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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months ago

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I WANT YOU CLOSER, CLOSER EVEN STILL ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; in the midst of a rainshower, you run into your mysterious classmate.

word count; 6.1k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, implied no curses au, fluffy summer vibes, forced proximity (my beloved <3), pining, very shoujo manga coded, vague allusions to sugu having a troubled background, (kind of same w reader), switching povs, gojo slander, stsg implications if you squint (my brand), he’s a sweet sweet boy and i love him :((

a/n; teen sugu reminds me a lot of the kind upperclassman type of otome game li… with secret emotional baggage that makes his route really hard to complete….. anyway i dedicate this fic to hit mobage jujutsu kaisen: phantom parade PLEASE bring sugu home to me please please please ple

geto looks beautiful in the rain.

it’s an embarrassing first thought to have, as he rounds the corner and comes into view. a black head of hair, making you stop in your tracks, breathe in a gulp of humid air.

you can’t help it, though.

it’s raining. droplets ricochet against the sidewalk in an endless cadence, the sky above you blanketed by gray clouds; enveloping your city in a summery shadow, the scent of hot concrete and blossoming hydrangeas. everything smells of a blistering summer, youth in a bottle cap. tasty on your tongue.

those very same hydrangeas surround him, on all sides, framing his figure like a painting come to life — splotches of colour, flecks of purple and pink and blue, clashing with the gray sky and the black umbrella in his hand. he looks a little disheveled, hair a little frizzy, bangs sticking to his skin. oddly at peace. when his eyes meet yours, you see a flash of recognition — a tiny spark in the amber hue.

you take that as your cue to move closer.

he waits for you, always so patient, smiling as you look both ways before crossing the street — shoes hitting the concrete in a steady thud, thud, thud. a splash from the puddle you step in.

you’re in a good mood. veins flooding with sugar and buzzing with joy, raindrops sticking to your skin and the plastic bag in your hand, absently humming along to a song playing through your headphones. your clothes are soaked, but you’re smiling; swinging the bag of treats as you walk. bags of chips, colourful lollipops, bottles of ramune, clinking together for every step you take. enough to last you a couple weeks. in your good mood, you ended up stocking up on your classmates’ favorites — bouncing on the balls of your feet at the thought of giving them away, seeing their satisfied little expressions.

you even got something for gojo. he’ll have to fight for it, obviously, but you look forward to seeing his face light up when he takes a bite of the soft mochi.

(you like giving them things. it’s fun. it makes you feel like a normal high school kid.)

nothing can dampen your spirits right now. the entire world smells of rain, and hydrangeas, and apple blossoms from the backyards behind you. a scent that creeps into your bloodstream, sneaks into your breath. a smile grows on your lips — blooming even brighter when you step into your classmate’s orbit.

”hey!” you chirp, raising a hand up in greeting.

”hey,” geto echoes, voice honeyed and smooth, bringing a hand up to wipe at his forehead. wet from the humid air. ”out on a walk?”

with a smile, you lift the plastic bag, grabbing his attention. clasping it tightly, with your wet fingers. ”just went to get some snacks. you?”

”i wanted to get some fresh air,” he smiles. eyeing you up and down. ”did you forget your umbrella?”

silently, he takes in your appearance. your breathing is a tiny bit laboured, and the flimsy, oversized hoodie you’re wearing is sticking to your skin. it’s all that protects you from the steady downpour; no umbrella to be seen. you look small, tilting your head up, meeting his gaze. he feels the beginnings of a smile play at his lips. exasperated. all you do is blink, seemingly unbothered, as if you aren’t straight on the road to catching a cold. you can be a little scatterbrained.

maybe that’s why he can’t help but dote on you.

(that’s what satoru calls it, at least. suguru thinks it’s just called being nice — not like satoru would know anything about that.)

”oh. no, i didn’t forget.” you scratch at the back of your neck. ”just didn’t know it was going to rain.”

the sudden downpour gave you no time to prepare, heavy and abrupt — clouds obscuring the glowing sun in what felt like no more than a second. like someone high above flicked the light switch of the world. all you could do was pull your hood up, try to walk under whatever apple tree you came across. it didn’t help much, though.

you shift your weight from one foot to the other, soles weighed down with dew. sort of sheepish.

geto chuckles, raspy and soft. the sound makes your heart skip a beat. ”didn’t you see the weather report?”

”well, it… just slipped my mind, i guess.”

silently, you avert your gaze. now you remember — yaga-sensei did mention that, didn’t he? you heard him say it. but you just forgot.

geto is laughing at you, a little, from within his eyes; at least that’s the impression you get. so you continue, eager to defend your honour.

”it’s fine, though,” you assure him, smiling brightly. a sunny grin. ”i like the rain!”

geto raises an unimpressed brow, but the expression fades away just as swiftly — giving way to something softer. ”you’re heading back to the dorms, right?” he asks, continuing once you give him a slight nod. ”then we can share.”

you blink. one moment passes, then two. but geto only smiles, shifting his umbrella a little, hoping you’ll get the hint. silently beckoning you over.

it makes you feel oddly flustered.

in truth, you and him aren’t particularly close. he’s nice to you, sure, but geto is nice to everyone. you’d like to call him a friend, but what do you actually know about him? not much.

suguru geto is a bit of an enigma. a little mysterious. he’s polite, well-mannered, and he seems like the most normal of your classmates — but the bar is in hell, because you know for a fact geto isn’t normal either. no normal guy deliberately chooses to keep his bangs like that.

there’s a gap, there. a kind of inconsistency. he’s hard to approach, but he puts you at ease. pulls you in and scares you off. with a soft voice and kind smile, keen eyes and a heavy palm on your head. sometimes he brings you snacks when you study in the library, or helps you with homework. kind of like a dependable senpai. someone to lean on.

… but then there’s that gap.

the real geto, who you’ve only seen glimpses of, only ever in gojo’s vicinity, is boyish and bright — he laughs and pouts and takes up space. he glows brighter than the sun. but the geto you’re seeing, right now, is more like the moon. wearing a polite, patient smile. standing up straight.

waiting for you to join him under his umbrella.

(he’s kind. but is he doing it because wants to, or because he feels obliged to?)

”… oh.” a pause. ”no, it’s fine!” you take a step back, quick to reassure him. ”i can walk there without it! i’m already soaked, anyway.”

geto observes you. for a moment, something in his expression flickers; a crease between his brows.

then he shakes his head. still wearing a comforting smile, the same one he always slips on when he’s around you. ”still. we don’t want you catching a cold,” he persists, sounding something like a nagging mother. ”you’ll miss the exam next week.”

and with that, your shoulders drop.

right — the exam. the one you haven’t been studying for in the slightest, completely distracted by the feeling of summer in the air. the one you can’t fail, under any circumstances, because yaga-sensei can and will force you to take summer classes ad compensation. that exam.

a wistful sigh leaves your lips. ”god, i wish.”

geto chuckles — a little deeper than usual. it makes your heart flutter. then he’s beckoning you over, again, with a slight shake of his head.

”c’mon. there’s enough room for two.”

he gives you that same familiar smile, and you’re forced to admit that you might be slightly weak to it. something about the way his lips tug upwards, the light crinkle of his eyes. a certain glint in them that tells you he’s not budging on the issue.

you’re still a little hesitant. but…

(this is a chance, isn’t it? a chance to bridge that gap between you.)

silently, shyly, you join him under his umbrella. shielding you from the still falling rain.

pitter patter, pitter patter. you don’t know where the rain ends and your own heartbeat begins. he’s so close — your shoulders nearly brushing together. it makes your nerves bubble up, in rhythm with the droplets bouncing off the cover up above. you feel stiff. the tiny, miniscule gap between you feels like a sweltering stove, radiating a heat that warns you to stay away. as if his touch could burn you. like this, you can even smell him; fresh laundry, an earthy cologne. the slightest hint of caffeine and tobacco. you blame it on shoko — the whole dormitory smells of cigarettes, thanks to her.

it’s comforting, though. his scent. blending together with the aroma of rain, wet earth, blooming flowers. with his fragrance smoothing over all your senses, the closeness between you a constant reminder of the situation you’re in, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

all you do is murmur out a quick thanks, as you begin to walk, in tandem.

geto can’t help but steal a glance at you, out of the corner of his eye. you look a little meek, a little flustered. he hopes the narrow distance between you isn’t making you feel too uncomfortable.

just to be sure, he angles his body away from yours. ever so slightly, one subtle step away, to make the gap a little wider. then, as discreetly as he can manage, he tilts the umbrella in your direction — not wanting the never-ending drops of rain to graze your skin. he can feel them, now, soaking through the material of his shirt, hitting his shoulder. but he doesn’t mind. to his relief, you don’t seem to notice. he’s pretty sure you’d protest; and as enjoyable as another friendly squabble would be, he’d prefer to avoid it for now.

you’re nice. accommodating, he thinks, in a subtle kind of way. always showing up with trinkets after your little outings, offering to get everyone a drink on your way to the vending machines. you’re friendly with the other two; always nagging at shoko to stop smoking, even when she just rolls her eyes and calls you a goody two shoes. recently, you’ve even started to be patient with satoru, even when he tries to get a rise out of you. it wasn’t like that at the start of the year. geto wonders what changed.

he’s a little interested in you. just a little. you’re sweeter than the other two, easier to worry over. he saw you trip over your own shoelaces last week. you’re a little clumsy, a bit of a ditz — airheaded. maybe that’s why he can’t help but feel protective of you. satoru brushes everything off with a cheeky grin, and shoko is self-sustaining, but you’re often in need of a helping hand. the last time he tried that with the other two, they wouldn’t stop calling him mother geto until he smacked them over the head with satoru’s shounen jump issue.

it makes him feel out of place — when he doesn’t have anything to tend to. itchy, a feeling of dread crawling up his throat. peace and quiet feels suffocating, when he isn’t in total control over it.

so, in his own way, small as it may be, geto enjoys taking care of you. grabbing you a carton of strawberry milk, or warding satoru away when he’s annoying you a little too much. he likes the smile you grace him with when he does. it’s pretty. and it’s all geto really knows about you — that, and that there’s a tenderness to you that’s hard to fake. it’s not much to go on.

so this is the perfect opportunity to learn more.

(a heartfelt connection. something he’s always, always craved. something that maybe he can finally have, with satoru, and shoko, and you —

if you’re willing, that is.)

”hey,” he starts, breaking the rainfilled silence. keeping his umbrella steady, leading you both away from a big puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. ”can i ask you something?”

you raise your head to look at him. blinking owlishly, at the sudden question, nerves beginning to rise again. he sounds kind of serious. did you do something? paranoia gnaws anxiously at the ridges of your ribs, but all you can do is swallow empty air and stammer out a meek reply.

”… uh, sure!”

geto glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours. that gaze of his is kind of heavy — the deep colour of his eyes coaxing you closer, luring you in. honey and amber, splotches of cedar and flecks of gold.

they’re pretty.

”this might be kind of a weird question,” he begins, reaching a hand up to adjust his bun, sneaking a finger under the black hair tie. voice light; to put you at ease. ”but i’m just curious.”

he looks ahead, at the street before you, only meeting your stare once you give him a slight tilt of your head. then he parts his lips.

”why did you come here?”

you blink.

silently, confusion painting the interior of your iris, you stare at him. waiting for a clarification that doesn’t come, before giving him a hesitant answer. ”… to get snacks?”

geto has the audacity to laugh, after such a vague question. the sound is light and breathy, melting together with the pitter patter of the rain, and for some reason it strikes you as sincere. ”not like that,” he grins. ”i mean, why did you come to the school in the first place?”

ah.

that’s a different question. harder to answer. he must notice your hesitance, the puzzlement in your features, because he’s quick to elaborate. hiding a smile behind his fist, disguised as a cough.

(you’re sort of cute when you’re confused.)

”i mean — it’s an odd choice, isn’t it? far off the map, barely any students....” you nod along, and he continues. ”i don’t know about your background. but moving away from home must be kind of tough, right?” when he glances in your direction, you notice a sparkle of genuine curiosity in his eyes. ”so i was curious about your reason. if you feel comfortable telling me, i mean.”

a hum. it buzzes in your throat, absentminded, as you stare into space. brows furrowed.

geto gives you time, as much time as you need, always willing to wait. for a minute or so, the only sounds that fill the space around you are the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the plastic cover of umbrella, and the sound of your shoes meeting puddles on the street. silently, you ponder the question. thinking of your answer.

geto has a point. you’ve been curious, too — about how your classmates ended up in such an eccentric little school, so detached from the rest of the world. a quirky private school in the middle of nowhere. you must all be a little eccentric yourselves. that’s probably why you feel so safe with them — you get the sense that you’re all lacking something. something that would ward normal kids away from such an unorthodox choice.

you could say you were just going with the flow. a relative of yours used to work with yaga-sensei, and heard about his position at a newly reinstated private school — heard that he was looking for students to fill the roster.

so you accepted.

(if it was really that simple, geto would already have his answer.)

what drew you in, more than anything, was the promise of something new. a strange, small school, far away from home; from the people you know, the town you know, the life that you’ve lived. far away from the person you are, the person you was, the person you’ve always been.

an escape. that’s all it was.

a way out.

he’s still waiting for your answer, even now, trying to read your thoughts off your face. eyes trailing over every contour. very briefly, you consider dodging the question — but his silent, steady presence squeezes a little honesty out of you.

you want to give him a genuine answer.

”… i guess,” you begin, weighing the words on your tongue. they feel stale, a little awkward, but not dishonest. ”i wanted to stop being me for a bit.”

the words are unexpected, surprising even to your own ears — like your mouth and your mind weren’t quite cooperating, one ahead of the other, one not weighing in on the honest choice. they catch geto off guard.

he looks at you, silently, attempts to dissect your expression; but he doesn’t succeed.

for a second, something flashes in his eyes. a glimmer that you just barely catch, that you can still sense behind his eyelids when they flutter shut. you’re not sure what to call it. recognition, maybe, or something like empathy. a sense of acknowledgement. it’s gone when he opens his eyes.

he doesn’t look at you when he answers.

”… i get that.”

there’s a depth to his words that you’re afraid to uncover. you feel their weight, all the same, glancing up at him, studying his expression, the humid drops of dew that stick to his lashes. and you feel a tug. faint, non-existent, the string between your pinkies —

a growing connection.

(it makes you feel oddly bare.)

all you can give him is a chuckle, a little breathless. ”do you?” you ask, grinning weakly. ”it’s a little melodramatic.”

geto only smiles. silent, comfort personified. there’s no judgement in his eyes, none whatsoever — because he knows exactly what you mean.

fleeing from the past.

it’s a kind of murder, he thinks. a rebirth.

maybe the two of you are similar. similar in the sense that he recognizes the shadow in your eyes, the one he sometimes sees in mirrors; familiar in the sense that you both suffer from that same sickening awareness.

(maybe you want the same thing he wants, what he’s always wanted —

control.)

it’s a realization that creeps up on you, the both of you, slow and steady. a sense of kinship. it envelops you, cradles you close, in the same way molten clouds cover the summer sky.

geto isn’t lying, you can tell. he does get it. you know, just from that tilt of his voice, the way his eyelashes flutter, his absent shifting from one foot to another. and it soothes your worries.

everything is silent, for a bit. you look down at the asphalt, at your own reflection in a puddle, and geto gazes at the bushes of hydrangeas to his right. you feel safe, right next to him, under his umbrella. and he feels content to have you there. your shoulders brush together, for a moment, and it sends a jolt through your heartbeat.

geto inhales a breath.

”by the way —”

”— have you studied for the exam?”

you both still. blurting out the words at the same time, turning to look at each other; sheepishly blinking in the other’s direction.

then he barks out a laugh.

”sorry,” he hums, a sleek smile on his lips. bright and sheepish. ”what was that? the exam?”

”ah — yeah,” you feel heat settle on the back of your neck, crawling up your ears. ”have you, um, studied for it at all?”

geto moves the umbrella from one arm to the other, smoothly directing you to stand on his right instead of his left. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, ghosting the fabric of your clothing. he stretches his free arm, a little stiff.

”yeah,” he exhales. ”not a lot, though.”

”really?” you blink up at him, trying not to blush at how easily he maneuvered you. stupid, stupid heartbeat. ”you strike me as the honour student type…”

geto scoffs. it leaves his lips before he can tug it back. ”satoru said the same thing.”

a breath spills from your lips, almost a chuckle. you’re not sure how to feel about being compared to gojo, of all people, but you’ll let it slide this once. ”well, you just kinda have that vibe.”

now he’s huffing, tethering on the edge of something childish, and your smile grows. you’re seeing him make a lot of new expressions today.

”why, though?” comes a sigh. he must be playing it up, a little — you almost get fooled into thinking he’s pouting. ”is it the hair? i don’t even wear glasses anymore...”

”well —” you pause. ”hold on, you used to wear glasses?”

all you get is an absent hum. he doesn’t notice your wide, shellshocked eyes. ”when i was younger. i got rid of them a couple years back.”

“oh…” you try to imagine it, for a second. he’d look frighteningly good in them. just barely, you manage to keep yourself from saying it out loud. ”i think it’s more just your general personality. like, you’re responsible and polite… or something.”

and geto chuckles; the intersection between a teasing smile and a soft grin. it’s just a little bit ethereal, painted over with the humid summer air. he turns towards you.

”and that makes me an honour student?”

”… okay, maybe not.” you bring a hand up to your hair, fixing it absently. deflating a little. ”you just strike me as intelligent, i guess.”

geto smiles, again, as always. the chuckle that escapes him is faint and fond, and awfully soft, dripping down his lips. ”well, thank you.”

his eyes are warm, burning into yours. all you can do is glance away. you still don’t really understand this sensation — why he’s suddenly so easy to talk to. why he feels like something other than just a classmate, when he looks at you like that.

then again, geto has always been a natural at putting people at ease. maybe that’s why you can’t help but warm up to him, compliantly, the way a child dutifully follows the first butterfly they ever see — it’s a little too pretty to resist.

you want to slip deeper into his world, you realize. you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

”you guys really get along, huh?” you change the subject, speaking slowly, savouring every syllable. there isn’t any rush to get the words out all at once, when you’re with him.

geto blinks, tilting his head.

”hm?”

“you and gojo, i mean.”

a glimmer passes through his eyes, as your query sinks in. ”ah. yeah.” his gaze strays upwards, and a contemplative look settles into his face. he knows what you’re after, what you’re really asking; why are the two of you so close? why do you put up with his antics?

what do you see in him?

he thinks it’s a fair question. it’s not like he hasn’t asked himself the very same thing, before — satoru can be annoying. ignorant, too, and terribly rude. a little prick. when he stole his curry bun yesterday, geto wanted to kill him. spoiled little brat.

(then again, he’s…)

”he’s… well.” geto exhales, a little breathless. tasting the words on his tongue. ”you know how he is — but he’s not a bad guy.”

and it’s true. he really isn’t. satoru is a lot of things; rude and spoiled, cocky and bratty, an expert at ticking everyone off. but there’s a kind of charm, there. an innocence that geto admires.

satoru is childish — because he is a child. a child who knows a lot of things that children shouldn’t know. a child who doesn’t know the most basic of things. satoru doesn’t know how to make friends. he doesn’t know how to ask for help, doesn’t know how to give it. he doesn’t know what cotton candy tastes like, because he’s never tried it before.

his childhood couldn't have been very warm. it definitely wasn’t normal.

is that why he puts up with him, then? out of pity? of course not. the bare thought of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. he’d never look down on satoru, like that — and he knows he’d hate him for it. if anything, geto thinks that maybe the two of them are close because he doesn’t give him any special treatment. even if satoru wasn’t treated with warmth or love, he was certainly coddled. spoiled. it’s evident, in the way that he acts.

but satoru isn’t a god, and he shouldn’t act like one.

one punch, right across the face; knocking the white-haired boy off his feet. that’s where their friendship began. there were stars in satoru’s eyes, geto thinks, when he looked up at him from the ground. sunglasses fallen off from the impact, blue eyes entirely on display, catching the light of the sun — gleaming with a certain bewilderment. almost amazement. like he didn’t know he could be hit, didn’t know it was possible. the sun shone down on him, illuminating the vague bruising on his cheek, and geto wondered if that was the first punch the boy had ever taken.

it certainly wasn’t a first for him, when satoru lunged at him next —

it was a little juvenile. more than a little deranged. geto isn’t one to throw fists, in the first place — he’s out of practice. the punch he fed satoru might’ve been a little too forceful. he couldn’t help but feel bad, every so slightly, for putting a bruise on that irritatingly pretty face of his.

but it still ended with satoru’s arm around his shoulder, a buzzing voice by his ear, proclaiming them as friends. cheery and bright.

geto couldn’t help but echo the statement.

(satoru is a lot of things.

most of all, he’s really hard to hate.)

geto’s answer brings a smile to your face. ”yeah,” you hum, soft voice breaking him out of his reverie. ”he isn’t.”

he looks at you. silently, a question of his own brewing in his irises — and with you so close, close enough to touch, smiling at him like he’s an old friend… geto can’t help but indulge in his own curiosity.

he tries to appear nonchalant, stealing a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. ”seems like the two of you are getting along better, too.”

”me and gojo?” you blink, surprised. a little flustered. huffing out an amused breath, trying to brush off the bare thought. ”no way.”

geto laughs — it’s a deep sound, a full one. somehow very earnest. you wonder if that’s how his laugh always sounds, whenever gojo’s involved. ”oh, come on. you don’t hate him that much.” a teasing glint blooms in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you. ”or am i wrong?”

you pause. faltering, a little, gaze falling down to the pavement — then to the sky — then to him. and then back to the pavement.

”… i mean…” you attempt to squeeze the words out from within your chest, but you can’t help but feel hesitant. as if gojo could jump out of the bushes at any moment, ready to tease you if you say anything that paints him in an even moderately decent light. ”i don’t… hate him. but he’s still annoying.” a pout slips onto your lips. “he has it out for me, you know.”

geto laughs, again. you note that you’re fond of the sound. ”isn’t that because he likes you, though? he just doesn’t know how to show it. it’s like pulling pigtails.”

”don’t even joke about that,” you scoff, shooting him a scowl. “and that wouldn’t make it any better, even if it was true.”

a fond smile. ”yeah, you’re right.” he opts to dial down on the teasing, shifting into a more sincere tone. ”you do seem more friendly now, though. before it felt like you really hated his guts.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. brows furrowing, as you mull on what to answer with. unsure how you really feel. it’s not like you’re suddenly super close, or anything — but you have gotten friendlier. just by a smidge, but still. you’ve gotten better at putting up with him and his antics, at finding comfort in how open he can be.

after a tiny pause, you speak up.

”… i still don’t really understand him.” you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip, trapping it between your teeth. “but i think i might be starting to.”

you’re a little embarrassed over the words that fall from your lips, barely above a whisper.

”… he’s not the worst.”

geto smiles, but you don’t see it — gaze still lingering on the droplets that bounce off the pavement. ”i’m glad,” he hums, earnest. ”that guy needs more friends.”

something about his tone of voice urges you to look at him. that smile of his is bright, gleaming in the rain, in the midst of the flowers all around you. a little teasing, a little boyish, but somehow very sincere. you didn’t think you’d get to see it up close.

and you can’t help but chuckle. the raven-haired boy glances over at you, confusion in his eyes.

noticing it, you breathe out a quiet chuckle. ”sorry, it’s just —” a teasing grin smooths over your lips. ”you guys bicker a lot, and you act like he annoys you… but you really care for him, don’t you?”

this time, geto almost stops in his tracks. his eyes widen, slightly, and you’re not sure why he seems surprised — when he always sounds so fond saying satoru’s name, talking about him like they understand each other fully. maybe he didn’t notice it until now.

a moment passes, before he collects himself, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. awfully good at keeping his composure.

(though he fails to fully conceal the flustered look on his face.)

”i wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbles, but it only makes you chuckle again. his lips curl up slightly, at the sound; despite his embarrassment. ”someone’s gotta look out for that idiot.”

”right. of course.”

geto gives you a displeased little look. you bite back a laugh. feeling at ease, by his side — you get the sense that you can trust him, that you could tell him absolutely anything, and he still wouldn't use it against you. it’s a relief.

standing there, under geto’s umbrella, in the shadow of summer, rain obscuring the world — you reach a definitive conclusion.

you want to get to know him. want to see inside his heart, hear more of his thoughts. if you could only step over that gap between you, wriggle your way into his world —

you think you’d be happy.

so, as you walk side by side, narrowly avoiding puddles and breathing in the humid summer air, you try to coax them out of him. little thoughts, bits and pieces of the suguru geto you yearn to meet.

(unbeknownst to you, he’s doing the same.)

you continue to talk. about miniscule things, meaningless things, a comfortable sensation of trust simmering in the air between you. and before you know it, you’ve stepped onto the school grounds, stopping right in front of the dormitory.

”here we are,” geto hums, folding the umbrella and tucking it between his arm and torso. you turn to look him in the eye, taking an absent step away.

”thanks, geto,” you can’t help but smile. ”for letting me walk with you.”

”don’t mention it.” he brushes you off with ease, quick to drag the door open; waiting for you to step inside before following suit. always so accommodating.

for a second, he hesitates. a glimmer of uncertainty, in his eyes, that you miss — stretching out your tired limbs with a shallow groan, enjoying the warm and dry air on your skin.

finally, geto takes the leap.

when he parts his lips, his voice comes out soothing. natural and breathy, floral patterns blooming on his tongue; as silky as jasmine petals. ”you can call me suguru, you know.” he lets the silence linger, for a moment. ”if you want to.”

you turn to look at him, eyes widening, at the sudden offer, and he can’t get a good read on the emotion reflected in them. you seem caught off guard, but he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

after a moment or two, you fumble for a response.

”oh. um — okay? i will, then.” you shake your head, as if brushing off the hesitance you feel, mustering the courage to imitate his offer. ”in that case, you can call me by my first name, too.”

a brief pause.

”… if you want to.”

geto smiles. it’s laced with relief, hard to notice, impossible to miss. instead of answering with an affirmation, he takes a more teasing approach — unable to resist the temptation.

so he says your name. your first name, dragging the syllables out on his tongue, as if tasting it. trying to get used to the way the letters bend as they come out of his mouth. despite the teasing lilt it carries, the sound is oddly earnest; he pronounces it clearly, like he’s trying to call you to his side. you almost feel compelled to take a step towards him.

geto looks you in the eye, as he calls you by your given name, for the very first time — and you can’t help but grow flustered.

”… suguru,” you echo, for whatever reason. you think your brain may be slightly fried. but it feels right, to say it. suguru.

(what a pretty name.)

suguru smiles at you. you think it’s just a little wider than usual, a little more sincere. almost giddy, if you squint. in the open air, the intimate atmosphere simmers.

finally, you clear your throat, glancing in the direction of your dorm room. a silent que for him to follow.

and he does. leaving the umbrella by the hall, before walking you to your door. his steady, soothing presence sticking to your skin. you’re just about to place your fingers on the doorknob, when a pang of realization hits you — stopping you in your tracks.

”oh — right!”

swiftly, you turn on your heel, facing suguru again. he gazes down at you, bemusement in his eyes. watching as you rummage through the plastic bag hanging off your arm. finally, you find what you were looking for; holding it out towards him.

”here,” you give him a warm smile. ”as thanks.”

suguru accepts it, compliantly, allowing you to slip a pack of gum into his palm. he recognizes the brand, one he favours over others. it helps him, on days he can’t find his appetite.

did you see him chewing it at some point, he wonders? when, though?

maybe you’re always paying attention to the people around you. the way they like their coffee, their favoured flavour of gum. it may be a small kindness, an absentminded one, but suguru thinks that makes it all the more meaningful. a kindness that seeps out of you, that draws him in.

he wants to know more, about you. he really does.

but for now, this is enough. a walk back to your dorm, your shared home, talking and growing closer than before.

it’s a small step, but in the right direction.

the pack of gum stirs a mellow, tender feeling in his chest. all he can do is give you a smile, and a thank you that you’re quick to brush off. then you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind you — flopping down on your bed with a muffled squeal. a giddy kind of excitement swimming in your veins. because finally, finally, you feel like the gap between you has been dented.

you know what his real laugh sounds like. that the tips of his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed. you know that he used to wear glasses, that you’re a little more similar than either of you could have assumed.

you know that you’re fond of him. fond of a boy with black hair, who smells of summer and rain and chewing gum. fond of a boy you’ve only scratched the surface of.

on the other side of the door, suguru walks back to his room. with a pep in his step, one that satoru notices — because of course he does — appearing from around the corner with a shit-eating grin.

“oh? what were you doing over there, suguru?”

suguru ignores him. popping a piece of the gum you gave him into his mouth, a flavour of apricot melting on his tongue — he sinks his teeth into it, slowly, feeling his lips curl up into a smile.

it tastes of summer and youth. a memory that both of you will savour, for many years to come.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #geto fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x yn #jjk fluff #getou x reader #geto suguru x reader

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ybklix · 1 month ago

Text

marshmallow world

⭒˚‧ ✧ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader ☆ synopsis: a little lesson before christmas to continue your good girl streak and save yourself from the naughty list. ϑℓ genre ─ warnings: mdni, smut, tiny angst, daddy kink, dom!chan, jealousy & possessiveness, kinda toxic chan, spanking, slapping, dirty talk, pet names (some dreg), teasing, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie ׄ 　۪｡ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ word count: 7k

masterlist ♡ taglist

wen's note: mini winter/holiday special, i'm sooo back, winter's here, enjoy :3 edit: I was writing this before #those selfies, woofwoof, he fed my delusions more yasss, also my beloved friend said no more dirty sex and i came back w more dirty sex, sorry:( just dom chan brain rot rn, edit2: bro railway teaserrr anywaysss

Chan was the sweetest boyfriend of all, it was an absolute dream to have him, he was attentive, took care of you, spoiled you, knew the smallest detail about you, and always paid attention to you despite his demanding job in a very competitive and hard industry which he worked hard to get there, you knew his story and you both completed each other.

But he only had one tiny detail, not everything was perfect, he had a small flaw that you let it go of because everything good made up for it… but the big damn problem with Chan was always his jealousy and possessiveness. To be honest, jealousy was never something you liked, it seemed absurd, toxic, like the person distrusted you… but coming from someone like Chan, you couldn’t help that sometimes you liked it, only sometimes, because sometimes he was too serious about it and it annoyed you, and other times you got sexual pleasure, but no matter how long you had been dating him, you never knew what to expect because it was always the same: his obvious annoyed expression.

You arrived home, you and Chan had been living together for a long time, it was late and the snowstorm almost caught you on the road, slightly delaying you a little, torturing you every second you spent locked in that car with your own boyfriend… because you just had a very nice night… to suddenly be ruined by Chan’s clear and very expressive face of disgust and anger. The ride was tense, you knew something was wrong with him, but particularly tonight you didn’t have the energy to confront him, so you’d let him go to bed upset if that was the right thing to do.

It had been the ‘Christmas’/holiday event for Chan’s entertainment company, of which he worked as an excellent and well-respected producer. So far, so good, before leaving your home, Chan laughingly hurried you, sweetly, telling you that you would be late while you fixed your lipstick and put on perfume; you were wearing a very nice short red dress, Chan was dressed in his black suit that made him look dreamy. You arrived at the event, some knew who you were, some didn’t, but everyone knew that Chan had a girlfriend. You enjoyed a very good time, had dinner, and danced, and then slightly each of you started to radiate your own charisma, being friendly and socializing with more people… all good, until halfway through the night you made a friend, Seo Changbin, another producer of the company since Chan left your side for a second to talk to his social circle or even expanding it, Changbin didn’t leave your side the rest of the night, you got along well, you thought it was nice to meet a new person.

But as soon as Chan saw you there the trouble started. He couldn’t believe such an atrocity his eyes had to witness. His girl, his, his, his, you would always be his property; talking and laughing with another guy while you gently touched his shoulder and leaned your body towards him as you giggled.

You were about to let it go, not be blinded by his jealousy… but it all went to hell as soon as he saw Lee Minho approach you, your ex-boyfriend, a choreographer for the company. And then there you were, like a little slut —so he thought— in the middle of two men, smiling, not knowing their intentions.

But Chan could not change. He was like that because he wanted you all to himself. And you never stopped him.

You sighed, avoiding looking at Chan and leaving him behind, as you took off your heels and he closed the main door. You were physically exhausted, cold, and emotionally unprepared to be exhausted if you faced Chan.

You ignored him, sucking air between your teeth from the sudden cold that shivered your whole body and the first thing you did was turn on the heat in the entire house, you turned on the lights of the pine tree and your Christmas decoration pretending to be fine, still, you were not calm, you felt his heavy gaze on your back, his ponderous breathing, not a single word had been spoken since he told you in a stern tone, “We’re leaving now.” You were so sober, your muscles stiff, about to remember this whole tense night the next morning.

You were about to go upstairs, about to cry because you hated ignoring Chan, because your pride was so great, and all you wanted from him was to be around his arms, feeling his warmth as it snowed outside, but no, you had done nothing wrong but talk to men other than him. You hoped he would think and come to his senses so he could apologize in a few hours at dawn.

But it wasn’t like that, Chan had his jaw tense, he was not just annoyed, but furious for some particular reason. He took off his long coat and watched you walk through the house, while he was lighting it up as he went by, he had so much to tell you, but his intentions were a bit diverted as he watched you walk up four steps while he was still standing on the first floor and had a very nice view of your bare legs in that short dress, arousing another feeling other than anger. In the end it was him taking you home, to bed, where you lived together and shared, he calmed down a bit, but he was still upset and wanted to claim you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he mentioned, his voice low and commanding. “We need to talk.”

Your hand was resting gently on the stair railing. You froze at the sound of his gravelly voice, stopped your steps, and looked toward nothing in particular, just with your eyes straight ahead. He was upset, you knew it, you could hear it in every word he said that made your skin flinch. You stood there for a second, sighing softly, whether to just ignore him, continue up the stairs, or confess to him that you didn’t want to talk, either option had fatal consequences anyway.

“I’m talking to you, Y/n” he said again.

“There’s nothing to talk about today, Chan. I’m going to sleep” you replied, unwillingly, turning your back to him.

He ran his tongue across his mouth, annoyed and in disbelief that you responded to him such a thing, like a spoiled little brat, unwilling to even look him in the eye, those were not the manners he had taught you. He always taught you to be a good little girl for him.

“Well, you may not have anything to say but I do and I want you to listen to me properly” he spat annoyed, his ears red in anger and a tingle in his body at having to just watch your back silhouette, he hated that. “And look me in the eyes when I talk to you. Turn around and come over here. Now.”

What was once a pent-up sadness in your being, turned to anger. You took a breath, annoyed, you hated it when he spoke to you like that, demanding orders in a despot manner, without affection and knowing the undertone of the reason for his tone: once again a pathetic scene of jealousy, you were tired of them. And the worst thing was that you hated to listen to him in situations like that; you turned and watched him take off his black leather winter gloves and looked at him closely for the first time in the evening since he had spoken to you harshly. You could tell he was expressionless, his eyes relaxed, his mouth closed… but you knew him so fucking well, and watching him slide his gloves down his long fingers didn’t have the right to look that attractive. You stood half bravely in front of his commanding complexion illuminated by the hallway light. You looked into his eyes, into his dark, piercing gaze, just the way he wanted it.

He moved even closer to you, almost brushing against your face, and began to speak in a false soft, slow speech, as if you had to understand every word he said:

“You’re going to tell me exactly what you talked about with Seo Changbin and what had you so entertained for an hour and a half… and then you’re going to tell me why your bastard ex-boyfriend dared to approach you. I’m listening.”

You analyzed every part of his face, from his soft dark curly hair falling down his forehead, slightly parted, his sharp eyes, his nose tipped with a soft red from the cold weather, and his full pale pink lips. He was so cute, you loved him, but you missed a few hours ago when he was sweet Chan. You wanted to kiss him, to feel his soft cool lips, but he was just a jerk sometimes. So you let out a mocking, incredulous giggle right in front of his face as you backed up a step while rolling your eyes childishly annoyed. Chan wanted to give you a good spanking for your immature response.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe it. Are you listening to yourself? Why would I have to tell you every word I say to anyone whenever I meet someone new, huh?”

Chan was ready to calm down, but your mocking chuckle greatly upset him.

“Why would you keep it from me?”

“Chan… because…” his gaze darkened, you looked him straight in the eyes, he hated you calling him Chan while arguing, he hated you calling him by his name while talking seriously without any affection, “I could have told you properly, we could have talked about this, telling you I met someone new on the way home, being us, but you always have to do the same old shit and come angrily towards m…”

“Watch your language and tone when you’re talking to me,” he interrupted you, domineering, clenching his teeth, almost piercing you with his gaze, leaving you speechless.

You swallowed dryly and looked at him again. You didn’t want to argue. Not tonight or tomorrow. Because his sister was coming to visit you tomorrow afternoon for the month of the holidays and you wanted to have more love than contempt for him now. You barely took the courage to speak up, to communicate and express everything, and if you were upset about it then it would be reflected in your speech… but him. Either you were leaving… or you were still there.

“Why?” you said calmer but still direct and sharp, still as if your body and mind obeyed him automatically, having a lot of impact on you, “Are you the only one who has the right to be angry now?”

He nodded softly, with a calm expression, leaving you like a small bomb about to explode. Why? You hated his level-headed expression, always being right apparently, always having the last word and winning the fight.

Your eyes glistened, stinging and burning with the sensation of hateful tears building up in your eyes and the painful knot stuck in your throat. You wanted to tell him so many things. He was the love of your life but you wanted to tell him to fuck off, to claim to him exactly the same things he was telling you. But you stopped, your heart raced and you took a deep breath. You were in an internal battle… thinking if this was a small fight, a small scene of jealousy, and if you continued you would make the problem bigger…. but it wasn’t the first time it had happened and you had no idea why this particular time it was weighing on you more than the other times. You hated not knowing how to decipher what this was all about.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

You just said that, tired, defeated, like someone helpless and abandoned, unwilling to sleep in the same bed with him if you were going to be like this, conflicted, tense, not getting his sweet kisses before bed and snuggling into his body. You’d rather sleep alone than coldly turn your back on him.

You turned, ready to go back upstairs when his hand stopped you by abruptly grabbing your wrist.

“You don’t have to sleep in the guest room when this is also your home and you have your room to sleep in, with me. We just need to talk. I know you and Changbin exchanged numbers, I want you to delete his contact, and block him, now.”

You watched him. You swallowed the lump in your throat and Chan tightened his grip on you.

“What? I won’t do it. Let go of me. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

That hurt. Chan thought you were taking it a little far, dragging it out, as he inwardly recanted after seeing your pretty, sweet face about to break down in tears. He just wanted you to know that you were his and no one else’s, that if another guy wants to be your friend then he must know him first and boy did he know Changbin, quite the playboy, womanizer, party boy, Chan was shocked that you got along with a guy like him. Chan just wanted to teach you a lesson tonight. But you had other ideas. You were including the emotional, he felt bad, but he couldn’t stop himself, if he was going to hurt you a little to let you know very well how much he loves you and cares about you, then he would make the sacrifice.

“Why do I have to do it, huh? Why always me? I never tell you anything when all those little doll idols would touch your arm and lean their skinny bodies towards you calling you their oppa or all that shit with their irritating voices while inviting you to their apartments right in front of me and expressing how muuuuuch they want to work with you again. You’re a fucking asshole” you snapped.

Chan released you and looked at you sternly for a few seconds. You frowned and looked at him with confusion as it seemed he was about to say or do something else and you felt a hint of curiosity to know what it was, but he just broke into a loud and mocking chuckle, changing his face to serious completely, narrowing his eyes and showing his teeth.

You were completely confused now. What had been so funny? Now you were annoyed to hear his mocking laughter. It was as if Chan was waiting for you to explode. His body relaxed and so did his mind, thinking you looked adorable when you were angry. When he finished laughing and only a smile remained on his face, you could notice the glow and tenderness in his gaze at the sight of you. You scoffed in disbelief, thinking he was a fucking lunatic, switching from one emotion to another.

Once again, you were about to walk away and leave him there, you were confused and slightly annoyed, but he stopped you again, taking a step towards you and putting his hands on your waist.

“Aw my love, did you always mean that? Complain about the other girls?” he spoke, cocky, and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Why didn’t you ever say anything, huh? Why… you’ve never claimed what’s yours…”

You shuddered. Because I’m not crazy and I don't distrust you. You thought but didn’t say it. His grip became harder and he pressed his body against yours, making you nervous in seconds, his hair was still soft despite the cold weather he was exposed to for a few moments, he still had his manly cologne and his body was warm, you adored being close to him. You didn’t respond, you stood transfixed in your place, uneasy but comfortable with his closeness. You wanted to know what he would say next… Chan whispered in your ear again, sultry voice, his cheek brushing against your skin.

“Because… I’m about to do so, claim what’s mine. Someone tonight spent the night showing you off, standing next to you… someone who wasn’t me and you? You stood by his side like a fucking obedient whore. Oh… you don’t know how fucking pissed off you’ve made me. Being such a bad girl for daddy.”

You were building your arousal slowly at every word that came out of his mouth, as if it was the most erotic and filthy thing, because Chan got you too worked up, his domineering build clinging to you and his rough voice whispering in your ear sent shivers down your spine. Until you heard that word, that word he likes to refer to himself in and he likes you to call him that from time to time during sex and you understood it all. All this time he wanted to play that. You thought that if he wanted to fuck, he should have told you from the beginning and he could have spared you all the drama and the series of disastrous emotions he put you through. You wanted to tell him to fuck off once again… but your heart was beating fast now for other intentions as you quickly thought of the beautiful, pleasurable sex your boyfriend gives you and that you adore so much… plus the possibility of a good fuck with some hateful, angry, after your little argument, shit, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Bad girls deserve their lesson. Come on, I’m going to give you your punishment in front of the Christmas tree so you can see the pretty lights while daddy teaches you how to be a good little girl again.”

Chan picked you up before you could respond or react, taking you by surprise.

“Cha-chan” you protested vaguely.

He led you into the main living room, just as he said, where you both decorated happily and sweetly days ago, putting the Christmas tree and the stockings with your initials hanging on the fireplace.

Chan left his gloves on the little table and took your bag on your shoulder to leave it there too.

“What did you just call me?” he said, serious as he pulled you down from his arms, raising his eyebrows as he looked at you testing you as if you had said something wrong and he was waiting for you to correct yourself.

You looked him in the eyes, he was getting more and more dauntingly close to you, you didn’t want to say it, it was so unnecessary… and so hot, Chan was particularly hotter when he got into that mode, so dominant as if something about it possessed him.

You opened your mouth, looking at him submissively. He thought you were about to give in and listen to him; however, you only provoked him more for fun.

“Chan.”

You noticed his eyes widen slightly, annoyed, surprised, you almost smiled, the corner of your lips quivering at the complicit and huge smile you want to put on your face, you know how very angry it makes him that you behave somewhat spoiled, but you know deep down how much he loves to correct you, how much he loves his dirty little game where you get uneasy and are hopeless until he fucks you dumb. You know exactly what was waiting for you and you were uncontrollably aroused under your calm demeanor and naughty look; your pussy was throbbing and tingling, you could feel the wetness in your folds, and the most pathetic thing was that you had provoked it on yourself… by thinking and thinking, by remembering exactly the precise measure of your boyfriend’s big cock tight and choking in your cunt. It was pathetic because Chan had done absolutely nothing but gently tease you with his words, calling you a bad girl and calling himself daddy. The good thing was that you were good at pretending, but as soon as he dared to undress you, to really touch you, he would find out how very wet you were for absolutely nothing. Just for being him, wearing his suit, and looking at you like helpless prey.

“You’re going to keep behaving like this, huh? Are you gonna be a difficult slut?” he mumbled, finally putting his hands on you, stealing your breath, “You really want to disobey Daddy and get your punishment, don’t you? I won’t be gentle at all, baby girl.”

You stood still, but excitedly restless, almost letting out a shuddering sigh as you felt his big hands on you. You were ready for him to touch you, to let you do with your body whatever he wanted, you needed him, you wanted him, and you were giving in completely. You watched him, your eyes shining straight up at him submissively, asking for action, passion, and sex, hungry for lust in the only great way that only Chan can achieve in you.

You half opened your mouth, softly sighing, it was getting harder and harder for you to breathe, your heart was pounding and your sensitive pussy wouldn’t leave you alone, everything was happening sizzling in slow motion; his heavy gaze on you and his slightly icy hands on your waist. Again, you wanted to kiss him.

But suddenly everything happened so fast, leaving you surprised and unable to react almost. Chan seemed to be acting slow, watching you with desire and teasing you with his closeness that he knew how much it drove you crazy… but suddenly, he nimbly slipped his hands under your dress, caressing your thighs briefly until he tugged at your safety shorts and panties, making you sigh and leaving you with the strange sensation of your pussy exposed, your warm folds and pussy lips abandoning the comfort of the fabric of your panties. Chan left your garments by your knees, looking almost humiliated the way they were merely there, your underwear stuck on your thighs. He smiled arrogantly, getting a small glimpse of the fabric of your wet panties. You watched his hands make the sudden movement, you were surprised to see his noticeably large bulge in his pants and then you saw him, confused and surprised, but excited, your clit throbbing as you discovered he was already getting hard too, just at the thought of the sexual act that awaited you and the tension that was building up.

“Are you going to undress yourself or shall I? Huh?” he tilted his face towards you, waiting for an answer, toying with you, “Are you going to cooperate with daddy? Because if I take it off, I’m going to rip that whole tiny red dress you’re wearing, you fucking whore.”

His words were harsh. You didn’t answer and just watched him with your heavy breathing. You were speechless, you were so aroused that if you started talking you would moan and begin to stutter, you didn’t want to look this helpless in front of him, at least not now. But deep down… you wanted him to be the one to take absolute control.

“You’re not going to answer? Are you going to remain like this? Fine” he sentenced somewhat annoyed.

He reached down on his knees to slide your shorts and panties off your legs, stood up again, and in quick, sharp movements he tried to remove your dress and finally got rid of your bra. You let him do it and in a few seconds you were completely naked in front of him, with your hardened nipples resenting a little change of weather, even so, it did not compare with the intense fire you had inside, you wanted to be touched and satisfied, you wanted pleasure in any way provided by your boyfriend.

Chan watched you for a few seconds, your frail body exposed and naked for him made to carry that bubbling sensation move through his crotch on his pumping erect rigid cock. He licked his lips, memorizing every part of your body, your coy movements as you pressed your legs together, which he knew was a habit of yours because you were so adorable and incredibly turned on that it was hard for you to control your very cute and needy pussy, he memorized how you bit your lip nervously and the shimmer in the eye shadow, your makeup intact, just before he’s about to ruin it, making you gasp and whimper.

He roughly grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly, forcing you to walk and taking you a few steps to the front of the couch. He stood in front of you, and for the first time that night, he gently touched your face in his hands, but then squeezed your cheeks as if he was enforcing authority by making you look at him.

“You’ve been a very very bad girl and you know the consequences for that” he whispered, released your face, sat down on the couch and ordered you roughly. “In four, now. Hands and knees on the floor and from now on I want you to respond to everything I tell you, understand?”

Chan ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, getting no response, he bent his body and reached up to your ass, quickly and unexpectedly giving it a hard spank, repeating, “I said, did you understand?”

His hand burned into your soft, unprepared skin, which finally, you fulfilled his fantasy, and yours, leaving your pride and games aside, as you responded between in a surprised gasp and needy tone:

“Yes, Daddy.”

That was music to Chan’s ears, a delight to all his senses, your adored voice, the one he loved so much, as sweet as honey and soft as velvet, submissively saying exactly what he wants to hear, your little mouth struggling against the obscenities by which you will be subjected... but nothing will compare to the sound of your skin breaking and your whimpering, combining with the squirt of her soaking wet pussy being used by him as he wished.

He leaned back against the coach quietly and you looked at him, his erection was bigger in his pants and all you could think about was how much you wanted to ride his cock, at your pace, lovingly, but you listened to him as you knew you were in for something else, you still would enjoyed it.

Your hands and knees on the floor. Your eyes to the Christmas tree—just as he said, and your body submissive and exposed for Chan. He bent down again, you almost recoiled at the sound of his body on the couch, moving closer to you. Chan caressed your exposed ass and ran his fingers gently across your pussy making you moan softly, you were again restless and aroused.

“My baby doll, you have a beautiful ass, too bad I’m going to leave it bruised.”

That said, you closed your eyes tightly and let out a groan of shock, almost like hiccups. Your first spanking. Hard, burning and rough. Chan continued mercilessly, keeping his word, hit after hit, echoing in the room your skin abused by his heavy hand. You arched your back, curled your toes and your hands clutched the floor as you whimpered and bit your lip in desperation seeking release, but you couldn’t help it, it was so dirty and painful but you loved it, you loved the sound of your ass being pounded and of the impact of his hand leaving your buttocks in searing pain.

“I want you to think about how bad you’ve been, little girl. About what you did that Daddy has to give you this punishment.”

“Yes, Daddy” you replied in a gasp.

You had done nothing wrong, but at this point you couldn’t reveal yourself or turn back time, you were surrendered and immersed in his lustful method of pleasure.

Your makeup began to smear, your eyes watered and just as you were painfully tired, he paused for a moment, finally turning his attention to your throbbing, wet sex. Chris’s cock twitched at the sensation of your pussy coating his fingers. He continued to caress your burning, red ass with one hand while teasing your entrance with the other, making a comment for it:

“Are you liking it, you fucking slut? Do you enjoy it when daddy puts you in your place and spanks you for your bad behavior? Look at that pretty pussy, god, you’re so soaking wet, making a mess for me.”

Another unexpected pair of spankings and his naughty fingers exploring your intimacy that altered every part of you.

You were obsessed with your boyfriend, both of you were of each other, which is why that detail led you to be in precisely the situation you were in now. You knew to perfection the shape, size and color of his fingers, long, pale with a pinkish undertone, veiny, you could visualize the obscene image of them caressing your soaked pussy, of the fingertips pinching your clit and rubbing wildly between your labia to be wrapped around them and, of his digits abusing your entrance, of getting lost in it leaving a mess every time he pushed them deeper and deeper into you.

He kept spanking you, playing with your entrance, going deeper and deeper into you and using your hole carelessly as if it were a toy. Once again he kept his word when he said he would not be gentle. You were a mess, you didn’t know what to concentrate on at all, you babbled and squealed daddy every time your ass hurt and you felt yourself dripping more and more on his fingers.

You were close, so close to reaching your orgasm that your entire lower body burned in sharp, intense pain, Chan gathered, from the irregularity and change of tone in your whimpers and your sweet, soft pussy muscles throbbing and tightening from an immediate release of your peak of sexual desire.

“Are you about to cum, princess? My baby girl wants to reach her orgasm?” he spoke with a certain teasing tone in his sentences.

You nodded, desperate. Tousling your hair, letting it fall over your face, humiliated and incredibly aroused, whimpering in pleasure and pain, losing all your pride as you clung to the cold floor as you responded:

“Yes-yes-yes-y, Daddy, I’m going to cum.”

He blurted out a chuckle, “Really? You’re going to cum while I pound your ass and treat your little pussy roughly? You like being treated like this?”

You whimpered, letting out a squeal as you received your last and most painful spanking, as Chan increased the speed of his fingers in your pussy, the obscene and humiliating sound of your fluids colliding with his digits being heard.

“Yes, Daddy, I-”

“You’re fucked up, baby girl” he mumbled, almost satisfied.

Satisfied to see your ass ruined and red and you still managed to squirm in pleasure.

But Chan stopped, right at the hottest and most exact moment, leaving you mad and in pieces.

“No…” you whispered, annoyed, crestfallen holding all the frustration and strength in your body.

“Well, you don’t deserve such a thing” he added, slapping your exposed vulva twice to which you squealed in surprise, “You don’t deserve to cum, not even if you beg for it you fucking whore. You’ll cum until I say so.”

Chan sighed audibly almost in a groan, getting up from the couch while you remained in the same position, feeling the real pain and burning in your buttocks now that Chan had removed his hands from there. It hurt so much, the tingling from the impact ran through your body that you even wanted to cry again, the worst thing was that even with that pain you couldn’t calm your intense desire to have him.

The next thing you heard was the sound of his clothes tugging, Chan taking off his suit jacket, he unbuttoned the first few of his shirt and the sound of a zipper pulling down and soft fabric falling gracefully rubbing something. You knew right away.

“Come here. I’ll let you get Daddy’s cock ready before I tear your fucking little cunt apart.”

You couldn’t move, your body hurt so much, still, with your own strength, you stood up, your ass red, your makeup smeared and your eyes teary. As soon as you turned around, he came back or to say:

“Get on your knees. You’re going to suck Daddy’s cock” you watched him, from his eyes, going down to meet his pressed cock in his boxers, in a bulge, hard and large. “I didn’t hear your answer.”

“Yes, Daddy!”

You almost responded immediately, almost shivering as if you were freezing to death but it was just the nature of your nervous and highly aroused body and mind, devoted and surrendered to him, making you get on your knees submissively in front of him, raising your gaze, your pain was hard to avoid, but so was your unsettling pleasure. Your hands were indecisive and restless, about to touch his stiff exposed erection that looked so tempting to your sore eyes. Chan was caressing his cock, so pumping, red, and stimulated, dripping in the pretty pink tip of his precum.

“Ah, ah, don't touch until I say so,” he warned you, his voice coming from deep inside him, sounding thicker, you knew he was extremely aroused at this point. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You obeyed him and he, so lost in pleasure took a step towards you, seeing you from above with every noticeable vein in his body exposed to view, his vein in his neck, from his big hands, from his cock...

Chan stroked his cock gently, masturbating it a little then put a part of his cock and glans on your warm tongue, rubbing himself on you.

“Ff-fuck, oh yeah, taste that fucking precum, baby” he moaned, watching you with pleasure, smiling slightly then closing his eyes and gently throwing his head back for a moment.

That had caused more pleasure in you than his fingers and spanking had caused in you before, you loved blowing Chan because you could hear him moaning and your mouth was busy with his big cock in it, it felt so good that just the feel of his soft glans on your tongue and his thick white droplets, you were again a sea of bliss on your bottom, shivering in despair.

“Now I want you to lick it, lick my cock up and down, just like that, yes-yes, use your hands, baby girl.”

You were so happy to hear such quiet commands as licking his cock and you enjoyed every second, you felt it first, your hand cupping a fist to stroke it better, every part of his texture and every single detailed feature, just for you.

“Ff-fuck.”

Chan was close, he had resisted orgasm hard giving his best effort, but the submissive sight of his little girl on her knees for him running her tongue over his big, stiff cock like it was candy didn’t help matters.

You licked his entire length, just as he gently commanded you, reveling in his pumping sex on your tongue and lips, wishing for a moment that he was naked too so you could see his wonderful figure at that angle you were.

“Put it in your mouth” he whined and you quickly did it, “oh yeah, bobbing your head all over daddy’s cock, just like that, mmm. Good girl.”

You put his cock in your mouth, wrapping it around your lips and finally feeling his throbbing sex inside your cavity. It felt so good to have him like this, pleasuring him as he moaned and bit his lip. You wanted to touch yourself as your pussy had a life of its own down there, so throbbing, dripping, and needy, but you knew that touching yourself would lead to no good if Chan found you out. He stroked your hair as you held his cock with your right hand while with your left, awkwardly and nervously you gently caressed his clean, smooth pubic area, his balls from time to time, and his pronounced pelvis rising towards his exercised abdomen.

You let yourself get a little carried away from the feel and taste of Chan that without thinking you slowly wanted his cock a little down your throat, you wanted the feel of his thick member fucking every part of you, but Chan delicately tightened his grip on your hair, pulling it back to pull his cock out of your mouth, leaving his member bouncing gently in the air and brushing against your lips, his erection wet and stimulated and you dripping in your saliva and his precum, confused, looking into his eyes.

However, the next thing you felt you didn’t expect it at all, his large hand slapping moderately hard on your cheek leaving it red and sore.

“I never said to use your throat, huh. Did you want daddy’s cock so bad? Stand up, you’re going to get it now.”

You were still in shock from the slap, but you obeyed as you understood that it would finally happen. Chan grabbed you roughly by your forearm, putting you on your back to him, he forced you to bend over, as you clumsily held onto the couch, as he had put his body behind you. Chan began rubbing his glans on your wet, swollen, juicy vulva, pleasuring himself on your labia before shallowly positioning the head of his cock at your entrance.

You wanted to scream for him to do it, you wanted him to fuck you from the first instant your panties began to get wet for him.

“There will be no safe word, I am going to fuck you hard to remind you that you are mine and you are going to take Daddy’s cock whole like the slut you behaved like tonight, got it?”

You were about to answer, but a squeal came out of you as you felt his pumping deep throbbing penetration piercing your insides. You whimpered between pleasure and pain, Chan was opening your entrance, and inside, your pussy always struggling to accommodate his well-endowed penis.

He began to fuck you while holding on to your hips and touching your very sensitive ass from time to time, he caressed your whole body, your back, and your tits while keeping a deep, fast, and tearing rhythm that left you breathless. You started to see blurred, you were lost, with your pussy choking his cock, about to cum again when he came out of you; he took your body with ease and held you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. Chan wanted to see your tired, frustrated face as you struggled with his big cock in your pussy.

He smiled at the sight of you, your cheeks red and a little of his precum at the corner of your lips, your eyes bright and your whole face begging for sex. He re-entered you, holding your body from your ass which you whimpered at your sensitivity. Chan controlled your body, dropping your body so that his cock slid into you, making you both whimper, he was big, he didn’t fit all the way in, and his cock squeezed at your entrance and pushed your cervix every time he did that.

He continued to control your body, causing you to be a mess in search of your ultimate release in an orgasm.

“Tell me that you’re mine” he started to babble.

The idea of just owning and having you quickly went to his head, of being him and only him the only one who has you screaming with pleasure, the only one who loves you and knows how you like it. Chan always fucks you sweet and slow, gentle, just because his cock is big at your entrance, but sometimes he does it hard when you ask him to, but now he was destroying you beautifully, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I’m yours, daddy, fuck-”you were speaking haltingly and breathlessly.

“Daddy, please” you whimpered, his cock was being too much for you.

“Daddy, please” he mimicked you mockingly making a high-pitched tone of voice with a smug smile, “Please what, don’t you like how all your little pussy is being taken by daddy?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes.

You finally felt it, your orgasm, so close and there was something you always wanted.

“Can I kiss you, Daddy?”

He smiled, “Do it, baby girl” he replied breathlessly.

You began to squirt his cock and part of his thighs and the rest fell to the floor, finally, you felt his lips and cautiously unbuttoned his shirt to feel and appreciate his exercised chest.

“Daddy, can I cum?”

“Fuck, baby girl, yes do it.”

You whimpered again, louder, hugged him, brushing your breasts on his pecs, feeling his soft hair and the scent of his perfume on his neck and you cum shuddered, wanting to release every muscle in your body, leaving you trembling and pleasurably agonized.

Chan enjoyed the disaster of your orgasm, sliding his cock inside you for a few more seconds until he hit your cervix with the spurt of his hot cum.

“Mmm” was all you could say as you caught your breath and felt his orgasm fill you completely still leaning on his shoulder near his neck.

Chan left you there, your body wracked and well satisfied, clinging to him.

He stroked your hair and whispered a sweet “I love you. Do you want to see the snow outside, princess?”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱

꒰ 𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @cherricola-star @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-ssne @oddracha ꒱

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 3 months ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 (𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑹𝑬) ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 14 (15… x_x)

tags : pwp (with plot), (it’s uhh kind of more on the plot side ish… i think? maybe? hfskj), praise, established but developing relationship, mild angst, hurt/comfort (ish), jealousy, possessiveness, slight spoilers for the lumiere myth, references to “midnight whispers”, kissing and making out, sliiight dry humping, wall sex, vaginal sex, desperate sex so it’s kind of rough ish, creampie, tl;dr both of you just can’t get enough of each other, use of pet names “angel” and “my star”, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 3.7k

an : okay so i’m late queueing this but. COUNTDOWN TO XAVIER’S BIRTHDAY - ONE DAY TO GO !!! :D for my beloved darling boy here’s 1 out of 3 total fics prepared for him this month <333 (which may be off-schedule, BUT…) this was fun to write, so i hope you have just as much fun reading! sdkjfhsdk at this point i think i’ve barely ever written xavier fics without plot/feelings… loving this man will just do that to you i guess…

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @spotted-salamander @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @rafayelsgf @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @love-and-deepstrays @keioxo @theanbitchless (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

There’s a lot more to Xavier’s jealousy than you realize, and you’re adamant on setting it right.

This was how it was to be in love with you.

The sweet smell of roses, a walk under the cherry tree.... The calm breeze of morning and soft, fresh linen sheets. Sunlight peeking in through the window, pages of a book. Of words that could mean more to him than he could ever think to describe.

Xavier could call on all the possible analogies he could think of, pull from all the poems and stories that he'd read. And yet none could compare to you. It was in the same way that the stars were second to none—so too, then, were you.

You had always called him your star. But to him, the opposite was just as true.

And perhaps that was why this was so difficult.

The stars were different.

Sometimes changing in position, sometimes visible, sometimes not... From where the both of you stood, they were tiny specks of light in the vast domain of the sky—illuminating the night as much as they could, but part of a different world altogether. Unreachable. Untouchable. So bright, so radiant, that the single, slightest touch could burn him down to nothing.

They belonged to the skies; better admired from afar. It was torture to fall in love with something that, to anyone, felt utterly, unspeakably unattainable—

But that was how it was to be in love with you.

And it was a curse as much as a blessing.

"So then Tara mentioned this new place that opened up recently, and she swears by its service! She said we should totally go out and celebrate!" Your eyes gleamed with excitement as you spoke, taking in a spoonful of your ice cream to bring up to your lips. "So this does mean I have a little last-minute rendezvous later tonight... I'd have invited you, too, but—you know. Girl's night?"

His gaze remained transfixed.

The pace at which you both walked was matched, and relatively relaxed—yet he'd barely touched his ice cream. Instead, blue eyes focused on you as you spoke, tracing the movement of your lips and that sparkle in your eyes that he could never ever tire of.

"Okay," he murmured.

When you looked up at him, he glanced away, bringing a hand back to rub sheepishly at the bridge of his nose.

"...Really, really? Just okay? You usually, I dunno, ask me more about the people I'm with, or something..."

He shook his head, and there it was—the little smile on your face didn't go unnoticed. He knew you were trying not to tease, and your actions were so well-known by him that he'd memorized them all for himself. It was endearing to see you like this, knowing you probably knew his habits just as well as he did yours. And at the same time, he knew that you were right.

"Well, I mean... It's just Tara and the others," he said slowly. "You've... been spending a lot of your time with your hunter friends lately. I know who they are."

"I know who they are. You've a way with words, huh?" With a roll of your eyes, you took another bite of ice cream, before nudging him slightly with your elbow. "I've been trying to get to know more of the hunters in the Association lately. There's a lot of them, you know? I'm really glad that everyone's been so nice."

This time, he didn't say anything. Only a quiet hum, the soft crunch of autumn leaves on the concrete a sound that proved comforting to both of you.

The truth was, he was trying not to be so childish about it.

Something stirred in his chest when you spoke, that familiar discomfort that came with a feeling he knew to be jealousy.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

But it was also easy to lose a star.

It was easy to lose you when, sometimes, he didn’t feel as if he had the right, really, to own you.

Because who was he to control your feelings?

There was no guarantee that, in this lifetime, you wouldn’t just up and leave.

And the more time you spent with others, the more he realized how true that could be.

There was no certainty that this was end game.

“Xavier?”

He heard your voice call out softly to him, and he looked down—

God. You were so cute.

Your head tilted to the side with a little air of concern, and he couldn’t help but smile. The moment a gentle breeze blew, he leaned down for a cheeky kiss on your forehead.

“X-Xavier—?!”

The incredulous expression on your face was one he wished he could preserve in his mind for eternity. He was sure that if that were possible, he really would.

“It’s nothing,” he assured. And he, himself, wanted to believe that to be true. “I like walking with you. It’s nice like this.”

It’s nice like this.

I hope it stays like this.

I hope that this time, we can just… stay together…

—

Oops.

That was the first thought in your head as you shot up from bed, eyes bleary with sleep.

Your phone was in your hand, and you stared aghast.

Package delivered.

You thought you’d been delusional when you could have sworn you heard nothing of a doorbell, until you looked at the address. And that was not your apartment number. That was Xavier’s.

You’d forgotten to change it—again.

Haphazardly throwing on a sweater and putting on your shoes, you raced out your door. The fact that you had yet to receive a text from him about it, nor have it delivered to you, likely meant one of two things: either he hadn’t received it and it was waiting outside his door, or he’d discovered what was in it.

His door absolutely did not have a package waiting outside it.

“Xavier? Xavier!” a little bit out of breath from the sheer shock of such a morning, you called out for him and hurriedly knocked on his door.

“Good morning,” came a voice from inside.

He wasn’t opening the door.

“Xavier…?”

“Is this about your package?”

“...Yes! Yes, it is! I forgot to change the address—”

“I have it.”

“Th-that’s great! Could you, maybe, open the door…”

A shuffling could be heard, and when the door did open, your jaw immediately dropped at the sighed before you.

He had opened it.

“Did you really order this? Were you planning to come here again and ask me to wear it?”

Xavier was frowning, his arms crossed in front of him—he wasn’t at all happy, that much you could tell. But you almost couldn’t focus on that. Not with the black tassel ear cuff hanging on his right ear, not with the suit he was currently wearing. And, those black gloves, the metal cuffs, the gold embellishments, the crimson dye, the blood-red collar… and everything.

It was a stark difference to how you usually saw him.

Xavier almost never wore black… But this looked phenomenal on him.

In retrospect, you supposed that there was nothing he could ever truly look bad in. But this? This was a whole other level of eye candy. There was absolutely no keeping that giddy smile from spreading across your face, even as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that…”

The way his brows furrowed was near downright adorable, the corners of his mouth turning down into a little pout. You could have squealed.

Almost.

Instead, your hands reached out in a look of wonder as you slid your touch down the side of his arm, feeling the well-made fabric of the suit. It was just a cosplay, and yet, it nonetheless seemed so well-made, mearly comparable to the original…

“You opened the package? It’s mine, you know,” you murmured, and with a huff, he stepped aside to allow you into his apartment. You weren’t mad that he opened it, really—and the fact that he put it on? While you could tell he wasn’t happy about it, he was already being nice enough to indulge you with all this again.

“Is it really your package? You could have delivered it here on purpose. I saw Lumiere on the label. These are clothes in my size.”

For a moment the two of you stared at each other in silence, and you could very well remember how this played out the last time you were in this situation.

“Well,” you started, if only to fill the air around you that had grown a little tense. “I didn’t expect it to arrive this soon… We were talking about it last night. You know, with the girls? A few days ago at the office, apparently Nero was all busy because a new line of Lumiere merch came out—a whole alternate costume! We talked about it all night and I had to order a set, too, I just thought I wouldn’t get it for another week—”

You were cut off in a swift movement.

With wide eyes, you found yourself pressed up against the wall, Xavier’s hands on either side of your head. The warmth of his presence so near you had you holding your breath, almost as if the air around you had turned from tense to suffocating. There was something about it that simply rendered you unable to breathe. It was easy to get all dizzy with him so close to you.

But when you looked at him, what you were met with was... not anger.

There wasn’t a trace of it on his features.

Instead, you were surprised to see a hint of something else.

His lips pressed into a thin line. Displeased, yes—but his gaze, while kept on yours, was desperate. Eyebrows knitted together, eyes narrowed ever so slightly with the prospect of almost begging you for something that you couldn’t quite place... Something you felt as if you should.

“Xavier?” you murmured. Your hand raised, slowly, carefully, up to cup his face.

This was different from the last time you’d played around with Lumiere’s costumes. He wasn't just sulking over it.

“...But is that really who you want to be calling?” His voice was quiet. Too quiet. This was an emotion you couldn’t quite read, nor was it one that was familiar to you.

“Xavier? What’s going—”

“It’s always like this.”

Your mouth shut, and you frowned, trying desperately to understand the tone in his voice.

“It’s still always Lumiere, right?” he let out a slow breath. “Why do you care so much about Lumiere? You’d talk about him to your friends, too. You’d spend an entire night without me for him.”

“What? That’s not—I told you, we just wanted to—”

“But I’m right here.”

The calm, even tone with which he’d been speaking slipped in that moment. A crack in his voice—though barely audible right in the moment—wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by you.

Something was wrong.

He was rarely ever like this with you—this wasn’t even an argument, it was just… It was something.

His right hand, previously placed by your ear, shifted to take your hand from his cheek. Taking the other at the same time, he pinned both hands back against the wall, preventing you from moving. The lace of your fingers together had you hyper aware of the leather texture of his gloves, and your breath hitched.

He leaned in.

“I’m right here.”

A repeat of his words.

Yet he almost sounded as if he could break.

“I know you are,” you started, speaking carefully.

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

This time you spoke firmly, meeting his gaze full-on with a certain sense of conviction that you were not going to let him try to doubt. “Please... what brought this on, Xavier?”

For a while, there was no answer.

His chest rose and fell, deep, calming breaths for himself almost as if trying to compose himself in front of you. You didn't like that. He did it so often; hiding things from you for your sake, putting on a braver face for you if only to keep you from worrying any more than you needed to.

But you needed to.

You wanted to.

Was that not what a relationship entailed? To worry about each other?

You could tell that this meant more to him than simple, petty jealousy—and you were determined to find out what that was.

“Don’t do that,” you mumbled. You frowned slightly, as if to make your point. “Don’t act in front of me. Don't put up a front. You’re upset, right? Something’s wrong. Xav… Are you still jealous? Is that what this is?”

“...I’m not.”

“But you are. Don’t do that.”

Like before, his eyes averted, but you didn’t miss the way he had to grit his teeth just to make sure he would keep a straight face.

“Xavier.”

You tugged at your wrists.

“Xavier.”

His eyes closed. While his grip on your hands loosened slightly, he didn’t let up—his forehead pressed against yours, and for the first time, you realized how shaky he felt.

His breath was warm. His hands were warm. You could barely notice the cold of the wall pressed against your back, the rest of his living room fading away into the background as if all that existed was you, and him, and this little corner you had to yourselves.

As if it were all that mattered.

In a way, it was.

He was all that ever mattered.

“I don’t want it to change,” he whispered. His voice was small; smaller than you had ever heard it before. “I don’t want us to change.”

“Huh? But we’re not changing…”

“No, we’re not. I hope we don’t. It’s enough like this, just to be with you…”

Something about his words stirred at the pit of your stomach.

I hope we don't.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps you'd been spending too much time without him, and perhaps he just wanted to feel... a little more wanted by you.

“Xavier…”

This time your hand slipped away from his hold, and it was back on his face, cupping his cheek. You watched him lean into it—a soft sigh of resignation, nuzzling into the palm of your hand like he wanted nothing more than your touch.

You swallowed thickly.

“Xavier, it’s not that I’m so fond of Lumiere…” you spoke softly. “I’m fond of you.”

His eyes opened, a slow blink of mild confusion.

“Lumiere is you. Is he not? He’s handsome, and gentle… just like you are.”

When his expression didn’t let up, you continued.

“Xavier, you saved me. I’ve always thought that Lumiere was amazing… But, now, knowing that he’s you—doesn’t that mean I get to love both you and him at the same time?” Your thumb rolled over his skin, and you leaned up slightly, teasing for a kiss. “I loved you first. So I like him because he’s you.”

The tips of your noses touched, and his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes locked this time, and he was all that you could see. All that you would ever see. Close. Impossibly close. Within reach… this time, because this was the Xavier that had come to love you. And that was all that mattered to you.

Maybe you felt a little sense of pride knowing this star was all yours. And maybe that was what he needed to feel, too.

“I… don’t like him,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be him… I just… want to be me. With you. Like this.”

"And you are you."

"But I'm not Lumiere. Lumiere is part of the past. I want… I… I'm here."

Ah.

Somehow, you understood.

Your gaze softened, and you let out a slow, quiet sigh. "Oh, Xavier…" you mumbled. “I like you no matter who you choose to be, Xavier. Ah—”

You smiled, and then shook your head. “Sorry," you corrected. "That’s wrong. I mean… I love you, no matter who you choose to be.”

You saw his eyes light up at that, breath hitching. Those blue, blue eyes—bluer than blue, the most beautiful shade of it that you’ve ever seen.

That was it.

That was what he needed to hear.

His lips trembled slightly, and then all you could feel were them.

He crashed against you, pinning you back against the wall just as he had done earlier, and you could feel everything. His knee between your legs, inching upwards, pressing you back with every ounce of his being as if the single, final thread of self-control had snapped.

“My star… my angel…”

He gasped between kisses, barely muttering out words before he would drag his lips plush against yours in a way that made you want. A way that made you need.

You moaned against him, his body melting, molding into yours.

My star.

Xavier was so unfair.

Even the nicknames you would reserve for him could be turned right back to you, snaking his way into your heart that he had, that he owned, because you had given it—everything—all to him.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Not when the heat of his presence wrapped enveloped you in a hazy mist of love and desire, the pull of his touch so strong that you couldn’t ever think of leaving. His fingers curled into yours, his grip straining. Bodies pressed together, the outline of his bulge grinding between your legs—his hips rutted into you with not much thought behind his movements, and your desperate pants fell into each and every kiss as if you simply couldn’t get enough.

You couldn’t get enough.

Your mind could only fill with thoughts of him, because he’d taken that for himself as much as everything else.

“X-Xavie—mmphf—”

It didn’t take long.

Clothes discarded in barely a moment before he was hoisting you up on his waist and fucking you, your back hitting the wall with every upward thrust of his hips.

“X-Xavier!” you cried. Your eyes rolled back as he dipped his head into your neck, muffling his moans into your skin. “Xavier… Xavier… So good for me… so, so good, nnh—haa—”

Every praise uttered from your lips caused his thrusts to jerk, a whine falling from his lips.

He liked it.

“Mmh… Mh—yes— j-just like that! Ngh, you fuck me so, so well—ha-ah!”

You clawed at his back as the tip of his cock edged against your sweet spot, and you could tell with the way he choked out a laugh into your skin that you were in for it. His hips continued to snap against yours until you could barely register any coherent thought in your head. He would plunge in and out of your wet, leaking cunt with reckless abandon—you almost couldn't breathe.

“Xavier! Hnng—so good! Good boy, good—ngh—! Th-there! Please!”

You were long gone.

He could only hold you up with his sheer strength—you felt weak as you cried out endless strings of praise, obscene sounds of sex filling the room in an instant.

“My star…” He leaned back to hold you properly against the wall, grunting and panting. With his hair stuck to his forehead, droplets of sweat sliding down his skin, your eyes glazed over. “My star. My star. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine…”

With a mewl, your legs tightened around his waist, and he kissed you. Tongue, and teeth, and messy. Just as needy as earlier. Just as desperate as earlier. Your hands continued to claw at his back, fervent movements of his lips against yours in a foggy frenzy of pure want.

“Mine,” he gasped, pulling away just enough to speak. “My angel, my star—my pretty—pretty angel—my—good girl—”

His kisses, his thrusts, were punctuated with every word, driving you absolutely insane.

“Ngh—ah! Xavi—vie—Xavier—!”

You could barely get any more praise out as he easily turned the tables on you, lulling you into a headspace where all you could say was his name. His name, that, gladly, he would easily relinquish to you. A name that was yours as much as his. A name that you could call, this time, with the comfort of him being with you.

“Angel…” he groaned. “Feel'so good… Taking me so well…”

“G-gonna cum! Xavie—Xav—haa—!”

“Good girl… Good girl, good—girl—good—ngh—girl…!”

That was it.

One last thrust had you spasming around him, practically collapsing into his arms as he held you up, keeping you between the wall and his body as his own trembled with a release triggered by your own.

“So much… so much…” you buried your face into his neck, and he rubbed soft, soothing circles into your back. Hot, white ropes of cum filled your insides, enough to leak out of you, trailing down your legs.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, catching your breaths. There was comfort, in being held tightly in his embrace. And it wasn’t until a while later that either of you spoke.

“...The Lumiere plushie…” he breathed, quietly. “Do we have to keep it?”

You lifted your head, shooting him an incredulous look. “You’re still upset over it?!” Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark-themed Lumiere plushie resting neatly atop of the coffee table, and you let out a huff. “Xavier, really, I promise you that I—”

You stopped.

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling in what you noted was not quite amusement, but… happiness, nonetheless.

You huffed slightly, but it felt lighter knowing that he was happy.

That was all you ever wanted, after all.

His forehead pressed back against yours, and he spoke again.

“Do you mean it?” he murmured. “What you said earlier. That you love me… No matter what?”

You smiled.

“Of course I do, silly. Isn’t that what you say to me all the time, too? What’s to make you think that I can’t say it back to you?” you gave him a playful swat, rolling your eyes. “I agree with you, you know… I like it like this. I like being with you. I want it to stay this way, too. Because all I've ever wanted was to be with you. You, whoever you feel like being. Whether it's Lumiere, or the Xavier in front of me now. That's... what it's like to love a star. Right?"

Something flashed in his eyes, then, before he nuzzled against you in that way he so often did with you.

“...Mm. So this is what it’s like to love you."

He was whispering, and he seemed to be speaking more to himself.

But, he smiled:

“Ah, no… This is what it’s like to love you more.”

an : lumiere really is the best!!! 🥰✨

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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rottenfyre · 2 months ago

Text

⸻ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴛ ʏ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere HOTD x Targaryen Reader Part 3

Summary: Alicent was pregnant and now you have a brother... Great between this mess now you have to deal with a child.

Warning: Y/n herself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Gifs don't belong to me, credit to the owner. Hope you enjoy!

The corridors of the Red Keep felt more stifling than usual as Y/n made her way toward Alicent’s chambers, her father’s summons echoing in her mind. It was laughable, truly. After all, why would she, of all people, care to see this child—a replacement, a crude shadow of what should have been her true brother, born to her beloved mother?

When she arrived, Rhaenyra was already there, standing near the bed where Alicent lay cradling the newborn. Rhaenyra’s face twisted briefly as she took in the sight, her discomfort poorly veiled. Y/n caught her sister’s eye just before Rhaenyra turned and, with a cold glance, left the room, practically fleeing. Smart, Y/n thought, suppressing a smile. She could almost admire her sister’s decisiveness. She, however, would stay. There was something strangely… satisfying in seeing Alicent lying there, pale and weak, her hair clinging to her forehead with sweat, her whole appearance a fragile mess. She look miserable.

“Y/n, my daughter,” her father’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Won’t you come closer?”

She looked up at him, feeling that familiar pang of resentment, but she crossed the room slowly, each step heavy with her reluctance. Alicent looked at her with a forced smile, and Y/n barely resisted rolling her eyes. Her father gestured for her to approach even closer.

“Come,” he said, a faint hint of warmth in his tone. “Look at your brother.”

Y/n’s face twisted involuntarily, her lips pulling back in thinly veiled disgust. Brother? She didn’t see any reason to indulge in this charade. But, as her father’s eyes settled on her, full of an expectation she knew she couldn’t ignore, she sighed and leaned in to peer at the squirming bundle in Alicent’s arms.

The first sight of the child made her flinch. What… in all the Seven Hells is this? The baby’s face was scrunched and red, his tiny hands wriggling pathetically. She could barely suppress her grimace as she looked down at him. Why is it so… ugly? Is this actually what babies look like? Or is it just… this one? She felt a shudder run down her spine, her lips curling as though she’d just seen something grotesque.

“Well?” her father asked, watching her closely. Y/n looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in exasperation, unable to mask her distaste.

Viserys chuckled softly, clearly amused by her reaction. “I thought you’d be excited,” he said, his tone mild but firm. “You always used to talk about naming your little brother, remember?”

"Y/n, what would you name him if he were a boy?" her mother asked, her voice light and playful, a smile dancing on her lips.

Y/n’s face lit up instantly. “Aegon,” she replied, no hesitation.

Aemma’s laughter was a gentle chime, full of love, as she tilted her head back, clearly charmed. "Aegon, hmm?" she repeated, her voice tender and a little amused. “A strong name—he would grow into it, I think.”

The response made Y/n puff up with pride. She let her hand rest over Aemma’s belly, pressing gently as though she could feel the baby within, envisioning a strong little boy who would one day grow up by her side, someone she would protect fiercely. In that moment, she felt certain she would love him more than anyone else.

Aemma leaned down and kissed Y/n’s forehead, stroking her cheek with soft fingers. “I think he would love you very much,” she murmured, her voice filled with a sweetness that warmed Y/n’s heart. “He would look up to you, my little girl.”

He was supposed to be my brother, Mother’s son… Not this. Not this… thing.

Her throat tightened, the painful memory clashing with the reality in front of her. Swallowing, she whispered, almost to herself, “…Aegon.” The name hung in the air, soft and sorrowful. She barely noticed as the baby’s eyes blinked open at the sound, a pair of startlingly bright, clear eyes—like polished jewels, unexpectedly beautiful in the midst of his otherwise unimpressive appearance.

But she felt nothing, no stir of affection or tenderness. The past had stayed buried until now, and she would not dig it up for this stranger. She pulled back, letting the revulsion return to harden her expression.

“Well, congratulations, Father,” she said, her voice back to its usual detached tone. She cast a long, deliberate glance at Alicent, her lips twitching with barely concealed disdain, before turning and striding toward the door.

As she left the room, she could still feel the ghostly twinge of her mother’s memory, lingering like a bad taste. Aegon, she thought bitterly, her fingers twitching in irritation. She could still feel the faint ache of holding onto that name, the name meant for a brother she had wanted.

Once she was back in her own chambers, she called for Elira. “Prepare me a bath,” she ordered, brushing a faint trace of blood from her fingers. “I need to wash off… whatever that was.” The sight of that child had left her feeling unclean, tainted by the memory and the reality. She sank into the hot water a moment later, letting the heat and steam blur the remnants of the day’s distaste.

As she sank deeper into the bath, she sighed, watching the water ripple around her. But no amount of scrubbing would erase that memory or the sour feeling twisting in her chest.

Y/n walked through the Red Keep's sunlit corridors, her pale skirts sweeping the stone floors, the soft chittering of her monkey filling the silence. The little creature perched on her shoulder, its curious eyes darting around, occasionally reaching out to tug on a stray strand of her silver hair. She reached up absently to scratch behind its ear, murmuring, “You’re a clever little thing, aren’t you?”

The monkey blinked at her, tilting its head as though in agreement. Y/n allowed herself a small smile. A gift from Daemon. Her uncle’s face flickered in her mind, sharp and knowing. He’d always had a knack for giving her things that felt… personal, even if she doubted it at times. Where is he now? she wondered, a pang of curiosity laced with longing. He had always been unpredictable, always vanishing just when she began to feel comfortable. I hope he’s well… or at least happy with himself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint tug on her skirt. She stopped mid-step, frowning, and glanced down. There it was: that ugly thing. looked up at her with wide, unsteady eyes, his chubby hands still gripping the fabric of her dress.

“What do you want now?” she muttered, pulling her skirt away sharply. She stepped forward, expecting him to let go, but he didn’t. Instead, he tottered after her, his tiny legs wobbling as he reached for her again.

“Ya—Ya—” he babbled, his mouth struggling to form the syllables of her name.

She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Annoying little pest.” She continued walking, but he followed, his persistent baby babble echoing down the hall. His voice softened slightly, and then, clear as the bells of the Sept, she heard it:

“S-Sis…ter.”

She froze in place, her foot hovering above the first step of the grand staircase. Slowly, she turned to look down at him. His face was lit up with a bright, toothy smile, his tiny hands reaching for her skirt again as he repeated, “Sis...t-ter!”

Her eyes widened. Did he just say that? Her heart fluttered in an unfamiliar way, something small and sharp lodging itself deep in her chest. She stared at him, stunned, as he laughed again, his babyish giggles bubbling up like spring water.

“Do you want to ride on Syrax with me, sister?”

“Can you stay, sister? I feel lonely…”

“Don't worry sister, I will never leave you.”

“I love you, sister.”

Her throat tightened. The warmth of those memories twisted into something cold, a painful ache she could neither name nor shake. She felt herself soften, just slightly, as she gazed down at Aegon. So small, so innocent. A smile, faint and almost tender, touched her lips. “Aww,” she cooed softly, crouching down to his level. “You called me sister…”

Her hand reached out, gently brushing against his silver hair. He giggled again, his tiny hands batting at her fingers. For a moment, the warmth lingered, a fragile thread of something like affection.

She stared down at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. What a silly cute rat.

Before she could stop herself—before she even wanted to—she pushed him.

Aegon’s tiny body flew forward, tumbling down the stairs. His small arms flailed helplessly, his head bouncing off the stone steps with a sickening crack. His body twisted and rolled, limp and lifeless, until he finally hit the bottom with a heavy thud.

Y/n stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the bloody mess below.

She tilted her head, a smile slowly spreading across her face. Is he dead? She wasn’t sure. Didn’t really care. The blood pooled around his little head, and for a moment, she thought he might be.

She didn’t move. Just stood there, watching. It was… amusing. Like watching a bug squirm after being squashed.

After a moment, she began to walk down the steps, her footsteps slow and deliberate. When she reached the bottom, she crouched beside his crumpled form, her eyes scanning the blood and the broken limbs. He wasn’t moving. His little chest wasn’t rising.

She leaned in close, her face hovering just above his.

“Are you still alive?” she whispered, her tone almost curious. She poked at his arm, but there was no response.

She smiled. Oh, well. If he was dead, he was dead. If not… well, that didn’t matter either.

Just as she was about to stand, she noticed a faint, shallow breath escape his lips.

“Oh, you’re alive,” she murmured, sounding more bored than surprised.

She stood up, dusting off her dress as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hall. The maids rushed over, their faces pale with horror as they saw Aegon’s broken body lying at the foot of the stairs.

“Oh gods, what happened?” one of them gasped, falling to her knees beside him. “Someone fetch the maester!”

Y/n just watched, her expression flat. One of the maids glanced up at her, her eyes wide with shock.

“He fell, nothing to be worry about.” Y/n said simply, her voice devoid of any emotion. She could be careless.

Y/n stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. She watched, her expression soft, as they lifted him and hurried away, calling for the maesters.

As they disappeared down the corridor, she turned away, a slight smile curling her lips. So much fuss over a little fall.

She turned and walked in the opposite direction, her mind already moving on to something else.

Aegon was just a pest. A nuisance. A stray animal that had wandered into her path.

Whether he lived or died, it didn’t matter.

It never mattered.

Y/n sat in her chamber, the evening sunlight streaming in through the large arched windows, illuminating her collection of jewelry spread out across her vanity. Rings, necklaces, and bracelets, all glittering in gold and adorned with rubies and emeralds, caught her eye as she lazily picked one up after another, holding them against her neck to see how they looked. She glanced at her reflection, tilting her head slightly, her pale hair cascading over her shoulders. Perfect as always, she thought, fastening a necklace with a smirk.

Her peaceful vanity session was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps outside her chamber, followed by a sharp knock on the door. She sighed. What now?

“Princess,” a servant called from the other side. “The king has summoned you.”

Her smirk faded, replaced by a slight scowl. This better be good.

When Y/n entered the room, the tension was palpable. Alicent stood to the side, her face streaked with tears. Otto loomed next to her, his expression dark and accusing. Rhaenyra was there too, standing stiffly, her eyes flicking between their father and Alicent. Maids huddled in the background, visibly uncomfortable, whispering among themselves. Her father, Viserys, was pacing, his face red with anger. Ah it's about that thing isn't it?

The second he saw her, his finger shot out, trembling with rage. “Y/n!” he barked. “Did you push your brother down the stairs?!”

Y/n blinked, her expression one of calculated confusion. “What?” she said, her voice calm but laced with just enough disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

Viserys stepped closer, his hand clenching into a fist. “Don’t play games with me, girl! Aegon was found at the bottom of the stairs, and you were seen leaving the scene! Did you do it?!”

For a moment, Y/n simply stared at him, her face blank, before she let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” she said smoothly. “I didn’t even know Aegon fell.”

Before Viserys could respond, Alicent burst into tears, her voice shrill and filled with accusation. “You did it! I know you did! You just want to see me suffer! You hate me, and that’s why you hurt my son!”

Y/n slowly turned her head toward Alicent, her expression shifting to one of pure disdain. She raised a brow, letting the silence hang for a moment before speaking, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “First,” she began, “I had completely forgotten your son even existed until now. So, congratulations, I suppose, for reminding me of his presence.” She folded her arms, her lip curling slightly. “And second, do you think you’re so important that I would go out of my way to hurt a child just to make you suffer? Who do you think I am?”

“Enough!” Viserys roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. He glared at Y/n, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Just answer the question! Did you push Aegon or not?”

Y/n sighed dramatically, her gaze flicking to Rhaenyra. “Why would I do that?” she said, her tone exasperated. “If anything, Rhaenyra has far more reason to harm him than I do. After all, he’s a danger to her claim to the throne.”

Rhaenyra’s head snapped up, her expression furious. “How dare you—”

“Enough!” Otto interrupted, stepping forward. “The maids saw you, princess. They’ve spoken. They said they saw you push him.”

They wouldn't dare.

Y/n's eyes narrowed slightly, but her face betrayed no fear. Instead, she turned her head slowly toward the maids, her gaze icy. “Is that so?” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Well, it’s not good to lie. So go on. Tell everyone exactly what you saw.” Her lips curved into a small, taunting smile. “After all, I have nothing to hide.”

The maid who had spoken out visibly paled, her hands trembling as she clutched the hem of her apron. “I-I…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I saw n-nothing… I saw… nothing.”

Y/n’s smirk widened as she turned back to Alicent, her expression one of triumph. Alicent’s mouth opened as if to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she stood there, shaking with anger, her tears falling faster.

“Well,” Y/n said, turning her attention back to Viserys. “It seems I’ve been falsely accused. Again.” She tilted her head, her voice softening as she spoke to her father.

Viserys pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “Y/n…” he began, but she cut him off, her tone turning earnest.

“Father,” she said, her voice softening just enough to sound genuine, “I may not like his mother, but Aegon is my brother. My blood. A Targaryen. I would never do anything to harm our house or you. Surely you know that.”

Viserys stared at her for a long moment, his anger slowly fading into something more weary. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a deep sigh. “Go,” he said finally, waving her off. “Just… go.”

Y/n inclined her head, a polite yet triumphant gesture, and turned to leave. As she walked away, the faintest hint of a smile played on her lips.

She can hardly believe what she's hearing. Marriage? Her father, has finally gathered enough balls to declare that she, the most stunning creature in all the Seven Kingdoms, the one every man pines for, is to marry? And to whom, of all people? Jason Lannister. That smug, rotund swine who fancies himself fit to marry a dragon. He’s nothing more than a pig draped in Lannister red, prancing around as if his golden hair and his family's wealth could mask the stench of his arrogance.

Her lips curl with disgust as she eyes Jason standing beside her father, his bloated face gleaming with that ridiculous self-satisfied grin. Jason Lannister? Really? Her mind races. Does father think so lowly of me?

No, this cannot be. She will not be shackled to some pompous, fat fool with no fire in his veins, who has neither her wit nor her beauty. A thousand thoughts swarm her mind like angry hornets. She's a Targaryen—she deserves a dragon, a man with strength and fire, not some Lannister sheep dressed in silk. And, gods be damned, she should have a say in this. Am I not his daughter? Does he think me some meek lamb ready to be led to slaughter?

“I at least deserve a choice,” she spits out, her voice sharp as Valyrian steel, her violet eyes flashing as she meets her father's gaze. “I will not be sold off like some common whore to the highest bidder, to that... thing.” Her voice drips with contempt as she gestures toward Jason, whose smugness falters for a moment.

Viserys sighs, rubbing his temples, clearly exasperated by her defiance. She has rejected every man he's thrown her way, each one sent packing with his tail between his legs. None of them were worthy, none of them could hold her interest for longer than a passing glance.

“It’s time for you to marry,” Viserys says, his tone dangerously low, trying to assert his failing authority. “You’ve already rejected enough suitors. You cannot delay this any longer.”

She laughs, a sharp, mocking sound that fills the room. “And why him? Are there not better men out there, father? Men with some beauty? Perhaps Ser Criston Cole.” she said smirking as her eyes flicking to the knight who stands at the door, his eyes were avoiding her “I would gladly marry him.”

“He’s a knight!” Viesrys snapped, his voice tight with disbelief. “He has vows. He cannot marry you!”

She rolled her eyes, the barely suppressed anger on her tongue, tasting sharp and venomous. “So? That’s not my fault. I don’t care about his vows!” She said it with a defiant sneer, feeling some sort of satisfaction as his shock deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Good.

“Y/n—” Viserys begins, but she cuts him off, her words coming in a flood. “I’m to marry, fine! But to this creature?” Her voice rises with each word. “I deserve a man who looks like a god, who can make my blood run hot—”

“Enough!” Viserys roars, his face red with fury. She pauses, her mouth half-open, momentarily stunned into silence. He breathes heavily, trying to regain control. “You want a choice?” he hisses, and for a fleeting moment, hope blooms in her chest.

“Then choose. Jason Lannister… or your brother Aegon.” His next words strike her like a knife.

What? For a moment, she cannot process it. Did he just say...? Her brother, Aegon? Her mind stutters to a halt. The room seems to grow cold, the air thickening. She stands there, staring at her father, trying to comprehend the madness he just uttered.

Did she hear that right? Her brother Aegon? The boy who’s barely old enough to walk, let alone… marry? For a moment, she’s stunned into silence, the rare taste of shock on her tongue. It’s almost laughable, really. As if those are her only options? As if her father thinks she would actually choose between a lecherous pig and a babe still sucking on his wet nurse's tits?

The room seems to close in, the walls pressing tight around her. She watches Viserys and Jason turn to each other, discussing plans as if she’s no longer even present. As if she’s already chosen Jason. The bastard thinks he has her cornered, that her vanity will force her to choose the Lannister rather than bind herself to a boy not even out of his childhood.

“She’s strong-willed,” Viserys mutters, not bothering to lower his voice. “But with time, she’ll come to appreciate the stability you can offer her.”

Jason snorts, and she wants to claw his eyes out for daring to speak of her as though she’s a horse to be broken. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll learn her place soon enough,” he says, his voice dripping with smug confidence. “A Lannister knows how to handle a fiery wife.”

The audacity. She can barely restrain herself from lunging at him, tearing that pompous grin off his face. But no, she won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her rage. Instead, she lets it simmer inside, her mind racing.

But then it hits her—this is perfect. The corners of her lips twitch into a sly smile.

“Fine,” she says, her voice cutting through their conversation like a knife through flesh. Both men turn to her, blinking as if they’ve forgotten she’s there. She stands tall, her chin lifted, the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. “I will marry Aegon.”

The look on Viserys’ face is priceless. His expression falls as if she’s slapped him. “What did you just say?” he asks, his voice low, incredulous.

“I said I will marry my brother Aegon,” she repeats, her tone mocking, triumphant. “Are you deaf, father?” She enjoys the way his face crumples, the way Jason's smug smile evaporates into a confused grimace. They did not expect this. They thought her pride, her vanity, would force her to pick Jason.

Did you really think you could corner me, father? she thinks, her eyes gleaming with triumph. You should know better by now.

Jason's face turns red with fury, the realization sinking in that he’s lost his prize. He looks like he’s about to argue, but she cuts him off with a sweet, sickly smile. “It seems you won’t be wedding me, after all, Jason. I suppose you’ll have to settle for some lesser creature.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and sweeps out of the room, leaving her father and that Lannister pig scrambling to piece together what just happened.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 4.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

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rosyblooom · 9 months ago

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a in anniversary is for apple pie! | cl16 smau

PAIRING: charles leclerc x wife!reader SUMMARY: charles and y/n return from their wedding anniversary dinner to find their daughter still awake and adamant about wanting the apple pie she was promised tonight! A/N: tysm for 500 followers🥹 pls accept this entirely sweet & happy fic as a token of my appreciation🫶

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading <3

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 901,885 others

charles_leclerc Happy wedding anniversary to my beautiful wife, Y/N. You hold my heart in the palm of your hands, but I couldn't imagine it safer anywhere else. I'm excited for more, mon cœur 🙏❤️

vie all 7,264 comments

username wake up babe new photos of charles and y/n's secret wedding just dropped

username these crumbs are actually such nasty work smh😩 they're sick! username can't wait to see to finally see the whole wedding in 60 years🥲

username IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR OMFG

yourusername iIy baby🥰🥰

charles_leclerc ❤️ username y'all are too cute 🤧 username I LOVE YOU GUYS SM!!!!

username still can't believe charles has a wife and it isn't me😭

username oh to be called mon cœur by charles leclerc...

username if you zoom in on the 3rd pic you'll see me face down in the ocean😔

username omg that makes two of us !! TWINNING😜

charles_leclerc posted to his story!

[ caption: Wow. ]

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: mon amour ❤️ ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

Fumbling, you struggle to insert the key into the lock, a task made unexpectedly difficult by your husband's impatience. His gentle kisses land on the nape of your neck, his soft whispers proving to be an unwelcome distraction. "Stop it! Can't you wait until we're inside?" you scold, attempting to maintain focus. But his arms remain securely wrapped around your waist, his affectionate gestures relentless. "Remember, we have to face the babysitter the moment we open the door."

"Mhm," Charles hums against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine and a suppressed smile to your lips. You curse silently at the six-inch heels you foolishly chose, your knees growing weaker with each passing second, the shoes only exacerbating the situation.

With a soft click, the door swings open, a rush of relief flooding through you as you silently thank your lucky stars. But before you can fully absorb the scene, the familiar sound of footsteps, accompanied by a beloved voice, reaches your ears.

"Maman!" Your daughter's enthusiastic embrace threatens to topple you as her tiny arms envelop your thighs. The warmth of Charles beside you momentarily dissipates as he steps back, a look of surprise crossing his features.

Running a hand through his beard, he gently tousles D/N's hair as he asks, "What are you doing up so late, love?"

Annie, your babysitter, interjects with a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry, I tried to get her to bed, but she insisted you guys were making apple pie tonight." She scratches the back of her neck, shrugging apologetically. "I did my best, but this little one is quite determined, as I've come to learn. Right, D/N?" Annie redirects her attention downward, addressing your daughter.

“You promised me apple pie, Maman!” D/N's insistent plea rings out, her small fingers grasping the fabric of your dress. “And I want it now! I want it now! I want it now!”

Kneeling down to her level, you gently place a finger to your lips. “Alright, D/N, I can hear you, but not so loud. Remember, at night-time, we use our inside voice, okay?” Tenderly, you intertwine your hands with hers, tracing comforting circles on the back of her hands.

D/N nods solemnly and whispers, “You promised me you’d make apple pie, and I want it now. Papa,” she turns her pleading gaze to Charles, releasing herself from your grasp and wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve been waiting all day for this, please, Papa.”

Motioning for you to handle the situation with Annie, Charles scoops D/N up, settling her on his hip before disappearing down the hallway and into the kitchen.

You straighten up, offering Annie an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about that,” you say, reaching into your bag and retrieving an envelope labelled ‘Annie’s pay’. With a gentle gesture, you extend your arm, offering it to her. “This covers today, plus a tip, of course.”

Annie shakes her head, pushing the envelope back towards you. “I can’t accept this. I mean, I failed at getting her to sleep.”

“What?” You try to keep your voice steady, but frustration seeps through. “No, absolutely not.” Determinedly, you grasp her hand, pressing the envelope into her palm before folding it closed. “This is your money; you showed up today and did amazing, as usual. I promised D/N something, so that’s on me, really.”

She tilts her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “Are you sure, Mrs. Leclerc?”

You let out a hum. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just Y/N. None of that Mrs. stuff in this house, please,” you chuckle, “you're making me feel old.”

“Right, sorry, Y/N,” Annie quickly corrects herself.

Satisfied, you nod. “We’re getting there… But yes, I am absolutely sure. You deserve every single cent. Seriously,” you emphasise, “you’re a huge help to my family.”

"Alright, thank you, Y/N," Annie retrieves her bag from the hook on the wall and opens the door. "Have a good night."

"You too, Annie. Thanks again."

With a sudden slam, the door startles you for a moment before you release a long breath. You kick off your heels, relieved to be free of the "death traps" as you call them. As your feet meet the cool marble floor, a wave of calm washes over you, releasing the tension from your shoulders. It's exactly what you needed. Feeling much better, you slip off your coat and hang it beside the door before making your way into the kitchen.

A short while later…

"Alright," you lean over the counter, your forearms resting on the cool top, a warmth spreading through your heart as you watch Charles holding D/N in his arms, gently swaying side to side as they dance.

"That's what your mum and I were doing after we finished eating," he whispers.

D/N's high-pitched giggles fill the room, her tiny hand gripping a couple of Charles' fingers. "I want to come next time," she says, turning her head towards you. "Please, please, can I come next time, Maman?"

"Yes," you smile, "of course. Next time, you'll join us for our little anniversary date, okay?"

"Yay!" your daughter raises her hands in excitement, her face beaming.

Recalling the original plan, you clap your hands together. "Alright, D/N, are you still sure you want apple pie tonight? Not tomorrow or the day af—?"

"No, no, no!" she interrupts. "I want apple pie now!"

"Okay, okay… Time to wash your hands then, honey."

D/N squirms in Charles' grip, and when he finally releases her, she races for the sink in the corner of the room, immediately flicking the tap on.

Charles chuckles at the sight before turning his attention to you, stepping closer. You straighten up from the counter just in time as his hands envelop you, trapping you between the counter and his body.

"Looks like our plans will have to wait until later, huh?" you whisper, your voice taking on a sultry tone as your fingers trail up his broad chest, halting on his black tie, starting to unravel it.

Charles leans down, his warm breath slipping into the gap between your parted lips, the sweet tinge of red wine coating your tongue. "Looks like it… But I can wait, mon cœur," his voice resonates breathily as he closes the remaining distance between your faces, his soft lips meeting yours, hungry yet gentle. The kiss is brief, barely lasting long enough for you to savour the moment, though he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it slightly before releasing his hold and pulling away.

Remembering your husband’s earlier impatience when you were struggling to open the front door, you fold his tie and set it aside before raising a single brow, asking, “Oh, can you now?”

Charles nods with a sly smile, but before he can respond, D/N beats him to it, diverting your attention as she waltzes towards you.

“Hands are washed!” she exclaims, shaking her hands dry.

"Good job, darling." You slip from Charles’ embrace, grabbing the kitchen roll off the counter and passing it to D/N. "Here."

Once you and Charles have washed your hands, you begin assigning roles. "Baby," you address your husband, pointing, "You’ll chop up the apples, and D/N…" You tilt your head down at your daughter standing in the middle of the kitchen, her smile brimming with excitement. "Do you want to make the shortcrust pastry with me, honey?"

To your surprise, D/N shakes her head and rushes to Charles’ side, her cheek pressed against him. "I want to do what Papa is doing. I don’t want to work with you, Maman."

The admission elicits laughter from you and Charles, his chuckles resonating loudly through the room as D/N pulls open a few drawers and retrieves a butter knife and a chopping board before settling down at the dining table, her back turned to you.

As you turn around, you feel Charles’ strong arms enclose around your waist, his warm hands settling onto your stomach as he whispers into your ear, "You heard the little lady. Everything's just so much more fun with her dad, you know?"

“Shut the fuck up” you quip, jabbing him with your elbow.

“I heard that!”

D/N's words cause you to pivot, fixing your gaze on the back of her head. “I’m sorry, D/N, I shouldn’t have said that,” you concede, shooting a discreet glance at Charles. “It’s just that your father has a knack for being an annoying sh—” You cut yourself off before the insult fully forms, forcing a tight-lipped smile as Charles's laughter reverberates. “Let’s just say, he can be an annoying husband sometimes, you know?”

“No! Papa is never annoying, you’re wrong,” she counters, shooting you a reproachful look before redirecting her attention to Charles, waving. “Come on, Papa, I really want apple pie. Hurry up, I’ve already started!”

“Coming, my love,” Charles murmurs softly, turning back to you and lifting your chin with a gentle touch. He places a tender kiss on your lips, then rests his forehead against yours. “So, I’m an annoying husband, huh?”

You smile and give a nonchalant shrug. “I could've said worse, trust me.”

“Papa!” D/N's voice rings out.

Charles barely flinches at your daughter's outburst, only chuckling softly and shaking his head as he moves toward the dining table, grabbing a cutting board and a knife along the way.

“Guys, we only need about eight to ten apples!” you call out from across the kitchen.

Charles winks at you. “Perfect, we have nine.”

Without further delay, you gather the ingredients for a shortcrust pastry and begin to mix them together.

Some time later…

As you finish rolling out the second dough, D/N rushes over, balancing a large bowl of sliced apples in her arms, and exclaims, “Here, Maman! We finished!”

"Thank you so much, my love," you reply, guiding her to settle the bowl onto the counter before heading towards the oven to turn it on.

Charles lifts D/N onto the counter, and you reach into the cupboard to retrieve the cinnamon, salt, flour, and sugar, handing them to your daughter. With a few instructions, she sprinkles the ingredients into the bowl of apples and begins stirring eagerly.

As D/N continues, you feel Charles' arms wrap around you, and he mischievously pinches the side of your waist, prompting you to shriek and swat his hand away, shooting him a playful glare. "Stop that!"

Once everything's mixed together, D/N eagerly assists you in assembling the pie while Charles holds open the oven door for you to slide it in.

"Perfect," you exclaim, clapping your hands together. "We did really well."

D/N squeals with excitement, jumping up and down before extending her hand towards you, palm facing up. "High-five, Maman!"

You promptly oblige, meeting her hand with yours before she moves on to Charles.

Two hours later…

"Two scoops of vanilla ice cream on your slice?" you inquire, arching an eyebrow at your daughter, who struggles to keep her head up, her eyes fluttering closed momentarily before snapping back open.

"Huh?" she mumbles, rubbing her eyes. "Yes, I'm starving, Maman."

You share a knowing glance with Charles, his dimples appearing as he smiles.

With a nod of understanding, you heap two scoops of ice cream onto her slice of golden apple pie, pushing the plate towards D/N.

Both you and Charles observe quietly as she struggles to eat even a single forkful before conceding defeat with a sigh.

Looking up from her plate, D/N's eyes flit between you and Charles, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. "Actually... I'm not hungry anymore." Before you can respond, she hops up from her seat, declaring, "I'm tired. I’m going to bed now."

She gives Charles a goodnight hug, then comes to you, avoiding eye contact as she quickly embraces you. "Good night, Maman."

In the blink of an eye, she vanishes from the kitchen, her footsteps on the marble floor echoing faintly as she races down the corridor, until they're drowned out by the resounding slam of her bedroom door.

You and Charles share a glance, both of you unable to contain your laughter.

After the laughter subsides, you stand up, holding D/N’s plate, and remark, “I’ll pop this in the freezer.”

As you finish storing everything away, Charles rinses the final plate and settles it onto the drying rack. Patting his hands on a paper towel, he fixes you with a tender gaze.

Though you know it's irrational, a wave of insecurity washes over you, making you acutely aware of all your perceived flaws.

"I love you. Happy wedding anniversary to us, mon cœur," Charles' sweet words halt your anxious thoughts as he closes the distance between you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Your breath catches as his tongue traces patterns across your collarbone, his teeth gently nibbling at your flesh.

It takes considerable effort to suppress a moan, but you manage to respond, "I love you, baby. Here's to at least eighty more."

You feel Charles' smile against your skin before he raises his head, eliciting a whimper as the cool air grazes your now raw neck. Before the sound can fully escape, Charles silences it by pressing his lips firmly against yours. The tension that had built up earlier floods over you like a tsunami, his hands exploring your body as your tongues dance, vying for dominance, until he breaks away abruptly.

Both of you are left breathless.

Once he catches his breath, Charles extends his hand to you, which you grasp eagerly—you need all the support you can get to avoid collapsing onto the floor; your legs feel like jelly.

Noticing your predicament, Charles' lips curl into a proud smile, prompting an eye roll from you as he effortlessly scoops you into his arms, bridal style, and plants a tender kiss on your cheek.

"I think we should continue this in the bedroom, mon cœur," he whispers, carrying you down the hallway, anticipation making your teeth capture your bottom lip.

yourusername

liked by iamrebbecad, charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and 599,042 others

yourusername I've loved you three six summers now, honey, but I want 'em all... 💕

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username not taylor's 'lover' omg stoppp😭😭😭

username aww there's something so special about seeing childhood friends turn into lovers🥹🫶

username dear lord... i see what you've done for others🧎‍♀️

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charles_leclerc Sounds like a beautiful plan ❤️

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username alright that's enough internet for today🤧

username AHHH THE 3RD PIC WITH D/N??? I'M CRYING

username if they ever break up, I'll stop believing in love cause wdym

username girl don't speak that shit into existence !! username wait you're right SRY I TAKE IT BACK PLSS

1:11 ───ㅇ───────── 3:25

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lina-lovebug · 11 months ago

Text

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Background: (Y/N) Morningstar with her partner, Alastor, has decided to put some of the Overlords in their place.

Warning: Alastor being Alastor, mentions of pregnancy but no one's pregnant, and Alastor might have a breeding kink

_ _ _

"(Y/N)! What a surpri-!"

"I believe that's Princess (Y/N) Morningstar, Heir to the throne of Hell, and Duchess of Chaos - to you," Alastor loved doing this. He adored how (Y/N) had decided to start using her true power, and to bring respect back to her name.

The family name, to be exact.

Valentino chuckled nervously as (Y/N) scoped out the place, her horns ever presenting and tail flicking with annoyance.

"What a pleasure to be hosting you, Princess. What would be the reason for this visit?" Valentino asked, offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thank you," She dismissed it, already smelling the poison inside the cocktail.

"I'm here to discuss Angel Dust, and your contract with him."

"If he's too much trouble for the hotel, I'll happily-"

"You're the one causing the trouble," Alastor cut him off.

Valentino sputtered, "me?!"

"You can feign innocence all you wish, Val, but I've heard that you've called my sister a bimbo, along with many other colorful names," (Y/N) slowly stood up, leaning over his desk as the lights started to go out - one by one.

"Charlie is nice. She's always been the kinder of us Morningstars, but apparently this makes you think that you can go and soil our name. My father could have strung every sinner on a hook for eternity, torturing you all second by second as your screams sung into our great halls," no one had been unfortunate enough to see the form of (Y/N) Morningstar, and Val was one of them.

Her height expanded to nine feet tall, her pretty black nails forming into claws and her eyes ablaze with scarlet serpent pupils.

And wings - oh great black wings that could make even Adam rethink his attack.

When he was still alive, of course.

"And you sully his gift by mocking us."

"Look, Vox did it first! Okay?! He said you'd never-!" Val tripped on a tentacle that came from her beloved Alastor, who dropped a TV by his feet.

But not just any TV.

"Oh God," Val gasped, "Vox. . .?"

"I took care of him earlier," Alastor grinned, still reminiscent on his screams.

"I couldn't have my dear (Y/N) sully her hands with his filth. But whatever the Princess wants, she gets."

Oh to see her come into her power was as chilling as death itself.

"You're so romantic, Alastor," (Y/N) smiled.

That's when Valentino spotted it. On the left hand of (Y/N) Morningstar was a ruby wedding ring, the band pure gold.

Alastor finally did it.

He climbed up the latter, but not through power.

Well yes, through power, but he certified that it would always be his.

By marrying Lucifers daughter.

"We're matching, isn't it adorable?" Alastor showed off his own wedding band, ruby's encrusted inside of it.

"Now, where were we?" She grinned, and as an engagement gift, the screams of Vox and Valentino were broadcasted throughout all of Hell.

And they say chivalry is dead.

_ ☆ _

"They're fucking crazy."

"They're made for each other."

On that, Angel Dust and Husker could agree.

The lovely couple had become the center of Hells attention after their engagement was announced, and even though Alastor thought it would be hilarious for Lucifer to find out through the papers, she told him first.

And he cried.

"Oh my baby is all grown up!" Lucifer sobbed loudly, clinging onto her legs, "look at you! You-you used to be this small!" Lucifer grabbed a duck, "and you were so tiny and so cute!"

"Am I invited?" Lucifer squeaked, staring up into her eyes.

"Yes, dad," She smiled, bringing him up to his feet, "but we want to wait a bit before we plan anything."

"You know she used to bite my finger?!" Lucifer grabbed the baby pictures of little (Y/N), "look at how small she was! Oh, and this one is my favorite!"

Alastor truly didn't mind how touchy Lucifer had become with him, but thankfully, Lucifer also knew when to stop.

"Wait, is that why you're getting married?! Did you impregnate my daughter?!" Lucifer gasped, shoving his hand on her stomach.

"Dad! Dad, no! I'm not pregnant!" She quickly cleared up.

"Unfortunately," Alastor muttered to himself. Oh to see her belly swell with his children - his own spawn, it made his cock twitch at the thought.

He was fond of children but his own? Oh he'd spoil his little prince or princess with all the blood sacrifices the world had to offer.

"Yeah but you know what marriage entails, kiddo!" He pointed at them both with finger guns, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby-oh my GOD I'll be a grandpa!"

He started crying again.

She sighed, "at least we know our hypothetical child will be taken care of."

Alastor nodded, "I could not have picked a better father-in-law."

At this point, Lucifer was ugly crying.

Alastor looked at his beloved with a soft gaze as she tried calming her father down. To be honest, Alastor never thought he would ever find solace in Hell. He anticipated every day being a fight for his life, always looking over his shoulder and always striving for more power. And as cheesy as it sounded, he saw (Y/N) as his shining light. She brought out his sad heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished his mother was with him.

To see just what a wonderful woman he managed to catch.

#alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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hihimissamericanbi · 11 months ago

Text

FAVE HP SMUT CREATORS

Ever since I got that lovely anon asking for the best smut I've ever read, it got me thinking about some of my favorite smut creators in general.

So here is a very non-exhaustive list of fan-fucking-tastic smut writers and artists I've come across in the HP fandom that weren't mentioned (shamefully) in my last batch. Feel free to add to the list! We must keep the people fed.

xoxo go take a sip of cold water girl

WRITERS

@spookymoonie

Lord Espooky came into this fandom guns a-blazing with their kink headcanon a day for Wolfstar and it has spiraled from there. They GET IT. He has a super well-organized masterlist pinned to his tumblr ft tons of different kinks, fic lengths, scenes, etc. Go. Now.

@fiveht

The definition of IYKYK. Daddy kink isn't super my thing, but Five makes me enjoy it. If you vibe with age gap daddy Remus and pretty boy Sirius, their Adore series is a must-read. They also have a stellar A/B/O Wolfstar fic plus podfic and write some Marvel too!

@greenvlvetcouch

An absolute legend in this fandom. Wolfstar, Jeggy, Rosekiller. Gritty, chewy, embodied sex.

@emeryhall

Emery writes sex the way some people breathe. Like it's just part of the narrative. It's SO punchy. And also she is the queen of Crack Smut.

@kaaaaaaarf

Patron saint of Wolfstar hatefucks. mic drop.

@cancerravenclaw

We snagged MK over to Wolfstar from the clutches of Dramione. Her series "mk's kink exposé" could also be called "celine's kink exposé." I'll just leave that there.

@wolfpants

Everything they create is magic, but they are especially known for rare pairs and Dronarry.

WRITERS AND ARTISTS

@aspiring-artist-em

The queen of Lesbian Wolfstar. Both art and fic. Also queen of humiliation and pain kink and Walburga psychological trauma. ye be warned.

@upthehillnsfw / @upthehillart

I am afraid no one is ready for this art. Truly. Tons of different ships, positions, acts. I gasp every time. And their Pansmione fic is epic (which I have talked about before).

ARTISTS

@industrations

I highly recommend getting on Indi's Patreon so you can enjoy their NSFW drawings, mostly Wolfstar and Jegulus, occasional Rosekiller. Too many iconic moments to count.

@waxingrunes

The officially-sponsored artist of Five's Adore series. Look, their work is nothing short of indulgent. Shhhh don't worry about the physics just let it happen. And by It I mean Remus' big dick hands.

@basiatlu

By beloved. The one. The only. Bosh's drawings are so ALIVE. They leap off the screen. Her Drarry is nothing less than iconic. She also dabbles in other characters/ships like Wolfstar and Blackcest. Siriusly, you can't go wrong.

DRARRY SMUT

OKAY, Drarry people. There are so so many excellent Drarry smut writers it is impossible to name them all. Here are but a tiny handful I have pulled from my bookmarks. I'm happy to rec specific fics if asked :)

@cavendishbutterfly, @bixgirl1, @l0vegl0wsinthedark, @shiftylinguini, @kbrick, @fluxweeed, @academicdisasterfic

I'm tagging those other creators from older asks because I can't put this list out there without them on it <3

@crushofdoves @we-are-swearwolves @tenthousandyearsx @theresthesnitch @lqtraintracks Quietlemonhush @cuddlebugsirius

#celine spills #celine's library #smut recs #hp smut #wolfstar smut #drarry smut #jegulus smut #HI FRIENDS i love you all #celine's flirting again #fic recs #hp fic recs #fan art #hp fanart #wolfstar art #drarry art #jegulus art

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glokyo · 5 months ago

Text

holy nose!!!!!!!!

18+ (moderate smut.. don't be scared!)

warnings; face riding, slight face smothering, slight suffocation to character, !freundenfreude/ service top char! synopsis; why has he never thought to ask you? <3

!!!!!!!!

Hiromi was an absolute lover boy. He always denied it but his actions said otherwise every time. He loved to give you everything you wanted or needed; you're his beloved. The love of his life. You keep him alive outside of his extremely demanding and busy job.

If you wanted jewelry, it's bought before you could mention it. A date? Already set. Clothes? Ordered. Flowers? Check the front door.

Hiromi's first vow to you was to give you all his attention, even if it was tiny. A little amount went so far every-time for you. You started to think it was a turn on for him.. but no.. that's not what turned him on.

What turned him on was making you feel good. The times where he's eating your pussy, shaking his head between your legs just to feel your puffy pussy move against the sides of his mouth. Inhaling your scent, groaning and letting out a tiny grunt at the insatiable feeling of all his blood rush to his thick cock.

But, you know what he noticed? How you'd react whenever his nose nudged against your pretty clit; the arch you give, the curling of your toes, the hitch in your breath- god, even when you try to close and trap him between your legs. He noticed it all.

And when the thought went by- why hadn't he ask you to ride his face?

It was unbelievable to see you like this. Vulnerable than ever, trying to be considerate in fear of crushing him.

Hiromi didn't think he'd ever get to see you like... this;

Hovering over him, his hands resting on your waist, drawing comforting circles. Your knees resting besides his head; that gorgeous pussy of yours glistening right above his mouth, making his sweet mouth water with stronger anticipation than before.

He looks up at you with those tired eyes, chuckling at your trembling and your hesitance to go lower. 'shhh... t's okay.. put all your weight on me, baby.. i can handle it.' he whispered, squeezing your hips, bringing you down to him slowly.

Hiromi shifts, causing his nose to nudge your clit and immediately you're back to point one, back arching, hands on headboard. "Lower." He murmurs from under you. You comply, shifting lower with a bitten lip.

Locking his eyes with yours, he sticks his tongue out like a cat; flattening it. He then licks a long strip from your puffy folds to your twitching clit. When you shiver and moan, he's in the moment. Wrapping his arms around your hips, pulling you down more until you're technically smothering his face.

"Romi'-" You attempt to choke out, reaching down for his arms, giving them a strong squeeze. You wanted to be considerate of his breaths but he wasn't giving up. Whenever he did have to breathe, lifted his head then went back down to devour your pussy.

You mewl and whimper, gripping his hair and grinding down on his face. 'that's it, baby..' he muttered out, lapping you dry. 'cum on my face... cum on m'fuckin face, doll..mmm' he groans, his hips lifting up from the straining of his cock.

'how's it feel, baby?' he murmurs out, shaking his head to get deeper in your pussy, 'Mm!-' Hiromi slurps and you gasp, nodding. "Good! So good!" You shake.

'good girl.. my sweet baby..' he whispers between slurps, cum on his nose and chin.

note; blehhh sorry for no posting ;(

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

Note

toji fucking his step daughter because his wife won’t give him any attention and she’s the second best thing :3

-🌹

daddy toji my beloved :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, praise (good girl), biting, age gap, stepcest, cheating, daddy kink, creampie, bimbofication, virginity loss, fingering, masturbation.

words: 2k

Toji doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, whenever he sees you floating around the house. You’re confident, that he knows. Short skirts and tiny t-shirts are usually your go to attire, whether you’re at home or going out with your friends, you often dress scantily.

He tried scolding you about it, but you didn’t listen. And his wife, well, maybe if she supported him more he wouldn’t be thinking such oh so inappropriate things about his cute little step daughter.

“Where is she?” you ask, rudely, snapping Toji from his thoughts as you lean across the breakfast bar. He has to force himself to not look down your top, your cleavage on full display. Though his eyes do slip downward when he realises you aren’t even looking at him, too engrossed with your phone. “Said she’d give me money t’get my nails done.” you tell him, and he now knows you’re referring to your mother.

“She’s back to school shopping with Megumi.” he tells you, breaking his stare from your low cut crop top and looking into your eyes. Have you always been so skanky?

You’re a grown woman. He can’t believe you’re still leaching off of your mother. Nails can’t be that expensive. You should get a job and pay for them yourself. What makes you so special that you just get whatever you want just because you asked?

“Oh, well, you’ll have to gimme it.” you smile at him briefly before texting your friends again. You don’t even notice when he scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment.

What’s annoying him more is the fact that you’re reminding him so much of your fucking mother. Before she grew up, before they grew old, she was exactly like you. Vapid and gorgeous. She had him wrapped around her little finger back in the day, and he’s sure you are the same with every boy you come into contact with.

He feels his cock strain against his slacks as he thinks about all of hot and wild sex they used to have back then. Honestly, these days, he doesn’t remember the last time he got his dick wet. Now he’s just a miserable, pent up dad in a regular marriage. That’s life though, right? That’s just what happens as you get older.

Your wife loses interest and you develop a porn addiction.

“I’m not pay—”

You silence him as you pull your old school pink flip phone to your ear and hold up a finger in front of him, smiling when you hear your friends voice. “Yeah I’ll be there in thirty! Daddy’s givin’ me the money.” you beam at him, your shoulders bouncing as you talk excitedly.

Toji shakes his head again, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

He’s wrapped around your finger, like mother like fuckin’ daughter.

“I’m not fucking Satoru!” you tell your friend, rolling your eyes. Your step father freezes, for just a moment, before pulling out some money from his wallet. You look down at his hand and see the pitiful amount, taking his wallet from him and stealing a few extra bank notes while you rest your phone between your ear and shoulder. “Ugh. No one believes me! Do you? Whenever I tell anyone ‘m a virgin they think I’m lying.”

“Hang up the phone.” Toji tells you, but you barely hear him. You look at him for a split second before focusing on the call again.

“No, I didn’t! I sucked him off and that’s all I’ve done.” you huff. “Also my step dad is here so, like, stop talking about it.”

“Kid, hang up the fuckin’ phone.” he tells you, louder.

“Wait a sec,” you tell your friend, moving the phone away from your ear. “What?”

“Hang. Up.”

“Oh my God!” you moan, “I’ll meet you there, Toji wants to talk to me— yeah I’m probably getting in trouble because of you! Hahaaaa okay, byeeee~!” you smile, hanging up and giving your full attention to your step-father. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you. Not for a while, not until the silence makes you too uncomfortable to keep it going. “Is this ‘cuz of the money? You didn’t give me enough.”

“I— no, sweetheart.” he shakes his head. “Were you lyin’ to your friend, just now? About being a virgin?”

“Hm? No, why?”

Toji huffs out a breath, his cheeks filling with air as he thinks things through. He’s shocked, to say the least. He always thought you were putting out like a pro. He knows you’ve been on birth control for years. He’s had to drive you to get your injection a few times. He never thought about it much, just a regular dad chore when your mother wasn’t available.

But you’re a woman, now.

He’s surprised you haven’t been fucking since you were a teenager. But he’s even more surprised that you aren’t sexually active, now. He can’t help but wonder why. What’s stopping you? You dress like a slut, after all. Why aren’t you acting like one?

He reaches over and grabs his wallet and the money from your hand. You want to protest, but he walks by you too quickly for you to object. He hurries up the stairs and slams the door after himself.

“A— Am I grounded?!” you yell, hoping for a response.

Nothing.

You follow up the stairs, running up them as best you can in your high heels, and wait outside of his bedroom door. You knock a few times, and get no response. So you begin to pound on the door.

“Toji! You can’t ground me anymore!”

“You’re not grounded, come here.” he instructs. You open the door and walk into the room. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, belt unbuckled and zipper down. He must be changing into something comfier to wear around the house. “Sit.” he tells you, patting his hand on his lap.

You go to him, immediately, sitting sweetly on his thick thighs as he thinks about what to say.

“Didn’t realise you were such a good girl,” he tells you, kissing your shoulder softly. “You’re like a nice version of your mother.”

“Should divorce her if y’don’t like her, daddy.” you tell him, looking down at your imperfect nails. You giggle when you feel him bounce you on his leg.

“Maybe I should.” he tells you. “But I’ll be lonely.”

“You’ll have me ‘n Megumi!” you remind him. “Well, maybe not me as much, but, y’know.”

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t wanna lose you. Not now, not ever.” he kisses your shoulder again. “How come you’re a virgin, huh? Savin’ it?”

“Mhmm… wanna give it to someone special.” you tell him, looking his direction and batting your pretty, false eyelashes. “Everyone thinks ‘m a slut… but ‘m not! Promise! Makes me embarrassed that I haven’t done it yet, sometimes, though.”

His cock aches as he hears you talk. How dumb yet adorable you sound as you discuss your sex life, or lack there of. He isn’t even a little surprised that people don’t believe you, he wouldn’t have believed it himself if you hadn’t told him. He can see in your pathetically wet eyes, though, that you’re being truthful.

He is overwhelmed by the need to bare his soul to you. To tell you what he wants. What he needs and desires from you most right now. There’s no shame within him as he puts his hand down his pants and wraps his hand around his cock, pulling it free. He holds your body in place with his free hand, his arm possessing enough strength to keep you firmly in place.

You’re just like your mother.

If your mother wasn’t a cold, celibate bitch.

“Daddy wants to be your someone special, darlin’.” he informs you, words warbling as he pleasures himself behind your back.

You can hear it. You can hear the tacky sound of his cock being rubbed again and again. The way his breath and speech is slightly uneven. He sinks his teeth into your bare shoulder and you wince. It’s not too hard, but it was unexpected.

He’s surprised you don’t object when he splits your legs apart so that you’re straddling one of his thighs. His hand roams up your thigh and beneath your skirt, towards your clothed cunt. Though when he gets too close, your legs shut, quickly.

“You’re my daddy, you can’t touch me there!” you remind him. But he knows. He knows he’s your daddy and that’s exactly why you should let him. Admittedly, part of you wants him to. You want to feel someone make contact with your untouched core for the very first time.

Someone that isn’t you.

You’re sure Toji is very experienced. He’s so handsome, even now. You’ve seen pictures of him when he was your age over two decades ago. He’s beautiful, like a film star. You know he was fucking like it was going out of fashion.

Your mother has told you what a stallion he is in bed, you’re close like that. There’s no secrets or shame between you. And honestly, it did make you feel a little jealous. You felt like you were missing out on something. Sex, in general, and Toji.

But you never thought you’d be like this, with him.

“Baby, who’s gonna make you feel more special than your daddy, hah?” he asks. You feel your resolve weakening as he kisses your neck deliciously. You want to scream at him, to tell him where you want him to touch you.

He teases your body until your arching and squirming to follow his touch. And you practically cream around his thigh when he lifts up your top and tweaks your nipple. You’re weightless in his hold as he moves you around like you’re his little doll. He licks and laves over your pulse point while playing with your tits. His free hand moves your panties aside with a goal in mind. Two thick fingers slide effortlessly into your tight, virgin slot. The resistance is there but he ignores it. You ignore it.

And within minutes you’re having your first orgasm on account of another person. You aren’t sure why your mother has stopped having sex with Toji, you’d be begging him for it every chance you got if this brief encounter is anything to go by.

“Fuck me, daddy, please? Please—”

“Thought daddy’s can’t touch their little girls there?” he smirks, already helping you turn around to face him. He kisses you, sloppily, as he lines his thick cock up with your tight hole. “Sh, sh, shhh, baby… good girl, c’mon, take daddy’s cock. Jus’ like that.” he talks you through it as you sob. Little cunt stretching to accommodate his monstrous size.

“T-Too big! Daddy’s too big for me!” you tell him, though he silences you with another kiss.

Truth be told, he doesn’t particularly care if it hurts or not anymore. He doesn’t care if you can’t take him, because you will. He does all of the work for you, lifting you up and down like a toy while he thrusts up into you.

He almost cums from the sight of your eyes turning white and your tongue hanging out as he pummels into your sweet spot. He wonders if you’ll keep telling your friends you’re a virgin. It’ll be a fun little secret, for both of you, he thinks.

He finishes with a string of grunts, fucking his seed deep into you again and again until he’s got nothing left to give.

You feel so icky and sweaty as he starts to calm down from his release. He kisses you, sweetly, thanking you repeatedly. He needed this badly. It’s not even just sex anymore. He’s tired of feeling lonely and he’s tired of being neglected.

You’re not your mother though, are you?

You won’t make him feel like that.

“Don’t tell her, sweetheart.” he tells you, brushing your hair from your face and kissing your cheek. He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you to look at him as he speaks. “This stays between you ‘n me, alright?”

“Mhmm!” you nod, leaning forward eagerly to kiss his lips. “Always wanted you to be my special person…” you confess.

“Yeah?” he smiles at that, you really are sweet when you want to be.

“Wanna do it again, daddy. Can we?”

“Of course,” he nods, “I’m addicted to this little pussy, now.”

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