#mitski first love late spring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shoyoist · 2 years

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ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 : sano manjiro.

content: gn!reader. manila timeskip mikey. dom reader. hurt/comfort + unprotected sex, handjobs, dacryphilia if you squint. it's really slow and soft. implied toxic relationship. mikey pushes you away and you push back.

— . ｡˚ ♡ "manjiro," you say. "i love you." (he says nothing in return).

"manjiro," you say it as you lace your fingers in his, pull him closer even as he turns away and takes a step further from you. "i love you. i promise. i really love you."

he doesn't say anything, opting to just remain silent, and you know it's because he still doesn't believe you.

he doesn't believe you, and you shouldn't be fine with it — but you are. you're fine with it, because even if he doesn't believe it, he knows its there. feels it in the way you squeeze his hand, and tug him back so you can look him in the eyes.

it's why he doesn't let go.

he's staring at the floor, black hair framing black eyes, looking like a manifestation of death in the darkness of your bedroom — and honestly, with all the blood you know is on his hands, it's a fitting look for him.

"i love you," you say again, and then he looks up, into your eyes, and tilts his head as he leans in. the tattoo spread across his neck is starkly contrasted agaisnt his pale, pale skin, and you lift a hand to caress it as you answer his unspoken request and slot your lips against his.

his lips are icy, so cold and slightly chapped against yours — but when you close the distance between your bodies, urge him to sit on the edge of your bed, he opens his mouth; and his breath is hot, tongue feeling like fire as it collides with your own, at the same time that his hands grip your waist, dragging you down on top of him.

falling back on your sheets, he exhales heavily, hands running over your sides as if he's not sure how to hold you. you bend down, kissing him on the lips once more before you move to his jaw, pressing your lips against soft skin, trailing down his neck and collarbones.

he shivers, silent as he revels in your doting.

assured that he wants this, you settle comfortably over him, sliding one hand under his black tank top and running your palm up his stomach and his chest — while the other slips under the waistband of his pants to find his cock, and when you wrap your fingers around his length, he twitches in response, and lets out a gasp — "fuck."

he's beautiful, you think. so beautiful.

and if it were your choice, you'd keep mikey with you forever, feed him all the sorts of love he's never tasted before, love him till he's been washed clean from everything wrong he's ever done — love him till he's whole again.

but he keeps trying to stop you. "don't say that," he breathes, as the hand you've been trailing over his chest comes to lay its palm across the side of his neck, thumb gently brushing at his jaw as you kiss him again. "don't say it."

turning his face away, he breaks the kiss, and stares off to the side — you see his dark eyes glisten, lining with tears that you know he wants to blink back, but is afraid they might spill out — and you tower over him, cradling his cheek in your palm as you sigh. "manjiro."

"dont." he hisses, and then the tears spill out, a thin, pearly line that strikes down his cheek and pools at the side of your fingers, where you're holding his face. he says dont, but you know he's begging you to say it again. so you do.

"manjiro," you say. "i love you."

he squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of the words off your tongue, and more tears fall when he does it — but then he tightens his grip around your waist, pushing himself up and grinding against you, despite the fact that you've already got his cock in your fist, lazily pumping it as you talk to him. "please."

he tugs at the shorts you've got on, elastic snapping against your skin — and you kick them off when he pulls them back for you, sitting up and unzipping his pants.

"let me make you feel good, mhm?" you coo, and he nods pliantly. you couldn't ever imagine him to have killed anyone — but the truth burns bright in his colourless eyes as he looks up at you, waiting, waiting.

you love him anyway. which is what you're trying to convince him of.

wiping his face, clearing his cheeks of tear streaks with your careful thumb, you pull his cock out with your other hand — it's flushed pink, pretty in your tender grip, beads of cum curling down his head, at the behest of your toying. he gasps when you flick his tip, spreading his cum across his cock, sticky and slick. "fuck, hurry up — please."

and you think, as he fucks up into your fist and you let him, that maybe he does believe you love him.

maybe he knows it, believes it and feels all that you pour for him — but keeps denying it in hopes of having you pour more, pour yourself out for him so he can drink up your adoration and devotion for him, fill himself up with it.

the way he lays beneath you and lets you please him, lets you bring him to his high before letting go and watching his cock twitch pleadingly — it's as if he wants you to push him, push him and make him fall apart, so you can see all his pieces and all that's remaining within a man that's thrown everyone that's cared for him in the past to heaven's gate—

because he cant bear to do it to you, too, so he just wants you to take all of him in, see him for who he really is, and still love him. to still stay. "shit," he moans breathily. "n-need to feel you, please."

it's why he keeps walking away, only to turn back and fall right into your arms — it's all half-hearted attempts to make you leave. he wants to cut you off and wait for you to force your way back, so he can keep holding onto you for good — but he doesnt have it in him, to properly push you away.

he wants to reject your love and have you give it to him anyway, but is too afraid that if he rejects it, he might not have it back.

"you wanna be inside me?" you ask, and he nods shakily, eyes fluttering as he watches the way you adjust your position, part your thighs further and grab his weeping cock so you can sink down on it.

it's easy to see, from the desperation that paints his expression as he bites his lip and watches, muscles tensing with anticipation as you fit his tip in you, and slowly, slowly take him in.

"is this good?" you ask, as you move your hips up and down, starting a slow bounce on his cock — and he just nods, but it's all you need to receive in return, because if he feels good, then that's fine.

leaning down, you move in to trail more kisses across his jaw and neck, meeting his lips every time you feel a moan building in his throat, fucking him slow and deep, the heavy rolls of your hips steadily increasing in pace as you feel him leak more and more precum into you.

his eyes turn glassy, along with the curl of his muscles, and you feel the rise and fall of his chest get quicker as you move faster — and finally, as he loses himself in the bliss of having you wrapped so tight around him, hot and wet and so good, he opens his mouth. "nngh, say it again, say it again."

"say what again, baby?" you ask, even though you know, and he knows you know — grabbing you by the back of your thighs, he pulls you down on him, sheathing his cock all the way in and letting out a gasp when you clench around him, the airy sound melding with your moan at how full it feels to sit on him.

his grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as he grits his teeth and swallows back a moan, and he looks up at you with strained eyes as you resume bouncing on his cock. "say it— fuck, 'm gonna, gonna cum."

straightening up, you reach back and palm at his balls, feeling in your hand how hot and full they are, ready and begging to be emptied — smiling softly, you grip his chin and hold your gazes locked together as you repeat, "say what, baby? tell me."

you would take everything he's got inside him, kiss every piece of him that he rips up and gives you, tell him you love him a thousand times over — if it meant he would finally give in, and bask in how much you felt for him. he whines, the sound sharp and almost indignant. "say that you love me, fuck. please, please."

"'n if i do, then what?" you hum, shoving down the urge to give in to your own pleasure, the coil in your core that's slowly tightening with how you keep moving. his stomach flexes, breath going shaky, and you know he's trying to keep his orgasm back till you say it, but you want to know it first. — "will you believe me, manjiro? if i say it, will you say it back, and stay with me?"

he shakes his head, and you're not sure if he's saying no or if he's trying to clear his head from the haze that you're engulfing him in, squeezing him so tight and thrusting just right so he's seeing stars — you grip his shoulders, lean down so your lips hover over his, and it lets you sink onto his cock so much deeper than before this way, as you tell him again, firmer. "tell me, manjiro. and i'll tell you."

"t-tell me," he gasps, eyes rolling back into his head, beautiful as he lifts himself up a little to pull you into the kiss you're dangling over him. "tell me you love me."

answer enough, you decide — and open your mouth with your lips still pressed to his. "manjiro," you exhale, snapping your hips up and down around his cock. "i love you, manjiro. so much."

"mm," he moans, body curving up into you as he finally lets go — cumming into you, hot, thick ropes painting your insides as he heaves for air, wraps his arms around you and pulls you off balance into him and kisses you, fucks into you till his dick stops spurting, till it hurts and he's tearing up again, but this time because it feels so good, too good, and he still doesnt feel like it's enough.

"hah—" you cry out, as the impact of his sloppy thrusts throws you into your own high. he keeps fucking you, eyes wet and glittering at the lash line as he groans, cock aching and balls light, holding onto you so you cant roll away. "mmh, manji-ro! love you, so much, fuck!"

he doesn't say it back.

he says nothing in return, but his arms tighten around you further, and his kisses get needier, even when he finally lets you get off him — and he falls back onto the bed, body slack and drained, delirious with the overflow of bliss.

"stay, mikey," you murmur, taking his hand and squeezing. "please. i love you." he twists his body, bringing you in for a hug, as his cum leaks out of you and makes a mess between your bodies — his lips aren't cold anymore. in fact, all of him feels hot, hot and feverish with pleasure and tire.

he says nothing, still. but he holds you, holds you tight, and your eyes feel heavier and heavier as you wait for him to answer — you should be getting up and cleaning yourself up, and so should he, but you're too tired, all of a sudden.

he's wide awake, breathing deep into your hair, in the dark, on your bed with you in his arms like a gun held to his chest — wondering whether he should shoot himself or not; wondering if it's got any bullets in it at all.

will you kill him, or will he pull the trigger and find himself pierced with nothing (nothing but love)?

"i love you," you say, even as you fall asleep — and he lays there, wide awake, eyes open as he stares at your wall, feeling you cuddle into him for warmth, wondering, wondering whether you really love him or not.

wondering whether he deserves it, if you do.

"told you not to say it," he mutters, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head, even as you pull him close and he feels your heart beating against his shoulder. "don't say you love me."

because people who love him have only ever died. sometimes, not because of him. and other times, at his own hands.

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