not here,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize his intent, the alcohol in your system seeming to swirl in your head. He staggers his hips in response.

“Wasn’t a problem in the car.”

“Satoru, they might hear us,” you say, the steel in your voice cracking as his free arm snakes around your side, searching for the hem of your pants. “Mercy,” you try again, the familiar, agreed upon safe word sounding foreign and unfamiliar when it comes out but a croak. It hurtles from the shelter of your lips, forever lost as the strain in his pants only grows, breath going ragged as he ruts into your hips.

“Just let me have this.”

And he revels in the way in which he easily overpowers you, enamored in how his towering frame nearly swallows you whole. When a particularly loud groan—one you’re sure anyone in a neighboring room can overhear—escapes his lips, you blister with shame, burying your face in the pillow, limbs aching for need of sleep.

And then his breath hitches as he chases after fireworks and explosions, captivated by the way that you squirm in vain. His palms claim your hips as his own, cockhead grinding behind you, servicing himself with feverish concentration. He presses your side into the mattress, ass cheeks squeezing together like a homemade fleshlight, and you arch your back in a sorry attempt at evasion.

He groans in response, knees buckling together as he brushes up against the makeshift curve, and you stop struggling altogether. Your body buzzes from the touch, head swelling like a balloon, skin crawling from the jerky movements as you go limp as a ragdoll.

“God, you’re so good to me,” he says, praise anything but endearing when it hits your ears. It’s the same kind of acclaim he gave up just the night before, but it cheapens as he repeats it, banal phrase playing over and over in your head. He’s still humping your butt when he cums, shaky and delirious as he rides out the high, profanities rolling off his tongue until he’s shuddering himself to sleep. All is still once he’s blacked out from the stimulation, pitter patter of salted frustration the only movement left over as it soaks the pillowcase through and through.

You lay awake, caged by his toned muscle, trapped by his carbon curses, praying for sleep until the birds begin to chirp. They sing a song that they borrowed from the night, a harrowing lullaby that has you in a panic, slipping out of his grasp as you crawl out of bed.

By the crack of dawn you’ve tiptoed into a cab, belongings clutched tight to your chest, apartment complex shrinking in the distance, but it never seems to get further away.

Geto hasn’t breathed a word about the voice recorder.

Geto doesn’t want to think about it all.

He’s paying for it now with a barrage of daily phone calls from none other than Gojo himself, who dials him day and night and morning, no regard for moderation. Geto regards the fallout as both of their instant karma, still miffed by the prank he’d just fallen for, but unwilling to reveal his folly. He fills the role of trusty confidant nonetheless, his betrayal as M.I.A driver long forgotten. It’s a spectacle, the frenzy Gojo is bound in, and he might as well watch from a front row seat.

But he hasn’t made a full recovery yet, forever irked at the pretty privilege Gojo takes for granted, the privilege he downright hoards for himself, barking into the speaker when he feels his blood begin to boil.

“Seriously, what did you do this time?” He wants to tear his hair out at Gojo’s stupidity, his utter lack of tact, wants to pull out his front teeth and pulverize the dental tissue into a fine powder when he’s met with momentary silence.

It’s been a few days since you left the guest bedroom alone in the wee hours of morning, and Gojo hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since. You haven’t been answering his texts, his calls, Christ, he even tried your personal email, and now Geto finds himself shouldering the brunt of his correspondence, trying everything in his power to get him to calm the fuck down, albeit fruitlessly.

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Gojo insists once he’s found his choice of words, spitting them out one by one, raking stiff fingers through colorless locks. “I got a little handsy, but it was seriously nothing.” Geto shakes his head and rubs his temples; nothing isn’t enough to make you walk out on him.

“If you’re telling the truth, then stop worrying already.” A stray section of his bangs fall forward, sweeping over his eye as he slumps over in his chair. “But if you’re lying—” he starts, cut off by the sound of chaste knocks, an unassuming 1-2-3 kissing up at his door before he can finish.

Saved by the mystery visitor.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d sigh relief, eager to break away from the droning and moaning of the spoiled brat on the other line. Instead he gives pause, as if weighing the cost of answering the door against the merit of staying put on the phone, moment’s hesitation only giving way to a guaranteed getaway.

“Hold on, I need to get this,” is all Geto says as he hangs up the phone, equal parts appreciative and skeptical of the person at his door. He isn’t exactly friendly with anyone on his floor, and few would show up here without asking first, so he peers through the peephole, curiosity getting the better of him.

And lo and behold, speak of the devil, it’s Gojo’s missing girlfriend, standing alone with her hands twisted together.

Amazing. You’re quite literally the very last person he wanted to see right now.

“Do you have any idea how worried he is?” Geto snaps when he answers the door. You have no idea what kind of mess he has on his hands. “Go and make up with your boyfriend already.” He moves to close the door but you react quickly, wedging yourself before the doorframe, eyes wide and pleading.

“I’m in trouble, so please...” You scramble for something half believable. “I can’t turn to anyone else.” He laughs in your face, eyebrows quirked with mirth at how genuine it almost sounds.

Almost.

“Don’t give me that.”

“No, I mean it,” you press on, unwilling to admit that anyone else who’d listen to your cries for help, from trusted family to doe-eyed friends, would undoubtedly have you in a beeline for the authorities. “You—you’re the only other person who can put up with Gojo.”

That gets him stopping in his tracks.

“Barely,” he scoffs, but the pressure on the door lets up. He hates that you have a point there. Hates that he can’t look away from Gojo and his silly antics and his daring ploys and especially hates that he has that in common with you. He wants to turn you away but you look so hopeful, ignoring the dulling pain of the door trying to crush your foot flat.

He bites the bullet.

“You know he’ll be pissed if he finds out you came to me first, right?” You screw your lips together when he cracks the door slightly.

“Well, he doesn’t really have the right at the moment,” you sniff, barging in when he lets go of the door completely.

The room is impossibly smaller than you ever imagined, in direct contrast to all the empty space in Gojo’s rental. It’s a wonder how all his necessities fit in the cramped shelves and tiny drawers, and you almost marvel at the scale of it until the sound of wood on vinyl tiling snaps you back to focus. A few stray articles of clothing are plucked from the ground and chucked to the corner before he’s pulling two chairs up, one for you and one for him. Once he’s sitting, you have his full, unadulterated attention.

Not that you know what to do with it.

It takes a while to find your voice, fiddling with your fingers as you try, unsuccessfully, to hold his gaze. There’s no clock but you swear you can hear the second hand ticking. The curtain’s closed but you’re sure you can feel the heat of the sun disappearing. You’re certain that it ebbs below the curve of the horizon as you watch, timidly, the tap of Geto’s wooden sandal. It remind you of the clack of Gojo’s dress boots, impatience slowly exceeding its carefully drawn bounds.

You time out a moment of silence.

And then another.

And then another, until Geto is staring you down expectantly, pinpricks for eyes. You take the hint.

“I said it.” You look down, fidgeting with your shirt. “I said no.”

His eyes soften immediately, struck by the raw edge of your voice, your inability to look him in the eye.

“And he didn’t respect that?”

“He touched me. When I asked him to stop.” The words have to force themselves out your throat, the little bit of courage you have all that keeps the walls from collapsing in completely. You take as deep of a breath as you can manage when the memory flickers through your mind, clear as yesterday. “He—he fucked me through his clothes.” Your head’s buried in your hands as you fold into yourself completely, rocking in place, and something rages inside of Geto.

“Wait, what?” Geto looks at you incredulously, disbelief scrawled all over his face, eyes narrowing when you keep your head down. “Through his clothes?”

You nod slowly, knowingly, and he feels as though the world is spinning all over again. The ground seems to shift beneath him as your face contorts in pain, saltwater already beading up along your lower lashes. That’s it? That’s what this entire circus is on about? He cards his hands through his hair as he tries to process it, shaking his head when you fail to respond. That’s all it takes for your whole body to quake, hard lumps bubbling up your throat at the bite of his words, breath stuttering irregularly as your windpipe starts to clench up.

And then you’re crying, body wracked with hiccups as you try to quell the chills crawling up your skin. Your chest heaves in a sorry attempt to keep up with the lurch of your lungs, sputtering as you try to suppress your voice.

“God, you’re all so fucking annoying.”

He watches you bubble over, feeling his own emotions swell as they hit a critical mass, stomach churning at the sight. You couldn’t manage a comeback if you wanted to, a blubbering mess as you try to wipe your eyes dry. The small bit of composure that’s kept him whole these past few days finally snaps when the tears trail down your hands, no end in sight in the onslaught of waterworks.

“I bet you wanted it,” he continues, unfazed by the fattening tears, fingertips digging into his thighs as he spots the yellowed bruises he jacks off to at night. He leers at the fading brown and imagines them overlaid with fresh, new marks, gleaming blush and fiery crimson. “I bet sluts like you don’t care what happens as long as they get dicked down in the end.” A quiet sob tumbles out of you and your cheeks tingle with hurt, like you’ve been backhanded once, then twice.

“It’s n-not like that,” you finally manage to say, gasping through choked noises as he creeps closer, cloaking you in shadow. He stares vacantly from his vantage point, as if looking at an ant on the tiles.

“Then why don’t you walk away for real?”

And that’s exactly what you should be doing right now, cornered by a large man in his dark, dingy room, but by the time you think to stand up he’s grabbing you by the wrists. He sends you barreling into the desk, spinning you around so your hands clutch the edge, chest pressing up against the surface. He pins an arm behind you with ease, kicking your legs wide open, and you flail the other in no particular direction.

“You secretly enjoy all of it, don’t you? You secretly get off on the idea of being raped by your boyfriend.” He sneers as you buckle underneath him, grazing his growing erection. “All worked up over a little dry humping? Get over yourself already. You females want to be hurt so bad.”

“Fuck you,” you manage between muffled sobs, chest feeling as if it’s about to break in half. “You’re j-just like Gojo.”

“Just like Gojo?” Geto echoes, free hand coming to snake between your thighs, voice catching as he speaks. “You’re sorely mistaken.”

You fall limp as he draws a single finger under your panties, tracing your hipbone as he muses. He imagines their contents, imagines how easy it would be to take you by force, sighing aloud at the prospect of doing it without.

“I can never be him.”

#gojo smut #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #tw. dark.#tw. noncon.#tw. dubcon.#tw. influence.#tw. toxic.#tw. penetration.#tw. showoff.#tw. size.#tw. degradation.#tw. corruption.#🍣.food #fishstyx.jjk

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

Prompt idea: Lingerie with Frankie Morales but make it cute/funny? Picture this, you've got all of the fancy bits you've never worn before and you're struggling with the fiddly latches, crying out, "I can't get this shit on!" You finally figure it out, show it off to Frankie and he loves it. But he likes sex best when there's nothing between the two of you, so he works on unwrapping you. You notice his lips stop moving on you for a few seconds before he whines, "I can't get this shit off!"

Tangled Up (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: ^^

W/C: 3K

Warnings: uh this is filth. SMUT 18+, oral sex (f receiving), lingerie, unprotected PIV sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), Frankie has no patience and is rlly strong

A/N: this speaks to me, anon. I love this. I hope you do too!

Frankie already thinks you’re the most beautiful thing on the face of this planet. Every little thing you do is amazing to him, the way you call his name, the way you bat your lashes at him when you really want something.

He’s absolutely obsessed with your body; he’s told you that and demonstrated time after time that he thinks you’re the goddamn prettiest thing he’s ever seen, that your body is absolutely perfect in its uniqueness.

Naturally, Frankie has his favorite pieces of clothing on you, the way they cling to or flow off of your wonderful form. Frankie is a big believer that the body is the soul, and he’s absolutely in love with yours. Anything to accentuate your soft skin, with colors that stand out against the tone of it, drives Frankie absolutely wild.

Lingerie is his favorite. It surprised you at first. Frankie is a patient man, slow and soft when he wants to be, prioritizing you over himself in everything he does but especially in the bedroom. Something like that feels self-indulgent to him, like it’s his one weakness, you looking like that just for him. Then he gets to unwrap you like the best fucking present he’s ever received- yeah, Frankie is really into lingerie on you.

He’s gifted it to you, gone shopping with you to buy it, but his favorite thing is being surprised. The element of shock and sensuality when he’s confronted with the most beautiful body wrapped in such perfect garments is his favorite sensation, next to digging his fingers into your hips and pulling your body against his to kiss you.

You know how much he loves it, and that motivates you to do it somewhat often. The problem is that lingerie is expensive. You usually find yourself repeating outfits for Frankie to rapidly strip from your body, which he clearly doesn’t care about. You look sexy, and he loves it. But you love the surprise, the shock and admiration as he has to run those tough and strong hands over the lace.

Frankie particularly loves dark colors, like black or a deep velvety red, on you. He thinks they look painfully seductive, tempting.

That’s what’s motivated you to buy the piece laying on your bed. It’s black, with a bra and panties and quite a lot of straps, buckles and loops built into it. You’d been hesitant, but seeing it in real life makes you even more excited. Frankie gets home soon; time to get in.

The panties go on easily, obviously. The next part is the challenge. There are straps upon straps, endless slots for you to shove limbs through. You hold it up and frown, not quite sure how to get it on.

Wandering to the mirror, you shove yourself into the thing, making some errors but eventually finding the proper way to wear it.

You look hot: both physically and sexually. There’s a lacy collar, attached to the intersection of the bra. The cups are mesh with lacy decor to cover the nipples, and there are many straps over your abdomen that hook up to the panties. All in all, it’s a complicated number, but you smile as you do a little twirl. Frankie will like it.

The other hot: you’re sweating. It took effort to put it on, lots of odd angles to pull and tug. You feel warm and flushed, so it’s a relief to plop on the edge of the bed and let the cool air of the house get you acclimated again.

You wait, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as you relax on the bed. Frankie’s schedule is far from exact, but you know the 15-20 minute window he’ll arrive home in. Lucky for you, the garage door opens at the normal time he arrives home.

Tossing your phone aside, you perch seductively on the edge of the bed, crossing your legs and leaning back on your arms. “Frankie, baby,” you call into the house as the door opens.

“Hey honey,” he calls back. You can hear him taking off his boots, taking off his jacket. His footsteps ascend with him as he climbs the stairs, and you fidget a little with the lingerie.

He stops in the kitchen, doing something or another. You frown a little. “Frankie,” you call again.

“Just one second, babe,” he chuckles, grabbing a glass of water and something to eat in the kitchen. When he has his things, he meanders through the house and to the bedroom. He nearly drops what he’s holding at the sight waiting for him.

He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Nothing special, but he always looks so good in it. You naturally smirk just at the sight of your man, of how perfect he is. “How was work?” You purr, letting your head loll to the side so he can get a full view of your body.

Frankie swallows hard. “One second.”

You frown and he walks away, putting the water and food back down in the kitchen. He hurries back just to stand in the doorway, staring at you. “I… wow.”

You giggle a little. “I know you like something to tug on,” you tease and snap one of the straps against your skin. The sound goes straight to Frankie’s dick, steadily growing harder in those dark-wash jeans. “Well?”

“You look like a fucking bombshell, babe,” he groans as he walks closer and falls to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Holy fuck,” he shivers as his fingers trace up your bare thighs, sliding beneath the waistline of the panties.

“Glad you like it,” you chuckle and take off his cap, throwing it aside so you can bury your hands in those pretty curls. They’re so soft, fluffy when you run your fingers through them.

Frankie’s lips find your thigh, starting just above the knee and making their way up. “Love it,” he nods, murmuring it into the soft and sensitive skin there. “But you know I like you better with nothing to separate our skin,” he flirts, looking up at you with those round eyes that make you weak.

You shiver under his work, twirling one wave around your finger. “Take at least a little time to enjoy it, baby,” you pout.

He sits back on his knees and nods. “Of course. You know what…” he trails off as he stands, going over to the dresser and grabbing something from on top of it.

He returns moments later with your Polaroid, smirking a little. “Now I can enjoy it longer,” he chuckles as he pops open the lens. “Pose for me, baby girl,” he says, his voice growing darker and deeper as he takes in the sight.

You do, legs spread and chest pushed out, looking at him seductively through the camera. There’s a flash and a click as the camera takes the picture, then the film pops out through the bottom, still black as it develops. Frankie sets it back on the dresser, along with the photo, then stands at the foot of the bed. “How do you suggest I appreciate it, hm?” He asks.

Eyeing him, you can’t help but smile. “Take your shirt off first.”

“Okay,” he laughs softly and pulls off the soft gray tee, exposing his muscles and slight tummy. It’s such a beautiful sight, and your eyes follow the thin trail of hair down.

“Now the belt.”

“Should I just presume you want it all off?” He asks again, tilting his head.

Laughing, you fall flat onto your back on the bed. “Yes. All of it. Off.” You lift your head just slightly, dropping it as you realize it might add a couple of chins.

“No, watch me,” he orders, and it makes you smirk. It’s an easy domination, the way Frankie could do whatever the fuck he wants with you. Neither of you ever agreed upon anything, never made a pact and discussed the idea of something serious, but it’s something the two of you learned over your time of knowing and loving each other. Frankie knows what you like, and you know what he likes: when he gives the orders. When he’s fully nude, his thick cock heavy and reddened, you smile even wider. “What next?” He asks, allowing the role to be played.

You pretend to think about it, stroking your chin. “Well, do whatever you want to me. But the lingerie stays on.”

Frankie pouts. “I wanna fuck you, and I like it best when there’s nothing between us.”

“Then find another way,” you shrug, that devious little smile tugging up the corner of your mouth. “Do something else. Maybe if you’re good enough, I’ll take it off for you and let you fuck me.”

“Oh, you’ll let me fuck you?” He teases as he gets on his knees, one hand on each thigh as he pushes them apart and nestles between them. “How kind.” His lips trace along the inside of your thigh, slowly working their way from the knee to the apex.

You shiver beneath him, wiggling at the anticipation. “I’m giving,” you sigh, any sarcasm you attempt to give lost in a moan as Frankie mouths at your clit through the panties.

“You sure are,” he murmurs, his own body shuddering at the wetness of the lacy fabric covering your slit. His tongue contributes to the dampness, starting at your opening and slowly licking all the way up to nip at your clit through the lace.

“Baby,” you whimper, your hands digging into his hair.

“You told me to take my time,” he mumbles and looks up at you, eyes darkened with lust. “I’m just following orders, baby girl.” He pushes the panties aside and laps at your folds.

A whimper trails from your lips and your back arches off the bed, desperate for more. “God, I fucking love you.”

Frankie traces two fingers through your slick, teasing at your entrance and sitting back on his heels to watch the sight that accompanies the unholy sounds. “You think you love me? I got to come home from work to this,” he groans, taking in the sight of you and plunging two thick fingers inside of you. “Nothing better than this, pretty girl,” he shudders and dives back in, sucking at your clit and tracing it slowly with his tongue.

You keen into his touch, grinding your hips back against his mouth. “Fuck, Frankie,” you cry out as he curves his fingers inside of you, hitting that perfect spongy spot.

“Yeah?” He murmurs into you, his tongue barely resting for a second.

“Yeah, oh fuck,” you shiver. “Baby, don’t you dare stop.”

“Couldn’t if I tried,” he groans, working his tongue harder against you.

It’s all too much in just the right way. The cresting wave that builds inside of you finally breaks as Frankie swirls the sensitive bud around his tongue, and you whine his name as the release pours through your body, making you shake and squirm and moan. “There we go,” he murmurs as he pulls away, your body coming down from its high. “That enough appreciation for you?”

“Plenty,” you nod. “Now fuck me. Please.”

He smirks a little and stands. “Finally,” he chuckles as he runs his fingers over the endless straps covering your body. He snaps one of them against your breast, making the soft flesh ripple. He groans at the sight, of the way your tit bounces against it.

Frankie pulls you to sit up, reaches behind and unclasps the bra. Normally, that would be enough to get you naked, but there’s a neck harness and straps and to be honest, he doesn’t know where to get started. “How the fuck did you get this thing on?” He murmurs.

You laugh a little. “It took me a really long time, honestly. It was hard.”

Frankie sighs and pulls at the straps, trying to find a good way to get it off. His deft fingers search your body for some kind of clasp or buckle, but find none. He unclips the panties from the top, at least, and slides them off, then gets back to working.

His eyes look up at you and he pouts. “Come on. Give me a hint, baby.”

“I don’t fucking know, Frankie,” you laugh, still on an endorphin high from the orgasm moments ago. “I don’t know how this thing got on and I know even less about how to get it off.”

Frankie’s forehead falls against your chest, groaning. “Fuck.” He tries gathering the straps and pulling them up. That doesn’t work. He searches under every strap for maybe velcro or snaps. Nothing. He pushes you back down onto your back.

“Goddamnit!” He groans and his lack of patience gets the best of him. Gripping the straps, Frankie pulls them hard until the straps break, leaving you bare beneath him and completely stunned.

The straps fall to your sides, exposing your full chest and abdomen. “Frankie!” You exclaim, honestly more than turned on from his little show of strength.

“Sorry,” he bites his lip and looks down at you, but you know he’s really not. The tip of his cock is leaking, red and flushed and you know he’d do just about anything to get inside you now.

You giggle a little, the adrenaline from the moment rushing through your veins. “That was fucking hot,” you admit, spreading your legs. “You got me stripped down. Now fuck me, Frankie, please.”

The embarrassment is gone from his face within seconds. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, climbing over you and kissing you desperately hard.

You cup his face and hike your knees up around his waist, kissing him back just as readily, tongue pressing against the seam of his lips. He allows you in in the exact moment he thrusts inside of you, making you moan into his mouth before breaking away.

“Frankie,” you whimper as he’s pushed fully inside of you, throbbing and twitching as you say his name. “Fuck, baby,” you whine, his thick cock pressed against your cervix. “You gonna go easy on me?”

“Not in the slightest,” he mumbles back and pulls mostly out before pushing back in, hard. You cry out his name over and over, grabbing at his shoulder blades and back. You can feel the muscles there shift as he pushes, holding himself up over you. His head falls down with a groan as you reach one hand behind him to teasingly tug at his balls.

In return, Frankie lowers himself over you and brings one hand down to circle your clit, thrusting in time with the movement of his worn fingertips. God, he’s so damn good with his hands, always has been, and you whimper that into his ear, moving both hands back up to clutch at his back, nails digging into his skin.

It’s almost a competition of pleasure between the two of you, who can do more of the tiny little things the other loves, who can get the other to their peak first. Frankie kisses at your neck, mumbling sweet words into your skin, crying out as your nails drag down his back. “Baby, please, you feel so fucking good, god you’re so big,” you groan next to his ear, filling it with all of the affirmations he loves.

“You‘re just so fucking tight,” he grunts, thrusting harder and harder into you. You get tighter as you clench around him, and Frankie knows that it means you’re close. “Come on, baby girl. You gonna cum on my dick?”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, head falling back into the bed. “Oh, fuck, Frankie-oh!” You squeal as he hits the sweet spot inside of you once more, his fingers working in the perfect rhythm with his hips to make you fall apart, clenching and fluttering around him as more slick coats his cock.

He groans at the feeling, shivering at the way you clamp down on him. “W-where? Where do you want it, baby?” He asks you, knowing he’s about to burst at any second, the way you’re absolutely destroying him.

“In me, please,” you beg, and it’s an offer Frankie can’t refuse. He lets go, filling you with the hot, sticky seed. You whine at the feeling, desperately gripping his skin.

He whines your name in your ear as he comes down, shivering and pulling out, lying next to you on top of the ruined lingerie.

“That was expensive,” you whimper as you limply toy with a strap.

“I’ll buy you a new set. Two new sets,” he tells you, breathless and sweaty. “God, you looked so good in that,” he sighs, chuckling a little. He gets up and wanders to the bathroom, getting a warm, wet cloth and coming back to clean you up.

The sight of his cum dripping from inside you is almost enough to make him hard again, but he bites his lip and wipes you down, tenderly kissing your thigh. “Thank you,” you murmur weakly and smile down at him.

“Doing my job,” he teases and kisses your knee before cleaning himself off and tossing the cloth in the laundry. When he lies down next to you, he takes the discarded lingerie and throws it off the bed, wrapping you in his arms. “You’re so amazing,” he chuckles. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” you hum and kiss his face, nuzzling your nose into the curve of his flushed and dewey neck. “I have stuff to make for dinner.”

The reminder that it’s only 5:00 or so makes Frankie laugh a little. “You don’t have to. You’ve done enough for me tonight,” he murmurs, kissing your temple lovingly.

“Never said I was doing it alone,” you chuckle sleepily, your eyes slipping shut. “You’re helping.”

“Damn right I am. Maybe we take a nap first though,” Frankie says as he pulls you closer in his arms.

“A nap sounds good,” you nod and kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

taglist:

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patd--phan · 3 years

Text

Fucking Beautiful

Summary: FLUFF in which Y/n has body image issues and doesn’t think she’s beautiful, but boyfriend Peter convinces her otherwise

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 1,021

Tw: body image issues, a couple f bombs obviously

a/n: So this is the first fic I’ve ever written. The reader is based on me and my body issues, and I kinda just wrote this for myself as comfort. Idk if I will do more in the future or not. Lemme know what you think (if you have nothing nice to say don't say it at all) :)

You hum softly as you cuddle further onto Peter’s shoulder. You always feel so at peace during movie nights with Peter; the world disappears and you just get lost in his comforting presence and warm body. The two of you laugh and smile at each other during the film and you both keep stealing glances at each other and when your eyes accidentally meet during one, you blush and intertwine your fingers with his, resting your head back on his shoulder and smiling to yourself. Tonight’s movie was Palm Springs and you both watched intently as the film came to a satisfying conclusion. As the credits start to roll you make a small comment “Andy Samberg is so cute I can’t believe he’s fucking forty two!”

Peter turns to look at you with raised eyebrows and a coy smirk

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm” you hum. “But you’re even cuter” you chide.

His smirk turns into a full smile.

“Aww shucks sweetheart, you’re not bad yourself,” he says and you shake your head giggling at his charm. You lean forward and envelop his lips in a soft kiss. He hums and you tangle your hands in his hair, you can feel him smiling into the kiss and it makes you do the same. Your part faces and look into his eyes, still smiling and feeling giddy from his touch. As his smile slowly softens, he reaches up and places his hand on your cheek. You immediately lean into his touch, keeping your eyes locked onto his. He stares at you for what feels like forever and your smile slowly falls. You raise your eyebrows a little to silently ask “what?”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says all of a sudden.

Your jaw drops slightly and your eyes open wide, still looking into his.

“Do you really think so?” You ask after a long pause, quietly and in a little disbelief.

You never thought you were ugly, ok maybe that was a lie, but you never considered yourself to be truly beautiful. Or at least not when your face is oily and you’re not wearing any makeup. You had never told Peter about your insecurities regarding your body because you were scared of what he’d say. You knew he wouldn’t be mean and he would tell you that you’re beautiful but you didn’t want him to say it just to make you feel better, you wanted him to really mean it.

Peter’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and his eyes look sad.

“Of course I do! Y/n you’re so pretty are you kidding me?”

He places his other hand on your other cheek and leans in giving you a passionate, loving kiss full of reassurance.

“Thanks, Peter.” You give him a small smile, then you purse your lips to the side, avoiding his eyes. Peter notices your shyness and lifts your chin up to look at him.

“Do you not think you’re beautiful?” He asks.

“I- I don’t know I…” You trail off, not meeting his eyeline.

Peter feels his heart break a little. He frowns and his eyes start to water. Y/n doesn’t think she’s beautiful? She is the prettiest girl he has ever seen in his life. He thought she knew that, but maybe not. It kills him that you don’t see what he sees in you- you’re perfect. He’s gotta tell you all of this.

“Y/n listen to me” your eyes immediately find his again.

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. And I don’t want you to dismiss that statement because it’s true. I fell in love with you because you make me laugh, you’re kind, and so smart and caring. But I love all of you, mind and body.”

You feel your eyes start to well up with tears, threatening to spill over at any second as Peter continues talking.

“There is not a single thing about you that I am not hopelessly in love with. I don’t know who convinced you of this ridiculousness, but you are definitely, absolutely gorgeous, and I want you to remember that. You’re fucking perfect. So beautiful, cute, pretty, and sexy. You may not think that but I do and you should too!”

Tears were now streaming down your face. Ok, you were sobbing. You noticed a tear run down Peter’s face as well.

“P-Peter” You managed to stumble out.

You wrapped your arms around him so hard you practically tackled him horizontally onto the couch. Hugging him so tight and crying onto his shoulder, you never wanted to leave.

“You’re so wonderful” he muttered, making you cry even harder. You had never been given this much love or comfort before. It was overwhelming.

“I- I love you so much.” You say breaking away from the hug. You place both hands on his face and bring him in to kiss you. The kiss was wet, with yours and Peter’s tears mixing together. It was full of love. When you finally pull away from him, your tears have stopped spilling out and you smile at him, full of love.

“I love you so much too, sweetheart. Words can’t even describe it” he chuckles. You smile even wider and pull him back into that bone crushing hug.

“How did I get so lucky? You’re the most amazing boyfriend on the planet. You’re so perfect” you whisper. Peter rubbed your back and hummed

“The feeling is mutual, love.”

You eventually stop squeezing Peter so tight because neither of you can breathe. You chuckle lightly and settle for cuddling with him and holding his hand instead. After a minute of rest, you speak up.

“Ya know, you’re beautiful, cute and sexy too” you whisper, your head still on his chest.

Peter chuckles and you feel the vibrations on your cheek.

“Thank you sweetheart, I agree.” he said, making you chuckle. He rubs his thumb along your connected hands and you start to get sleepy.

“You’re so perfect” you mumble.

“I love you.” you say and you squeeze his hand tighter.

“I love you too Y/n.” You feel your hand being squeezed back by Peter for a moment before you both drift off to sleep.

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wee-wee-witch · 3 years

Text

Inadequacy

A/N: sigh… can’t believe this started with smut part and then I wrote start of the story. I have to thank @kinsurou and @aonesteddybear who gave me the idea.

Pairing: Sukuna x reader with a side of cute boyfie Yuuji

Tags: noncon/dubcon, abo universe, breeding, choking, degradation, dumbification, hair pulling, biting

WC: 1.5k

You knew Yuuji since both of you were freshman year in college. He was so sweet the first time you met him, immediately making your young little heart melt.

Yuuji always thought you were way out of his league, mostly because you were omega, the cutest prettiest omega he ever laid his eyes on. He couldn't understand how there was no alpha walking you to and from classes. No one looked over you? Maybe you had a long distance relationship? You never gave away an alpha's scent either. Yuuji could never sniff out anything and he was the type of person that was very prideful in his sharp senses. He had a way sharper nose than most alphas did. This beta was pretty exceptional in everything that he tried, especially if it was competing at sports. That's how he earned a sports scholarship and met you in this exact university.

Could it be that you really didn't date anyone?

Time on campus was terrible if you were alone without Yuuji. Often, an older alpha would corner you somewhere without much traffic. Where students and teachers would rarely pass by. Forcefully scenting themselves on you. Beta with exceptional physical capabilities like Yuuji, whose senses rivaled the strongest of alphas could always find you and get you out of trouble.

It happened a couple more times before you finally confessed. Overjoyed that you choose him. Him! Over every alpha on the campus you really picked Yuuji!

The butterflies in his stomach dispersed soon after, when you started showing interest in claiming. Yuuji could feel your body sending him signals that it's ripe for claiming. Playing the game of chase, Yuuji managed to avoid your advances most of the time. You weren't the only one who was getting tired of his strange behavior though.

"If you don't claim her soon she'll run to another alpha, brat."

One extremely important detail that Yuuji always left out of the conversation was that he was a little bit special.

Yuuji was sharing a body with Sukuna, an alpha who was growing tired of Yuuji's antics.

Sukuna will never tell Yuuji what happened on his own, but they still share a body. His memories start to invade Yuuji’s dreams. Scenes where he can see your sweaty body under Sukuna's grasp. Your innocent face scrunching up in pleasure as Sukuna raked his nails over your scalp, running them through your hair until he reached your neck wrapping his long fingers around it. The soft protests you’d whine out, begging him to explain what's going on, only so Sukuna would slam into you even harder. Causing your voice to break and your whines to morph into full blown out crying.

He took his sweet time, placing you on his lap and telling you every little detail of your innocent little boyfriend's condition. The ambiance of short sniffles accompanying his gravelly voice. Sukuna was simply overjoyed by Yuuji's gentle nature that allowed him to corrupt you.

Thanks to the stupid brat, he was the first one to ruin your body.

It was so sweet of you to deny Sukuna the answer he desperately wanted, swaying the mattress with his thrusts. Pushing your cunt open, wider and wider, the burn of his cock trashing your weaker body.

˝Who treats you better pet?˝

He’d growl against your ear. You tried to hold your own the best you could. Resisting the pleasure shocking though your back as Sukuna’s voice hummed against your ear. With your teeth clenched you’d ignore every deep thrust, every growl, praying that Sukuna will be done soon.

Praying that you won’t disappoint your sweet Yuuji.

So virginal, so gullible. Do you really think Sukuna can’t stop himself from cumming? Snickering at your weak tries at resisting him, Sukuna places his other arm against your sensitive bud.

¨You’ll answer me now brat.˝

Sukuna bites your ear, pulling you back so you’d land in his lap. Screaming in shock from the new angle his dick is coursing at, you try to wiggle yourself out of his grasp, only to make the sensations even worse. His fingers pressing against your nub that’s soaked in slick juices, rubbing it to heighten your pleasure.

His teeth still clamped against your ear don’t stop you from shaking your head in a desperate ¨No!˝ making his tugs more painful with every desperate shake.

He couldn’t ask you to act better than this if he tried, how dumb you act in your stupid little protests, only causing more pain. Maybe you like it after all? Sukuna grins, mouth busy with your ear. Soon you’ll surrender to him.

Your head falls flat on Sukuna’s chest as he pops off his mouth from your abused ear. Your weak glare does nothing to appease him, it only makes his canines peek up more as he grins down at you. Stubborn brats like you were the best for breaking. Now with his both hands free, Sukuna squeezes you against him. Knocking the air out of you. His cock has fully barged into your womb, with his knot close to being completely engulfed by your squelching cunt.

His tip brushes against the wall of your womb, making your eyes roll back. Sukuna knows he had you as he feels your body relaxing in his grip. Your resolve is crumbling. Seeing as you had no more strength to fight him off, Sukuna removed one of his arms to grip your hair, making you look up at him.

˝Who treats you better?˝

This time his tone was way more stern, way more deep. He won’t give you any room to disobey him.

Your body feels weak, legs and hands wobbly. Sukuna is toying with you, not using an ounce of his real strength and it makes you feel so defeated. Only power you have is denying him your acknowledgement. Denying him the truth; that he really does treat you better than Yuuji. Of course he does! Sukuna is an alpha and no matter how much love you hold for Yuuji, how good he is to you, how gentle he is with you. Yuuji is still a beta.

You know that. Sukuna knows that, even Yuuji knows that, but you don’t want to crumble in front of Sukuna.

Pulling at your scalp even harsher as a warning, Sukuna is rushing you to answer.

Sniffling weakly you let out a weak mumble.

˝What was that brat?!˝ He snarls at your face.

˝Suku..na...˝ your lips wobble again, voice a bit louder this time.

˝Good!˝

Your back is thrown on the mattress as Sukuna leans over you, pushing your legs back so that he can slam into you even deeper. It’s finally time to kont you fully.

Taking a deep breath Sukuna roughly drives the rest of his knot into you. As he breathes in, your breath is forced out. A high pitched shrill diffuses in your small bedroom. Your needs are completely satiated as your cunt envelops his knot fully.

Sukuna senses your immediate change in attitude as a pair of legs draws him closer to your body. Your arms follow suit, wrapping around Sukuna’s neck where you nuzzle your sensitive nose and breathe in his scent to help you calm down from the sudden rush that Sukuna granted to you.

You two stay connected like that for a couple of more minutes, enjoying the pleasurable jolts. Sukuna is still filling you up with his seed, your jolts coaxing more seed out of his cock.

Cooing at the feeling of being full, happy and satiated with a real alpha’s knot you start to giggle into his neck. Sukuna knows that you’re still at your high, he is at it too, giggling together with you.

˝That feels nice.˝ you admit to Sukuna.

˝Oh? Does it?˝ He asks you with that sickeningly sweet voice that he often uses when taunting Yuuji.

You nod, hiding under his chin.

Wrapping an arm around your back, Sukuna places you beside him, trailing his palm gently across your naked body. The only bearable thing while residing in this body was that this beta idiot was lucky enough to score an omega like you.

Speaking of Yuuji, let’s see what kind of answer you’ll give him now, after you’ve experienced what it feels like to be knotted by a real alpha.

˝So… Who do you like more now after everything is done, pet?˝

You look up at him, the weight of things that occurred finally settling in your chest. Mouth that has been spread in a wide grin just a moment ago shrinks into a thin line.

˝He’ll… He’ll understand.˝ you conclude.

Before returning the body to Yuuji Sukuna let out a loud guffaw. Entertained by what this relationship between his vessel and omega has come to. He’s really looking forward to the conversation that soon follows after Yuuji wakes up with you in his arms, disturbed from a memory that was never his.

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euphoricsunflowers · 3 years

Text

aftercare — monsta x

request: Hey could I please request a headcanon/reaction with a male reader about aftercare with each monsta x member also possibly please make super fluffy n soft? (love your blog btw xx)

a/n: thank you so much nonnie 🥺❤️ hope you enjoy! this is very much with a focus on them in their little individual scenarios but pls let me know if you’d like to see a more reader focused version or if instead of this little scenarios you’d just want headcanons about aftercare with them individually in general (i think that was more what you originally wanted but idk this was just easier for me to write so just let me know if you’d rather me write actual headcanons)!!!

word count: 1.1k

content: sub!monsta x, dom!gn!reader, these are all still nsfw and some stuff have smutty intros to the little scenarios, just general aftercare stuff like cleaning them up, giving water, giving massages, offering food, etc.

—

son hyunwoo/shownu:

he shudders, body still twitching with little aftershocks of pleasure as he lies there, practically paralyzed by the cloudy feeling in his head and the heavy, comfortable ache in his limbs, “sweet bear,” you murmur with a kiss to his forehead, he smiles softly, “let me clean you up.”

he lies still as the warm cloth rubs gently against his skin, wiping off the mess that came with the intense kind of sex you had just had. it was incredible, but you both came out of it with a mess.

but shownu can’t exist in this world without caring for someone at any given moment, and so as quickly as the high completely dies down and you’re done cleaning him up, he offers to help you. he’s still aching with pain, so you try not to let him, but he’s insistent, and at some point you just gotta give in. you let him clean you up as you kiss little pecks of love onto his cheek, his chin, his temple, even his nose. he laughs endearingly, and all is comfortable. conversation is light, just soft little ‘i love you’s and little giggles of happiness.

though he’ll probably, in the awkward yet charming shownu fashion, ask to go get food soon after.

lee hoseok/wonho:

his jaw hangs open with his pretty eyes closed as he takes in the overwhelming pleasure, shaking from a high that’s left him breathless. he has just enough mind left to remember that he could break the headboard if he isn’t careful with his muscled arms tied above his head. you both had to learn the hard way before just how strong he really was.

his heavy breaths are the only sounds that fill the room as you give him a moment to get himself together enough for you both to shower. you press faint little kisses on his hand or his shoulder as you wait patiently. there’s no rush, and besides, he’s quite the view like this.

your hand massages his chest absentmindedly the moment you can see those thoughts return to him, “was i- was i good? did you even cum? we can keep going, i don’t mind-”

“you can’t handle any more, sweetheart. let it go,” you cut him off, a soft smile on your features, “you were good. you’re always perfect to me.”

lee minhyuk:

cum splattered on his trembling torso leaves him looking so deliciously wrecked, not to mention the look of desperation and helplessness permanently etched on his face. his wrists are bruised from all the struggling in those handcuffs, and his poor butt will be stinging with an ache that won’t leave him for a week at least.

but he looks content as you wipe the cum off of him, helping him to the bathroom where you can clean him up properly. he watches you blankly with dazed eyes and a dopey little smile as you focus so intently, he’s endeared by how much you care every single time.

“baby,” you whisper to him, so spaced out and happy that you have to wave your hand in front of his face to get his attention, “let’s get you dressed. i’ll order us food, and we can have a movie night. how does that sound?”

yoo kihyun:

tears stain his cheeks as he hiccups, crying as he cums for the third time that night. he begs for that to be the last one because it felt like if he had to keep going his body would just break. he clings to your arm as you hush his crying, cum covering his stomach and thighs and the towel underneath him. he doesn’t even have it in him anymore to be embarrassed, the little tingles of pleasure rippling through him as the high subsides.

“kihyun, darling,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. he’s too sweaty for it to be too cute of a moment, but it’s comforting to him, your touch is such a comfort, “sweetie, you did so well. i’m so proud.”

he was grateful he was already crying because your loving words and your softest touch while he’s in such a vulnerable and bare state would have made him more emotional than he’d like to admit.

chae hyungwon:

he lays limply on the bed, still breathing heavy but mostly recovered from a high so intense that he’s always amazed at just how incredible being yours feels. you make him sit up reluctantly and hand him a bottle of water with the lid already unscrewed and as he drinks, you’re already sitting behind him, rubbing his back and all those tense muscles seem to relax with just a little bit of pressure.

he moans lightly the entire time, but you never do it hard enough to really hurt, “talk to me, won. how are you doing after that?”

“good, i’m alright. you- ah, you’re a lot stronger than i was anticipating,” he says somewhat exasperatedly, but you both laugh it off and he goes back to drinking his water.

you sigh comfortably, suddenly more lovey dovey in that moment, “i love you, won.”

he smiles, “i love you too.”

lee jooheon:

he holds the pillow close as he shivers even though he really isn’t cold. your session hadn’t been that intense, but you always make him feel so good and he’s so far up in the clouds that he needs you to safely bring him back down.

“honey,” your touch helps to ground him as you lay behind him, holding his waist.

he feels so small and adored being held like this, so dizzy and dazed he can barely do anything besides lie there and let you whisper little nothings in his ear.

he always gets butterflies like this. your words always make him happy but there’s something about being in this state while you whisper to him, “i love you, sweetie. you did so well, always my good boy,” that just gets him lost in contentment. you smile, “take your time coming down, sweetheart. i’ll be here the whole time.”

im changkyun/i.m:

his head between your thighs was definitely the prettiest sight, but it’s easy to admit that he looks adorable with his head resting on your lap. you would have stopped a while ago after he came, but he’s always adamant about you getting off too. his fingers gently rub your thigh as he sits on the floor beside the bed, still resting his head on your thighs and leaving faint little kisses that make you giggle.

“kyunnie?” you say, and his eyes flutter open, looking up at you so adoringly, “how do you feel, baby?”

he sighs comfortably, like he’s in a daze. you help him up off the floor and cuddle him on the bed, brushing his dark hair out of his pretty eyes as he murmurs, “i’m happy.”

“i’m glad,” you whisper, this time it’s you pressing kisses to his shoulder, “let me hold you for a few minutes and then i’ll get up and take care of the mess, and i’ll also make you something to eat, okay?”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @multidreams-and-desires @hobilluvvr @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 @bigkpopstan @monstaxdirtywonk @domreaderrecs and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

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bokugaos · 3 years

Text

Territory

＞﹏＜ koutarou-nii just has to be the first here!! @aoyukai @kiyokens @shoyokuns for this nd helping nd encouraging me yesterday ILY’ALL MWAH

length: ~2k

warnings — yandere!bokuto, pseudo-incest, virgin reader

Bokuto can’t get enough of his pure and perfect little sister. So sweet, so soft, and untouched. Like an angel.

He knows about the things you talk about with his two older sisters. He tunes in to your conversations a lot; to keep tabs on you, he insists! As a responsible older brother, he has to know everything about you.

He’s seen the way other men look at you—his old high school classmates and teammates, strangers on the street, hell, even his current teammates. Everyone knows you’re off limits, he always makes sure of it. Nobody has the right to take you away from him, to be the reason that you’re going to cater to someone else’s attention but his.

You belong to him and only him.

But you’re simply too stubborn for your own good. You just have to go out and make your own friends, and now you have some suitors that he’s concerned about. You’ve dated some of them and of course Bokuto is spending more than half his time worrying about you and the things you do with them.

The thought of one of them, thinking they have the right to take away your virgin flower. He’s not even entitled to have you, let alone all those scumbags. He can’t bear the thought of someone snatching your innocence away—you’re so precious to him that he doesn’t even allow himself to have it. He would never ever let anyone else take it, not under his watch.

He is more than delighted when you announce to him that you’re going to stop meeting and dating people. You’re now finally seeing eye to eye with him! You haven’t been hanging out with other people, spending most of your time with him, as if living together is not enough for you.

You’ve voiced your complaints before, how you’re getting weird comments from your friends. They told you that it’s not normal for siblings to be that close. But he understands; they hate that you’re no longer so attached to them since you go out to see them less and less. He tries to explain to you that they are simply jealous.

You don’t need anyone else after all; he’s the only one you need, and he’s the best man you can ever find in this world.

But he’d be lying if he says he’s never had a lapse of judgment. You’re not making it any easier for him either, even though you don’t know just how weak he is for you. He’d catch you with your eyes closed, so relaxed and unguarded… what are you thinking? Do you lose your imagination, like he often does?

Are you fantasizing about him caressing you as he’s lowering you to the bed? Because he’s done it a few times you know, putting you to sleep like that. He has just never made any moves beyond. Maybe you unconsciously wish for him to all the same and that’s what you’re thinking about

Do you want him to pull the underwear down your thighs, slowly rub his fingers over your sex, smear your love juice to make sure you’re at least a little prepared for him, before he presses the head of his cock to your entrance? Do you want to feel him, inch by inch, as he sheathes himself deep into your tight, hot, virgin space? Because he would love nothing more than to listen to your moans, all your cute squirms underneath him and your delicious whimpers.

When you call out, “Kou-nii”, his heart jumps—he knows you’re definitely not thinking of anyone else. This is the only time he’s giving into a moment of weakness. He’s got you pressed up on the wall, your clothes hiked up just enough for him to have more of your thigh to grind against. You’re asking him—practically begging him to sink himself into you. “Am I not worthy?” You are, and your mewls, his sister gift wrapping it for him in the prettiest show of doubt and hesitation, can break his fixation.

Bokuto glides his hot, needy cock against your skin. His wet, leaking tip is leaving glistening trails, beautifying you even more. You keep your hands to yourself, both pressed on the surface of the wall. Your eyes are starting to close with each rock of your body, while musical little hums resonate behind closed lips.

He growls, having worked himself into a heated madness. He spins you around, and you instinctively close your legs tightly together for him. With slight difficulty, he wedges himself between the pillowy parts of your thighs, the softest portions, just underneath your crotch. He ruts in between them, with fervent quick snaps.

His hands plant onto the wall on either side of you. His cock briefly grazes the cloth of your underwear, feeling the moist there. He can’t tell if he’s simply leaking that much, or if you’re truly that wet for him. He pulls back to peel your underwear down in a flash and the next thing you know, its head is rubbing against you, earning him a soft moan bellowing against his ear.

The bedroom is a tad too far, but he won’t let himself be the reason his whole fantasy, the one he’s been dreaming around his fist about, to be ruined. He ups and carries you to the room, restraining himself from throwing you against the mattress and start fucking you senseless.

He crawls on the bed and hovers above you with heavy breaths, unable to calm himself down no matter how hard he tries. You’re so beautiful for him, laying on the stark white sheets as pure as you. He opens up your legs, marveling at how you look like a goddess in his bed. You’re so, very perfect. How is he so lucky to be the one who sees you like this?

Thankful that you’ve waited this whole time,—for him!—and let him take you. He gives you a kiss on the forehead and slowly pulls his hips back, cock leaving a wet trail from navel to mound. He angles his hips so that his bulky head lines up perfectly with your hungry cunt. Your inner, velvety walls hug him, just the tip this time, like a vice grip.

The last bits of his moral center shut down.

All Bokuto wants now is to fuck and fuck fast. To bury himself to the hilt, over and over. However, he’ll need to ease you up even more, as he’s barely even a quarter in but you’re already milking him so tightly that his eyes might actually roll back in pleasure. With an adorable cry—he’s unsure if it’s a surprised one or a pained one—your slack hands move his forearm to his biceps, clinging tighter and tighter the rougher he is. He loves that. It feels as if you're returning some of the passion, so he gives it even more effort.

He mercilessly plunges inside with a few rude thrusts of his pelvis. You wail at the sudden stretch, the burn that careens through your silky, slick walls. Flowering up into your chest, taking the breath from your lungs.

Though his hands are caressing you all over, it seems as if he is not paying any mind to any of your other reactions. Your wails, or the heavy flow of tears that roll down your temples. The whimpering or the continued pleading.

“Hey, pretty girl, don’t cry, huh?” one of his trembling hands smooths over your cheek, trying his best to comfort you despite the raging need in him to thrust faster, harder. “I-it hurts! and they… they said this is-”

“Just ignore them.”

A thumb hooks around your chin gently but insistently, leaving no room for argument, and you look up to meet his gaze. Bokuto only realizes he’d been slowing down, staring deeply into your eyes when a sob bubbles out of your mouth. Your eyes are half-lidded as he grazes his nose against yours. Kitty kisses, he always calls them. This seems to soothe you the smallest bit. His consciousness is blurring like watercolor now. He has to focus on the more important part of this, he realizes. And it’s you. “How bad does it hurt?”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

“I know, baby, I know…it hurts the first time, remember? But d-don’t be scared, I-ah, fuck! It’s nii-chan,” Bokuto’s hips buck faster and harder, “Nii-chan’s got you.”

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath in through your nose. One of his hands is roaming your body, trying to distract you. The very tips of his fingers, gliding over the slopes of your breasts, teasing your nipples. Sending sharp shivers through your stomach into your pussy. Accumulating a new bout of slick, your cunt feeling hot and needy, you clench around him.

Your fingers come together in a fist over your head. All you can focus on is how deep his cock is hitting you, how filled up you are. The unbelievable heat, how your pussy continues to salivate all over his cock. Slick seeping in between your cheeks. Thighs shaking, as your velvet walls clamp down on his length. “Ah!– Nii-chan! Fu-fuck… oh– oh my god…” Your whole body quakes with your intense orgasm.

You throw your hands back over your head and arch your back. Your breath is fevered, chest rapidly rising and falling. Shaky meek whines that accompany every exhale. But that’s now, because your body is begging for it, pleading to get filled and creamed.

Bokuto continues to piston into you long after you're done coming. He fucks you until you’re a sweaty, grimy, whimpering mess. All muscle strength lost to it, becoming a rag-doll being puppeted by his big, unrelenting figure.

A deep-seated growl in his chest, not yet, he thinks, maybe you need some more practice before you can take him all the way inside. He’s too inside himself to recognize the wail you give, hunching over and burying his face in your neck, tasting sweat and fear and wholly unable to stop himself at all. He grunts like an animal, punctuated by loud, slick smacking sounds, overwhelmed with the pleasure of your burning hot, resisting walls clutching at him like a fist.

You turn him on so much. The tight constriction of your heavenly, virgin cunt. The heavy, moist breath on his neck. Nothing else matters, nothing except catching his end. Filling you up and making you his.

Your nails dig into his biceps and he comes. “Oh! Shit– It’s am– amazing.” His cock, aching and twitching inside of you. He’s coming hard, thick and heavy. Seated all the way inside, spurting deep within you, causing your belly to feel flooded. Marking his territory, you’re his.

He slowly pulls out of you, his cum spilling out of your cute, used up hole. “How’s it feel, angel?”

“ ‘s so good...” You weakly roll your head, face digging into the sheets. You have no strength to lift up your head, but you hope he’ll see your dazed smile.

He chuckles, “Silly baby, of course it does.”

You try to turn over, but he won’t allow it. “No, no. Don’t move. I’ll get you cleaned up!” He comes back with a warm washcloth. He gently cleans off the sweat from your forehead, wipes up stickiness from between your legs. Then he lets you move just he hugs you close to his chest, as he lays down with you in his arms.

Bokuto nuzzles his nose along your cheekbone, humming in approval. He is massaging circles, nibbling on your earlobe. You let your eyes fall shut again, trying to concentrate.

His body is so big, his musk so familiar and homely. You sigh as you finally start to relax, “...Kou-nii is the best.”

He is, and in fact, the only one you need.

#bokuto koutarou #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader smut #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #.bokuto!#koutarou nii ♡#.fics!

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Wanna Help You Relax

You’ve been working really hard this week, and Colson wants to help you relax.

Request: “Hey I just saw that ur requests were on and I wanted to know if you could possibly write a cute little fluff/smit piece?”

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), cursing

A/N: I didn’t know who you wanted so I just wrote about Colson, lmk if you want someone else!

Word Count: 2143

masterlist

You were startled out of your work by the sound of your phone buzzing with a text message. You unlocked your phone to read the text from your boyfriend of 2 years, Colson, catching the time as you did. 7:30.

Will u be home 4 dinner?

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath, looking at the unfinished document in front of you. You sighed, trying to figure out what to do.

I just saw the time. I still have some work to do but I can bring it home

From his position on the couch in your house, Colson groaned.

You’ve been working on this all week, babe. You can take a break for a day

You rolled your eyes at his text. Somewhere inside of you knew that he was right. You hadn’t done much of anything except work for the past week, which has been the cause of tension in your relationship. But you knew if you didn’t finish this project by Friday that you definitely would not get the promotion you were up for.

I promise I’ll be done with it Friday, then I’ll take a break. I’m on my way

Honestly, he was lucky you were making it home for dinner, which was not something you had been able to do in the past three days. Instead, you had been opting to stay at the office late and skip dinner.

You threw the papers on your desk into their folder and the folder into your bag, along with your laptop and anything else you thought you might need.

Colson had been trying not to get frustrated with your absence, but after being at home 24/7 with you and Casie, being without you was difficult. You would get home late, only to tell him you needed to work more. And anytime he tried to get you to sleep or eat or do anything else, you shut down, telling him “It’ll be done on Friday.”

And he knew he had no place to talk, he had left you for months at a time while he was touring sometimes, but at least he tried to call you as much as he could. Now it was just like you weren’t there at all.

You both tried to ignore the tension at dinner, focusing instead on light conversation, mostly facilitated by Casie, and the food. After you had all finished, Colson asked, “Case, could you do the dishes tonight?” The girl happily obliged, hopping around the table and picking up yours and Colson’s plates.

You thanked her, watching her leave into the kitchen before turning your eyes to Colson, only to find him already looking at you. “I’m gonna go get some work done, babe.” You stood up, watching his eyes follow you slowly. You knew he wanted to say something, but you really appreciated that he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded, letting out a small sigh.

You walked into the office he had set up just for you when you moved in, placing your bag on the desk. You smiled at the picture of him that sat on the desk, the same one on your desk at your workplace. You sat down, pulling your laptop and papers out of the bag, and setting up your space.

After about an hour and a half of you working, Colson decided you needed a break. It was almost 10 pm and he just wanted to hold you for the next few hours before you both fell asleep. All of his friends made fun of him for it, but he turned into the softest person ever around you. It was the biggest reason he’d fallen in love with you, you made him a better person.

So, he walked into your office, quietly, smiling as he saw you typing away at the desk. He always thought you were prettiest when you looked like this, focused and determined. He walked up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and massaging gently. You jumped a little when his hand first made contact, but quickly relaxed at his touch.

“Hi baby.” You smiled, looking up to him with a soft smile on your face.

He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, “Hi babe. How’s it goin?” He nodded towards the screen in front of you.

You sighed, turning to look towards the screen with a frown. “It’s getting there. I keep looking at these notes that my co-worker took but they aren’t quite fitting into what I already had, so I’ve been rearranging everything to see if I can incorporate both. It’s a bit frustrating but I think if I get this done by like noon tomorrow then I can finish everything by Friday morning and then polish everything up and turn it in.”

Colson let out a breath, resting his chin on your head. “You’re way too smart for me sometimes.” He chuckled.

You looked back up to him, a confused expression on your face. “That’s a lie and you know it. You’re a fucking musical genius.” You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, but Colson had another idea.

As soon as your lips met his, he placed a hand on your cheek, deepening the kiss. He hadn’t felt your lips in almost a week, and it had been killing him. Truthfully, you had missed it too. You wanted nothing more than to have his lips roaming your body, but you knew if you let that happen you wouldn’t get your project done.

You pulled away and turned back towards your screen, a soft smile on your lips. “C’mon baby.” He mumbled, “just take a break with me.” His hands returned to massaging your shoulders, his mouth moving down to your ear, pressing a kiss to the sweet spot just behind it. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He whispered, biting your earlobe lightly.

“Cols,” You whined, hating that he knew exactly what to do and say to turn you on. “I can’t.”

He kissed down your neck, nipping at the skin occasionally. “Yes, you can.” He moved up to your jaw, one hand turning your head back to face him. “You’ve been working so hard lately.” He mumbled, “I wanna help you relax.”

You hummed at the feeling of his lips on your hot skin. His lips hovered over yours, his hands traveling all over your body. “Wanna make you feel good.” He murmured before pressing his lips to yours.

Instinct took over you and you turned fully around in the chair, sitting on your knees and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands went to your waist, running up and down your sides. He took your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling on the skin. His hands reached the bottom of your blouse, playing with it before pulling it up. You disconnected your lips to bring the shirt over your head, and Colson threw it across the room. You stood fully from the chair, hands running up his chest as his lips went to your neck, sucking the skin again as he traveled down to your collar bone and chest. His hands reached behind you, fiddling with the clasp of your bra before removing it.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Colson muttered, eyes travelling your chest. You blushed slightly, reaching to take his shirt off, which he gladly obliged to. His mouth moved back to your skin, taking one of your tits in his mouth, sucking gently on the nib in the center. You moaned as his hand came up to massage the other. The hands in his hair pulled gently on the blond strands, causing groans of pleasure from the tattooed man.

He pushed you backwards softly so you were leaning against the desk, his lips travelling down your stomach until they reached the waistline of your pants. He pressed small kisses over the area as he slowly unclasped the black material, pulling it down your legs to reveal your red underwear.

A smirk made its way to his face, kissing your heat through the material. You took in a breath through your teeth at the contact, realizing how long it had been since he’d made you cum.

He moved the material to the side, licking a slow stripe up your slit and watching your reaction. Your hold on his hair tightened and he chuckled, the vibrations shooting through your heat. His tongue dipped into your folds, collecting the wetness that had already been forming. He then moved up to your clit, taking the sensitive bud between his lips, sucking softly.

“Mmmm Colson that feels so fucking food.” You moaned softly. He looked up at you, watching your face as he worked on your clit. His hands travelled up your thighs, pulling the red fabric down your legs. Two fingers found their way to your folds and pressed gently into them.

You moaned out as he began to pump his long digits in and out of you, his mouth still working on your clit. You looked down, meeting his eyes that were darkened with lust. The sight of him alone almost made you fall off the edge, but his motions stopped as he felt you start to clench around him. He pulled his fingers out of you, standing up slowly and licking them clean. You whined at the loss of contact, to which he chuckled and moved closer to you.

“I’m gonna take you on this desk, baby girl.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. So, you simply nodded your head, closing your laptop and placing it and everything else onto the chair. Colson smiled at your obedience, pressing a small kiss to your lips and moving down to your jaw. His hands gripped your hips and slowly made their way down to your thighs, stopping right below your ass. He squeezed the skin and you lifted your legs up, wrapping them around his waist as he held you, leaning you against the small desk.

Your hands moved to the button of his pants, pulling them down with his boxers to release his member. You gripped it softly, running your hand up and down its length as Colson continued his attack on your jaw. He groaned against your skin at the feeling, quickly removing his lips from you to line himself up.

“You’ve been taking your pills, right?” He asked, softly.

You giggled, “Yes, babe, I’ve been taking my pills now will you please fuck me.”

Colson looked at you with a smile, eyes gazing deep into yours as he pushed himself into you. You threw your head back at the feeling, his cock spreading you out, grazing every inch of your pussy. He took that as his cue to press kisses to your neck and shoulders, slowly pulling himself out of you and thrusting back in. “You feel so good around me baby, shit.” He moaned, stabilizing you on the desk before moving his hands to your lower thighs.

You moaned as his thrusts got faster until he found a steady pace. It felt like his cock was made for you, hitting every spot that drove you wild. Every time he hit that one spot, you moaned out, causing Colson to thrust harder.

His head had found its place resting on your shoulder lips near your neck. He whispered, breath hitting your ear, “Wanna feel you cum around me, can you do that baby?”

You nodded slightly, moans still falling from your mouth. His pace picked up even more, and you could feel your orgasm approaching. His lips returned to your neck, biting and sucking at your sweet spots, enough to send you over the edge.

“Fuck I’m gonna-“

“Cum for me baby.” His voice pushed you over the edge, euphoria taking over your body in waves. The feeling of you clenching around him prompting his climax. You felt his cock twitch as his hot seed entered you, his thrusts slowing down as you both moaned in pleasure.

You both stayed in that position for a while, his hot breath hitting your neck as you tried to slow your breaths. Finally, Colson pulled out of you, setting your legs onto the ground.

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about fucking you on this desk since you moved in.” He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You smiled, “guess we need to do it again at some point.” You hopped of the desk, grabbing his shirt from the floor, not feeling like putting your pants on. “You wanna grab a shower with me?”

“That is the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard. Of course I do.” He buttoned his jeans, grabbing your clothes from the floor. He took your hand in his, leading you to your shared bathroom.

Safe to say that you were definitely more relaxed.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #mgk smut #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly smut #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker smut

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

Hey sorry if you don’t take requests like this but could you write something about Dazai with a fem s/o or crush who keeps saying she hates herself and has very low self esteem like Atsushi and panic attacks sometimes? Again sorry if you don’t take these! If it’s uncomfortable for you it’s okay to not do it!!!

Hey, this is my first time writing something like this, but it's perfectly fine! There's always a first time for everything. Sorry this took so long.. it was slightly triggering, ngl, but I managed, so all's good :D

I kinda made it relevant to my own self.... I didn't know any other way to write this....

Love, know that you are more than enough, and that you deserve love, support and happiness!

Let Me Teach You, What Love Feels Like

Dazai x f!reader

Tw: panic attack, self doubt, self hate

You sat at your desk, trying to come up with something to write. You weren't exactly a writer, just someone who always liked to read and sometimes write. You were a student, but recently you had started your own blog, and turns out, people actually liked your work.

But you couldn't accept the fact that they liked it because you were a 'good writer'. You never doubted your followers, or their tastes, but you just weren't sure if you were actually good enough, or if they were just being kind to you, out of their goodness.

Thoughts like these always flooded your mind whenever you sat to write. Whenever you get any requests, you go over them a million times before posting anything, wanting it all to be perfect for your followers.

But you still thought that you could do better.

You stared at your phone screen, reading and re-reading the request that was sent to you.

You had an idea in your mind, but what if the person who sent this, wouldn't like it? What if they aren't satisfied with what you wrote? What if your effort isn't enough? What if they hate it? What if-

Your thoughts were interrupted by two arms draping themselves around your shoulders.

You jolted out of your spiraling thoughts, and let out a silent gasp.

Tufts of brown tickled your cheeks, as a chin placed itself on your head.

"Hey beautiful", a melodic voice spoke.

"Dazai! You scared the shit out of me!"

You wiggled out of his grasp, turning around to scowl at his handsome face.

He chuckled, booping your nose with his own.

"You look so cute when you're flustered, I can't help but pull such tricks on you ;)"

His cute smirk and light hazelnut orbs filled you with happiness. You loved him so much. He was a dork sometimes, but, alas, he was your dork.

"What are doing, love?", he asks, peering over your head to observe the blank page of your book, and the text on your phone.

"Just writing...", you say,"or atleast, I'm attempting to.."

Your far away look, and the doubt in your eyes instantly told him what you were going through. You were a lot like a certain subordinate of his, and it both pained and hurt him.

You always looked down at yourself. You never gave yourself enough credit. If something that you worked for was successful, you would give credit to the luck, or some stupid coincidence, or anybody else who had merely lent a helping hand. And when it didn't work out, you blamed yourself, calling yourself weak and inefficient. You would easily take the fall for all the misfortunes, and never pat your back for all the good you do. It frustrated him to no end. What should he do to make you realize that you're perfect the way you are? How can he convince you that you are more than enough, and that you are such an important and worthy person in not only his life, but everybody around you? You are capable of bringing a smile to everyone's faces, and your mere presence makes their day. How do you not see that?

When you wake up and look in the mirror, all you see are made up imperfections.

He remembers when you were staring at the mirror one morning, and he had asked you teasingly, "Are you checking yourself out?"

You had merely shaken your head, and replied with a,"There's nothing to check out..."

Before he could say something, you had begun talking.

"I'm not beautiful, Dazai. Look at me. My curves aren't quite right. At some places, they are non existent and at others, they're way too bulging. I'm not pretty, either. My eyes are way too huge, and my nose is slightly crooked. My hair isn't silky, and my height isn't ideal. I'm.... nothing of value..."

You turned to face him, with tears in your eyes.

"I... I don't know why you stay... You can do so much bett-"

He had cut you mid way with a kiss.

"You are the most beautiful person on the planet, Y/N."

You looked away, mumbling, "You just say that for the sake of it... You don't have to, you know..."

He cupped your cheek, looking you in the eyes.

"When you smile, my entire world lights up. That's because you are my world. Your curves are perfect. Your eyes aren't too huge, infact, they're the prettiest pair I have ever seen. The way they shine, and hold so much kindness, beauty and love; they make me fall for you over and over again. Your smile, and your gurgling laughter gives me a reason to live. You are my reason, Y/N. You are perfect."

You blushed. You wanted to believe him; the genuine look in his eyes, the soft smile on his lovely lips, and the gentle tone of his voice; it all made you want to believe him. But you couldn't bring yourself to do so. You couldn't give yourself any credit, and couldn't see the perfect, amazing parts of you that he saw. And he knew that. He could read it on your face. You were flustered by his words; he could see that. But he also saw the doubt. He saw the hesitance on your face.

So he did what he thought was best. He made love to you. He very passionately explained to you, all the best parts of you. He kissed every bit of skin, telling you just how much he adores every inch of you.

It did wonders to your confidence, too.

Now, instead of thinking that everybody hates you, you knew that atleast one person doesn't fully despise you, and that person was Dazai. Although it didn't quite work the way he wanted it to work, it still did something.

So he kept going, proving to you at every opportunity that you were perfect, and deserve all the love in this world.

Right now, staring at your doubtful eyes, he saw just how skeptical you were about your writing abilities.

He was going to change that.

"Say, Y/N, do you want a break?"

You tilt your head in consideration.

"I haven't even written a word yet..."

He smiled, saying,"Maybe your mind needs a refresher. Something to help unclog your thoughts."

He tugged on your wrist, beckoning you to follow him.

"Where are we going?"

He threw on his coat, helping you into yours.

"You'll see", he said, giving you a wink.

Walking down the lanes of Yokohama was one of your favorite pastimes.

Observing the people, the diverse culture and the beauty of the city filled you with content.

He took you to have your favorite ice-cream. The rich flavour and the way it melted on your tongue always made you feel happy.

"This is so yummy!!", you squealed, licking it.

Dazai chuckled ruffling your hair.

"Don't do that! It completely spoiles my look!", you say, trying to fix your hair.

"I love you so much..", he says, voice completely serious, his face adorning a charming but genuine smile.

You blush at the sincerity of his words, and smile.

Your little moment was interrupted by a furry ball running past your legs. The cat looked injured.

"Hey, hold onto this for a moment. I'll go check if that cat is hurt.", you say, handing your cone to Dazai.

He nods, as you begin running after it. He doesn't know why you care so much, but it's probably because of your big heart. Sighing, he begins walking in your direction slowly.

You try to catch up to the animal, turning a corner, and in the process, bumping into a small boy.

The ice-cream in his hands drops to the ground.

He looks at you, devastated and sad, and begins bawling his eyes out.

You try to apologize to him, promising to buy him a new one, but he just wouldn't stop crying. The loud noise of his cries and the exertion caused due to running made your breaths uneven. You tried to push it away, but you could feel your head pulsating with pain. A high pitched tone filled your ears. You tried to block the sound to get some relief, but to no avail. The intensity of the sound, the headache and the boys teary face made you drop to ground, and curl up against the wall.

'You are so useless. Whenever you try to help someone, you only end up ruining it. You always ruin things. Nothing you do is valuable. You cause so much pain to everyone around you. You can never make anyone happy. You are the cause of everybody's sadness. You are a disappointment. Pathetic, useless person.. Why are you even alive?'

Your thoughts were swallowing you. They were pulling you into a deep, dark hole, one that was draining your life out of you. You couldn't stop the shaking of your palms, your whole body trembled.

You didn't realize when the commotion stopped, or when or how the boy left the area, but you could hear a voice, a familiar voice, and you tried to hold onto it. You tried with your best efforts to clutch onto the one ray of light in the dark hole you were in. You used all your might and focused on those words. Slowly, you could make sense of them.

"Take deep breaths, Y/N. I'm here. Don't worry. Just focus on your breathing."

You did that. You tried to hear your own breaths.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You were slowly crawling out of there, tuning out the thoughts that were trying to pull you in.

"Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in..."

You followed the voice, and felt the angry thoughts fade away.

Once you were almost in control of your mind, you tried to open your eyes, only a little bit. Through the tiny aperture, you saw soft brown orbs staring back at you. Dazai smiled at you, hesitantly raising his hand near your face. Silently asking for permission to touch you. You nuzzle your face in his palm. He slowly pulls you into a hug. Kissing your forehead, he picks you up, and begins walking home.

You snuggled against him, hiding your face in his chest, and closing your eyes.

He just wanted you to have a good time. He had messed up. But it's alright. As long as he was with you, he would help you get out of your spiraling thoughts. He would always be by your side. He would protect you, even if it meant from your own mind.

On reaching back home, he helped you change into comfortable clothes, and laid you on the bed, wrapping the comforter around your body to keep you warm. He made some soup and rice for you. He brought you a tall glass of water, too. He took complete care of you. He fed you the food, cooing you to have as much as possible. You needed the strength. You soon fell into a deep slumber, with his arms wrapped securely around your petite form.

Dazai held you close, and slowly rocked you. He observed your sleeping form, and felt so frustrated. He wanted to help you out of this, and he was trying his best to do so. He was taking small, baby steps, and they were working, too. But it was all too slow. He didn't want you to experience one more second of this. He wants you to never go through that again. But he knows that things like this take time. He's willing to sacrifice everything for you. He loves you, and will always love you, no matter what. He will not stop until you are free of the dark thoughts that plague your mind, and will, at every step, assure you that you deserve all the happiness and live in this world.

Because you matter to him. You mean the world to him. So he will hold you close, kiss your lips, and wipe your tears until you break free. He will walk through fire for you.

He looks down at your face, the way your eyes fluttered every now and then, and the way your rosy, delicate lips were slightly parted, the way a strand of your hair fell onto your face, and the way you looked so innocent and protected in his arms; it all made him love you even more.

He made a promise to you.

"I will always be there for you, my little lady. I will always love you, and will teach you to love yourself."

He kissed your forehead.

"I love you, my princess."

Sorry if this wasn't what you wanted! I tried my best...But do request again, if it isn't satisfactory!

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