#I’m sorry this has bothered me for. a long time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arbitrarykiwi · 2 days ago

Note

HI SO LIKE CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE A SMUT OF NAMGYU🙏🙏 like hes your deadbeat baby daddy boyfriend who just stays out and away doing drugs and drinking and comes home at ungodly hours while youre taking care of the baby and one night he notices the little weight you put on after giving birth and how it made your breasts swell and got curvier and shit, n like yall are arguing because he came home really late and youre sick of his shit and its kinda a hate/angry fuck kinda thing?? THANK YOU I LOBE UR FICS

Reckless Temptation

I’m so sorry this took so long!! This was such a fun ask! Admittedly, I’m not the best with topics that involve angst (I love when the reader gets a happy ending and I’m such a ween when it comes to angst endings) so i struggled a bit…BUT I tried my best!!!! It was such a fun challenge for me, I really hope you like it 😩🫶

Warnings: smut (18+) , toxic themes (nothin crazy, he just a bum babydaddy) , toxic relationship , relationship issues , drug / alcohol mention , oral (f receiving) , p in v sex , choking, dirty talk , hate fucking (relatively tame) , rough sex , nam-gyu is a warning himself in this one , creampie , breeding kink , read at your own risk

You don’t know why you stayed or why you continued to let him fuck you over.

Well… you did know…

Every time you looked at the infant in your arms, the one that has her dad’s smile and eyes, you literally couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

You swear sometimes when she laughs, it sounds like his laugh and you want to call him over and show him how precious the sight is- but he’s hardly ever there. He’s never in your shared apartment. He’s never there to help out with your child.

He’s always late coming home- sure you know the club promoting gig he’s got has weird hours but even on the days you know he’s off, he’s not retuning until 3am. He’s also always high, on what, you could never figure it out it changes week by week it seemed. Sometimes he’d smell like a walking ounce of weed when he’s stumbling through the door, other nights his pupils are just blown and he’s jittery.

Admittedly, neither of you planned to have a child. It was a surprise that had you floored. Nam-gyu was the last person you ever thought of who would be a parent, and when it happened, you were sure he was going to leave you when you told him the news. But he didn’t. That had to mean something.

You took care of your daughter, only you. He would show up whenever he pleased to your shared apartment- even though he hardly ever stayed the night he was still on the lease- to drop off his share of rent money (it was never enough), grocery money (maybe $10 if you were lucky), or the occasional thing you had to beg him to pick up the store. He would bitch and complain about how you always bothered him at the worst times, how he has to do everything for you; That’s hardly the case, but he likes to tell you it is.

To say the least, he was garbage, a deadbeat, no good for you. But, there was some days when you would come out of the shower and see him looking over the crib cooing at your daughter- playing with her with a goofy smile on his face. Those moments make all the bad times fade to the background.

Only to be pulled back to the foreground when he stands quickly, stepping away from the crib. He grabs his jacket, turns around, and walks out the bedroom door- shoulder brushing against yours as he pushes past you- muttering a “don’t wait up tonight”.

You know the drill you never do.

Tonight was no different, you had stayed up late dealing with the baby. She was about 4 months at this point so you got into a decent routine even if it did nothing for your sleep schedule. You say sprawled out on the couch, legs up on the cushion and your baby in your arms. Your shirt was up over your shoulder, your baby drinking away happily at the milk that your breast gave. You couldn’t help the way your head nodded every so often as your eyes fought to stay open. At least she wasn’t crying, you thought. You looked down at her with a soft smile, fingers brushing over her cheek gently.

The sound of a car pulling into your driveway makes your head snap up. You rubbed your tired eyes with one hand, groaning, you knew that sound and that meant he was home. Looking to the clock on the TV stand, it blares a vibrant red hue that makes your eyes strain to see the time. 2:57 am.

You groan to yourself, preparing for the drugged out man that was about to stumble through the door. And when he does he’s wearing the usual pissed off scowl he has- like coming home to you and your child was the bane of his existence. You’ve had enough.

He was going to open his mouth to spew some bullshit excuse for being home late, one he’s used thousands of times before, but you stop him by raising your hand. You’re clenching your jaw, eyes wide and threatening as you hiss out a low “Don’t even fucking start.” You adjust the infant in your arms who was starting to slow down on breastfeeding and begin to grow tired.

Nam-gyu scoffs, his scowl deepening, his mouth flops open once again to speak. You cut him off once more- sitting up off the couch and returning his glare with one of your own. “I said…” You seethed through clenched teeth, “Don’t fucking start.” You growl lowly, taking a step towards him, infant still latched onto one of your breasts. “She’s about to fall asleep. I will put her to bed. And then, only fucking then, can you grace me with whatever lousy excuse you have tonight..”

Your tone is one that throws him off, sure he knew he was not a great boyfriend or father, you had every right to be pissed. Normally, you weren’t this confrontational- normally you would sit there sulking when he would come in the door, an adorable pout on your face that he knew wasn’t a cute expression but one of genuine upset and disappointment. He would brush you off telling you he was hungry and wanted you to cook him something.

You finish getting off the couch, it’s an awkward movement as you’re trying not to jostle the baby that had fallen asleep in your arms. Nam-gyu watches, the room is spinning and he’s trying to act like he’s sober because he doesn’t want to get into that argument again tonight- he is far too blitzed to have a coherent argument where he can manipulate it in his favor.

He watches intently, his eyes tracing over your body. You were wearing a large t-shirt and some shorts, nothing new there….but you were fuller. He felt his mouth go dry as you turn and walk down the hallway to the nursery. Your hips were wider and he swore your ass was bigger. The soft, plush flesh of your hips dug into the waistband of the shorts you wore, some of the flesh above the waist band spilling over the slightest bit- perfect to dig his hands into.

You turn into the room, disappearing, presumably putting the baby down in the crib. When you’re no longer in his sight, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s been a long while since you two had been intimate, the already rough relationship was not helped by a newborn, and he was pent up. As shitty as he was, not helping with the baby, not being home, partying and doing drugs- he never cheated. He can’t remember the last time you two had fucked, probably when he got you pregnant, but fuck- seeing your curves, how much fuller you were- he realized how much he missed it. How much he missed fucking you.

You return out the room you put your daughter in, thankful she was a decent sleeper because she was sleeping perfectly in the nursery as soon as you placed her down. He catches you fixing your shirt, getting a glimpse of your tits before the fabric falls back over the swollen flesh. You return back in front of him, standing in the entryway where he was still frozen. “It is two…no, three in the fucking morning.” You hiss out in a hushed voice.

“I got caught up at work.” He scoffs trying to walk past you and head to your shared bedroom. “Bullshit!” You laugh sardonically, “You were out partying with Thanos again weren’t you??” You accuse, taking a step closer to him.

You were partially right, he was out partying- but he was also working. With Thanos rap career taking off and Thanos needing VIP privileges at Club Pentagon, if he was there he was getting paid extra. Sure he did more than his fair share of drugs and came home plastered hours after he stopped working and getting paid- but he was still making money! “I was with Thanos but I wasn’t partying. I get paid double when he’s booked.” Nam-gyu growls lowly, lying through his teeth.

“Fucking hell!” You catch yourself raising your voice and quickly lower it to not wake your baby. “..do you think I’m fucking stupid?!” You’re seething out in a tone laced with venom. “You were fumbling with the damn keys, your words are slurred and your fucking pupils are blown!!” You gawk, he really had the audacity to try you?!

He seemed taken aback, surprised you could even see his eyes and how his pupils were dilated heavily in the low light of the living room. He had to remind himself, you were once like him, partying and down for whatever- that’s how you two met, he did coke off your thighs- you could tell the signs a mile away.

He envied you for that, quitting all the drugs you once did with him a year or so before you even got pregnant. You were stronger than him in that sense, had more willpower than him. You never got sucked back into the scene, even when your child was born you kept stead fast in your ways and weren’t tempted. It was like you thought you were better than him, and you were, but that just pissed him off more.

“God forbid I try and have some fun.” He says as he glares down at you. You go to speak, fuming at this point, “That’s not what-“ you almost want to scream, your words cut off when you see him roll his eyes, “roll your fucking eyes at me again and I will rip them out of your fucking skull.”

Your voice drops, you’re speaking through your teeth and getting up in his face. It would be threatening, he knows you would be the one to do it- but all he can think about is how thick your thighs look against the shorts you wore. He remembers those shorts, they used to fit looser, but now they dig into the plush flesh so deliciously has his mind is going blank. But the way you’re in his face- scolding him like some child, finger waving inches from his nose- is pissing him the fuck off.

His hand darts up in a quick motion that you have no way of intercepting. His hand wraps around your wrist, ringed fingers digging into your skin. “All you do is fucking run your mouth.” Nam-Gyu growls, he knows you have every right to yell at him, to be pissed, but he wouldn’t tell you that. Your eyebrows furrow, even more than they already were. Jaw clenched and chest heaving, you’re staring up at him oh so defiantly even if he was much larger than you.

“And all you know how to do is be a fucking deadbeat.” You counter, getting closer to his face by standing on your tippy toes. “You get to go out and party, probably rail some whores, while I have to stay here with your child and take care of her by myself.” You add. It’s an abrupt shift, he becomes even angrier, pulling you forward into him by your wrist he still holds.

To say he’s enraged would put it lightly- was he a deadbeat? Yes. But, he still tries to give you what he can, club pentagon only paid so much and he had a drug habit he didn’t care to address. Did he stay out and party and leave you at home to take care of the baby? Absolutely, he can’t argue with you on that one. But he never cheated. As fucked up as he was, as shitty as a father and boyfriend he was- one thing he would never do was cheat on you. To him that’s a type of low he always told himself he would never reach.

You fall into him, a gasp coming out of your lips when you meet his chest. When he feels your tits press against him, the enlarged flesh squishing against him- you watch as his eyes flutter shut, he bites his lip and breathes out a large breath, like he’s trying to ground himself.

He is.

He drops your wrist from his grip, hands coming to rest on your hips in a vice like grasp, caging you into him. “Watch your fucking mouth.” He seethes, eyes fluttering back open to glare down at you. “Say whatever the fuck else you want…I have never cheated.” He growls lowly, fingers tightening even harder around your plush hips. He wanted to continue to be mad at you, but the way his finger sunk into your flesh made the blood rush to his cock.

“You’re out late all the time and I can’t even remember the last time you touched me…” You say lowly, all your senses focus on the hold he has on your hips. His hands are cold, the rings on his fingers dig into the flesh and bite at your skin. He’s holding you in place like he’s sure you’re going to run away. “So excuse me for thinking you’re cheating. You also dont exactly hang around the best crowd.” You reason even further, now trying to fight against him and pull away.

He grimaces, he doesn’t even know how it’s possible that you manage to piss him off even further than normal. “You have my location. I’m always at work.” He scoffs dismissively. He wasn’t wrong but when he’s at work, he’s hardly working- he’s taking drugs, drinking, and doing god knows what else- you’ve seen the pictures he’s in the background posted on Thanos timeline.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” You seethe, trying to yank your hand out of his grasp yet again. It’s a futile attempt. “Okay! So you’re at work!? Where’s the fucking rent, huh?!” You say, voice raising, he’s a day late. He looks at you like you’re crazy and reaches into his back pocket and tosses a wad of cash over onto the coffee table- all while keeping you trapped in his grip. “Still late-“ your works are instantly cut off, “Wrong.” He mocks, reaching back into his pants pocket to pull out his phone and show you the date on his phone.

He was right. But it wasn’t your fault, your days had mixed together because you get no sleep with the baby and your child’s father comes home at 3am every day! God forbid you mix up your days. He also was no stranger to paying you late. You normally wouldn’t care about the mix up, maybe even own up to it- but today it just adds validity to his manipulative argument. “You’re still home at 3 in the fucking morning, you reek of booze and your pupils are blown!” You growl, not even caring that the day was wrong. You simply don’t care anymore. “And you’re doing all of this while I’m home taking care of our child!”

You’re leaning into him, getting up in his face with knitted eyebrows and barred teeth. He’s far too fucked up to deal with this, with you- because he knows you’re right. He never wants to face his issues, he never has wanted to, and every day you attempt to make him confront how shitty he was little by little, most of the times without even knowing it. You had always been too good for him, he knew that. He was lucky that you stayed and gave him a thousand chances instead of walking out on him. Maybe tomorrow he would address it and make a change for once in his life. But, right now, his head is pounding, the room is spinning and your hissing growl of a tone is only making his headache worsen.

His grip on your hips tightens, and he lowers his face so very closer to yours. His eyes are dark, angry, but there’s an odd glint of hunger in them that you haven’t seen in ages, it makes your body heat up in ways that due to not having felt it in so long, if now feels foreign. “You seriously don’t know when to stop fucking talking.” He growls lowly, like an animal about to feast on its caught prey. When he speaks his lips nearly brush against yours, the feather light contact tickles and sends electricity straight to your lower stomach. His voice has a hiss to it, like a viper, it should scare you but it doesn’t; it makes you hotter.

You two stand like that for a moment, the only sound you could hear was the sounds of your breath mixing with his. Every time the both of you heaved an angry breath, the hot air would mix between the two of you. Neither of you broke the other’s gaze, trying to win the silent stare off that started.

Nam-gyu breaks first, his eyes dropping to your chest, watching the rise and fall of your enlarged breasts from under the shirt- his resolve is out the window. He’s on your lips in an instant. You’re letting out a muffled sound of protest into his mouth, fighting against him and trying to pull away. But with the grip he still has on your wrist and the frantic movement of his lips keeps you still. You find yourself melting into it- you missed his kisses. Missed him.

As much as you want to pull back and continue to fight with him-you can’t. You relax into him, lips moving with his- almost rivaling his eagerness. When he feels you give in, his hands drop to your waist, nails biting into your plush flesh over the fabric of your shirt. You’re panting helplessly into his mouth, so desperate for the attention you’ve been deprived of for months. He’s pushing you backwards, guiding you further into the living room.

In a mess of lips and spit, you’re falling back first onto the couch and he’s following you, coming to straddle your thighs- hovering over you. His hands are back on you in an instant, running up your thighs and squeezing. His lips are back on yours, it’s a messy kiss that reminds you of how you two were when you first met. It’s sloppy, full of spit, and oh so Devine. You’re arching up into his touch, his cold hands running up your sides and then back down to your shorts. He wastes no time in gripping the waistband and tugging the fabric down your hips.

He’s pulling your shorts off you hastily and you help kick them off, whining into the kiss. Your lips don’t part once, he’s sucking your tongue into his mouth expertly, he knows exactly what to do to get your mind to go blank. He’s rough, hands gripping and kneading at your flesh like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away from the kiss to lift your shirt over your head. He wastes no time in pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it to an unknown corner of the living room. When the cool air hits your bare skin you’re overtly aware of your bare form. You two haven’t been intimate since you got pregnant. Your body has changed in ways that admittedly you weren’t fond of. A wave of self conscious that rolls through you when you see Nam-Gyu above you, eyes flitting down your naked from like he’s trying to memorize you.

It makes you want to cover yourself- so you do. Your arms fall over yourself to cover your breasts and stomach, shielding yourself from his gaze. His brows furrow and a growl resounds from his throat. You cant even fight him when he grabs your wrists and pulls your arms away from your body, pinning them to the couch. “Don’t you dare fucking hide from me.” His voice is low, almost threatening, and does nothing to help the wetness that grows between your legs.

“Yeah…that’s it, ma.” He rasps, nodding his head slowly, eyes trained on your body. His hands let go of your wrists, you know better than to move your arms back over your body- he would get up and leave you hot and bothered if you disobeyed- he lets out an accepting hum when you keep your arms by your sides.

“Mmm…beautiful fuckin tits…” he coos in a low, gravely tone, his hands reaching up to grasp at the doughy mounds of flesh. He’s kneading your breasts, you can feel the way his cock is straining against his pants, twitching and growing against your thigh with each movement of his hands. “So swollen now, huh?” He says as he leans down, his mouth latching onto one of your nipples.

You’re so sensitive, it’s almost like an electric jolt that runs up your spine. He hums into your skin when he feels your body shake against him. The breast that isn’t being attacked by his mouth is being kneaded in his hand. He’s pinching your nipple, rolling it between his fingers to bring the bud to a stiff peak. You’re helpless underneath him and his mouth is relentless. He can’t get enough of your enlarged tits, he’s switching his mouth to the breast that once was in his hand- wanting to give the same amount of attention to both of the picturesque tits before him.

He pulls off your nipple with an obscene ‘pop’, the sound only adding to the overwhelming feeling you’re experiencing. All this attention after going months without it, it felt surreal. You knew you should push him off and scold him, kick him out, but it feels so good- you just can’t bring yourself to push him away- it feels too fucking good.

“Mmm,” he hums against your skin, you can feel him begin to grind the forming erection in his pants into your leg as he continues his relentless onslaught of bites and kisses, leaving blue and purple patches that blossom across your skin in his wake. His hands are moving across your body, groping at the doughy flesh like a cat kneading a fluffy pillow. “Gotten so curvy, pretty thing….” He mumbles, biting down particularly hard right under your breast. “Such a good mama…” his lips tickle your skin when he speaks.

You can hear how his words are slurred, his hands are jittery, he’s definitely on something and you know you should stop this and not let him swoon you like every other time he’s stumbled in the door fucked up late at night. He’s doing this to soothe your anger, to get you off his case. At least that’s what you thought.

That wasn’t his motive, although that reasoning could apply- he was really doing it to get your guard to lower. You accused him of cheating, scolded him like a child in his own home, you were gonna feel his anger. And he was strategic, manipulative even, you should be aware of it you’ve been with him long enough…but for some reason you’re not. He looks down at you and he sees you softened, you’re panting under him, pupils dilated like his now, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re trying to ground yourself.

He makes an insanely quick, rough, combination of movements- shifting one of his legs between your legs, pressing up into your cunt, and one of his hands darts down to grip your neck right under your chin, awkwardly forcing your face upwards to meet his gaze more directly. “….but you don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” He has a sadistic, mocking grin twisted across his lips.

You let out a pathetic, surprised squeak that falls into a moan. The rough fabric of his pants pressing into your throbbing pussy has your eyes crossing and fluttering shut. You reach a hand up to grip at his wrist, opening your eyes to glare up at him with some measly attempt of a scowl, trying not to let him win so easily, trying to not give him the satisfaction of your docility.

“Yeahhh…” he mocks, a wide grin on his face, his hand that grips your neck and jaw wiggles your head around to further his mocking, like he’s rubbing something in, “keep that smartass scowl on your face. So fuckin’ sexy when you’re angry.” He hisses, his free hand comes down and roughly slaps your breast, his eyes watch the flesh recoil and ripple under the impact, and when you arch into the touch and let out a pretty whimper his hand is groping at the plump flesh harshly. Of course your defiant scowl has faltered.

He lets out a low laugh and trails his hand down your stomach, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly, “see…can’t even keep it up…ya ain’t mad…” he coos in an annoying, sardonic tone. His hand releases your breast and runs down your stomach, nails dragging into your skin just the slightest bit. His hand grips at the flesh of your stomach- like he’s admiring it, basking in the feeling of your softness in his hand. “No~ you’re not mad…” he continues, hand running over your pubic bone, thumb catching the top of your pussy, just above your clit- pulling up the slightest bit.

His view of your cunt is shrouded by your thighs clenching around his leg that is between them. You’re heaving against his touch squirming your hips into his hand, silently begging for more. “Not mad at all…just needy. Need me to play with your pussy, hm?” He says in a low growl, his thumb inching the slightest bit closer to your clit- still not where you needed it most. You’re ashamed of the little resolve you have left, you’re still trying to twist your face into an angry scowl while writhing under his hand. It’s like your hips have a mind of their own, desperately rolling into his touch even though the rest of your body is telling you to stop this and have some resilience to his ways….but you simply can’t stop.

“You’re acting all mad like ya hate me…...” He says, leaning down closer to you, his hand that was still pinning you to the couch by your neck squeezing more. He shifts his knee, pressing it deeper into your cunt. You let out a wanton sigh in response, your eyes screwing shut as your hips grind mindlessly into his leg. His other hand moves off your pubic bone and runs up your leg. When he gets to your knee he’s shoving your legs apart and parting your other leg open with his knee that was grinding up into your cunt.

It’s such a fast motion that you have no option to fight him. Your glistening pussy is now on full display for him to see. It’s shameful, your folds stick together with your own syrupy arousal, thick streams of wetness seep out of your entrance and begin to drip on the leather couch under you. Nam-gyu’s eyes are captivated by your cunt, he’s biting his lip and breathing heavy like a lion about to eat a bountiful feast of meat- animalistic, primal. “Ohoo~” he says with a mocking tilt of his head, “yeah, you can act mad all you want…but, she’s not mad at me.” He says, his fingers sliding inwards and down your spread leg, pulling your folds to the side to see you fully.

“Ohhhhh….” He drawls out, licking his lips at the sight. His hand on your neck loosens its grip and trails down your body to mirror his other hand, spreading you completely. You’re on full display, there’s no hiding the effect he had on you, there’s no denying that your anger has long since been overrun by lust and need, and he’s staring so hard- it’s so embarrassing. He can see how your cunt clenches around nothing, quivering as if to further show your bashfulness. “Already fucking soaked, what a slut. Barely even have to touch you and your needy pussy’s already crying f’me.”

Your eyebrows turn upwards, you’re biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep your noises suppressed. With your lips pulled apart by his thumbs, your puffy clit is on full display. Nam-gyu is cursing to himself, pulling away one hand to hastily undo the button of his pants and unzip the zipper. He’s pushing his boxers and his pants down his thigh to free his aching cock from its confines. He’s thick, veiny, and has a mean upward curve that no matter how hard you try, you can never forget how good it makes your pussy feel.

He pumps his dick a few times, groaning at the sensation. He stops to return his hand back to your inner thigh, thumb brushing up and down in quick motions over your clit. Your hips are immediately canting upwards off the couch, a gasp is pulled from your throat and your nails bite into the couch- threatening to tear the fabric. He would normally bask in that reaction, relish in it, thumb your clit over and over until you’re singing like a song bird for him. But, that was normally; it wasn’t now.

“You better keep your hips still, brat. This isn’t a reward for you.” He barks, looking up at you with dark, narrowed eyes. “I’m jus’ takin whats mine, ‘s not for you.” He scolds, you know he’s still set on punishing you. And for some reason, you let him. You’re looking down at him desperately and panting, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration as you try so hard to keep your hips still so you can get the attention you so desperately need. It’s a downright sinful, completely and utterly desperate expression, your flushed cheeks just the most perfect accessory.

His scowl turns into a wicked grin when he sees the last bit of resilience you have crumble completely and you turn into a pathetic heap on the couch. “Mhmm…” he nods slowly, “S’ what I thought. Just a lil needy thing ain’t ya?” You whine at his words. He’s speaking in a mean, sardonic tone that makes your mine spin. You don’t even think about it, but you find yourself nodding, letting out a muffled ‘mhm’ in hopes of getting on his good side.

He seems to accept your meek response because he’s settling down onto the couch, lowering his face until it’s level with your cunt. You’re gripping the couch and biting your lip until it’s bleeding, trying to keep your hips still. His breath fans over your folds causing a soft mewl to fall from your lips. Your head falls back onto the armrest of the couch as he licks a wide strip up the entirety of your cunt.

He’s groaning into your pussy when he gets his first taste of you. It’s been too long since he’s been buried tongue deep in your sweet cunt, he doesn’t know how he’s gone without it for so long. He doesn’t ease you into it, he doesn’t slowly coax soft whines from your throat- no, he’s delving in and eating you like a man starved. His tongue is vicious, licking through your folds, teasing your entrance, only to trace back up and twirl in mind-numbing figure eights against your clit.

“O-oh my god…” you breathlessly moan, thighs closing around his head. His eyes roll back and flutter closed when he feels the soft, thick flesh of your thighs tighten against his head. He wraps his arms around your thighs, dragging you up and down his flat tongue, slurping down every drop of arousal that seeps from your pussy. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. The sensation makes you jump and moan out a broken call of his name, your hips grinding down on his tongue in a pathetic attempt to seek even more pleasure.

When he feels your hips cant upwards, chasing his tongue he’s growling into your pussy. Hands splaying across your lower stomach to push your hips down- a warning. “Keep fuckin’ still.” He hisses, his words vibrating against your clit. Nam-gyu makes a show of eating your cunt. He’s messy, making obscene slurping sounds as he coaxes more and more sticky arousal from your spasming walls. This wasn’t for you, this was for him. He was going to enjoy the heavenly flavor of your cunt his way. You want to grind against his tongue, become impossibly closer to him and sink his tongue deep within your walls- you know if you do, you’ll be going against his orders. He’s deliberately making this a challenge for you. He wants you to disobey him. Wants you to give him even more of a reason to fuck you into complete submission.

When you feel his tongue begin to prod its way into your entrance, you’re keening and bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. You muffle your wrecked moans as he tongue fucks you. It’s such a devine feeling for him, your cunt clenching around his tongue, the flavor of you covering his tastebuds, thick thighs clenching around his head, pussy wetting his chin, and nose breathing in your scent as he grinds it into your clit. All of it reminds him of why even after all the horrible shit he’s put you through, he’s never cheated and he always returns home to you. He wants to savor it, draw it out. Maybe you’ve learned your lesson and he can be nice- give you both what you want.

But he can’t, because you’re sobbing out muffled pleas from behind the hand that covers your mouth and jerking your hips up, swiveling them down on his tongue to try and drive him even deeper into your walls. You don’t even mean to do it but when you realize you were going against his orders it’s too late.

His dark eyes peer up at you through thick lashes, you can feel the sadistic grin that twists across his lips against your sopping folds, you know you fucked up. You pull your hand away from your mouth, “N-no, no, ‘m s-sorry. Can’t help it! Y-you’re not making it easy!” You’re pleading with him as he’s pulling away from your cunt. “P-please! I n-need it.” You try to beg more, trying to get back on his good side and get his tongue back against your clit but he doesn’t accept your offer

Nam-Gyu sits back up on his knees, his hands moving up to your waist and squeezing, “I gave you more than enough chances…” he coos, eerily sweet, “was eating your sweet cunt good, wasn’t I?” He scoffs with a raise of his eyebrow. You nod frantically, your hands reaching down to cover his, running up his arms, trying to sweeten him up, “Mhm! S-so good! ‘S why I couldn’t keep still!” You praise, batting your eyelashes up at him.

You think for a split second that you managed to win him back over, a relief washes over you when you think you’re going to be granted the salvation of his tongue on your throbbing pussy once again. But his grin widens and his hand slide down, grasping at your hips with a primal grip.

“Well, since you want to act like a bitch in heat…” he says, the low timbre of his voice sends shivers violently jolting through your whole body. You’re suddenly picked up off the couch by your hips and flipped over. You inwardly scold yourself at how you almost instantly fall into a position on all fours with your back deeply arched. You hear him scoff at your eagerness, “…then you’re gonna be fucked like a bitch in heat.”

When his sentence finishes you can feel him drag the bulbous tip of his cock between your folds, mixing your arousal and his pre-cum into a stick mess that coats your pussy. You let out a shaky breath, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Pushing your hips back, you whine, trying to sink him into your heat. But you weren’t the one in charge here…he was.

He was going to make sure you felt every, single inch of his cock sink into your tight cunt. And he was going to savor you desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock like you have no other thought on your mind other than to be fucked.

“Already makin’ such a mess on my cock. You were so mouthy earlier…” he begins to slowly sink into your cunt only to pull all the way back, “…so bold, all up in my face…” he pushes back in to the tight ring of your pussy ever so slightly, “…so feisty.” And with that, his cockhead finally slips into your cunt. It makes a sickening, wet sucking sound as your pussy greedily sucks him in. “Now look at you.”

A moan is ripped from your throat, the extensive period of time that you have gone without fucked and the devilishly slow entrance of just his tip into your sopping walls already has your toes curling. A moan is ripped from your lips as you drop your chest fully onto the couch, your back arched sinfully deep for him, pressing him deeper into you.

“‘S just the tip and you’re already creamin’ around me like a slut…” He muses, leaning forward a bit to grab both of your arms and cross them behind your back. Both your wrists are restrained by one of his hands. You gasp as your pulled upwards, your face pulled off the leather of the couch. “Heh…. I’m gonna break ya sweetheart…”

His hips become flush with yours in a split second, his cock is balls deep within your cunt. The sudden intrusion has you letting out a silent sob. Instantly, you’re so very full. Nam-gyu is stretching you around him, molding your pussy to the shape of him, removing the thought of leaving him from your mind completely. How could you when he filled you up oh so perfectly.

He stays balls deep inside you for a moment, bringing his hips to a slow grind. “Yeahhh….that’s it… ya feel how deep I am?” He asks, his voice rough and breathy, “Only I can give this pussy what she needs…” he growls, pulling his cock all the way out and then immediately slamming right back in. You’re crying out, eyes crossing and your vision goes hazy. “I’m the only one who can cum in your greedy cunt….” He says, repeating the same motion. When he’s back to being balls deep inside you, he’s leaving over your back and bringing his lips ring next to your ear, “you carried my child.”

He’s emphasizing the word “my” by rolling his hips against your ass, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix. You hated it, but he was right, the moment you carried and gave birth to his child- you were his. From the moment you two met- you were his.

You’re moaning helplessly, gasping an incoherent mix of his name and curses, you’re becoming boneless in his grasp. It feels so fucking good. He gives you no time to adjust before he’s sitting back up and pumping his cock in and out of your tight cunt. The thrusts are vicious, mean even, his thick girth is stretching you impossibly wide and your pussy welcomes him openly, greedily sucking him in.

“Mhm…there you go…she missed me didn’t she?” Nam-gyu rasps, using his grip on your wrists to drag you back to meet every single one of his hard thrusts. His eyes are focused downwards, he’s entranced by the ripple of your ass everytime it comes back to meet his hips. You’re much thicker, curvier, softer than before. Pregnancy had changed your body in ways that sparked a primal hunger inside of him.

You helplessly sob out, the overwhelming pleasure completely taking over your body. Your hips are pushing back to meet his thrusts, trying to sink his cock impossibly deeper into your tight heat. He laughs from above you, realizing your desperation for more. “Greedy fuckin’ thing…” he growls, it’s a dark, gravely tone that sends goosebumps down your arms, “what, ‘s not enough for you?” He chides like you’re giving him a challenge, you can hear the sadistic grin that is spread across his lips.

You’re gasping, shaking your head frantically “n-no ‘s e-enough! ‘S so good!” You try to plead with him by praising his efforts, fearing the impending overstimulation that is about to be thrown on you. He’s drawing his hips back until just the tip of his cock is inside you, he’s humming like he’s thinking to himself. “Hmm…” he lets out, just trusting his cockhead inside your sopping pussy, “you can still talk…so I don’t think it’s enough.” You can hear the mocking pout in his voice, teasing you further.

Nam-gyu lets go of your wrists he was holding behind your back, hands finding their spot on your hips, squeezing the doughy flush in his fists. He’s pile driving his hips flush against your ass in one thrust, sinking balls deep into your gushing cunt. Instantly, he’s stretching you deliciously, pushing into your spasming walls until the tip of his cock is flush against your cervix. A wrecked sob rips through your throat and you’re falling forward onto the leather couch.

He leaves you no time to gather yourself, his hips draw back until just the tip is inside you and then thrusting balls deep inside your warm cunt in rapid, devious strokes. As much as you wish it wasn’t true, he knows your body like the back of his own hand, he knows every little thing that makes you tick, he knows just how to make you cream around his cock- and he wants to make you a mess. He’s driving his thrust upwards at a mean angle, making sure every thrust is hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. All you can do is moan out pathetic babbles of his name and praises.

“Yeahhhh, that’s it…” he coos mockingly, his hips slamming into you at a brutal pace, “‘s all you needed huh? A good fucking to calm you down.” His tone is hushed, his hands are leaving a bruising grip on your hips. He can’t keep his eyes off the way your ass jiggles with every thrust, the way his cock disappears between the soft flesh and reappears covered in your syrupy arousal.

Admittedly, he was right, you did need this. It had been months since you two fucked and the way his cock was stretching you out, hammering against the deepest spot within you, had your body so overwhelmed. Your hand is clasped helplessly over your mouth, muffling the moans that spill from your lips. His grip on the globes of your ass is nearly painful, using it as leverage to pull you back onto him.

“Missed this fucking pussy..” he growls from behind you, “reminds me of why I got you fucking pregnant…” he rambles on, “gripping me so tight, s’impossible to pull out.”

His words make your eyes roll into the back of your head. Every thrust of his hips bullies his cock up against your cervix in a way that has you gasping for air. You’re sobbing incoherently against your hand, every drag of his thick cock reminded you of how you even got to this point in the relationship- the dick was insanely good.

He releases one of your hips to slap your ass, it’s a resounding smack that stings and has the flesh recoiling under the contact, “fucking hell….” He muses, one of his hands coming up and brushing his hair back out of his face, his eyes never straying from the view of your ass slamming against his hips. “Fuck yourself back against me..c’mon, wanna see it.” He rasps out.

He slows his thrusts, nearly stopping completely. Chasing a high you haven’t felt in ages, your body complies. You immediately begin thrusting back, impaling yourself on his thick cock. It’s a delicious, devine stretch that has you biting the palm of your hand. You repeat the motion, speeding up with every wet slap of your hips against his. “Good fuckin’ girl.” Nam-Gyu is praising.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the delicious release of your orgasm, it’s quick, embarrassingly so, but you’re stretched so full and every time you sink him balls deep into your tight heat- a mind numbing wave of pleasure is sent up your spine. It’s an addictive feeling that you keep chasing desperately without even realizing it. You’re speeding up the backwards thrust of your hips, every time you meet his thighs with your ass a wet ‘clap’ resounds through the room.

“O-h fuck, that’s it… j-just like that. D-don’t you dare fucking stop.” Nam-gyu hisses out, a hand coming to thread itself in your hair and form a fist. He cranks your head back, a silent scream falls from your lips as you keep up the motion of your hips, sinking your cunt down onto him. You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “Look at that fucking ass…” He muses, praising the body you were worried he didn’t even like.

He’s leaning forward a bit, his head hooking over your shoulder so his lips were right by your ear. His new position causes the movement of your hips to still, he picks up the slack by rolling his hips into a slow grind. “Gonna cum so f-fucking deep in your cunt.” He growls into your ear. You can hear that he has his teeth clenched, he’s speaking through his teeth like you and your pussy would be the death of him. “O-ohhhhhh, you like that… can feel you squeezing me..y-you want me to cum inside?” He pants, the hand in your hair turns your head to the side so he can leave harsh bites along the column of your neck as he grinds his cock impossibly deeper into you.

“C’mon answer me.. wan’ me to cum in you? Get you pregnant again…” He mocks, “…keep ya like this.” He growls lowly, his hand releasing your hair to grip at the fat of your hips and lower stomach, he’s even punctuating his words with a devious roll of his hips that grinds his cock into your g-spot. A wanton whine falls from your lips. Your back arches even more, deepening into a sinful curve that has Nam-Gyu spinning.

You should say no, call him some name and tell him to go fuck himself. “Nnghh… f-fuck y-yes!” You cry out in a hushed plea, you can’t help it. You need it. trying to thrust back onto his cock. You can feel how wet you were, making a mess of the backs of your thighs and the couch below you. “I-inside please!” You sob, eyebrows knitted together in a pleasured expression. You need so badly to once again experience the feeling of his thick cum filling you.

With both hands holding your hips he’s drawing your body back violently, impaling you on his girth. Every thrust is echoed by a lewd, sticky, ‘schlick’ sound that only proves how much of an influence he has on you. His cock has a mean curve that reaches so deep within you it has you seeing stars. The warmth of your orgasm beginning to blossom over your body and tingle deep within your cunt.

Every time he draws back his hips he’s dragging his cock out of your sopping walls until just the tip rests in your fluttering entrance then driving his hips forward to sink balls deep into you. You know you’re about to cum, embarrassingly fast. Moan after moan falls from your lips as your eyes cross and roll back in pure bliss. “T-that’s it, make a mess on my cock f’me.” Nam-gyu growls through clenched teeth, one hand reaching around to rub quick circles on your clit. The feather light touches that glide across your throbbing bundle of nerves is enough to send you over the edge.

“Ohmygodholyfuck.” You babble out incoherently, fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you fall head first into a violent orgasm. Your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing him like a vice. “Mhmm…f-fuck yeah that’s it…” He hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his other hand on your hips drops under you to grab at your swollen tits in frantic motions, the feeling of the doughy flesh in his hands jiggling with each of his thrusts is all it takes to drive him over the edge.

He’s working you through your orgasm with skilled fingers, your body shaking against his as he cums deep inside your cunt. You can feel it, it’s so much. It fills you even more than his cock already did, coating your gummy walls in its milky white color.

He thrusts lazily a few more times, making sure he properly fucks his cum into your spasming cunt. Your body is shaking and jolting violently against the couch, you can hear the obscene, wet, ‘plap’ of the mixture of your cum and his falling out of your cunt and hitting the sofa below you. The room is filled with alternating heavy breaths and the smell of sex. He slides his hands up and down your sides before resting back on your hips and slowly grinding his cock into you. He can barely bring himself to pull out, the warmth of your cunt is literally sucking him in. He can hear your overstimulated whines of protest with each slow roll of his hips and it drives him wild.

Eventually, he too gets overstimulated- your cunt is simply too good, his personal drug he’s addicted to, his own vice (but he’s never tell you that)- he’s pulling out his softening cock with a hiss, sitting back on his heels to watch his cum slowly seep out of your pussy that still is gaped with the shape of his cock. He groans, eyes rolling back into his skull as he tries to imprint the visual in his brain.

He collapses back onto the couch, one hand on your hip to make you follow suit, gently landing back first on his chest. You try to catch your breath, limply turning yourself over to fall back onto him. When you tuck yourself into his side his arm drapes over your waist. He places a kiss on the top of your head that’s so quick and gentle that you almost can’t feel it. You nuzzle his head onto his chest, you can hear the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. You can’t form words. All you can do is let out a shaky sigh. It’s quiet in the room, only sound you can hear is your heaving breaths that eventually fall into sync with each other.

“You have got to change.” You say, the edge in your voice just emphasizes that you’re hanging on by the thinnest thread possible. You want this to work out- you do- you love him and you adore your child. You want to be a regular family.

“I know.” He says, his voice breathless. His arm tightens around the curve of your waist, pulling you into him like you might suddenly get up and run away-because you might- he can tell with your voice it’s different this time, you’re serious. And he wants to change, he does…he just doesn’t know if he has it in him.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one 😙😙😙 I really appreciate all of y’all’s support it means so much!! I’m working through the requests I have and whipping up some noice fics! Yall have fantastic minds �� all the requests are so scrumptious

Im trying to gather all my marbles after being sick so the queue I had goin is a little wonky. im working through it and will update yall on said queue of requests next post! Love yew guys !! - kiwi

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moonzzip · 2 days ago

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thinkin' bout you | kwon jiyong

a/n — so, this is a story I had an idea for out of the blue, I don't know if I'll post more, only time will tell, I enjoyed writing it and wanted a bit of jiyong's angst, now I'm sharing it, english is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes

summary: you wanted to help jiyong, but it didn't go as planned

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: bigbang debuted recently in this story, little angst, happy ending, small appearance of taeyang and daesung, indirect mention of t.o.p

lowercase letters, word count: 1,1k

when you walk into the practice room, your eyes go straight to the floor, seeing jiyong crouched down with sweat dripping from his temples, slightly out of breath. you sigh, “jiyong, that’s enough, right? you’ve been here for hours. if you keep pushing yourself to the limit, you might get hurt.”

your gaze shifts to the corner of the room, where empty water bottles are scattered—evidence of the countless hours jiyong has spent perfecting his dance. walking over, you pick up an unopened one and twist the cap off, making your way toward the man on the floor. “here, you need to dri—”

a sharp slap sends the bottle flying to the ground, its contents spilling instantly. you don’t even have time to react before he snaps, “shut up. stop bothering me. i’m busy right now.”

he runs a hand through his damp hair, sighing in frustration. “you don’t even know what i’m going through. you don’t know how hard it is to keep doing this for hours. if you didn’t have what it takes to debut, then just leave others alone and stop being a nuisance.”

you stare at jiyong in shock, completely speechless. he had never acted like this before. you knew he was stressed, but you still worried about him. before you can even process it, he’s already walking away, slamming the door behind him and leaving you alone in the practice room.

you stand there, blinking, unable to believe the words that just came out of your (former?) best friend’s mouth. you had always been there for him. you spent so much time by his side, sacrificing your own things just to help him—whether it was with his idol career or anything else. you had been there from the very beginning, even before jiyong met the other members of the group he always talked about.

looking down at your feet, unsure of how to react, your eyes land on the fallen water bottle. without thinking, you walk toward the small supply closet in the practice room to grab something to clean up the mess. as you wipe the floor, you feel your legs weaken. you crouch down, biting your lips hard as your eyes well up with tears. clutching your hair in anguish, you let go of the mop and cover your eyes with one hand, drowning in your own misery.

you don’t know how long you stayed there—it couldn’t have been too long—but eventually, you stand up and walk out of the dimly lit practice room, the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor.

as you descend the stairs to the company’s lobby, you pass by taeyang and daesung, who greet you cheerfully. “hey, ___! have you seen jiyong around?” taeyang asks, while daesung waves at you with a smile.

you glance at them, then simply shake your head with a neutral expression before continuing toward the exit. the two watch you walk away in silence.

“what do you think happened?” daesung wonders out loud, not really expecting an answer.

you walk aimlessly for about ten minutes, staring up at the starry sky. turning your head to the side, you see the vast han river, its waters reflecting the scattered stars above. approaching a nearby bench, you sit down, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. leaning your head back against the bench, you exhale a shaky sigh, then lift your arm to cover your eyes, breathing heavily, lips trembling.

the sound of the wind fills your ears, drowning out everything else.

your arm slowly falls to your side, away from your face. your eyes remain closed.

“…aren’t you cold?”

your eyes snap open in an instant, locking onto the ones you sometimes admired in secret. the two of you stare at each other in silence. jiyong’s gaze lingers, waiting for your answer, while yours are wide with surprise. you blink, his breath faintly hitting your forehead due to how close he is when speaking.

for a small, minuscule, almost imperceptible moment, your eyes flicker to his lips—but you quickly look away.

you stand up from the bench, tilting your head just slightly to avoid bumping into his.

“…jiyong?” you whisper, noticing the cold air leaving your lips. how long had you been walking? you don’t know.

your eyes shift to the man in front of you, only a short distance separating you both, with the bench still between you.

silence.

but soon, you’re the one who looks away first, turning your gaze toward the river, where the moon’s reflection shimmers on the surface. even when you hear footsteps, you don’t look. jiyong stops beside you, but neither of you speaks—until he finally does.

“here.”

you turn your head, only to find something practically shoved into your face, blocking your view of him. your hands instinctively reach out, taking the small bag. you glance down at it, then realize what it is. your breath hitches, and your eyes glimmer slightly as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“ohhh~ kwon jiyong is giving me chocolates? that means you’re confessing your love for me, right?” you tease, grinning mischievously as you nudge him with your elbow.

before you can say anything else—

“…yes.”

your world stops.

everything freezes.

your eyes widen in shock. you’re completely paralyzed. and apparently, so is jiyong. the two of you stand there, speechless. your mouth hangs open. his does too—but he quickly covers it with his hand, as if unable to believe what he just said.

silence again.

you gently take his hand in yours, pulling it away from his lips.

“it’s okay, ji. i like you too.”

delicately, you hold his hand.

“i’m sorry, ___.”

you lift your eyes to his, but before you can say anything, he continues,

“i said things i shouldn’t have, and i hurt you. that’s the last thing i ever wanted to do. i was just stressed and couldn’t express myself the right way. i was frustrated—still am, actually—but now it’s because i said things that hurt you. i never meant them. i’ve never been good at expressing my feelings. and the way you take such good care of me… it made me confused. embarrassed. happy. warm.

i tried to distract myself by dancing—not just to improve, but to stop thinking about you, and i—”

his words are cut off by the soft touch of your lips against his.

gentle. warm. comforting.

but just as quickly as they came, they are gone.

jiyong stares at you in shock, his cheeks heating up as he processes what just happened.

you smile. “your speech was getting too long. i forgive you, you idiot.”

taking his hand in yours, you squeeze it lightly. “we should go get some ramen, just the two of us. the other three eat way too much—unless they’re paying this time.”

you start walking, pulling jiyong along with you.

he stares at your back, at your hand holding his, and he smiles—his heart warm, the cold from before completely forgotten.

a/n — I wrote this while listening to 'this love' by gd, I saw the m/v recently and I thought it was so... I don't know, a really good vibe to write, I hope you liked it! I have some difficulties with english so I used a translator to help me write it, but I hope it's not bad, thanks for reading!

#gdragon x reader #jiyong x reader #kwon jiyong #bigbang x reader #kpop #bigbang gdragon #g dragon #gn!reader #kwon jiyong x reader

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semisgroupie · 2 days ago

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undercover freak — mila + kento nanami (@lovegasmic)

warnings: exhibitionism, public use of a sex toy, vibrator usage, teasing, cum eating, establish relationship (kento and reader are married!), public orgasm, hint at multiple orgasms

this is part of my TOYS, TOYS, AND MORE TOYS event! come send in a request to celebrate you and your special lover! also this is the specific vibrator i’m referring to in this drabble (and i need this man :))

It’s all under a good guise. Everything seems and looks normal. You two look like a couple, that’s in love, that’s having a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner. You two look at each other with hearts in your eyes, whispering little compliments and his hand holds yours, his thumb stroking over your fingers while your engagement ring and wedding band catches every light in the room.

Unbeknownst to everyone but you and Kento, is that you have a special present that’s pressed against your cunt.

He leans in with a slight smirk that’s unreadable by anyone else in the dimly lit room. “Are you alright, darling? You seem like there’s something bothering you.” He chuckles when you narrow your eyes at him but your expression quickly changes when he moves his other hand closer to his pocket.

“I-I’m fine! Just hungry, the waiter is supposed to come by for our order soon.” He moves his hand away from his pocket for now and nods at your words and you can barely see the mischievous glint in his brown eyes. “Hm, okay. Did I tell you how ravishing you look tonight? Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive you back home. I can’t wait that long to be alone with you, I’ll just have to bring you to that hotel that’s a few streets down or maybe I’ll just find an empty parking lot and quell my desires there.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you reach over to grab a glass of water to try to calm yourself down. “Kento, you can’t say things like that so openly. What if someone could hear?” He laughs and gently squeezes your hand, “so what? They’ll just know how much I desire my beautiful wife.” He lifts your hand to his lips and he presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles then only pulls away when the waiter returns.

You look at the menu to confirm what you want then look up at the waiter, Kento places his order then slips his hand in his pocket when you start saying what you want. His hand goes to the little remote and he presses the button to start the vibrations just as the first word leaves your mouth. Instead of your order, a gasp leaves you and Kento lifts his hand to cover his mouth to hide the growing smile. You stumble and stammer over your words as he raises the vibrations higher.

The scene in front of him has to be one of his favorites, he lets out a little chuckle each time you glance at him, the look in your eyes is something mixed with annoyance and a plea for him to stop. But he doesn’t stop, he watches you squirm and watches how the waiter becomes more and more concerned. When you finally say your order Kento shuts off the vibrator and smiles apologetically at the waiter, “sorry about that, she just gets really anxious with public speaking so I’m helping her get over it.”

You narrow your eyes at your husband and wait for the waiter to leave before you speak. “You’re such an ass.” You mutter and grab the glass of water to take another sip, your hand trembles slightly as you drink from it then set it down. Kento smiles and nods, “you agreed to this, that’s what happens when you don’t think things out thoroughly. You let that pretty little cunt think for you instead of using your pretty little head. But more importantly, did you just cum in front of the waiter?” More heat rises to your cheeks as you nod slowly, you couldn’t help it. The vibrator is pressed right against your clit and the vibrations went so high, it just happened. “Naughty girl.” He laughs and looks around before nudging his fork off of the table. He watches as it bounces under the tablecloth and smirks, “oops, let me grab that.”

You roll your eyes as he goes under but they immediately widen when you feel his hands on your thighs the same time the waiter comes back with your drinks. Heat rises to your cheeks and you try to shut your legs but he keeps them open. You bite down on your bottom lip to hold back a gasp when Kento pulls your panties to the side and you feel his fingers glide up your slit.

“Where did your husband go?” The waiter looks around as he sets down the complimentary bread and you bite down on your bottom lip harder, “b-bathroom.” The waiter nods and smiles at you as you stammer for a moment then walks away. Just when he walks away Kento climbs from under the table and slips two fingers in his mouth, groaning at the taste of your essence on them.

“Delicious. How many more orgasms do you think I can get out of you before the night ends?”

#venus’ toys ⛓️‍💥#nanami smut #jjk nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw:exhibitionism #tw:public play

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wolfie200510 · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! Can you write about a reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them?

Autor's note: I didn't know much about ed so I have to Google it so I'm really sorry if something is not accurate. I tried my best to write this good and I hope you will like it. Also, I'm sorry you have to wait so long.

You're perfect - Rafe Cameron 💖❤️‍🩹

Pics are from pinterest. Dividers: @enchanthings

Summary: reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them

Warning: eating disorder, bullying, body imagine disorder, mention of drug use (I guess that's all)

You and Rafe are friends since you two are little. Your parents are good friends with his parents so you two always spent a lot of time together. You always played together when your parents were talking about business stuff. As you two grew up, you went to the same school, and you were happy that you two were the same age so you two were classmates too. In primary school, it was just the two of you. Only you were there for each other, you even studied together. But in secondary school, he befriended some other guys, and he started spending less time with you.

You didn’t mind it, you know that he needs guy friends too and you were happy that he found some other friends but you also missed him. You felt like he forgot you. But the truth was far from that. Actually, he started to fall for you and when he realized that he quickly acted and pushed you away because he didn’t want to admit it. Of course, you had some friends too, but you weren’t really close to them.

It also didn’t help that as Rafe drifted from you, people started bullying you. You didn’t understand why they did it. Of course, you weren’t as pretty as the other girls in your class, and you weren’t as skinny as them. Even your “friends” started bullying you. You didn’t want to let their words get to your head, but they did. The more hateful words you get, the more insecure you felt. You weren’t fat at all, you didn’t even have any plus weight, but some people still called you fat and ugly.

This bullying went to the point where you started eating less and less so you can lose some weight and you even started counting the calories. You often skipped meals and always told your parents that you just weren’t hungry. And you did lose some weight. You even started using makeup to be more beautiful, but the bullying didn’t stop. You felt that it just got worser. At first, it was just in school that you overheard people talk about you, then people told it your face and they said that they will never understand how Rafe could still be friends with someone like you, then some people even started bullying you on only.

As things got worser over the years, you were considering that you will tell Rafe about it, but you end up not doing it. You know that he has his own problems, and you didn’t want to bother him with your problems. That was until one day Rafe showed up at your place and he asked for your help. He told you about his addiction and how his relationship got worser with his father. You listened to him as he just talked and talked to you all night as his head rested on your chest, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you were playing with his hair.

“I don’t know what to do, Y/n. I’m sorry that I just dropped everything on you like that. Fucking hell, I’m sorry for everything. That I pushed you away and everything else. I’m sorry I only came to you now, but I didn’t know who else would listen to me” he said.

“It’s okay, Rafey. You know I’m always here for you and you can always come to me” you whispered to him, and he nodded.

“I want to stop with the drugs but it’s so hard. I can’t do it alone. Please help me” he asked you and lifted his head to look at you.

“Of course, I will help” you said which made him smile a little and you smiled back.

‘God, I missed your smile. I missed you so much. I was an idiot for pushing you away. But now that I have you back, I will never let you go’ he thought to himself.

Just as you promised to him that night, you help him overcome his addiction. It took a lot of time, and he fell back to using drugs a few times, but you never give up on him, and he was extremely grateful for you to that. He was grateful that you were there for him. With your help he got better and better each day, and now he has been clean for months.

Meanwhile he got better, you got worser. People bullied you more because Rafe started spending time with you again. You know, he is popular, and you were aware, he is very attractive, and a lot of girls like him. While you were just you. Sometimes, you had the urge to tell him about the bullying, but you never told him.

“I just don’t understand why Rafe likes her. I mean… did he see her? She’s not even pretty” you overheard a girl once, after school.

That girl’s words played in your head constantly and you tried to lose even more weight. You tried to act like everything was fine, but Rafe noticed that you eat less, and you started to skip meals. When he first came to you that night, he noticed how much weight you lost already but he didn’t think much about it. But now that he spent more time with you again, he noticed the change in your behavior and your eating habits.

As days passed, Rafe had enough. Whenever he asked if you wanna go out and grab some food, you always come up with some excuse.

Today, the same happened as always. He was at your place, you two were in your room when he asked if you wanna go out to have dinner, but you said no. You were sitting on your bed with a book in your hand as he was standing in the middle of the room.

“Why?” he asked you when you declined his offer again.

“I’m not hungry” you said and shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s a lie” he said “You didn’t eat anything today”

“I did it” you protested.

“Yeah. What did you eat?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but you couldn’t answer to that, so you avoided eye contact and tried to focus on your book again.

He sighed and sat down next to you, taking the book from your hand then he placed a hand on your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing” you said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Please tell me, Y/n. You helped with my addiction. Whatever the problem is, let me help you. Please” he pleaded to you, but you shook your head.

Rafe opened his mouth to speak again but your phone buzzed with a notification. You know, it’s probably another hateful message from someone so you quickly reached for it, but Rafe was faster and grabbed your phone. When he saw the message his eyes darkened.

“Who wrote this?” he asked, his voice dripping with anger. He knew that he will make that person pay whoever wrote it.

“I don’t know” you mumbled.

“You don’t know?” he asked angrily but then he took a deep breath to calm himself.

You took your phone from him with a sigh and opened all the messages. He saw one message, so it wouldn’t change anything if you tell him the truth. You handed him your phone and he read every single message, and you see how his eyes darkened as he read more.

“How long this is going on?” he asked as he looked up at you and you see the anger in his eyes.

“For a while now” you admitted quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? That’s why you lost so much weight? That’s why you don’t eat properly?” he asked you and you just nodded a little.

“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems” you whispered and turned away from him, but he grabbed you chin and forced you to look at him.

“You will never bother me, okay?” he asked firmly and all you could do was nod again “Next time, something like this happens tell me. And now tell me everything about it”

You sighed and wanted to turn away from him, but he didn’t let you. You looked back into his eyes and his eyes were pleading for you to tell him the truth. You sighed again but you told him everything. How it all started and how it got worser. His heart broke with every word you said. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice that sooner. That he didn’t notice that you’re struggling.

“Y/n… None of those things are true. You’re extremely beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on” he reassured you “Don’t you ever starve yourself because of some jealous people” you smiled at his words as your eyes welled up and you nodded.

After that night, Rafe always made sure that you eat properly. He even decided to spend a few weeks at your place to make sure that you’re eating properly and don’t skip meals. He always woke up earlier and made some light breakfast for you. The first few times you didn’t want to eat it.

“That’s too much, Rafe. I’m not hungry” you protested.

“Y/n, please… You didn’t have to eat all of it. Only eat a little please” he pleaded to you, so you started eating what he prepared for you. To your surprise, what he made was delicious. Soon you get used to the fact that he makes breakfast for you, and you start waiting for it because he was always able to surprise you with it.

As you started eating more and more in the mornings, he took that as a step forward. He knew that you wouldn’t get better in a few days. He knew that dealing with eating disorder is not easy, but he desperately wanted to help you overcome it. You still didn’t eat as much as you used to, and you still said no whenever he offered to go out to grab something for dinner. But he was patient, and he didn’t want to force you to eat. He was just glad that, at least now, you have breakfast.

As a few weeks passed Rafe noticed that you finally started eating more. You eat more for lunch and sometimes you said yes when he offered that you two should go out to have dinner. Rafe knew that you’re still counting the calories, but he still took it as a success.

“You know, I’m so proud of you” he said after you come home from a restaurant, and you laid in his arms in your bed while he was playing with your hair.

“Really?” you asked and looked up at him.

“Yes. Really. I’m so happy that you eat more now and that you gained back a little weight. Don’t get me wrong, you’re always beautiful but you are much more beautiful like that” he whispered and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks for helping me” you whispered.

“You helped me too. That’s the least I can do. And soon, you will get rid of counting calories too” he said determined.

Just as he said, he continued to help you and when he bought something for you, he always erased the calories from the packaging so you can’t check it.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” you asked when he did that the first time. He bought you some chocolate and you wanted to check how many calories it contains but it was all black.

“I’m dead serious. Just eat it and don’t worry about the calories” he said seriously.

As the weeks passed, he still did that, and you slowly get rid of the habit of checking the calories in the packaging. As Rafe saw that you stopped looking at the calories and that you finally started eating properly again, he was proud of you, and he was more than happy that he was able to help. The only thing that would make him even happier, if he had the courage to tell you how he actually feels about you. But he was afraid that you don’t feel the same so he decided to keeping his feelings to himself.

#obx #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #obx x reader #obx x you #outer banks x you #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #drew starkey #drew starkey x you

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yawchi · 11 hours ago

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CLEANSE MY SOUL

yukimiya kenyu x gn!reader

includes: pro/model yukki. small soap maker reader. flirting. pining. late night encounters. just cuteness idk.

notes: this has been haunting me. i’m gonna throw up.

Staring at your front door, barefoot and half dressed with your robe thrown lazily around you is not how you intended to be spending your Tuesday–is ten p.m. still considered evening?–night. It’s not how you spend any of your nights, really. But there are knocks coming from your door.

You never get knocks at your door.

You blink, and again. You had just managed to drift off to sleep after a long day of working your second part time job. After all, small businesses never really fund themselves the first year (or the second, it’s looking like..) Then, you’re taking a step forward.

“Who is it?”

No answer. This worries you. Only two things strike fear in your gut: the all high and the IRS. You’re thinking it’s too late for either to be showing up at your door unannounced. So, with all the poise a half asleep human has at ten in the evening, you reach for the padlock and flip it. You regret it a second later.

Because there, in all of his beautiful, stained glass glory, is none other than Yukimiya Kenyu. Hair wet and wavy, laying charmingly messy atop his head, in a button down that’s halfway undone. No coat–even with it being the middle of January. He’s going to catch a cold.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you level, throw a glance over your shoulder just to double check the time on your stove.

“Oh,” and he’s breaking, now. Finally relaxing out of his poise in just the smallest way; the tiniest bits of imperfection in a showcase you have never seen from him. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. This is so rude of me. I’ll go–”

“No! No, I mean,” you’re fumbling, reaching out a hand as if you’re going to make a move to grab him. Of course you’re not, that’s absurd. It would be inappropriate. Then again, you’re not sure how appropriate it is for him to be here, at ten p.m. You shrug that off. Nuance or whatever. “What do you need, Yukki?”

And it comes out so easily, tonight. The nickname your client told you to use to address him after the second (or was it third?) meeting. He gazes at your hand, then your face. Rubs the back of his neck and smiles and–if you didn’t know any better–blushes, ever so slightly.

“Soap,” he pauses–potentially at your quirked brow, you find tiredness makes it hard to clock yourself–and fixes his broad shoulders squared again. “I’m out. I guess I left my spare at the agency and I had a late shoot and they were locked up by the time I got back and–”

“You came by this late for soap?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. This is so inappropriate to turn up unexpectedly. I should’ve just bribed security to–”

“I’m out of your soap.”

You want to kick yourself for saying it because the defeated look on Yukimiya’s face at your admission is sick. Not in a way that’s necessarily heavy or holds any true weight, but like staring at a kicked doberman. Something that shouldn’t be so easily wounded so it catches you off guard–on edge–enticed.

“Oh,” he sighs, “Oh, okay. I’m sorry for bothering. I’ll just go–”

“But I could make some real quick!”

What. The fuck. No, seriously, what the fuck has come over you tonight? There is no “quick” about this, none of it is. And it’s ten p.m. and you were already asleep and all of your supplies are put up and–

“Really? You could do that for me?”

I could do anything for you.

“Totally,” you say, instead, and take a step back to open your door wider, “Come in. Pardon the mess.”

You walk further into your apartment and snatch the underwear off the back of the couch, kick a sock out of sight. Curse your cat for poising himself directly in the way of Yukimiya’s path but halfway thanking him because it buys you some time to do some spot tidying before your habitat is exposed.

Not like you can really hide much mess in a studio apartment, but whatever.

“I’m surprised you remembered my address,” you settle on saying, to break the ice, as you pull your box of supplies out from behind a makeshift closet of tapestries and curtains. What can you say you are if not crafty. “You just came by, what was it? Once? In November?”

“October,” he corrects you, slips his bag off his arm and sits in one of the chairs in the kitchen. (Or what you could call it, anyways). “Halloween.”

“Right,” you smile as you carry your box over to him. You place it on a stool by the stove, intent on getting to work. “You had a surprise shoot. You needed it because of all the–”

“Face paint,” he finishes, and you both chuckle.

You remember him messaging your business page with an urgent request of the soap he likes, saying he needed it right then. And, well, his shoot happened to be close to your apartment and you were waiting on a package to arrive so, yeah. You forked over your address–something you never do–and he came by with his agent to pick it up. He’s always personable like that; makes sure to see you with every delivery. Actually, you’re not too sure why you’re so shocked he remembered.

Or why it has a weird sort of fluttering blooming in your stomach.

“Right,” you hum, and pull your measuring cup out of the box. “I had you down for a week from now, I usually try to stay stocked for my regulars.”

“I lent some to a friend to try,” he supplies as an answer, but by the faint flicker of a grimace on his face, you think ‘lent’ is more akin to ‘was taken from me’. How funny. “I guess I didn’t realize how low I was.”

“Ah,” you nod, pull out your soap bases and your loaf mold. “I am constantly lending things to my friends as well.”

“So you understand.”

“Perfectly.”

A comfortable silence tucks itself into the room; like a warm blanket over chilly legs. Something about Yukimiya is uneasy but so easy. Like you’re always on your toes but second nature takes over anyways. Talking to him is nice. He’s nice. Especially considering the difference in status between the two of you.

Are all models so humble?

No, that’s not right; you’ve read his interviews. Humble isn’t exactly the right word to describe him. Charismatic? Charming? Suave? Sure. but he is teetering the line of his ego–you know this. You bite the corner of your lip and start cutting down your bases.

“I’ll pay you extra,” Yukimiya breaks the moment, “For the inconvenience. And I brought some tea with me, as well.”

“You brought tea?” You quirk a brow at him, choosing to ignore his first offer (because, really, you could use the money, but you don’t want to seem greedy; you’d do this for him for free). “You always keep it strapped, or..?”

“No,” he laughs, a beautiful, angelic sort of thing. Your knees feel a little weak at the chimes of it. “But I brought some with me to the shoot today. I’m very.. particular about what goes in my body.”

You could go in my body.

“Ah,” you nod, snap your gaze away, try to swallow down the flush in your cheeks. “Tea is nice.”

That’s all it takes for Yukimiya to stand; something that has the hair on your arms beginning to rise; tickle the skin. He’s walking over to you, next to the stove, two tea bags in hand.

“Earl grey,” he supplies when he notices you eyeing them, “That alright?”

“Yeah. Yes.” You’re so embarrassing. “Love it.”

You’ve never had it.

He smiles again (or has he even stopped?), quirks his lips up in a way that is so devilishly handsome it’s damn near sickening. He pulls the kettle off of your back burner and turns to the sink to fill it up. He knows, somehow.

“Not many people love it,” he wagers, places the kettle back on the burner then turns; leans back against the counter beside you to wait. His strong arms cross over his chest in a practiced sort of leisure. You wonder how one man can exude so much divinity. “An acquired taste.”

You swallow, dart your eyes away. Useless, you find, as they keep trailing back to the broad build of the man beside you. You pray he is not close enough to feel the heat coming from your face; or you could pass it off as the steam coming from the stove.

“You know,” you tease, pointing at him with the blade in your hand, “I’ve been told that I am an acquired taste.”

“I can see that.”

You gasp, he chuckles, and you smack his bicep with the towel that was over your shoulder. So easy, so light.

“Rude,” you huff, but there’s still a smile on your lips, a tingling in your fingertips. You add your base to your measuring cup and place it in the pot on the stovetop.

There’s the comfortability again; the ease. You wonder when it became this way. When you could talk to him just so; where the shift was. When he turned from client to.. What, exactly? What is this? What is he doing? What are you doing?

This isn’t professional at all.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Yukimiya speaks up after a few beats. He’s fiddling with your oils, peering through them passingly. You nod. “What made you want to start doing this? Surely it is just easier to leave it all to someone else.”

“Oh, definitely,” you agree through a chuckle, blow it through your nose like a half handed sigh. Now, as you wait for the base to melt you turn to him, move the box off the stool by the stove and sit by him. “But I couldn’t find any soaps that would work for me. My skin is so sensitive and.. Yeah.”

“I see,” he nods, and he’s standing so close, you realize now. He shifts, your knee is touching his hip. You wonder if it feels searing hot to him, too. “I can admire that. Finding a solution for yourself. It’s very respectable.”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that,” you wave off, chuckle nervously. Why does it feel like you are a specimen being observed under a petri dish? “It’s just soap.”

There’s a beat of silence, of understanding. Then, Yukimiya is moving again, pressing in closer. Not enough to be fully inappropriate but more so than any of your other clients have gotten, for sure. (Or anyone, recently, for that matter).

“Well, your skin is beautiful. So you must be doing something right.”

You want to die. You want to curl up in a big, deep, dark hole and die. Right here, right now. What the fuck. What the fuck. The kettle is whistling, you tuck tail and turn your attention to your soap on the stove.

“Well, thank you, Yukki.”

“My pleasure, (Y/n).”

And it’s soft, sweet; the palm to the small of your back as the man pushes off the counter and goes to search for two mugs. He finds them in the drainer and brings them back to your shared work space. Joins you in tandem like this is what you normally do at ten o’clock on a Tuesday night; like you’ve always done this. How, you ponder, is it so easy?

You stir your oils in as Yukimiya fills the mugs up, places the tea bags in. Your attention is so sparse tonight, so all over the place. You hardly notice your arm getting too close to the pot on the stove. But Kenyu doesn’t.

“Careful,” he warns, grabs your wrist to pull it away from its impending doom. His grasp is warm; stern, but soft. He’s so close, you blink up at him. “You almost burned yourself.”

“Oh,” you mumble, gently pull your arm from his warm clutches, “Wouldn’t be the first time. See?”

You hold out your arms to show him your battle scars; faults of the trade. Working with hot and melted substances isn’t easy, and while your face’s skin may be good, your arms have seen better days. You chuckle, Yukimiya does not.

No, he pouts. “You should take better care,” and he’s reaching for you again, both wrists in his palms this time. He’s observing, cataloging. You want to shrink under his gaze. “I have some scar cream, that would help.”

“Okay,” you aren’t even sure what he said but you don’t care. It’s fine, you can agree. “We’ll call it a fair trade.”

“Okay,” he levels, but you both know full well he is still going to pay you (and extra at that) for your services tonight.

After that, he lets you be for a bit. He takes his seat once again and watches as you get to work. No dyes because Yukimiya doesn’t like that. Extra shea butter because he does. Oatmeal bits to soothe his skin after so much makeup throughout the day. Piece my piece you construct his soap until it is time to pour. And you, well, you’re nothing if not a hospitable host.

“Do you want to pick the mold?” you ask, because he’s here. And this batch is just for him. “I know I normally just use my square one, but if you wanted a change..”

“Flowers,” he says, smiles, “I’d like one with flowers.”

“I can do flowers.” You pick one that’s still rectangular, but has flowers printed on the top. Something old and something new. A subtle change, something you think suits him better. He doesn’t protest and you think that to be a good sign. You set it on the counter and begin to pour.

It’s always painstaking; this part. Trying to make sure you don’t spill or overflow or pour too fast and get bubbles on the top. It’s even worse when you have Japan’s next top model and top ten soccer pro watching and dissecting your every move. Still, your pour is good and when you’re done you set your measuring cup in the sink.

Usually, you like to clean up immediately after. Now, though, it seems rude to do so when you have a guest. So you discard your things to the sink and come back over, drag your stool and sit across from the Yukimiya Kenyu at the counter. You tug your robe higher over your shoulders, lean forward a little on your elbows.

“It takes a while to cool,” you bit the corner of your lip, fiddle with your thumbs as you peer through heavy lashes, “I’m sorry, there’s–”

“It’s completely fine,” Yukimiya grins, fingers skimming your arm across the countertop, and you wonder what has happened to that line of professionalism, “I have all night.”

“No shoot tomorrow?”

He shakes his head. And you know–not because you watch every single one of his games or anything, don’t be absurd–that it is the off season for soccer, so there’s probably no practice either. You hum, nod to yourself. You’re doing that a lot tonight, nodding like a bumbling idiot. You can’t help it, you think, not when a man such as this is in your apartment.

Your counter isn’t very wide, the two of you are much closer than either of you think. And Yukimiya is still playing with the hem of your robe sleeve. Toying with it and your heart and the heat in your tummy. You peer at him and he adheres to you and you, well.

You kiss him, because he’s right there.

“Oh. Oh! Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” you’re blubbering, pulling back. Whatever kind of sleepy delirium you're in has really caused you such a deadly demise. You want to keel over right now. “That was so inappropriate, I’m–”

“Completely alright,” he levels, takes your hand and pulls you back in, as much as the counter separating you will allow.

“You sure?” you’re leaning in again, he’s pressing forward.

“Yes,” he breathes, hot and heavy against your lips and, oh. You’re kissing, again.

His lips are velvet and his skin is silk and you think such delicacies do not belong in your shoddy apartment, but maybe–just maybe–belong in your arms. You kiss him back and revel in it for as long as he lets you. A prince and pauper, in the open kitchen of your studio apartment.

He pulls back enough to gaze at you, rub his thumb over your knuckles. Reach a hand up to do the same over your cheek. You blink, dumbfounded and dazed.

“So,” he says, finally, after what feels like an eternity, “Does this mean I get to have a soap named after me?”

You laugh, light and airy and warm, and nod your little head again for the millionth time.

“Yeah, I think we could work something out.”

You do, name a soap after him. And it becomes a best seller overnight. And, suddenly, you can afford much more than a studio apartment on the semi-rough part of town for you and your cat.

And Yukimiya Kenyu makes you tea every night, and kisses you too.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#yukimiyaz writing #yawchi writing #yukimiya x reader #yukimiya kenyu x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #yukimiya x you #yukimiya kenyu x you #bllk x you #blue lock x you

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area51-escapee · 9 months ago

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Also I need particularly cis women to understand that emasculating your trans man friends isn’t funny or cool it’s transphobic. I don’t care how much you hate men I don’t care much you say we’re “one of the good ones”, I don’t give a shit, you don’t get to call yourself our friend and call yourself an ally if you’re going to partake in denying us our identity as a man just like everyone else. It’s not cute or progressive when you slap a feminist label on it, if you really can’t stand to see trans men embracing masculinity and being happy to embrace our identity then just don’t be friends with trans men.

#I’m sorry this has bothered me for. a long time #like I just don’t think it’s cute or silly when women target things they know I’m dysphoric about #because making fun of men is fine #I’m a man so it’s funny that I’m short I’m a man so it’s funny my voice is high I’m a man so it’s funny that I’m weak or sensitive #I don’t think it’s funny. it hurts. it fucking haunts me to know that I’m not enough or not as much of a man as I’d like to be #I know there’s more to being a man than being physically strong. something that my disability would never allow #I know there’s more to being a man than being six feet tall or having a deep voice #I know that being a man as I am is just fine until I can transition as I’d like to #so I don’t love that it’s treated as just something to pick on and if I complain or stand up for myself #then I’m being aggressive and toxic and my masculinity is too fragile

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oysters-aint-for-me · 2 years ago

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still thinking abt a post i saw a few days ago that was an old 2014 destiel post and it was you know all-caps enthusiastic (which is FINE) and it was comparing destiel to other “actual” tv bromances to show that destiel was NOT a bromance but a legit romance (which it WAS i know) but a couple of the example “bromances” were: troy and abed (community). turk and JD (scrubs). shawn and gus (psych). and i was like 🤔 ok…genre and ultimate canon outcomes aside…what ELSE do all three of those “bromances” have in common… 🤔🤔

#when i was younger i thought it was so weird that ppl didn’t ship turk and JD as hard as was clearly possible #and i was like ‘🤔 it couldn’t be because turk is Black…right?’#(this was like. 2003)#but now i absolutely think that was the case #i think there has been some #some improvement here in that there are more ships with POC characters and more shippers for them #(see: sambucky)#but when i was in the hardcore community fandom while it was still airing #no one shipped it #(trobed that is)#(no one being a hyperbole but not a huge one)#it always bothered me but i never said anything because i was a coward. i’m sorry #trobed #shawn x gus #turk x jd #anyway shipper culture has for a long time explicitly ignored characters of color and Black characters in particular!#and it’s getting better but has a long way to come!#btw if castiel and dean ever sang a ‘somewhere out there’ duet to save a rat? this website would explode #and trobed will always have that 💜 thank you for coming to my TED tags #editing to add that i think even within current ships with characters of color those shippers are not immune to being racist themselves!

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ringneckedpheasant · 2 years ago

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i’ve been reading a book that’s an edited down version of decades worth of journals that some lady inherited from her gay uncle when he died in the late 80s (early 90s?) & in the foreword she talked about how he kept ridiculously meticulous records of like 60 years of his life that she had to sift through and I am just. having fun thinking about inflicting that on one of my sister’s kids when I eventually kick the bucket

#this guy was kind of reclusive and had debilitating anxiety for most of his life & that’s why he journaled so much #& I am just. I’m already a hermit I might as well be doing something in my spare time #& I also have a really bad memory & it bothers me how much of my life has been lost to time #& also this book is such a cool primary source text Because he was so weirdly meticulous #like records of every place he went to in dc and tons of stuff about the layout of the city #& it makes the past feel very close #marc.txt #sorry i just got back into journaling in february after like a 6 year hiatus #all my journals from ≈14–18 got such severe mold damage at the last place I lived that I had to throw all of them away #& it broke me of the habit & made me lose my motivation for a very long time #i’ve tried a couple times to pick it up again since then but this is the only time it’s really stuck

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borealwrites · 9 months ago

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Ciri, quietly pondering to herself: ‘ Do not let him know how awkward you are. ‘

Roche: Nice weather.

Ciri: Oh, thanks—. . . What?

You know what, I can totally see Ciri falling for this guy

I mean I know nothing about his personality or skills, but he has a motorcycle. I approve of this Witcher x final fantasy ship! Maybe. Idk. Like I said I literally know nothing about him and I refuse to do more than an image search. Anyway he looks like he’d be awkward too! I don’t write for either of those fandoms, so I’m not taking that as a prompt.

#roche ff7 #cirilla fiona elen riannon #Witcher x final fantasy #if that is not ff7 Roche I’m sorry #pls don’t blame me blame Google #anyway please stop bothering me #write your own rare pair fics #you know who ships voltehre x Schrödinger?#me I do #so I wrote my own fics for it and screamed at my friends #but I never bugged people to the point of annoyance about them #listen I have created three Witcher rare pairs with help #you will get no sympathy from me #i have to underline with help #thank you one who actually did 75% of the heavy lifting #I just went “hey what if”#buckle down and write your own fics #stop annoying people with asks #and then maybe people will stop hating the ship so much #to all the non Witcher people seeing this:#this person has been spamming Witcher blogs with anon asks about this ship for a very long time #and even when ignored or reported or whatever #does not stop #and we’re all kinda sick of it at this point #anyway this is like the 5th or 6th one I’ve gotten #usually I just delete them but I’m in a bad mood today

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yanderenightmare · 3 months ago

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♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either.

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck.

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right?

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked.

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him.

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor.

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies.

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything.

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you.

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?”

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face.

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember.

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex.

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either.

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault.

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs.

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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luveline · 5 months ago

Note

hi hii jade! Was wondering if you could do something sweet and fluffy w poly!marauders where reader wakes up in a very cozy and giggly mood 🤭 just some warm domestic love hehe

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

Someone is kissing his waist. Sirius squirms in his dozing, not expecting it as those kisses travel up his naked chest. Your laugh is breathy and soft as you kiss his shoulder, your weight strewn across his side and arm, your hand finding his cheek.

Your fingers feel inhuman in the best way, like an angel. They spread across his face and neck as you hold him in place and kiss the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. “I love you…” you whisper, the ‘you’ turning long and slow like honey slipping down his front. “I wish you didn’t sleep so much.”

You kiss him again, and with that you’re out of bed. Out of the room before Sirius has time to gather his wits, but he does gather them, because he needs more of whatever that was.

What sort of sweetheart kisses somebody with such gentleness thinking they won’t remember? To press affection into him with want of nothing in return. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just scrubs at his sleep-swollen face and fishes the crusties from his eyes as he descends the stairs, numb-legged.

James is grabbing you by the hips, helping you up onto the counter. His curls bounce at the back of his neck. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks.

“Love, for sure.”

“I can see that. Eggs? Omelette?”

“Jamie, you can make anything. Actually, let me make you something–”

James pushes you further onto the top. “That’s okay, I’m cooking. I want to cook.”

Sirius isn’t insecure, exactly. He feels he’s quite handsome when he attempts to be, and he knows you like him whether he’s trying or not, but he doesn’t know if you want to be interrupted, either of you, and it’s his private agony to wonder what to do. Then you spot him over James’ shoulder and your eyes practically sparkle.

“Siri…” you sing-song, melodic as he crosses the kitchen linoleum to be with you and James. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

Sirius touches James’ elbow with love but swoops in on you. “Did you wake me?” he asks, kissing your cheek, his arms working behind you to hold you as his lips travel downward. He isn’t half as sweet as you were, too busy trying to squeeze your torso against his and mould you into a perfect fit against him and under his arm to really think about what he’s doing.

“She did it to me, too.”

Sirius pulls your face into his neck and turns to James with a grin. “And Remus?”

“He was already awake. But she kissed him and did that thing where her eyes somehow look bigger and shiny and he had to go for a walk.”

“He didn’t have to go for a walk,” you mumble from Sirius’ neck. “He always walks on Saturday mornings. He’s just getting some herbs from the greenhouse.”

The back door opens on cue. Remus reappears with an aura about him much like yours, dropping the cut herbs on the cutting board, and stopping just shy of everyone to smile. “Did she do it to you, as well?” he asks.

James squeezes Remus’ face in his hand, a quick thank you for the herbs that has the latter turning pink.

“She waylaid me with kisses like a common whore.”

“Sirius,” James says scornfully.

“Me being the whore,” Sirius says. You laugh into his neck, seemingly with no inclination to leave the circle of his arms. “Will I ever see your face again?” he asks.

“It’s cozy here. I wish we’d stayed in bed.”

“We can go back.”

“After breakfast,” James says, popping an egg on the edge of the frying pan, breaking the shell one handed as he gives the sizzling oil a shake.

Remus not so subtly crosses the last of the space to slot himself between your right thigh and the counter. Sirius has the urge to cup his cheek as James had done —Remus has an extremely holdable face— but is distracted by your nose nuzzling the line of his throat.

“I love you,” you say.

Doesn’t matter who you’re talking to. All three boys melt.

“I’d like to do some really weird things to you,” Sirius says.

“Me too,” James agrees. “But we do need breakfast first.”

“No one is doing anything weird to me, it’s the weekend.” You beam as Remus laughs, seemingly your intention.

Sirius backs away to a polite but still close proximity. He isn’t selfish; being in a ‘strange’ relationship like this one is a lot of reading cues, and a lot of just plain old climbing into people's laps when you want them, because nobody can truly read minds. Yet Sirius can see that you’re in the sort of mood where everything you touch turns to gold and all the boys want a piece of you, and who is he to get in the way of that?

Well, he’s your boyfriend. He takes a kiss before he delegates himself to being herb-chopper, stealing glances of you from the corner of his eye.

You tease a strand of Remus’ hair behind his ear.

“Weird stuff is for weekdays only,” you’re murmuring. “What I want today is the real romantic stuff.”

“Then you can have it,” Remus murmurs back.

Sirius will happily be doing very romantic things to both of you after his omelette. James, too, if he’s so inclined.

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devil-in-hiding · 6 months ago

Note

Okay but Virgin!Reader who is absolutely terrified of intimacy. It’s not a lack of knowledge on the subject; she’s knows more about it than a retired pornstar. But she just can’t handle the thought of giving herself away, especially to someone she doesn’t know or feels like she can’t trust! Back where she comes from, trust is a privilege and respect is a must. But what happens when she meets brutal, gruff, and one hundred and ten percent dangerous Simon Riley, who’s way more experienced and has a history of fucking just to let off some steam.

Ughhhhh 😵‍💫

Simon is your neighbor. Your first interaction is when he almost knocks you over in the hall, only offering a grunt and cold glare before slamming his apartment door shut.

It remains that way for a year or so, the rare times you do see him home. Nothing is ever said, but he acknowledges you with a grunt, and you always return a small nod of greeting. He’s cold and gruff, but every time he gets home from wherever he goes, you have to hole up in the living room to escape the moans and his headboard banging into your wall. the following mornings you can hardly look him in the eye as he stares at you rushing towards the stairs.

It’s not until after a particularly bad date, who is stubbornly trying to invite himself into your apartment, that Simon actually speaks.

“Jake please, I had a nice time but I have to get up early for work.” You protest, trying to block your doorway and the guy scoffs. “C’mon, you gonna leave me hangin like that?” He frowns, trying to shoulder past you.

“I would like you to leave now.”

“Listen here you little bitch, I’ve had to put up with staring at that rack all night, the least you can do is-“

“Think the lady told you to get the fuck out mate.” A deep voice growls, and the two of you jump, and your eyes widen at seeing Simon there, and there’s a dark look in his eyes as he stares down your ‘date’

“Hey man, this is none of you-“

“Considering this nice woman is my neighbor, I’m making it my fucking business.” He states before quite literally lifting Jake by the scruff of his neck and throwing him out into the hallway. “I see you bothering her again and I’ll kick your sorry ass up and down this god damn complex you got that?”

Jake is gone before Simon is done talking. You hear him take a deep breath, shoulders relaxing before he turns to face you, and you’re surprised by the concern showing in his eyes.

“That fuckhead didn’t hurt you, did he?” He asks, and you’re shocked this man’s voice can be so soft. You’re frozen, just staring at him before you find your voice.

“N-no, no I’m okay, he was just trying to shoulder past me.” You stutter out, nervously playing with your fingers. Your heart stops when one of his large hands reaches up, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Sorry it took me so long, couldn’t tell if it was you I was hearing.” He admits, and your heart flutters. He knows your voice?

He talks to you more after that, helping you with groceries when your hands are full, stopping by to ask if you’d watch his apartment while he’s away on deployment. You start to look forward to the two knocks on your door, finding Simon waiting for you, crinkles around his eyes letting you know he’s smiling at you.

But the women still come, along with your nights camped out in the living room, you’re heart just a bit heavier every time.

(might turn this into something)

#simon riley x reader #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #x reader

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

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kaiijo · 9 months ago

Text

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm.

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko.

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated.

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone.

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along.

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery.

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…”

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends.

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him.

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally.

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest.

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with.

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance.

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up. you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at.

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops.

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #msby x reader #black jackals x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 months ago

Note

I LOVEEEEE YOU FICS OMG OMG

If you could be so kind to write a DomgojoxBratreader where he is her academic rival and they are always arguing but they start falling for each other. She is sassy and he matches her energy 🙏🏽🙏🏽

I pushed her back to the wall and said “You done?”

Tags: dom!Satoru x fem!Reader, brat!Reader, brat taming, academic rivals, rivals to lovers, slight angst, maybe hurt/comfort, hea, cursing, smut, mdni, spanking, slight impact play, cunninglingus, unprotected sex, this shit gonna be nasty i fear.

An: This all takes place when they're in a like Jujutsu Tech College... bare with me lmao. It's basically the events from their highschool years, but I made it to where they happened while they were in college, so all the characters are of age here. I looooove the academic rivals trope after I wrote my Hiromi fic 😩 you can read that here if you’re interested! Also, so sorry but this is a long one... 7.3k words...

Thwak!

Your body jolts forward a bit as you’re slung unceremoniously over Satoru’s shoulder. His large palm wooshes to connect with your bottom once more.

Thwak!

“Why is it always the small ones who I can throw around so effortlessly that talk the most shit?” His face is occupied with that shit eating grin as he gives your ass another spank just for the hell of it. There’s nothing you can do about it anyways. He may as well have his fun.

“Put me down, Satoru!!” You whine, trying to jostle your way out of his grip, but he’s having none of it. Your fists pound at his muscular back, but he continues to laugh. Without your cursed technique, you’re really are just a weakling to him.

“Where are your manners, princess? That’s no way to speak to your upperclassmen.” He taunts as he continues to carry you around with ease. “Maybe if you call me senpai, I’ll put you down.”

“Fuck no! I’m not doing that, weirdo!” You huff as your body continues to wriggle in his grasp. Geto watches with an amused look on his face. He makes no effort to stop Satoru’s shenanigans since you really were asking for this by provoking him all day today.

Your cursed technique is the only one that comes close to countering Satoru’s, so you’re the only person he’ll bother training with. However, he’s a complete asshole to train with.

When you’re losing, he gets all cocky and mouthy, talking about how weak and pathetic you are. When you’re putting up a good fight, Satoru somehow gets even more energetic. His cursed energy output increases exponentially, and he gets touchier too because he can’t cope with the euphoric feeling of actually having a challenge.

Principal Yaga was the unfortunate soul who had to tell Satoru that it was inappropriate to bear hug you for so long after a good sparring session. One time, you were trapped in his arms, completely unable to move for almost an hour as he rambled about how much he enjoyed getting that energy out. His face was also coincidentally(?) shoved in your chest. He, of course, claims it was nothing sexual, but you were completely pressed against him. You felt him grow hard against your thigh.

Either way, you always felt like you had a chip on your shoulder. You didn’t just want to he known as the one who could “almost counter Satoru”. You wanted to be known as the one who could beat the strongest sorcerer of today.

Unfortunately, you weren’t strong enough to beat him in combat yet, so you usually provoked him with words. All day, Geto has had to listen to you and Satoru bickering back and forth with each other.

“Well, at least my eyes aren’t off putting to look at.”

“My eyes are beautiful, princess. You’re just mad that you can’t get a date meanwhile I have girls falling all over me.” Satoru of course childishly stuck his tongue out at you.

“Bold of you to assume I can’t get a date.” You fire back with a small huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh? Does the princess have a date? Make sure to let me know how that goes.” Satoru laughs, and his hand ruffles your hair uncaringly.

“You can ask your dad tomorrow morning how it went.” You’re use to Satoru’s sass by now, and you know how to perfectly match his freak as some would say.

Satoru shoots you a small glare, which only elicits a giggle from you. You decide to push it further. “Yeah, I’m thinking about giving you a sibling. What do you think about that, hm? Maybe we’ll make another six-eyed freak with the limitless technique, so you aren’t that special.”

Satoru’s nose twitched in disdain. Not only did he not like the thought of not being special anymore; he despised the thought of you sleeping with his dad.

And that’s how you ended up thrown over his shoulder as he carried you towards the training matts. “Quite the mouth on you, princess. If only you could fight as good as you yap.” He smirked as he gave your ass a light spank. Once he realized the amount of control he had over you in that moment, it was game over for you.

“Let me go, Satoru!” You shrieked as Gojo continued to manhandle you over his shoulder. After a good twenty minutes of him holding you up, Suguru finally spoke out.

“You two are starting to sound like an old married couple. Put her down, Satoru.” Geto’s calming voice finally laid down the law to which Satoru reluctantly abided by, allowing for your feet to touch the floor.

You caught your breath as you were put down. It had been taxing to wrestle in his arms and scream for him to stop it. He knew you couldn’t activate your cursed technique while had full control over your body. Plus, if you were to activate your technique, you would’ve likely hurt Geto in the process. Satoru knew you wouldn’t even entertain the risk.

While Satoru was Suguru’s one and only friend, you were more like a little sister at Suguru’s side. He was the only one who didn’t view you as “Satoru’s counter”. To Suguru, you were just “y/n”. He saw you as an underclassman with an unprecedented level of potential.

He also often helped you with your studies. While Satoru was technically the brighter one of the two, Suguru was a true teacher. He explained even the most complicated topics to you, much to Satoru’s displeasure.

You didn’t miss the scowl on Satoru’s face each time you came up to both of them to request for Geto’s help. You didn’t miss the way he’d stare at both of you with a slight pout and how he’d try to tell you the answer before Geto could explain it.

You figured that it was just Satoru being spoiled. He didn’t like not being the center of attention when it came to you and Geto.

Satoru turned towards you, and he opened his mouth to continue on his little beratement of you when the door to the training area was abruptly opened. Principal Yaga stepped through the doors and called Gojo and Geto to his office.

The principal ended up sending the two young men out on a mission, and that was when everything changed between you three.

*** *** ***

Things between you three went dry for a while. You knew the details of what happened, but you didn’t dare talk directly to Satoru or Suguru about it.

Both of the men went their own separate directions, leaving you behind in the dust as if you were a child of divorce. Satoru took on an ungodly amount of training, barely ever at the dorms to do anything. Suguru occupied himself with a massive amount of missions.

Suguru was getting skinnier too. His long black hair was becoming thinner by the day, and he always looked so painfully tired. You felt like you would be a burden on him if you asked for any help from him.

Satoru was training so much, putting on more muscle in every place of his body. He didn’t ever invite you to spar with him anymore. He never taunted you in the hallways or even made direct eye contact with you.

They were both so preoccupied in their own grief that they seemingly forgot about you.

Things didn’t stop there either.

Haibara’s death shook Jujutsu Tech to its core. Nanami dropped out of the program. Suguru dropped out and was now a wanted criminal. Shoko wasn’t on the teaching path anymore, moving to learn more RCT to prevent something like this from happening again.

It was just you and Satoru on the teaching path. “Class” if you can even call it that - was so depressing that you barely bothered to show up for lectures anymore. Satoru was taking on every single mission, filling in for Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara’s absence. He wouldn’t even speak to you about Suguru or anything else for that matter.

Feeling so incredibly alone, you were curled up in your dorm late one night. Your face was sticky from tears, and your breath was so uneven. You just needed to talk to someone.

You didn’t think he’d answer, but Suguru sounded happy when he picked up the phone.

“Y/n, how are you?” His voice was like a double edged sword. It was so comforting to hear his voice, but you also remembered the lives he took.

You two spoke for over two hours. You vented out every single grief and complaint to him while he calmly tried to convince you that Jujutsu Tech was a waste of your time.

He was so good at buttering you up, making you feel like his way of thinking even made sense. You were so desperate for a friend; you couldn’t care less that you were essentially signing yourself up for a cult.

“Come to me, y/n. We could do great things together. It’d be like old times. I need you here with me.” A cult leader preying on someone when they’re at their lowest.

You agreed, hanging up the phone to start packing your bags. You couldn’t take living here anymore anyways, not after everything. Satoru probably wouldn’t even notice that you’re gone.

Quietly creeping down through the dorms, duffle bag in hand, you flinch when a sudden hand grips your shoulder from behind. You let out a sharp gasp followed by a small cry before you turn around quickly.

Satoru was standing behind you, no humor in his face at all. He was shirtless. His abs and muscular arms were on full display as he was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and his hair was slightly damp from a shower.

“Where are you going?” He asked in a tone you’d never heard him use. He was being stern with you as if you were a child.

You shift uncomfortably underneath his gaze before you brush his hand off your shoulder. “I’m going to go stay with a friend.” You give him a half-lie, not able to tell him to his face that you were leaving.

“Pretty large duffle bag for going to stay with a friend, don’t you think?” His hand effortlessly takes the duffle bag off your shoulder, and he pulls it away from you before opening it, taking notes of the contents inside. “I don’t know why you bother lying to me. My six eyes know when you’re not telling the truth.”

You try to take the duffle bag back from him, but he dodges and bats away all of your attempts. “I wasn’t lying!” You shout, getting frustrated and impatient with him. “It’s not like you even care. Give me my shit back.”

Bright blue eyes look up at you, and his pupils dilate, the size of small pinholes. “I don’t care?” He asks before letting out a humorless laugh. It’s eerie seeing him like this, like a stick that just about to snap if anyone applied anymore pressure to him.

“You don’t. You don’t even talk to me anymore, even when I try talking to you! You and Geto completely blew me off.” Hot tears burn in your eyes as you’re forced to face how you feel right in front of him. “At least Geto wants to talk to me now.” You murmured quietly, shifting your gaze to the ground.

“You talked to Suguru?” Satoru asks, eyes wide and full of anger. His palm comes up and grips your hair pulling it back so you’ll look him in the eyes.

You let out a sharp hiss as his fingers are digging into your scalp. “Let go of me!” You shout, trying to free his hand from your hair.

Things finally start to click in Satoru’s head. You were leaving him, leaving him to go stay with Suguru. His stomach coiled in white hot rage and jealousy. Could you not see all he had done for you? Yet, you still choose Suguru, who had done nothing for you.

Your body feels weak and unstable as you’re suddenly teleported to the training mats in the gym. “Satoru, what?” You ask as you look around as best as you can. He finally frees your scalp.

“You want to go be with him?” He asks before throwing your duffle bag against the door. He then leans over and starts to stretch his legs. “You’ll have to beat me. Prove to me that you’re strong enough, and I’ll let you go. I won’t keep chasing you.”

"Satoru, you're talking crazy..." You reply as you glance over to your duffle bag that was slumped against the door. You had no want or intention of fighting Satoru. "I'm allowed to drop out if I want."

"So what? You just quit? You're just going to let me win like that? Bullshit, yn. I know you better than that." Satoru's eyes bore holes into the very depths of your soul. He does know you better than that — knows that you're not one to back down from a challenge.

Your jaw tightens as you watch him, anger coiling in your stomach. He can never just let you have what you want. Everything was a fight to him. He always gets what he wants because he's the fucking starboy of Jujutsu, and you're just "close enough" to his counter.

You rip your sweatshirt away from your body, tossing it off the matt. Your torso was clad in a thin tank top that you didn't necessarily plan on letting anyone see. You roll your neck. If he wanted to fight, you'd give him one last one.

"Atta girl." He whistles with a smug grin. His body is still in a fighting stance, waiting for you to take yours.

You don't even bother to respond to his praise. You know he's only acting like this to get under your skin more. "Make it count, Satoru. This will be the last time I ever fight you."

"Oh, I make it count each and every time."

It's not long before you two are completely at each other's throats. The amount of cursed energy emitting from the training area was absolutely devastating for the school. Building foundations literally shook. The lights flickered constantly, and a few even blew.

You two were lucky it was in the dead of night. If anyone was awake to witness this, they would've already put a stop to it, but most citizens must've chocked the movements up to small earthquakes in their sleepy haze.

Your body was tired and bruised, but you weren't going to give up. You wouldn't tap — no matter how many times Gojo put you in different submission positions. You always managed to break free and hit him with your elusive technique — something his infinity couldn't recognize.

He had grown so much stronger since your last sparing session. All of the training and missions had done him well. His chiseled body felt heavier against you. His grip was tighter. He was faster, stronger, and smarter.

Strangely enough, Satoru was mostly silent during this fight. He didn't taunt you or call you pathetic like he normally did. Besides his quiet grunts and growls from blows or primal rage, he was deadly silent.

This was serious to him. This wasn't like a fight with a meaningless curse. This wasn't like a cute little sparring session with you back in the day. This was you, and your role in his life. He would be damned before he let you fucking quit and leave him.

"Come here." His voice was deeper, rougher — predatory almost as he went in for another submission. His eyes were trained on you, and he had one objective in his mind: to keep you.

You slipped up, misjudging Satoru's distance from you. Before you could evade him, Satoru's large calloused palms gripped the underside of your thighs, and he lifted your body up with ease, shoving your back against the wall.

"You done?" He growled lowly against your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. His chest was rising and falling harshly. He was also bruised, but he'd fight you for the rest of eternity if it meant you wouldn't leave him.

Your breath was faster than his — literally panting as you took the moment of reprieve and rested against the wall. It had been so long since you too had sparred, you almost forgot how handsy he could be with you in the middle of fights.

His slender waist was between your thighs, still only covered by his grey sweat pants. His abs were glistening in sweat, and his hips created a perfect V dipping into his waistband. You instinctively had your legs wrapped around him — making him support your weight.

"I'm not going to let you win." Your voice is low and shaky from the fight. Your nerves were wound up after the night you had.

"Then, stay. Keep fighting me." His body pressed closer to yours. If anyone walked in on you two, it would definitely appear as if you two were doing things other than fighting.

"He needs me, Satoru..." You murmur, turning your head away from his. Suguru said it himself. He needed you. Satoru just wanted you to keep playing catch up with him.

Satoru's jaw clenched, and he pushed your back against the wall harder. He supported your weight with one of his hands and his waist as his other hand roughly grabbed your jaw. His fingers digging into the soft skin of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

"If he needed you so fucking badly, why did he leave you here with me?"

You look at him with lost eyes as the reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. Your big brother, Suguru, had changed into someone you could hardly recognize. You tense — immediately trying to push those thoughts out of your head.

He can recognize that you're still trying to deny it. He jolts your body a bit, making your eyes snap open to look at him again.

"I need you, yn." His voice is raw. He's almost pleading with you. He sounds so convincing, but you can't help but doubt him.

"No, you don't..." You whisper as tears sting your eyes. Suguru didn't need you. He hadn't even bothered to call or text you. If he needed you so much, why didn't he reach out?

"Oh really?" Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. "So, I'm just fighting you at three in the morning for fun? I'm just fighting to keep you here with me for the thrill of it." His hand is unwavering on your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he speaks.

His eyes look so tired and drained. If you left, how would he have any moments rest. He's barely sleeping now as it is, and if you leave, he'll have to take on your missions on top of everything else.

But something tells you it's not even about that. This fight is the closest thing he's felt to human connection in months.

The rawness of his tone and emotion tugs at your heart strings, but it still feels like you’re giving up to him.

“Fighting at three in the morning sounds typical for you. You just don’t want to lose your favorite punching bag.” You spit back at him.

His hand — so pale and veiny — trails down from your jaw to your neck, and he squeezes just hard enough to make you feel all tingly inside. “Is that what you think? Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

Your face warms from his crude words, and your hands squeeze his shoulders. His lips curl into a smirk as he witnesses your inner struggle, but he knows the truth. His six eyes know your tell: the way your thighs squeeze around him as if you’re trying to subdue your arousal.

He knows good and well that your pretty cunt is weeping for him, but he’s not going to give into yours or his own desires yet.

“I didn’t fight Nanami when he left.” His voice is back to a steady state, speaking the words carefully to ensure you understand what he’s trying to convey. “I even had the opportunity to fight Suguru to come back. I didn’t.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, making it feel like your stomach flipped upside down. You want to open your mouth to speak — to demand to know why he didn’t fight them to stay, but his hand was still firmly wrapped around your slender throat, holding you back from talking.

“How dense can you be, princess? It’s always been you. No one else.” A heady whisper against your ear. His hand subtly relaxes on your throat.

Then, you remember all the looks he gave you when you’d ask Suguru for help. You remember the times he would fight or outright just butt into your conversations, demanding to be the center of your attention.

“I knew you wouldn’t win, but even if you did, I lied. I’d still chase you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let you slip past me.”

“Asshole.” You finally managed to speak, earning a dark chuckle from him.

Thwak!

His hand that had been supporting you slapped against your bottom. The familiar sting causing you to let out a breathy gasp.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you princess?” His hand unabashedly caresses your bottom, soothing the pain.

“I don't think you'd like me as much if I did." You respond gripping onto his shoulders as your body is under his control.

Thwak!

"Probably right about that." He murmurs before he leans into you. His pale blue eyes were half-lidded as he took you in. He's grown tired of denying himself. He's devoted his life to Jujutsu. Now, he just wants to finally do the things he wants to do, and you just so happen to be at the top of his list. "Are you going to play nice, or do I need to keep reminding you who's in control here?"

“I’m letting you have control.” You hiss. Probably not the wisest decision, since Gojo merely lets out a dark laugh. His hand tightens back around your throat, and your back hits the wall with a small thud.

“You’re going to eat your words, sweets.” He mumbles lowly, towering over you as he has full control over your body. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Do you even know what you do to me?”

His hardened length presses right against your core as if on cue, and he lets out a small groan from the contact. You bite back a noise that would let on your arousal because fuck… you’re wetter than you should be right now.

Too bad Satoru already knows the truth behind your flushed face and heaving chest. His six eyes really give him the advantage.

“I’m going to have fun with you, princess.” He quietly laughs as he drags his hips up and down, giving you the smallest bit of friction and pleasure. Both of you let out respective pants and noises — both of you were such a mess for each other.

Just when you were finally getting use to his rhythm, Satoru pulled back harshly, letting your feet touch the floor once more. Your legs subtly tremble as you stand on your own. You were still so exhausted from the fight, and now, you were feeling needy on top of it. It was like a perfect mixture for disaster.

You clench your jaw, not wanting to just give into him just because he said some really thoughtful words and looks so devilishly handsome. Sure, you were probably going to fuck him if he kept going, but you were not about to sit there and beg him to fuck you. There’s a perfectly good vibrator stashed in your duffle bag for this exact reason.

You start to walk towards the doors. Though, you weren’t planning on going to Suguru. You’d just… go stew in your dorm about how infuriating Gojo is, and then you’d get your frustrations out in a different manner.

“Oh no you don’t.” He says with a playful nature as he roughly grabs you right back up in his arms. “Gonna make me really work for it, aren’t you princess?” He carries you, despite your honestly pitiful attempts at getting away from him, and he bends you over one of the bleachers in the training area.

“Sato-“

“Shut up.” He lowly growled before grabbing something out of his pocket. His black blindfold crumpled in his hand before he reached over your back. One of his large hands grabbed your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and his other hand shoved his blindfold into your mouth.

“If you spit that out, I’m replacing it with my cock.” He warns lowly before letting out a small laugh at your panicked expression. Your face is so red from pure embarrassment of the situation. It doesn't help when Satoru's large gruff hands grab ahold of your shorts and yank them down to your ankles. Anyone could walk in here right now. Sure, it was late at night, but Yaga was notoriously a light sleeper.

Before you could even think about spitting out his blindfold and cussing him out, a harsh slap clapped against your bottom. Your teeth clamped down on the blindfold, masking a husky moan. Satoru definitely had a bit of an obsession with spanking you.

His eyes devoured you as your ass rippled. His hand gently rubbed your poor abused flesh before he spanked your other cheek. Your body jolted forward. A small muffled whine came from your lips, but Satoru knew you loved this.

You were practically dripping all over the bleachers for crying out loud. "Messy girl~" He taunted with a small laugh. "I think she's cryin' for it, sweets. She wants a spanking too."

You quickly start to shake your head, your body tensing at the thought. His fingertips gently smacked your drooling cunt, causing for an obscene wet noise to infiltrate your ears. You can't even stop the moan that's muffled from his blindfold. Your vision goes a bit blurry from tears of stimulation and slight pain, but fuck, it makes you clench around nothing. You were practically aching to be filled.

"Mmm~ you liked that didn't you, princess?" His hand rubs over your ass, groping you so shamelessly. "One day you might actually learn that I know your body better than you do..."

His finger trailed between your soaking wet folds, spreading your wetness around your clit, drawing out a shaky moan from you. Your legs started to lightly jitter, and it felt like your knees would give in any moment now.

"Poor, poor thing. You look like a newborn deer trying to learn how to walk." He taunted as his fingers circled around your entrance.

You were half tempted to spit the damn blindfold out, but you knew Satoru wouldn't hesitate to keep you gagging around his cock for hours if you kept being disobedient.

Another small slap to the button of nerves sent you forward. Your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations tingling straight from your core. Your knees went inwards, and you had to support your body with your arms on the bleachers.

"That's it... Who's a good girl?" Satoru breathily purred from behind you. You were such a fucking beauty like this, finally caving in to your desires. You wanted this as much as he did. There was no point in denying it. His fingers went back to rubbing tight circles around your clit to soothe the little painful shocks.

You couldn't even formulate the words to tell him just where he could shove his dick. His ministrations felt like pure heaven, and your stomach tightened slightly. If he didn't slow down, you were sure god was going to come down and pluck you from the Earth.

Seeing the accumulation of energy with his six eyes, Satoru knew exactly what was going on. He smirked as he continued rubbing the swollen numb between his fingers. Your poor wet pussy making the wettest clacking noises he's ever heard. His mouth was practically watering for a taste.

Dropping to his knees behind you, Satoru wasted no time burying his face directly into your cunt. He immediately went to work, using his fat tongue to lap up all of your delicious juices. He gave you tender kisses of encouragement.

"See how you're treated when you're being good?" He taunted lowly right against your cunt. The vibration from his words had you clawing at the bleachers for mercy.

You whined and slightly thrashed, trying to fight the orgasm that was threatening to take over. It was too much- You couldn't cum all over Satoru's face right where you two had spent the most time at each other's throats!!

His tongue prodded at your entrance, and he moaned as he felt your wet velvet heat. You were made to house his cock in there -- he knew it. He'd always been god's favorite, so it made sense that god would bestow such a wonderful woman with the most delicious pussy to him.

His thumb rubbed tight circled around your clit as his tongue flicked in and out. It wasn't a minute later before you were basically gushing into his mouth. A muffled squeal left your throat, and you tried to claw away. Your cunt clenched and clenched, and Satoru nearly pitied your slutty pussy. It really just needed to be filled with dick. His dick.

His hands braced your thighs as he gave you a few more sweet kisses straight to your core before he stood up. He slid himself between you and the bleachers so he could hold you up. Your body collapsed against his chest, and you panted heavily. Not even your best vibrator and favorite smutty book could get that sort of orgasm out of you.

"Don't bite me." He warned with a ragged laugh before his fingers delved between your lips and pulled the blindfold out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or resolve to even say anything to him. Instead, you opted to bury your face in his bare chest.

"My poor princess. Did I wear you out?" His voice was still teasing, even though he literally knew that he just made you see stars.

"Shut up, 'toru." You mutter into his chest, causing for his heart to swell. He loved that nickname, and he loved how you were like a cat pretending like you didn't like being pet by him.

His fingers pressed beneath your chin, and he pulled you up to look at him. Now, his dick was swelling from how precious your face since you were so fucked out already. Wordlessly, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. Getting your pussy ate from the back by him was one thing, but now, he was being all sweet and kissing you?? You can remember all of his sweet words and how he looked when he said them. He was being genuine. He really had feelings for you this entire time.

You wanted to stomp your foot on his toe for taking so long to finally tell you, but his kiss was so sweet and intoxicating. You took a deep breath before intertwining your lips with his.

The sound of lips smacking together filled the training area. You felt the air shift around you. Your passion started to burn hot within the kiss. Both of you chased each others' lips like it was a goddamn need — not a want. Your head actually started to spin as he gripped your jaw and started to nip at your bottom lips with his teeth.

You pulled back - nervous as to why you didn't feel good. Your eyes widened as you took in the change of environment. You were in Satoru's dorm, sat upon his bed. His room was surprisingly clean and warmly lit by a Himalayan salt rock lamp right next to his bed.

"Sorry sweets, I felt like taking this somewhere more private." Satoru merely laughed as his body towered over yours. "I wanted to be able to take my time with you." His voice dropped down an octave, whispering into your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you watched him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his grey sweatpants. They did absolutely fuck all to hide how his dick was straining directly against the fabric. He had a huge tent right in his pants, and his cock had created a small dark stain right on his crotch area from leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

Once his pants were down, your eyes marveled at just how pretty his cock looked in the warm glow of the lamp. His dick was long, and he had such pretty veins decorating the underside and side of his cock. His tip was flushed a pretty cherry red, and he had a pearl of pre-cum leaking from his slit.

"Aw you flatter me, sweets~" Satoru laughed as he petted the top of your head, affectionately ruffling your hair. You scowled up at him, only making him laugh more. There was nothing like seeing you all defiant and pissy with him... except for seeing you all fucked out and pliant under him.

"C'mon~ give it a kiss." He demanded as his long fingers tightened around your hair, guiding your plush lips straight to his dick. You would rather die than give into him like this. Your legs kicked out from you, kicking him straight in the shin.

He hissed quietly from the pain before giving you a dark grin. "You know, I wanted our first time to be sweet and passionate, but you make it real fucking hard to be nice to you, princess." He let go of your head before shoving you back onto the bed.

"Maybe because you make it real fucking hard to want to be nice to you." You retorted as your eyes narrowed. He settled between your legs with a small grunt. Even while you were arguing with him, your cunt was still soaked.

He was almost tempted to take the words out of your mouth by giving you more of his tongue, but his cock had been neglected long enough. "You didn't seem to have a problem after I gave you your best orgasm." He commented with a lopsided grin.

You stayed still against his bed swallowing harshly. Were you two really about to...? Just hours ago, it felt like you two were trying to kill each other. Hell, two days ago, it felt like he had forgotten you even existed.

"This doesn't make up for anything, Satoru." You warned as you kept your gaze hardened. Your body was to receptive to him to deny that you wanted... needed him, so you weren't even going to deny yourself the pleasure that he could give anymore. But this didn't make up for the fact that he had seemingly left you behind for months...

even if he only did that so you didn't have to bare the weight of his mistakes with the star plasma vessel..

even if he only worked himself to death so you could try to focus on your studies instead of being thrusted into being overworked with missions after Suguru and Nanami dropped out...

No, this didn't make up for any of that.

His touch softened as he cupped your cheek in his hand. His thumb stroked your smooth skin, gazing down at you like he was holding the world in his hands. It made you want to squirm and hide.

"So, this is meaningless for you?" He whispered quietly into your ear as his cock slipped between your sopping folds, grinding the underside of his length against you.

Your words got caught in your throat as you gasped for air. You felt your face immediately warm. Shit, you hated feeling this vulnerable... especially in front of your sworn rival.

"Am I only as useful as that cute little vibrator you stowed in your get-away back?" Satoru continued. His hips rocked back and forth, and you found yourself getting squirmy with each time his tip bumped against your entrance.

He was just too damn big to slip inside. It'd take work and lots of perseverance. Luckily, Satoru seemed to be surprisingly patient in that regard.

He groaned as he felt your slick coating his cock. Your body was fucking made for him: made to be his counter and made to take his cock.

You hid your face in his muscular shoulder, stifling a small whine. Damn his six eyes. That vibrator was a godsend some nights when you were stuck being alone.

"Answer me, princess." He drawled as one of his hands reached back to hold your head gently as if he were embracing you. His hips kept a steady rhythm, driving you mad.

"N-no..." You stuttered out, cursing your voice for betraying your arousal.

"Aw, sweets." He cooed in your ear, moving his hips with a bit more conviction now — testing the waters of pressing his giant cockhead against your entrance before going back to dry humping you.

You let out of noise of frustration, hating how easily it was for him to tease you like this. You knew it was going to hurt, but fuck, you were going to cry if you didn't get some relief soon.

"Shh, shh, I'm gonna give you what you need, sweets." He whispered into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to your cheekbone. "You gotta be a good girl for me though."

His arms cradled you as he peppered your neck in kisses. Your hips were rolling to meet his with each thrust. The slickest noises between you two filled the room as his long cock continued to rub against you.

"I'll b-be good, please." You finally choked out, giving up on arguing with him. You were too desperate now. There was no point in trying to hide it.

Satoru doesn't even attempt to hide his smug reaction to you being all submissive and needy underneath him. He drags his hips all the way back until he pushed himself forward — splitting you wiiide open for him.

"Fuck!" He groaned as your tight wet heat enveloped him, practically sucking you straight inside your sloppy pussy. One of his hands reached up and gripped the headboard for support. His back muscles flexed from the new positioning.

"Sh-shit-! Wait, T-toru... ah~! It's not g'nna fit!" You cried out, nails digging into his flesh as you tried to cope with the intrusion of his thick cock.

"Should've thought about that before you fucking begged for it, princess. Now, you're gonna shut the fuck up and take this dick like a good girl, yeah?" His voice was rough with need — no longer teasing. No, this was just primal domination now.

His cock continued to painstakingly shove it's way between your spongy walls, making room for himself right inside you until he was buried to the hilt. His hand had a vice grip against the headboard, and it took all of his mental fortitude to not bust immediately.

He made the mistake of looking down at you. Goddammit you're too pretty like this while taking his dick so well. Your lips were parted as just a small dribble of drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Your eyes were glassed over, and he could've swore he saw hearts in your pupils as you looked up at him.

All your attention was finally on him.

His hips set an unforgiving pace, fucking yours directly down into the mattress as he used his headboard as leverage. At least no one was in the dorms anymore besides you and him. There was no one to bother with how obscenely loud you were whining and moaning for him.

Though, Satoru would've still faced his peers with a shit eating grin the next morning if they still lived here. He was so damn proud to finally have you underneath him.

"T-toruToru~! Toru, oh fuck me~"

"At least that smart mouth of yours is good for something." He growled as his cock continued to rudely bully its way directly to your womb. Your legs were barely able to stay wrapped around him as he pounded his hips against yours.

His white hair stuck to his forehead as sweat started to build up for both of you. He usually hated the feeling, but nothing could tear him away from your sweet, sweet pussy right now.

He huffed as he shoved your legs up onto his shoulders, forcing you into the meanest mating press you could imagine. Your eyes rolled back as you practically kissed your last coherent thought goodbye.

Satoru fucking Gojo was going to had already fucked you stupid.

His cock was ruthless, pressing drabbles of precum directly against your cervix. His hips were practically drilling into you out of sheer muscle memory at this point. He just wanted to rut into until the day he died.

"Yeaaah~ look at you now, princess. Ngh.. can't talk back to me now, can ya? Did Toru fuck that.... mmm- poor little brain of yours stupid?" His hand let go from the headboard, gripping your cheeks with his pointer finger and thumb to make you look up at him. Your mouth parted for him as you gazed up at him.

He gathered a small bit of saliva in his mouth before he directly spit into yours, earning a wanton moan from your lips.

The bed continued to squeak and rattle from the repeated abuse. The headboard was now knocking against the wall without his hand to stop it.

"T-toru.." You cried, trying to warn him of how your tummy was tightening. It felt like every cell of your body was working for this orgasm. Your back arched as you felt yourself tighten around him.

He was already ten steps ahead of you, literally seeing your orgasm before it came. "Cum on my cock, princess. Go ahead. 's okay. I got you." He murmured into your ear right before he felt your gushy walls constricting around him, practically trying to milk his cock.

Goddamn, was it working.

A groan ripped through the air as his dick pulsed inside you. He had been holding on for all this time. He couldn't stop the groans and whimpers that fell from his lips as he finally let go and filled your cute cunt to the brim with his warm cum,

You two stayed still, catching your breaths, and neither of you dared to talk and ruin the moment. It was a silent agreement. Neither of you could fight the attraction between you two any longer.

"I missed you." You finally spoke up quietly. Satoru was vulnerable earlier after the fight. It was your turn now.

"I know." He responded quietly. He regretted taking so many missions and hiding from you. It was his way of trying to make the best out of a shitty situation, but all it did was make both of you unhappy. His nose nudged your cheek gently. "I missed you too."

His lips pressed soft kisses along your jaw. He would take more time later today to fully explain the breadth of his feelings for you, but for now, he was happy to pamper you in affections and aftercare until you fell asleep from overexertion.

Also... he would definitely have to make up some sort of story to tell Yaga and explain why your duffle bag was still in the training area... and why it had a pink vibrator inside.

FUCK FINALLY THE END.

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