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mynahx3 · 23 days ago

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You Left Me, Like They All Do 6K

Hello lovelies!!! Just a quick Yandere Satoru x Sorcerer reader. This is a dark story so please read warnings and heed tags!!! Warnings for NONCON/ DRUGGING/ DRINKING/ GUILT TRIPPING DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!!!!MUST BE 18+ TO INTERACT!!!

You liked what you had with Satoru. The two of you weren't anything more or anything special and you were happy with that.

Only... He wasn't. He wanted more.

And you tried to run.

"You haven't been returning my texts."

You look up from your desk, the paperwork forgotten at the new arrival in your office. The said arrival, Gojo, stands there with a wide grin, leaning on the doorframe with an air of nonchalance as always.

It had been almost six months since you last saw him.

Of course, he came here to stir things up. You were relieved that nobody was on campus because it was getting late, and the additional paperwork from the kids' missions was the reason for your overtime.

"Gojo, long time no see." You return his grin, despite your dry tone, and return to your desk, the pen in your hand scribbling on the paper.

In truth, you were angry. The last time you had talked to him, not over text or the phone, was when you told him you were done with this "relationship," if you could even call it that. Now he had the nerve to show up at your new job like he owned the place.

Though you could suppose he almost did, considering he was the strongest.

His footsteps are loud in the silence of your office as he walks in, sitting at the edge of your desk beside you. He looms over you as you continue to ignore him, his foot begins to tap at the ground to show his impatience. You can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you refuse to acknowledge him, determined to stand your ground.

The tension rises as he clears his throat, breaking the silence in the room. With a deep breath, you turn to face him, ready to confront whatever he has to say.

Seeing him after so long was a shock to you, but you refused to let it show. The dim light of your office casts him in a soft, warm glow. He looks down at you with the bandages over his eyes, revealing one of them. With his arms folded across his chest, he looks down on you with a childlike pout.

With a grimace, you only raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to speak his mind, the pen left on your desk as you turn to face him. You could feel the tension between you two, but you refused to let it show on your face. Even your cursed energy was in check, not a drop being unmanaged.

"You really had me worried there." He starts, the frown on his face unchanging. "I thought something had happened to you."

"Last I remember, I blocked you for a reason, Gojo."

"And last I remember, I said we weren't done. And stop calling me Gojo; I told you that."

"Stop saying shit like that, WE." You said, motioning a figure between the two of you, the tone of your voice filled with annoyance, "Are nothing. We weren't EVER a thing."

"Fine, you want to play it that way?" He retorted, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer. The air crackled with unresolved tension, neither of you showing any sign of backing down. "You know there was something more."

"Gojo, we had our fun; we slept a couple times together, had amazing sex, I will admit, but I never said I wanted anything more."

"Oh, come on!" He laughed, shaking his head at you with an amused glint in his eyes. "I know you felt something more than just sex between us. We had something."

The two of you continued to bicker, your voices gradually increasing in volume.

Yaga always did say the two of you were as stubborn as mules.

Him insisting on a deeper connection, you denying it with every fiber of your being. It was clear that this disagreement would not be easily resolved. It had all been coming to a head—the boiling of the pot—when you finally snapped at him.

"I know what I want, and it's not you," you declared coldly, holding his gaze with unwavering determination.

He looks taken aback by you, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. His jaw tightened as he turned away from you, distracting himself with a picture on your desk, but you could see something in his eyes as they became glassy with tears.

It was a picture of your high school days. When things were easier.

Seeing his hurt expression, you felt bad, almost wanting to take back what you had said. Reaching a hand out to him, you comfortingly rubbed his forearm, a softer expression on your face.

He has been a friend of yours for such a long time. You didn't mean for things to turn out this way.

"That… That was harsher than I meant."

Gojo stayed silent as he continued to look at the picture, his finger tracing over the engravings of the frame. It was almost like he was reminiscing about something. His shoulders relaxed at your touch little by little, and he finally met your eyes again, a mix of hurt and understanding in his gaze.

"I know," he whispered softly before straightening his back, his hand going over yours.

It was almost like nothing had happened—his playful, goofy smile returning to his face. Still, you could see the pain in his eyes lingering beneath the surface, a reminder of the impact of your words. Despite his attempt to mask it with humor, there was a vulnerability in his expression that you couldn't ignore.

"We're just friends; I get that, but at least let me be in my friend's life. Don't just go blocking me, then transfer to Kyoto without a proper goodbye."

You pursed your lips together at his remarks and averted his look, your throat stiff, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. The pain in his eyes was undeniable, and you knew deep down that you couldn't bring yourself to hurt him in that way.

It was funny. You went from being determined about protecting your distance to feeling horrible for giving him pain. But…

It's not like you just uprooted your life and career and abandoned everything you knew for no apparent reason. Gojo, no Satoru, had become overbearing.

The two of you had begun sleeping together, really as a means to relieve stress, but he became more attached. You thought it was cute at first. But as time went on, his possessiveness became suffocating.

You should have set boundaries, but a part of you did encourage it. Just letting him do as he please.

It was a little nice to be doted on.

He showed up at your apartment with no notice, stayed for days after what was intended to be a one-night encounter, and even went to meet your parents for lunch one day. He was acting like your boyfriend after only wanting a casual relationship with him, if that. It was unnerving how quickly he had become so attached and involved in your life. The breaking point came when he showed you the extra key to your apartment he had made for himself. Smiling like he had just given you a gift, he said, "Now I can come and go as I please."

Like he didn't already.

Looking back at him, you felt the months of anger against him subside; a part of you was disappointed in yourself for what you said next.

"Okay Satoru." You sighed, not missing the way he seemed to glow at you calling him his first name again. "We can be friends."

With that, he envelops you in a hug, pulling your form tightly to him. It had to be an uncomfortable position with how he hunched over, but you couldn't deny the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"Thank you."

His arms tightened around you so much you let out a little wheeze, but you didn't say anything, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. He almost seemed to melt into you, taking in the moment to bury his head into the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath on your skin as he whispered, "I've missed you."

In the beginning, it was going well.

The two of you would text regularly, have lunch when he was in Kyoto or you were in Tokyo, and had still managed to keep a respectable distance from each other.

You still lived your life, and he still lived his.

Gone were the days you had to sneak around just to avoid running into him at Jujutsu Tech. You were content with having him back in your life simply as a friend. You could now visit Shoko or anyone else in Tokyo without first confirming his presence.

But then things started to change.

His hugs lingered a little longer, and his eyes held a different kind of intensity. Brushing it off, you tried to convince yourself that you were just imagining things. He was always clingy, even in high school.

Even now he clung to your side, blabbering away about his day and his students. He had burst into the morgue, interrupting your conversation with Shoko to steal you away instead.

You should have let Utahime be the one to take the paperwork to her, but you had to insist on helping her out.

"So you going to come?"

Satoru looked at you expectantly across the table, having dragged you to a nearby cafe he wanted to try out. You were always the only one to go with him before you left.

"I'm sorry, I can't," you said before you could take a bite of the parfait you ordered, a grimace on your face from feeling guilty for leaving him behind. "I have other plans tonight."

Satoru's disappointment was evident, but you had already made plans. A date, to be exact.

He slouched over in his seat, groaning loudly about how it had been so long since you came. It was a near monthly drinking party that you had always attended, but this time you had to miss it. A part of you contemplated it, but you shook your head no to him, politely smiling at him.

"Come on, you have to come." He urged, trying to convince you to change your mind. "Utahime will be there, Shoko will, even Nanami!"

"I promise I'll make it up to you next time," you reassured Satoru, hoping he would understand.

Scoffing, he began to use his spoon to roughly stab at his own parfait, clearly frustrated with your decision.

"Fine, suit yourself," he muttered, clearly disappointed.

Of course your date didn't show.

You stood in the busy streets, angry and frustrated, as you realized you had been stood up once again. It was almost an hour after the agreed upon time, and your date still hadn't shown up. Every text you sent was ignored but clearly read by the receipt, leaving you embarrassed and feeling foolish for waiting around.

People had begun to bump into you, the night crowd beginning to rush the sidewalk, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave just yet.

They were a fuckin asshole, you thought, sending them a last fuck you message before pocketing your phone in your leather jacket.

Angrily, you wipe your tears before they could fall, turning to stomp back to the train station. You really thought they were interested after a couple weeks of texting. A couple weeks of seemingly being led on only to be stood up in the end. With a huff, you tightened your jacket around you as you moved with the crowd; the brisk fall air began to bite at your skin, especially on your legs, even with tights providing some protection.

You had almost made it around the corner when you heard your name being called out in the distance, which made you stop. Turning with confusion, a part of you was hopeful it was your date, but instead you saw Satoru waving his hand at you from across the street. He was easy to pinpoint with his towering height and stark white hair. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to engage in conversation after what just happened.

Before you could move to go, he made his way across the street, his infinity helping him make his way in the weekend crowd.

"I thought you weren't coming," he asked, tilting his head to you as you both moved to the side of the sidewalk to avoid the bustling pedestrians.

He wore normal attire for the night out instead of the uniform you always saw him in. A black turtleneck, dark wash jeans, and a fur lined brown coat.

God, you hated how good he looked in a turtleneck and that coat.

"I changed my mind," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping he didn't notice the redness in your eyes.

It was a happy accident that the bar they wanted to go out to was a short distance from the restaurant where you were supposed to meet your date. You had decided that even if you weren't going to go on a date, you would have fun tonight with your friends.

Having spent so much time getting ready, it would be a shame to have your dress go to waste.

Now you were with your closest friends, drinking together and laughing the night away, grateful for their company and the distraction from your original plans.

Shoko and Nanami were currently chugging beer, always being the competitive drinkers, with Utahime cheering them on and placing bets on who would finish first. The atmosphere was lively and carefree, making you forget all about the date that never happened. It was a relief to be there, honestly.

You watched on with a genuine smile, chanting along with Utahime as she overly cheered. The redness on her face clearly showed her level of intoxication, but it only added to the fun of the evening. As the two of them finished at the same time, she continued to dance and chant, motioning for another round loudly.

Laughing a bit at her antics, you began to relax a little, feeling the effects of your own drinks. Lifting your cup, you went for another sip before feeling a nudge on your shoulder. Turning your head, you saw Satoru had returned from the bar, lounging next to you with a playful grin.

"Try this." Satoru said to you, pushing the obscenely bright drink into your face.

He didn't drink alcohol, preferring virgin drinks, but he always packed them with sweetness. It was clear from the bright blue slush and little paper umbrella it was garnished with that this drink was no exception.

Shaking your head, you stubbornly refused as he kept trying to persuade you to try it.

"Come on, just one sip," he urged, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You couldn't help but smile at his persistence, knowing that resisting would be futile in the end.

"One sip!" You finally relented, taking a small sip of the overly sweet concoction.

The taste was overwhelming, as you expected. It tasted like a sugary explosion in your mouth, making you scrunch up your face in response. When you go to give it back to him, he doesn't accept it, hands above his head.

"Keep it," he insisted, his smile widening. "It's all yours."

"Come on, just take it back. I can't drink this whole thing."

"I think you need it after drinking so much. Consider it a gift," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Besides, it's a special recipe just for you."

You just shrug, rolling your eyes at him before turning your attention back to your friends, who continued to challenge each other to more drinking games. You didn’t feel like dealing with his complaining.

It wasn't your usual taste, but you couldn't deny it began to grow on you, even if it had an aftertaste. He seemed happy with that, silent for once as you finished it, his arm resting on your shoulders.

When everyone began to leave, it was clear you and Utahime were plastered.

Outside of the establishment, the group was waiting for their rides to come. The two of you hung on each other, her arguing with Satoru about going back to Tokyo permanently.

"No! Get your grimy hands off her Gojo! She's mine!"

You laughed loudly as she pressed your face into her chest, her arms locked around your neck protectively as you both swayed. Thank goodness you opted for heels with a lower heel.

Somehow, Shoko had gotten her off of you, telling her that she needed to calm down.

"Utahime. You'll see her in your hotel." Shoko tried to remind her, ever levelheaded, even with the amount of alcohol she consumed.

"Nooo! She got a different one from me, Shoko!"

You had both been to Tokyo for the yearly Good Will Event, one that was pushed back a bit. You also agreed to stay a bit longer to catch up and aid the Tokyo location with missions, but you had booked a different hotel by accident. A simple miscommunication in text.

Nonetheless, the hotel was a bit of a drive, so it was a headache.

You swayed unsteadily on your shaky legs, almost stumbling and nearly falling to the grimy floor below. Just in time, Nanami assisted you, keeping a hand on your lower back to keep you steady.

"Thank you, Nanami," you slurred gratefully, smiling away at him, trying to lean up to peck his cheek.

Nanami stood still, staring at you in shock as you moved closer, almost in shock. Satoru saw this and almost immediately swatted Nanami away, having you lean on him instead.

"Let me help you," Satoru said firmly, with a protective arm around your waist, ignoring your protests.

Nanami only raised his eyebrow before shrugging, feeling a bit uneasy himself from how much he drunk. It would be wiser for him to ride with Shoko; it was how he got here to begin with.

"How about you take Utahime, Shoko, and I'll take her?" Satoru suggested, knowing that it would be easier for Utahime to calm down with Shoko. "It'll take forever for Ijichi to come get them since he has to go pick up the first years. They barely finished a mission."

Shoko frowned a little at the suggestion, her eyes looking from you to him. Nanami was not able to drive; she had beat them in their drinking bet, and she was the only one who could.

"I thought you didn't drive?"

Satoru shrugged at her question, "I don't, but I can teleport; easy peasy."

Nanami was silent before nodding in agreement. Utahime had started to turn green, which hastened his decision, "We don't have time to wait for Ijichi. Let's just go."

Her mind seemed to be turning until she eventually nodded, turning to walk towards her car with Utahime in tow after saying goodnight. Nanami was also needed to help; Utahime had begun to walk more unbalanced as she tried to "rescue you," as she put it.

As you stumbled away with Satoru, Utahime's voice faded into the background as she continued to protest about going back to Tokyo permanently. Shoko guided her away, leaving you to chuckle at the chaos you had inadvertently caused.

"She's a handful tonight."

"That's an understatement."

The two of you continued walking, leaving the commotion behind. Once you both got to an alleyway, away from the prying eyes of civilians, Satoru prepared to teleport.

He smiled down at you, pulling you flush to his side, his hand wandering a little lower than you would like. You playfully swatted his hand away, giving him a warning look. Satoru just grinned mischievously before teleporting. It was something he used sparingly; it did take a toll on his cursed energy, but it made sense in the moment.

In an instance, the two of you began to walk through an unfamiliar apartment. With some difficulty, you managed to get out of your heels as Satoru slipped out of his dress shoes with ease, leading you down a hallway.

White walls and hardwood floors lead to a kitchen and living room. It was sparsely furnished, resembling a minimalist apartment for someone who spent barely any time at home. The only signs of life were the dents in the black couch and a few wrappers left on the marble countertops. As he assisted you in moving inside, you couldn't help but stare in shock at him.

"When did you get your own place?"

"Just recently," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "Thought it was time for a change of scenery."

You laughed at that, feet stumbling over the threshold as you took in the modern decor, somehow keeping up with his quick steps. It was a far cry from his messy dorm room you remembered so well.

"I'm surprised you finally left that dorm," you teased, earning a playful eye roll from him. "Seemed like you would be there forever."

"I've decided to upgrade my living situation," he said with a grin, leading you further into the spacious apartment.

Eventually, he deposited you onto a large, plush bed in a large room. One you immediately relaxed into, eyes closed with a content smile, arms splayed around you, with your legs hanging off the edge. The soft comforter enveloped you as you sank into the mattress, feeling the stress of the day melt away. The moonlight was shining brightly from the windows, a long wall that reached the ceiling, the building towering over the city.

You almost wanted to sleep right away.

It was only a second later when the alarm bells went off. He was supposed to take you to your hotel.

You shot up, heart racing as you realized the mistake, brows furrowed together at him. He stood over you at the foot of the bed, looking at you with smile.

A creepy one at that.

"I thought you were taking me to my hotel." You asked, slurring your words still, your mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. Trying to sit straight, you kept yourself upright with your hands planted behind you.

The room began to sway more and more, your vision blurring. Weird, you don't remember drinking that much now that you think about it. Nothing to do this.

"Your hotel is too far for me to teleport. Besides, my bed is way cozier."

That was another warning.

"What do you mean your bed?" You asked, more alert as you survey the room.

There was a pile of laundry in a corner, little belongings on a dresser, and a framed photo of your first year entrance ceremony on the nightstand. The four of you smiled widely with the youthful ignorance of what was to come. It was clear that you were not in a hotel room but rather in his personal space.

"When you left, I thought I could manage; women and men throw themselves at me all the time." He laughed, and a hand reached out to trace your jawline. "But none of them were you."

"Satoru?"

Looking up at him, he only moved closer, sitting next to you with an almost blank look. You felt a mix of emotions as you realized the depth of his feelings for you, unsure of how to respond in this unexpected situation.

It was obvious the feelings he had for you, but you were unsure if you were ready to reciprocate them.

His white hair made it look like a halo around him with the moon behind him; at some point he had taken off his glasses. The blues of his eyes almost glowed in the dim light of the room. It was weird how big they seemed compared to the rest of his face, almost unnaturally so.

Something was off.

"I've missed you." He declared randomly, cupping your face gently, taking his time to admire you. "When you left, I thought I wouldn't see you again. That, you left me alone, like him. But here you are, in front of me. I can't let you go. I can't be alone again."

His touch was surprisingly warm, contrasting with the coolness of his gaze. Despite the tenderness in his voice, there was a hint of something unsettling lurking beneath the surface.

When you made moves to get up but his other hand joined, the grip he had on your face tightened, almost to the point of pain. His eyes bore into yours, searching for a reaction as he whispered, "You're not going anywhere this time."

The realization of the situation was a smack to the face, more like a train. The room suddenly felt suffocating, the air heavy as you tried to focus. You're positive you didn't drink that much now. Your limbs began to feel heavier suddenly, almost numb, as you pushed against his chest. The tears falling down your cheeks did nothing to convince him to stop, nor did your pleas.

But why would he? He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He leans in as you struggle, your fight getting weaker and weaker, his lips connecting to yours in a forceful, unwelcome kiss.

It was soft at first, reminding you of your first kiss with him before it began to evolve into something more hungry. The realization hits you even harder—you're trapped, and he's not going to let you go without a fight.

What would you do against him anyway? A measly grade one sorcerer compared to the greatest of you, the strongest.

It was funny how easily he overpowered you. Laughable, really.

Your cursed energy surged in retaliation, only to be drowned in a second by his. Wave after wave, you felt more and more hopeless. Every time you came up for air, you were crushed once more.

Drowning again and again.

The way he kissed you was rough, teeth smashing against your bottom lip, his tongue dancing intrusively in your mouth. He had easily pried your jaw open for access, the bruises forming on your skin from his forceful grip. Your mind blanks for a second, almost not believing what was happening, numb hands frozen at his chest.

He breaks it on his terms, panting for air just like you. Smiling like he found his lost treasure, in a way he did.

The hold on your face lessens, but you know he could remind you of the power he held. His thumbs hurriedly wiped at the tears falling from your face, shushing you as he peppered your face in gentle kisses.

"You don't need to go back to Kyoto; hell, you don't even have to go back to Tokyo." He starts, leaving kisses along your neck, one of his hands moving your jacket off your shoulders. "I can take care of you; keep you here with me. Just don't leave; don't leave me again."

You would pity the desperate look on his face if he wasn’t doing this to you.

Your mouth moves but doesn't really form words, trying to protest but unable to find the strength to do so. With whatever was in your system and your nerves, you only managed to mumble out pleas. It became harder and harder to form words, your tongue going numb.

"Just let this happen."

He pushed you back against the bed, quickly removing the jacket and dress you had on. The tights you wore were torn in his haste, leaving the tattered fabric to fall to the floor with the rest of the pile.

Impatient as always.

Faster than your mind can keep up, he strips you bare, taking the moment to look down at you. He had seen everything before, tasted you, and been inside you, but you never felt more exposed.

The cold prickled at your skin, making goosebumps rise as he traced his fingers over your body, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes darkened with desire—a hunger that made you feel terrified. You knew this was not how it was supposed to be, but the fear kept you frozen in place, unable to speak or move.

Small. You felt small like this under him.

While he was still dressed, his hands moved across the expanse of your chest, naked and exposed to the cold, exposed to him.

His touch felt invasive, violating the trust you had once placed in him. The tips of his finger ran from your clavicle to your breast, taking it into his large hand, feeling the weight and softness of it in his palm.

You just wanted him to stop.

Lifting your hands, you wrap them around his wrist, your eyes pleading with him to stop. His eyes soften at this, seeing the fear and betrayal in your eyes. Still, he never felt you looked more beautiful. Under him, your hair splayed around you on the white sheets, your lips puffy from his.

"God, I am horrible." He chuckles, taking your hand in his, kissing the knuckles. "Seeing you like this only makes me want you more."

Eventually he strips like you, easily keeping you pinned to the bed with his strength, not like you could fight anymore. Your limbs were heavy to your side now, legs only twitching in response to his actions.

He had his head buried between your legs, taking his time to savor this. It had been so long since he'd done this after all.

Your essence dripped down his chin and onto the sheets from your countless releases. It had been hours since he took you here, but he barely showed any signs of slowing down, his hunger for you insatiable. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, a symphony of moans and gasps that seemed to echo endlessly.

With the help of an old friend, he had been able to borrow a little something to make things easier. The curse was harder to tame, but he eventually managed to get what he wanted from it.

It had been useful in spiking your drink to keep you pliant and easy to control but awake and aware of everything that was happening.

The only dirty work he really had to do was dispose of your date.

With another gasp, you finish in his awaiting mouth, letting him lick you clean once more. You only whined in overstimulation, thighs futily trying to close as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue.

The night was far from over.

Rising up, he smiles down at you, wiping his mouth with his forearm.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss.

It almost sucked the air from your lungs. You somehow manage to find some fight left in you, pounding your fists on his chest. Not like it helped.

It did, however, serve to piss him off.

Breaking the kiss again, he only frowns at you, holding your wrists together with ease.

"Still?" He asks, his voice low and dangerous. "I thought we were past this." His grip tightens, making you wince in pain.

Stubbornly, you only glare at him. Trying to muster up the courage to speak, but your words are caught in your throat. His eyes narrow, a warning glinting in them as he waits for your response.

He tsks when you stay silent, roughly pushing your arms away, squeezing your face together as he made you face him. Your heart beats faster in your chest, and the room almost feels freezing despite everything he's done.

"I hate you." You finally whisper, your throat hoarse from the struggle to get the words out.

His expression softens for a moment before hardening again, and you brace yourself for what comes next. He stays silent, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. He gazes down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sincerity in your words.

Suddenly, he flips you over; a hand pressed to the back of your skull kept your head buried in the sheets, your cheek pressed up against it harshly.

"You don't mean that," he growls into your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

He swiftly moved a pillow under your hips, propping your ass in the air as he positioned himself behind you. The weight of his hand on your head keeps you pinned down, unable to move or escape.

Your limbs still flail, trying to escape him as he groped your ass, gripping it tightly.

Shortly, he grows tired, wanting to move onto more exciting things.

You feel his cock rub between your ass before he moves to the familiar head of his cock between your folds, trying to find purchase. It rubs against your clit in a way that makes your toes curl, an action that doesn't go unnoticed by him.

A moan escaping your lips stops your yells for a second. It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it.

"I love you. I fucking love you. I'll make you love me if I have to. You'll see," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he thrusts into you with a force that leaves you gasping for air.

Right away he slams his hips into your over and over again, not giving you time to adjust to his length or to the intensity of his movements. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, causing you to grip the sheets tightly in response to the overwhelming sensation.

Satoru continues his relentless pace, uncaring if it caused you harm or discomfort at the sudden stretch. The only thing on his mind is fulfilling his own desires, regardless of the consequences to you.

The grip in your hair only tightens as he pulls you closer to him, his grunts of satisfaction filling the room. There was undeniable pleasure, but it had begun to meld with pain. You just needed a break.

You had stayed silent, biting the inside of your cheek so much you tasted your own blood. But as his actions become more aggressive, you can't help but let out a small whimper of pain, causing him to pause for a moment before resuming with even more force.

"It hurts!" You cry out, making him halt momentarily, a look of annoyance crossing his face before he resumes with even more aggression, pushing your head down more, making it harder to breathe.

"If you had just stayed," he says, moving again and again, looking down at your ass ripple with each thrust. "It wouldn't be like this."

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he hits a spot deep inside of you over and over again, your body trembling with conflicting sensations. Your hands grip at the sheets more, your insides beginning to clench around him as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The intensity of his thrusts only heightens the pleasure, making it impossible to resist the impending release.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before trying to leave," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. Chest pressed into your back.

He roughly pulls you up by the hair, stopping his thrusts, looking into your eyes; he wanted to know you understood.

Nodding to him, you weakly cry, feeling beyond defeated.

Your mascara ran down your face, and your hair was messy from his grip, but he never thought you looked better. Smiling insanely, he leaned down to kiss you as he resumed his rough movement.

As much as you tried to push it back, you felt yourself get closer and closer. The fear and adrenaline mixed with desire and confusion, creating a twisted sense of pleasure that you couldn't deny.

With a couple more thrusts, he feels you finish around him, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The action had made him follow shortly after, painting your insides white with his own release. A whimper escaped your lips, feeling the large amount that filled you; some of it had already started to drip down your thigh.

He had been saving it all for you.

With shaky arms, he leaned over you, smiling as he laid kisses down your shoulder blades like it was a normal love making session. When he moved you to lie next to him, keeping himself plugged inside, his arms were firmly around you, and his eyes had a love-sick expression.

You had wide eyes and were frozen, unmoving as he put the blanket over the both of you, still not taking himself out. His touch was gentle, but there was a possessiveness in his hold that made you uneasy. As you lay there, trying to process what had just happened, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

"We'll clean up in the morning, babe." He said, kissing your forehead as he settled behind you, his arms like a vice. He had tried to brush through your hair and wipe some of your tears, but it didn't help much.

A content sigh escaped his lips as he buried his face into your hair, wistful and airy, like a weight had been lifted from him.

Only it was transferred to you, making your chest tight and unmoving.

Satoru quickly relaxed against you; he was finally happy, with you back in his arms, where you should be. He’d have to repay his friend in the future, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the time he had with you.

For the first time since you left, he slept soundly, and you were wide awake. Even though your eyes were burning to go to sleep, you remained awake while lying in his arms on the bed.

Slowly blinking at the window in front of you, not paying attention to anything in particular, calmly breathing in and out.

Only one thing had gone through your mind after all of this.

You never should have left.

#jjk x reader #reader insert #yandere jjk #gojo satoru x y/n #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #cw yandere #cw noncon #cw drinking #cw drugs #yandere satoru gojo #possible yandere satosugu #if this gets a part 2 #yandere satoru x reader #dark jjk #dark satoru gojo #yandere smut

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foldingfittedsheets · 11 months ago

Text

When I was young I was dating this absolute cocknob right as I graduated high school. More on that later.

As a present ostensibly to me (but mostly my folks) I was whisked away after graduation to spend two weeks in Europe with my parents. The plan was to see London, Paris, and Heidelberg.

I was moody and a teenager and was largely disgruntled by this fabulous adventure. I went along with sullen foot dragging and black looks. I commandeered my reprehensible boyfriends enormous black hoodie and wore it on the trip. At the start of our jaunt into London I mentioned offhandedly to my mom that it was burning when I peed.

“You’re just dehydrated, and your period is about to start.”

She was right on both counts. I upped my water content, and had my period (which may have contributed to my overall ill humors.)

So we found ourselves in a tiny hotel in Paris, a week into our jaunt, when I repeated, “Man, it just really burns when I pee.”

“What?!” my mom demanded.

“I told you like a week ago that it was burning.”

“Augh! Now we have to go to the hospital!” she proclaimed.

“What?! Why?”

“Because,” she snapped, “You have a bladder infection.”

More bickering ensued, and my temperament was not improved by knowing I’d told her I was having an issue a week ago and been ignored.

My dad heard about the itinerary shift with resignation and we trooped down the narrow stairs as a family to ask the concierge where the nearest hospital was.

The absolutely lovely man at the desk was immediately so concerned when we asked for directions. “Is everything okay?” he asked with very genuine sympathy and I muttered that everything was fine, we just needed a quick visit.

Lucky for us the hospital was only a few blocks away. We walked there and the building was massive, home to what appeared to be several separate wings but no obvious main entrance.

We wandered inside and it was like a weird dream. There was no one around. Huge echoing corridors met us as we peered in vain for a front desk or possibly signs. We searched with increasing frustration for anyone to talk to and somehow found ourselves in some tiny back offices.

A woman sat at her desk and looked bewildered to see three lost Americans approaching her. She greeted us and as a family we all simultaneously realized the massive flaw in our current course.

You see, dear reader, we did not speak French. My dad and I both spoke German. I inquired politely if she also spoke German and she shook her head looking increasingly cornered. We asked if she spoke English.

“Leetle…?” she replied.

“My daughter has a bladder infection! Blad-der?” My mother declared this at a high volume as if volume alone could bridge the communication gap, while simultaneously miming over my stomach, circling where she presumed my pelvis was under the gigantic black sweatshirt.

The woman’s expression turned extremely skeptical and she slowly repeated “Bladder…” She scrutinized me for a moment then said, “You go…. This?” And pointed to something purple on her desk.

“The purple signs?” my dad asked.

She nodded and we set off. I was stewing with resentment at my mom for having ignored my first complaint when we were in a country that spoke English. And also generalized hostility about being on the trip and the object of miming. Now here we were in a French hospital, lost and unable to communicate. I also was under no illusions that someone who didn’t know the word for purple would have any clue what bladder meant.

And slowly I realized what had actually happened as I peered at the purple signs. My mother circling my stomach with her hands, gesturing to my middle. The woman’s skeptical face.

“Hey mom,” I chirped, syrupy and smug. “I don’t speak French. But I do know that it’s a Latin based language. And wouldn’t you know, but that purple sign looks an awful lot like it says ‘maternity’ to me.”

“Shut up!” she snapped.

A few minutes later we stood surrounded by the moans of pregnant people and the cries of fresh new lungs wailing at their first taste of cold air.

I smiled sweetly at my disgruntled mother.

Luck was with us however. A nearby father noticed us and came over to ask if we needed help. With perfect English he gave us clear directions.

As we finally approached the right area for walk in services it was clear how we’d missed it the first time. A large swathe of the front of the building was covered in tarps. A huge wall sized window was broken, and construction was taking place, but at least it had a bustle of people and a clear line. We sat down in the queue of chairs.

While we sat some police officers came in. They walked up to a man ahead of us in line and with few words exchanged they handcuffed and led him politely away.

I was genuinely so out of reality. Every new thing that happened was like a bizarre dream from the empty hallways to the maternity ward and now this tarp strewn waiting room in which people could just be calmly arrested.

It was a shock to me then when we reached the front and the nurse spoke with perfectly unaccented English to assess me. Not only did she know bladder but a whole slew of other medical words I couldn’t guess at. I peed on a stick and we waited.

When we got the results she told me it was good because they could give me antibiotics today for my now confirmed infection, but bad because I’d need the doctor to sign off. I nodded and my mom and I were escorted to yet another small room to wait.

When the doctor arrived I felt suddenly gangly and awkward. I’m not tall but I towered over this tiny French woman who radiated calm composure. She seemed to be around my grandmothers age. She looked up at my blushing face and said, “Bladder infection?” Her English had a much stronger accent than the nurse but with the same medical competence.

I nodded.

She nodded too and we sat in a still contemplative moment on my UTI.

“Do you have… boyfriend?”

My face was on fire, every cell of me wanting to flee from this tiny perfect old woman. I nodded.

She nodded too. We sat still in the knowledge that I had a boyfriend and a UTI.

“Do you and your boyfriend do… it?” Her delicate accent stretched it into “eet.”

I don’t know if she didn’t know the word for sex or if she thought saying “it” was kinder but I wanted to melt into the floor and cease to exist to escape my increasing mortification and her meaningful pause. I nodded.

“Okay,” she said kindly. “When you and your boyfriend do… it… you must make pee pee.”

I writhed slightly under the psychic damage of this elegant medical professional saying “pee pee” and I nodded more emphatically hoping she’d desist this torture.

She continued. “If you and your boyfriend do… it… five times? You make five pee pees. If you do it ten times, you make ten pee pees.”

My face had never been hotter, all the blood in my body had volcanoed to my head, pounding in my ears and valiantly attempting to give me an aneurism to end my suffering. There is no mortification as acute to a teenager as an adult talking about sex and here was this medical professional telling me about… it.

Meanwhile, my mother. Who should have been regretting her poor parenting and reflecting on her neglect in failing impart this vital part piece of sex ed to her kid. Alas, she was laughing herself sick the corner. She added to my embarrassment by quietly repeating “pee pee” and “it” under her breath as she wheezed and chortled.

The doctor patted my hand kindly and handed me the antibiotics. I got to spend the rest of my trip in Europe avoiding direct sunlight and listening to my mother parrot “Do you do… eet?”

#ramblies #funny #story #writing #teenage angst #there’s a couple stories I tell that my betrothed has to hear on repeat cause they’re party pleasers #this is one such #ffs foibles

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dovveri · 12 days ago

Text

strike a pose

synopsis: momo’s the best photographer in korea and she’ll be taking your pictures for the annual haute couture magazine

warnings: swearing, 69, mutual masturbation, filming during sex, taking pictures during sex, reader has a praise kink

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: can be read as a standalone but also follows directly from sana’s part

⌞ ⌝

"momo!"

a pretty girl with bright blonde hair pokes her head out from around the corner, eyes brightening when she sees her assistant with you in tow.

"come in! i've been expecting you! y/n right? sana told me all about you!"

"s-she did?" you gulp nervously, unsure of what exactly sana told the world-class photographer.

momo grins, "enough anyway. c'mon- let's get you changed. we've got quite a few shots i want to try out today. sana really outdid herself with the outfits this time. i can't help but think she was a little more inspired than usual." there's a teasing lilt to her voice, like she knows something you don't.

you can only allow yourself to be ushered along as hands start pulling at your clothes, makeup brushes touch up your face, and hair rollers are placed into your curls.

after your appointment with sana, she had managed to get your contact number, either through your agency or whatever else. it was mainly just for business though, she’d ask for your opinions on certain colours or ideas she had, treating you as if she didn’t fuck you senseless in her workshop upon your first meeting. you just took her lead and pretended it never happened, though every time her name lit up your phone screen you’d feel a little tingle down your spine at the memory.

"alright! let's get going team we have a lot of shots to take today!" you hear momo's stern yet excitable voice over the pop music in the studio. momo's reputation was just as prestigious as sana's, though she was admittedly a lot less intimidating. people said it was because of her general airy obliviousness that made models feel at ease and comfortable when posing for her that made her a pleasure to work with. of course, that never diminished from her actual job at hand, she was the best photographer in korea, always booked out and only shooting for the best magazines and companies across the country. she could be a little awkward but her work spoke volumes, she was simply better at communicating with her tool than with her words.

you're rushed over in your first outfit of the day, an extravagant, floral piece with a set full of colour and vibrancy. once all the stylists are done touching you up and hurriedly move out of the camera frame, momo wanders up last, smiling and adjusting your body to her desired position.

her touch is soft, barely there, it leaves goosebumps on your skin, or maybe it was the fact that the a/c was on high.

"alright?" she checks in on you, eyes twinkling.

you gulp from her proximity, the only thing separating your bodies the camera hanging around her neck. you nod sheepishly, unsure of yourself.

she smiles, "just let me know if you want to take a break or anything yeah? remember you're the most important person in the room here, if we don't have a model, we don't have pictures, so don't be afraid to make any demands at all."

you nod again, not trusting your own voice to speak, but you appreciated momo being so accommodating of you.

with that, she steps back, holds the camera up to her face, and starts taking photos.

⌞ ⌝

momo isn't the type of photographer to yell out compliments or directions while she's working. she stays quiet most of the time, only asks you to keep natural and do whatever feels comfortable. it's not awkward though, you could tell how focused she got when she was working, how much effort she put into her job, what a perfectionist she was.

soon enough, you've run through all but one of the outfits and backdrops, the swimsuit segment.

your hair is being curled into wavy, ocean-swept locks when the stylists pull out the skimpiest bikini you've ever seen. after they're done clipping together the pieces, some of them even have the shame to look away despite having seen you in all your naked glory multiple times during the shoot. you thought it was a piece that was perfectly reflective of its maker. covering almost nothing yet leaving everything to be desired, teasing in the most erotic way imaginable.

the studio has already been cold enough with the air-conditioning on full blast, but now with the new beach backdrop and a mist fan blowing directly on your body and face to give your hair the appearance of being freshly blown through with a sea breeze, you're near shivering.

it doesn't help the chills going down your spine every time momo glances over at you. and momo makes it known when she likes something and when she doesn't. and the way she was stalking towards you like you were her prey, her eyes dragging over your body again and again, licking her lips, until she's almost nose to nose with you, it was pretty safe to assume she liked what she saw.

"alright?" her voice is husky, like she's controlling herself from doing something not so work-friendly.

you can only nod, breath hitching.

"hmm... are you sure? you don't look alright."

"h-how do i look?"

she gives you a devilish glare, "i don't think you want me to answer that y/n."

"why n-not?"

she leans in even more, you almost close your eyes out of habit before you realise she's breathing next to your ear, voice low, only meant for you, "is that how we're playing this? you're gonna act stupid? or... do you have a praise kink y/n? want me to tell you what a pretty girl you are? to tell you about how i think you look absolutely succulent and how badly i want a taste? how i want you riding my face with your perfect tits swinging back and forth while you leak into my mouth, my camera set up recording every movement, every sound, every scream you'll be making because of my tongue? is that what you want to hear?"

your ears were always sensitive, even momo breathing near them has you squirming and the inside of your bikini bottoms soaked. you whimper as she whispers filth into them, feeling light-headed and desperately needing to hold onto her or you'd be at danger of falling over and exposing just what she made you feel to all of her staff.

she smirks, turning on her heel quickly and barking , "out! everyone out! good job today but I'll be finishing up these final shots myself. thank you all for your hard work."

her staff exchange glances a little uncertainly, never having been told to leave early by momo before, so they were unsure if that was what momo really meant.

momo tuts impatiently, "did you not hear me? pack up! let's go!"

her staff are prompted into movement, hastily running around and collecting their personal items before bowing out of the studio. momo glares down anyone that looks to be dawdling for too long, tapping her foot and ensuring her studio was empty before turning back to you.

you gulp, grateful the makeup on your face was covering the bright red blush on your cheeks. you both knew what was going to happen. it was a little absurd this was happening to you a second time when both times it's been 2 of the most influential people in the fashion industry. you're still in disbelief that they wanted you.

momo eyes you again with a smirk, fully appreciating you without the burden of her staff bustling around and calling for her attention in the background.

"alright gorgeous. let's do some standing poses first. whatever makes you feel the most confident."

you nod, taking in her direction and pushing one hip out, raising both arms to mess around with your hair, face morphing into a practiced smile, going for the sexy, energetic woman on the beach.

momo starts snapping away, humming and checking the photos every now and then, there were a few she took from certain angles that were a little... questionable, but you weren't one to question, so you let her do whatever her creative freedom asked her to.

"now can you lean forward? hands on your knees please."

you blush, this was a classic swimsuit stance, it would be fine, there was nothing to be shy about.

you do as she asks, switching your happy-go-lucky smile to one that’s a little more seductive.

momo takes a second to raise the camera to her eye, staring at your chest like she had lagged out. but once she does, she’s back to work, making sure she gets all the best shots.

“now lie down. on your side.”

you gulp, following her instructions. momo moves the fan to be at your face level, so it’s still blowing through your hair. she lingers a little, adjusting your face, hand on your chin. her eyes are stormy, the hint of a smirk permanently etched onto her lips. her hands drift from your chin, down to your shoulder, gliding fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. your breath hitches audibly when she slips down to your side. she hums approvingly, her smirk growing as she traces your side, your stomach.

then she slides backwards, leans back on her knees and brings the camera back up to her eyes. you’re caught as her shirt lifts, her very visible abs peeking through.

momo clears her throat, “camera’s up here darling.”

you lick your lips, not even needing to fake your next look, reeking of pure sex. all you can think about is momo’s abs, her thighs, the way her knees are spread, her biceps, her well-endowed chest, all that muscle she was packing underneath a teasing smile.

she takes the picture.

then she’s the one leaning forward, going on all fours, crawling towards you slowly.

you hold your breath as she reaches you, nudging your hip lightly so you’re lying horizontally. and then she’s hitching a leg over your side and sitting on top of you.

your hands instinctively go to her hips but she catches them, pushing them above your head, her chest smothering your face in the process.

she leans back too soon, bringing the camera to her face, adjusting herself to sit better on your hips. “there we go. you’re a pretty girl.”

you blush brightly at her comment, looking away shyly. she starts snapping immediately, grinning. you compose yourself and look back towards the camera, biting your lip, drooping your eyes, satisfied when you hear the stutter in momo's work before she starts clicking again.

once she's happy with those shots, she moves off your body, but keeps a hand on your stomach to keep you there, pushing down slightly letting you know who was directing you, who owned you. then she's propping up a beach ball, or an umbrella, you couldn't really tell you were too focused on the way her abs tensed as she lifted and shuffled things around.

she leans you back, then slides her hands down from your stomach to your thighs, pushing gently.

your eyes widen, unable to resist as she spreads your legs, licking her lips as she stares.

“m-momo.”

“hmm?”

“um- the- the photos?”

she clicks her tongue, “impatient are we? just let me enjoy the view for a little.” her eyes track back up your body, smirking at the hooded look you give her, breaths coming in and out visibly harder, your arousal too obvious to ignore.

after what feels like forever sitting in your own slick, she finally moves backwards, bringing that goddamn camera back to her face, her smirk only growing wider with each passing second, before she starts to click.

she takes a few shots, then feigns disapproval, frowning down at her camera in the most exaggerated pout you have ever seen, so you know it’s just for show.

“y/nnnnn~” it’s cute, too cute. “i don’t like these. will you… spice it up a little?”

you take a breath before responding, steadying yourself, “spice it up?”

“yeah. y’know…”

“…i-i don’t.”

momo’s expression changes immediately, scowling, her cutesy show over in a flash, “don’t be a brat y/n. you know what i’m talking about. you think i can’t see you dripping for me? you think i can’t see the way you’re squirming, how you’re imagining the way i’d feel under you, inside you? don’t make me spell it out for you. be a good girl and do what you want to do.”

she's completely right of course. her words only encourage the thoughts you've been keeping locked away since the moment you saw her. you didn't think it was professional for this to happen a second time, hell the first time you didn't think it was professional.

but you gulp, hesitantly bring your hands down to your stomach, tracing the skin there lightly. you feel your nails dig in just lightly and you gasp, hyperaware of your body and all its sensations. the cool air of the room, that fucking fan that's been blowing wet mist at you for the past 20 minutes, momo. god momo. she was so fucking hot. in that sleazy, greasy, nice-guy way straight girls found film bros hot. except momo had the face and body to match the arrogance she hid under practiced professionalism and niceties.

you whimper as a hand trails up and captures a breast.

momo grins, bringing her camera back up to her eye, more vocal now than she has been the entire photoshoot.

"there we go. now we're getting somewhere."

you feel your breaths go heavier, no longer able to hide yourself as you ache to rub your thighs together.

she notices of course. she notices everything about your body.

"don't you fucking dare. tease yourself. make it worth it. make yourself earn it."

you try and take a breath to steady yourself again, though you don't know why, each breath hasn't been helping at all, only making the matter worse as you become more and more aware of your arousal.

with difficulty, you bring your other hand to your chest, now groping both your tits, moaning fully, completely on display for her while she snaps away.

"there we go- that's good- more like that- mhmm-"

momo mumbles praises and compliments that make your head dizzy and your pussy clench. your fingers find two hard nubs that have been begging for attention since you had gotten in this glorified piece of cloth. you pinch simultaneously and let out a pathetic sound of lust.

momo gets it all on camera. zooms in even.

knowing you had an audience, that this was being recorded, it gave you a sick sort of thrill that made each squeeze of your hands feel that much better, each click of momo's finger, like she was rubbing your clit with each photo.

one hand slips under the bikini top, doesn't reveal it to the camera, but it's obvious where it is, pulling and twisting as you writhe, legs shaking, sweat collecting, desire building.

momo comes closer, sits right between your legs, keeps them open, captures your face mid-moan, anyone could hear the pornographic sounds you were making without needing film, the pictures momo took were enough. she was that good.

the heat of another person near you makes you grow desperate. "m-momo- p-please- i- i- i need-"

"hmm? what do you need darling? tell me. remember i said you're the most important person in the room. without you, we don't have pictures, without you, i don't have a job. so, what do you need?"

"y-you! please-"

"me? what do you want me to do to for you?" she cocks her head, acts confused, you know better.

"w-what you said e-earlier! p-please i'm please- i'm begging-"

"oh you're begging? why are you doing that? i'll give you anything you want darling. there's no need to beg. do you think i'm that mean?" she pouts, has the audacity to look completely innocent even while she has you under her, dripping onto the floors of her studio, hands groping at your chest, back arching trying to get closer to her.

"m-momo!"

"what?!"

you almost cry, sliding your right hand down your stomach, straight into your bikini bottoms, the waterproof material did it's job too well. you couldn't tell from the outside, but the inside, it was drenched. you moan as your fingers meet your folds.

momo doesn't even glance down, keeps staring at you in mock ignorance.

you slide a finger up and down your slit, gritting your teeth as you rub your clit harshly. too harsh, you would come too soon. you ease up, sliding back down to your entrance, hips bucking up, other hand still twisting at a nipple.

snap!

you roll your head back as your hips rock against your hand, letting her slide down and position herself right in front of your cunt, lens pointed directly at it. you can't look at her, too embarrassed as you push your fingers in and out of yourself, just centimeters away from her face, from her instrument.

you've been groping at your chest enough that the material has ridden up, half of your chest exposed to the studio, to the flashing lights at each click of momo's fingers, and fuck you needed more space. so you hastily pull at the strings tying the bottoms together, just one side while your other hand keeps pumping in and out of you. it falls away easily and you feel yourself clench around your own fingers at the gasp momo lets out, snaps growing quicker in succession.

the hand that untied your bottoms goes right back to your neglected tit, rubbing and squeezing while you hump your hand.

you risk a glance down, and you almost cum at the sight.

momo's got one hand on her camera, the other down her pants.

it's a little pathetic, the way she's grinding down on herself, trying to alleviate the tension that's built up in her lower stomach, such a pretty girl reduced to a horny loser at the sight of pussy, but it gets you so hot knowing she was affected by you.

your eyes focus in on the hand trapped between the floor and her cunt, the rapid movements giving you an idea of what was going on inside her pants. you start to match her pace, bringing the hand that was palming at your breast to rub at your clit, pushing it around in little circles as you gasp and moan and clench for her.

momo curses under her breath, cheeks flushed as she stays on her stomach, a shaky hand still clicking away, changing settings, zooming in and out, capturing every moment of your build-up.

it was too much, her focus, the way you're pulsing, the flashes of the camera. you cum.

your vision whites out, throwing your head back, unable to hear the little curses momo lets out as she pulls her other hand out of her pants, frantically grabbing for her camera to be able to capture your full glory in your orgasm, her fingers still covered in her own slick, zipper undone as she scrambles to her feet.

you keep pushing in and out of yourself, slowing down the circling on your clit until a full stop, breathing heavily as your vision returns.

you blink, looking around hazily, pulling your fingers out of yourself with a wet squelch.

you find her eventually, stumbling around with her pants fallen to her knees while she fiddles with different cameras and light settings.

your post-orgasm haze finds her adorable. so different to the woman who said she'd have you screaming on top of her tongue. she was unpredictable, your initial canvas of her was wrong. she was simply... momo. she was unique, the only person who could possibly understand her was herself, and you doubted she understood herself. but that didn't matter, because she's good at what she does and she gets what she wants.

she notices you watching her after a little, blushing and kicking off her pants fully.

"sorry y/n just gimme a second."

you smile, shaking your head, "it's alright."

you watch fondly as she finishes up, but with her legs now exposed you can't help but feel the twinge of arousal in your core as your eyes follow the muscles of her thighs, her calves, her ass when she turns and bends. she acts so oblivious but she must know what she's doing.

you sigh, leaning back and running your hands up your stomach again, appreciating the view. you finally take off the bikini top, freeing your chest and groping freely at them as momo stands back up.

she checks the camera once more, then takes off her top. her bra follows quickly after, and she turns.

her eyes narrow as she stalks towards you, chest swinging proudly as you whimper, pinching your nipples and wishing you could just bite down on hers.

"i see you started without me."

"mhmm~"

"i told you to give me a second didn't i?" she stands above you, arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts together sinfully. you notice the wet spot on her underwear, trying to hide a giggle but failing.

she raises an eyebrow, pulling her panties off. that gets you to stop, your mouth watering at her cleanly shaven, dripping cunt.

"something funny?"

"n-no."

"c'mon. i like funny things. tell me."

"nothing's funny."

she kneels down in front of you, on all fours, your eyes go straight to her chest.

"impatient and a fucking liar."

you whimper.

she juts a finger behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, "i'm giving you what you wanted now. what i said. that camera's filming us, so are three others around the room, just so we get every angle. now you're gonna sit on my face and look pretty. understand?"

your eyes widen, wet already from your first orgasm, fresh arousal starting to build up. you nod.

"good girl."

you squirm at the term, watching as she lies down, then pulls on your thighs to get you to kneel on top of her. you're a little embarrassed as you lower yourself, but momo doesn't give a shit. she yanks you down and starts eating like it's her last meal.

your hand comes up to your mouth in an automatic reaction, trying to stifle the sinful moan you let out as she starts lapping at you. you can't control yourself. you never could around her. your body reacts on it's own. riding her face.

momo sucks your clit into her mouth and your knees buckle. you're afraid of suffocating her but she shares none of the same concern. arms pulling you down as you try to pull away, licking and suckling.

you look directly into the camera she has set up in front of you, imagining how messed up your hair was, how utterly ruined you looked.

momo's hands are on your ass, pulling you down still, but she lands a slap, the sound echoing throughout the empty photo studio.

you yelp, gushing into her mouth. she happily drinks it up, spanking you again.

the ripple of your cheeks must be captured on the camera behind you, maybe if momo had the quality settings right, it could even see the slick flowing from your cunt into momo's mouth, onto her tongue.

you can't bear to look into the camera anymore, eyes drifting down to momo's chest.

god you could finally see her. pretty dusk-coloured peaks sitting on top of the breasts you'd only be able to conjure up in your wettest dreams. her abs flex as she huffs with effort, making sure not to let a single drop of you go to waste, working efficiently and thoroughly at your pussy, licking into every wall, every corner. her cunt glistens, you notice her thighs rubbing together and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. you do it anyway but only because momo has her tongue inside you, hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

you test her, placing a little more weight on her face. she moans eagerly around you, pulling you down further.

satisfied she can hold you up, you shift your weight onto one hand, the other tracing down momo's chest, circling a nipple.

momo groans, vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up your core.

you grasp the flesh, squezzing as her tit spills out between your fingers. momo bucks her hips, almost shakes you off of her, but her grip on your ass is tight, she wouldn't be letting you go until you came all over her tongue.

you're still moaning uncontrollably when you lean down, still groping a tit, pressing your own chest against her abs that feel absolutely heavenly flexing under your nipples, rubbing and moving giving just the barest amount of friction that drove you insane.

you grip her thighs, resting the front of your body on hers so you could part them, licking your lips at the sight that greeted you.

her cunt was pulsating. clenching around nothing, slick dribbling out of her. she talked so much but she was just as turned on as you. you planned on giving her what she was too proud to ask for.

you dive in.

momo moans into your cunt, hips rocking up before you push her back down, lapping at her pussy.

she tastes divine. otherworldly. salty and sweet, uniquely hers, just like everything else about her was uniquely hers. momo's grunting and moaning so prettily, and you're cleaning her up, even while she continues making a mess, you know you're not much better.

you grind down against her while she rocks up into you, chasing your highs. you find her clit, sucking, reveling in the moan she sends through your body, not wanting to be beat, she doubles down, growing almost overly aggressive as she sends another slap down on your cheeks when you're least expecting it.

you can't hear each other, can't scream out the curses, her name, all you can do is grind and moan and suck.

the blinking red dot of the camera gets it all. every brush of nipples against stomach, every flick of tongue, every squeeze of ass.

it doesn't take much longer.

not when she just keeps sucking. you're sure she could draw your pussy by now, that she's memorised it all. you could probably draw hers.

your back arches as you cum, and you make sure she falls apart at the same time, massaging her thighs as she writhes and cums, whining into your pussy, drunk off your taste.

you roll off of her before she can get you going again, lying on your back, your elbows pushing you up as you finally get a look at her.

she's covered in you. huffing, throwing her head back to breathe, cum dribbling down her chin. you can't help but crawl towards her, licking it up, towards her lips.

she lets you kiss her, still catching her breath as she pants into your mouth, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

you break away, licking your lips and wiping your chin.

momo grins lazily, "i think we got some good content."

you snort, "you think?"

"mhmmm. mina will definitely be happy."

your eyes widen, "you're not showing these tapes to myoui mina?!"

"and to sana. she asked for them."

your mouth falls open, gaping dumbly at her while she laughs, patting your cheek.

"let me know if you ever need any shots done. i'll be happy to help. i'll send you the tapes too once it's edited." she winks, wobbling back up and going to check the footage.

you stare after her, still in disbelief that the three of them really were in kahoots this whole time. and then the self-consciousness hits. they were going to watch those tapes. they were probably going to cum to those tapes.

just what the hell kinda industry did you get yourself into?

#momo #twice momo #hirai momo #momo x reader #twice momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #momo smut #twice momo smut #hirai momo smut #twice x reader #twice imagines #momo imagines #twice smut #dovveri

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kithtaehyung · 3 months ago

Text

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments.

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes.

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding.

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over.

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch.

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen.

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology.

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too.

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience.

However.

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction.

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar.

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other.

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home.

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps.

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted.

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!”

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look.

“Suit yourself!”

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?”

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued.

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle.

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?”

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already.

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave.

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier.

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable.

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :(

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car.

And all you can do is stare at your screen.

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :)

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile.

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!!

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre.

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there!

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench.

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard.

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar.

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same.

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?”

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?”

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone.

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds,

“Turns out Jimin was right.”

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.”

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!”

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.”

—

fin. :)

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

#well hello LMAO #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #three tangerines #3tan7172 #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fluff #*latest #ryenwrites #3tanextras #yoongi angst

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lackadaisycats · 3 months ago

Note

I’m getting really curious on the whole seemingly complex situation that is Mitzi’s romantic relationships.

Cause like, we got Zib, we got Atlas, AND we got Wick!

As far as I’m understanding Zib and Mitzi was like a situationship?? Or maybe just an unofficial relationship from teens to early twenties?? Like they have history together!

But then Atlas comes in and Mitzi kinda leaves Zib for him? Like did she just lose feelings for Zib all together and now only sees him as a friend in the current timeline?

WHATS THE LOVE STORY THERE??

Was there a messy breakup type ordeal??

Then theres Wick! Who I’m unsure if Mitzi does or doesn’t have genuine feelings for!

Cause like, her husbands been dead for a year? And now she’s smooching around with Wick? I can’t tell if this is simply a tactic Mitzi’s using to keep Wick wrapped around her finger or not.

Not that she’s doing it out of malicious intent! It’s clear she feels guilty when she had to use Wick. All things will go into deeper shit if she doesn’t have Wick around! So maybe she’s playing his heart to keep him around because she is extremely dependent on him money wise?? Or does she have actual feelings too??

Girlie has three (or more) men smitten by her! But does she feel the same way in return? I’m pretty confident she did at least have real genuine feelings for Zib in the past! But did she actually love Atlas or was it a marriage of convenience? Or Wick! Is it only a tactic to keep him around as long as possible or has she also had some feelings for him that she’s now partially showing cause her husbands been dead for a year!

Her love life looks so complex! I feel like she needs a drink with how many men seem to be into her at the same time!

sorry for the slight rant and multiple questions 😭

It is indeed messy and complicated, but I can't think of many romantic relationships that don't have some chaos woven in. Even taking account of meaningful, non-romantic relationships in my own lifetime with friends or family, "It's complicated" is an apt descriptor. She and Zib had a past, yes. There were definitely feelings involved, but the structure of the relationship was uncommitted and wishy-washy. Then some things happened that caught Zib by surprise. For indicators as to how Mitzi felt about Atlas, well, take into consideration that she still speaks to his portrait. You can maybe find some clues about the nature of their relationship in things that Zib and Mordecai say in Volume 2 of the comic. As for Wick, I hope it's clear there's at least some mutual attraction there. Mitzi's got her priorities, though, and Wick is actively trying to sort out exactly what his feelings are and where he draws a line in the course of the comic. Really, details are meant to unfold gradually in the story to paint a fuller picture of the past. Things you surmise about it and conclusions you draw (even if they don't ultimately line up with canon) are likely to be far more interesting than whatever dry explanations I could provide here, though.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisycats #q&a

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stevieschrodinger · 3 months ago

Text

Part One Fourteen

“Steve,” Robin lets herself in the front door, “Steve!”

“Yeah, I’m through here,” Robin appears in the doorway just as Eddie blinks awake, “I’m sorry baby, we woke you up.”

Eddie looks a little bleary eyed, his usually deep chocolate brown eyes looking a little cloudy.

“Steve, what’s wrong, I was there when Keith answered the phone.”

“I’m fine Robs, it’s Eddie who’s a little under the weather,” and Steve couldn’t exactly explain to Keith that the fish-guy who’s living with Steve is coming down with something, so he had to put on his best flu ridden performance.

“Oh...is he okay? It’s not catching is it, like Upside Down rabies or something?” Steve sighs as Eddie shifts, making no effort to get up.

“Eddie does not have Upside Down rabies,” Steve can feel Robin eyeing them up, how snuggled they are on the couch under Eddie’s blanket. Steve watches as she takes in the movie on low, the only other light coming from the tree, the blinds half drawn, “come on baby,” and yeah, there goes Robins eyebrows, her mouth dropping open, “I’m going to go and make Robin a coffee,” Eddie clings tighter for a moment, but then allows Steve to slide out from under him, burrowing right into the corner of the couch the moment Steve’s gone.

“What’s up with him?” Robin asks, “is he okay?”

“He’s a little off his food,” Steve starts, fiddling with the coffee machine.

“And?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Steve...come on, no. You think I can’t tell when something's wrong? Tell me what’s up.”

Steve gives her her coffee, cradling one for himself as he leans on the kitchen counter. It’s getting dark outside already, the evenings coming in fast. Steve can just about see where the pool is covered over in the yard.

He can’t look at her as he speaks, he knows he’ll start to cry if he does.

“Eddie is...he’s like a tadpole. But the frog is a Demogorgon.”

“Holy shit!” Robin whisper hisses at him, “what are you going to do? Is it soon? Have you told anyone else? Steve, he could really hurt you, is it even safe for him to be here, you’re alone, if it just like, happens-”

“I haven’t told anyone else, and neither will you,” Steve glares at her, and Robin actually cowers a little.

“Steve...we really should tell someone else, Hopper might-”

“Hopper might shoot first and ask questions after. No.”

“But Steve-”

“Robs, stop, please. Please don’t do this, okay. Please.”

“But Steve-”

“I said no Robin. Eddie stays with me, that’s it. Whatever happens I’ll...deal with it.”

“Steve you...but you could get really hurt.”

I’m already really hurt, Steve doesn’t say. He just sips his coffee and breathes deep so he doesn’t loose it in front of Robin.

“Steve are you- you and Eddie I mean...I mean I know he’s your...friend and everything,” the careful way she says friend speaks fucking volumes, “and it’s upsetting but...you guys are pretty close? Already? You seemed real cosy when I walked in and you’re being pretty defensive over a creature from The Upside Down you’ve known for all of maybe three months is what I’m-”

“Robs.”

“Right, yeah but I mean...Steve, he’s a guy. And a fish. I mean…”

“I don’t think I’m going to spend any time worrying about either of those things Rob, considering he probably doesn’t have long.”

Eddies breathing is shallow, Steve’s sure it is. He’s certain Eddie is...fading, somehow. Steve only moves when he absolutely has to. He has gotten up to get a drink, but only because he felt a headache forming, and then to piss, but only out of desperation. Steve took one of these opportunities to check Eddie’s tail; the splits are longer, the tips starting to spread out into a loose star shape. And it’s dry, inflexible; like Eddie’s dying from the tip of his tail upwards.

Steve’s going to hold him through this, no matter what. The moment Steve slips back onto the couch, Eddie uses his last dregs of energy to, feebly, burrow into Steve.

He won’t eat; Steve’s tried everything, even offering a beer. Eddie refuses, but he can’t seem to let himself give up; he has to try, so frightened that Eddie might be in any kind of discomfort.

“Eddie, baby, will you have some food.”

Eddie sighs out a grumble, Steve lifting Eddie’s head carefully, trying to get Eddie to look at him; when Eddie does finally blink his eyes open, he’s sure they’re even less clear than before. They seem to be clouding over, turning milky.

“Food? Baby please, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Eddie sighs, voice dry and raspy, the first time Steve’s heard him speak for hours, “food bad.”

“Why, baby, why is food bad?” Eddie just shakes his head, trying to snuggle back against Steve’s chest. “Eddie, baby?” Steve’s voice breaks, but he tries not to cry, “baby, how long do you think?” Eddie looks at him, lifting his head slowly, “Eddie.” It hurts Steve on a visceral level, kills him inside to do it, but he brings his hands up to his face, pressing his palms to his cheeks and lacing his fingers over his face, he makes their sign for Demogorgon, “what time Demogorgon?”

“No, Eddidie no Demo-gor-gon,” he stumbles over the word.

“But you said you would change. Eddie grow into Demogorgon.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no food. No...Demo-gorgan. Dead later.”

“What? So if you don’t have food, you- Eddie. Eat food.” Sure, Eddie might turn into a Demogorgon, but there’s a chance he might retain some of himself, right? He might still be Eddie, and Steve is willing to take that chance.

“No. Demogorgon Eddidie food.”

“Yeah buddy, you said before, Demogorgon eat Eddie-”

Eddie sighs, clearly exhausted, but he leans over for his coloring book, just able to snag it off the coffee table; he turns to the purple dog. Steve doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before; it’s not just purple, it’s blue and black and all the colors of a Demodog. It’s fucking obvious actually, that that’s what it supposed to be.

“Eddidie eat Demo-gorgon. Eddidie Demogorgon. Eddidie eat,” and he points to the dog, “then Eddidie.”

“How, how though do you eat Demogorgon?”

“Safe dead later.”

Steve thinks, he’s heard Eddie say that before...the bee. Eddie said dead later when he knew the bee was sick, and, heartrendingly enough, he’s just said it about himself. Steve could be pulled under by the grief, he knows it, but he takes a breath and does his best to push it down. “You find one that’s going to die. It’s hurt or weak or...wait, so you need to eat some of the thing you’re going to turn into? Eddie eat this,” Steve points to the page, “then Eddie is this.”

Eddie nods.

“What if...what if you eat something else? What if...Eddie, how much of the Demogorgon do you need to eat? Many?”

Eddie shakes his head, makes their symbol for pea, finger and thumb, close together.

“Small, okay so what if...Steve Eddie food.”

“No. No Stee ow, no-” he protests weakly.

“Eddie,” Steve holds him, holds his face, “it’s only a small ow, please, please Eddie,” Steve starts to cry, he can’t help it. He cries as he begs, “please Eddie, I love you. Don’t go. Stay. Please, I love you. We have to try.”

“I love you too,” and Eddie’s crying. Steve’s never seen Eddie cry, his tears aren’t clear, they stain his cheeks a little, like weak coffee’s been spilled, the palest tear tracks on Eddie’s too white skin. Eddie’s tears smell like mown hay, like fresh cut grass. “Okay.”

“Okay, what else? Just food?”

Eddie shakes his head, pointing outside, “pool.”

That’s going to take hours to fill, most of the night, probably, “baby, would the tub be okay?”

“No. Pool.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve slips out from under Eddie, not bothering to waste time with a jacket, just shoves his bare feet into his sneakers and heads out, bracing for the cold.

It’s the middle of the night. Steve’s wrapped up now, but it’s still really cold. Hard drifts of still frozen snow rest up against the trees and pool furniture; gathered shiny white in all the nooks and crannies of the yard.

The sky is clear now, the stars defined and bright in that way they only ever are when it’s fucking freezing.

The pool is just over half full, but Eddie’s fading, and Steve won’t wait any more.

He carries Eddie out, draped in a blanket, “Eddie, this water’s going to be cold. Many many cold.”

“Cold good,” is all Eddie will say.

Steve’s terrified the water will freeze; that Eddie will get locked under the ice and drown. That this won’t work at all, that Eddie will turn into a monster that doesn’t recognize Steve- he tries desperately to push it all down. “Okay, now what?”

Steve’s standing right on the edge, Eddie suddenly struggles, and Steve, not expecting it, looses his grip on Eddie, and he’s slipping from the blanket and hitting the water with a loud splash. It’s so cold, just the sight of Eddie doing that makes Steve’s breath stutter in his chest in sympathy.

Eddie reappears quickly, and climbs back out half way, clinging to the pool steps as Steve takes his place sitting at the top of them, slipping off his sneaker, and then his sock.

“Small ow,” Eddie says, his voice quavering, he’s soaking wet, hair plastered down, skin shivering.

“Two,” Steve insists, “we need to make sure.”

By the time Eddie’s teeth pierce Steve’s flesh, he realizes he should have brought something to bite down on. It’s strange, he doesn’t feel it at first, not until after Eddie drops back into the water, immediately darting away to huddle at the deepest corner, furthest away.

It’s not until his blood drips into the water; swirling darkly in Eddie’s dissipating wake – that the pain really hits Steve. It’s the burning, stabbing kind. The energetic kind of pain that tells him there’s something really fucking wrong. Then he has to bite back a scream; it bubbles out as an anguished groan instead.

He regrets this instantly – not giving two of his toes to Eddie, not that, they have to try – but not being prepared. Steve is usually the one that plans, the one that thinks of things like this. Contingencies. He has nothing with him. He tries to staunch the bleeding with his sock, his fear for Eddie, temporarily at least, eclipsed with the blinding pain in his foot. Steve takes great shuddering breaths, the frigid air stinging his lungs, unable to control his breathing, and it suddenly occurs to him that this is going to need stitches.

Eddie didn’t fuck about; once he was in, he went all in, Steve’s two smallest toes on his left foot are gone right to the root.

Part Sixteen

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature #tw blood and injury

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h4rring1on · 4 months ago

Note

We all love u here buddy! Would you wanna write smth about reader with steddie, where Steve accidentally upsets her and Eddie’s trying to comfort her, all the while Steve’s begging to talk and apologise

pairing: steddie x reader

warnings: swearing, steve accidentally being mean without realizing it, thats it but please tell me if i missed something!

you woke up rather early today, just in time to see steve before he went to work. something happened the other day, and you wanted to tell stevie all about it!

“oh my gosh, i have to tell you stevie! guess what!” you said, steve didn’t really answer but you were used to it anyway, “yesterday, i went to the mall with stacy! you know stacy, she’s like my best friend ever! and we had so much fun we ate ice cream and went shopping and when we were walking around the mall i saw the cutest—“

“baby” he said, a little louder than the volume you were speaking, “i really don’t care what happened with you and stacy, okay? i have stuff to do” steve said, and left the house

you stood there, tears brimming in your eyes, you did it again. you annoyed someone into leaving. why were you like this? why did you have to be so excited and get so talkative over something so stupid?

you silently went to the bathroom, seeing as you just woke up, you then went to the kitchen, and began making breakfast for you and eddie

sooner or later, eddie woke up, you knew because you felt hands wrap around your waist

“good morning, sweetheart” he smiled

you hummed in response, and he furrowed his eyebrows

“that smells really good” he said and you didn’t respond

he went to the bathroom, and you set the table, once he got back, he saw the look in your eyes, you were now facing him, and it was clear you’d been crying

“hey, didn’t you go out with stacy yesterday?” he spoke as he ate

you nodded

“how’d that go? you did come back looking excited”

you shrugged and continued eating

eddie looked at you for a moment before dropping the fork and knife

“okay, what the hell is going on?” he said, and you just furrowed your eyebrows, “don’t look at me like that, can you just talk to me like a normal person?”

“what’s wrong, eddie?” you said

“what’s wrong? wha—are you mad at me? shit—did you see the magazine under the bed? baby i swear i love your body that was before we all started dating i promise you i don’t use them i mean maybe sometimes but it’s only when you’re away i sw—“

“i didn’t know about that” you simply said and he realized he fucked up, “it’s fine eddie, it’s not all about me, yknow, you can see other magazines, it would be good anyway so you don’t get bored of me”

“okay, what?” he furrowed his eyebrows

“just forget it eddie” you said, eddie didn’t want to forget it, but he kept quiet for you

that was until he heard sniffling, he looked up from his plate only to see you crying as you ate

“hey hey hey, whoa, baby” he quickly got up and kneeled down in front of you to get to your level, “talk to me, sweet thing, what’s wrong?”

“i’m sorry—i just…i feel like steve doesn’t like me” you said

“what? of course not, steve loves you!” he answered

“but—today before he went to work, i wanted to tell him about what happened yesterday and he said he didn’t care and left…am i really that annoying?”

“what—no, no, no, you’re not annoying at all” he said, wiping your tears, “cmon baby, you know i hate to see you cry…why don’t you come and tell me what happened, i’m all ears”

sniffling, you had slightly calmed down, and with a light smile you nodded "so...yesterday, i went to the mall with...um stacy! you know stacy...yknow what its nothing-"

"no no hey..." eddie mutters softly as he caresses her cheeks, "i want to know everything...don't leave a single thing out, got it pretty girl?" he says in a low voice

you nod slowly, and look down before eddie lifts your chin up and you smile softly, "so...anyway she’s like my best friend ever! and we had so much fun we ate ice cream and went shopping and when we..."

you continued on with your story, telling him every single detail about what you did and saw and such, and eddie nodded, listening to you talk, smiling

soon, you had hopped in the shower, and steve had just come home, you made his favorite food, all ready and placed on the stove to be heated up when he comes.

eddie's eyes flickered to the door as he heard it, he slowly walked to the bathroom, slowly closing it so you don't hear anything outside, and turned to steve who was just sitting on the couch looking at the ground

eddie stood there looking at steve, steve didn't even dare to look up, he knew what he did.

"you had a good breakfast with her today?" eddie says and steve sighs

"i know alright...i messed up-"

"damn right you messed up. that sweet girl was crying because of it today." eddie says and steve looks at him, his eyes softening

"shit..."

"the fuck was going through your head-"

"clearly not alot!" he says and gets up, looking at eddie right in the eye, "im an idiot..." he says and turns away, "i love to hear her talk...i love everything about her...i was just stressed out..."

“don’t, steve. that girl has been nothing but an angel. you can’t take it out on her whenever some bullshit at work happens” eddie says, a stern look on his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself for a second before looking back at him

“she made you your favorite. it’s in the kitchen” eddie points out and walks away, steve sighed, he felt like a dick

you soon walk out of the bathroom after you’d gotten dressed, brushing your wet hair and walking, to be met with steve sitting on the couch, leaned to the edge, elbows on his knees, his hands raking through his hair as he mutters to himself

she paused for a moment, steve glancing up at her, just as she was about to turn away he gets up

“shit—wait! please baby, please?” he says, almost pleading

you turn back to him, fiddling with your hands after you’d placed the brush on the table, “um…i made you your favorite…i’ll heat it up” she says and nods before he even replies and walks to the kitchen, before he grips her wrist, not harshly but firm enough to keep her

“will….will you please…please—tell me what happened yesterday?” he asks softly, eddie, who was nearby, crossing his arms as you just looked at him

“uh…i already told eddie so…s’okay” she says softly and steve shakes his head

“i’m so so fucking sorry baby—please, angel? i know it’s not an excuse but i was just pissed cause of work and i wasn’t in the mood—but i’m so sorry. that doesn’t mean shit! i love hearing you talk, about every little or big thing in the world, with that pretty voice of yours. i’m so sorry baby, i’m so sorry” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly, like he was gonna run out of breath if she didn’t forgive him

you just look at him, your eyes softening, eddie glancing at you, you nod and hug him

“s’okay…i forgive you stevie…it’s okay” you whisper as you rub his back, your touch was a balm to his soul…he’d felt awful this whole day

“see that, sweetheart?” eddie says with a grin, “this idiot can’t get enough of you! look at him! you don’t talk to him for five minutes and he’s about to cry” he says and steve deadpans him, you giggle with eddie, and steve finally budges and laughs with you

“so…are you gonna tell me baby?” he says softly and you nod as you walk into the kitchen to heat up the food, eddie and steve both sit at the table

“okay okay! let me tell you! so i was—wait wait! let me start at the beginning—“ you talked on and on and the two listened, a soft smile on their faces, even eddie who already heard this story before, but they both cant help it. they’ll listen a million times…they will never get tired of you

a/n: hihi guys been a long long time since ive been around and writing, i missed you all so so much! i’m still getting into it so im not gonna be so frequent but feel free to request!! miss you all🤍

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valkyriexo · 5 months ago

Note

Hey there!

I loved Jinnie's you get your period story 🥹it was so heartwarming and made me feel really loved and happy!😊 I was thinking, could you maybe do a version for Chan?

Thank you so much!

You get your period | Bang Chan Vers.

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Reader has their period, Mentions of blood, mentions of staining, embarrasment

ᑉ³Authors Note; A little different than the other one. thank you for your request :)

As you lie entwined with Chan on the bed, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering shadows across the room, you feel utterly content. His arms envelop you, offering a sense of security and warmth that you find nowhere else. The movie plays on, but your attention is solely on the man beside you, his presence more captivating than any screen could ever be.

The movie, a classic romance, fills the room with the sound of sweet dialogue and sweeping orchestral scores. As the plot thickens, drawing you deeper into its embrace, you find yourselves caught up in the drama unfolding on screen.

You're wearing his clothes, the scent of him enveloping you like a familiar embrace. It's one of those rare moments where the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in your own little world.

"Excuse me Y/N, but I do believe this popcorn was meant to be shared," he jokes, his voice carrying a hint of feign hurt as he reaches into the nearly empty bowl.

"Yeah? If only you hadn't eaten all of it, we'd still have some," you reply with a playful eye-roll.

Chan chuckles, the sound rich and infectious, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, I was just testing its quality control! Can't let any bad popcorn ruin our movie night," he retorts, his grin widening as he leans back against the headboard.

You can't help but smile in return. "Well, next time, try not to be so thorough with your testing. I might actually get to enjoy some," you tease.

Chan's grin softens into a warm smile. "Alright, alright, fair point. How about this? I'll go get us some more popcorn and maybe a couple of drinks. What do you say?" He said as he rises from the bed and presses a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you watch him gather the empty bowl and head towards the kitchen.

Chan's smile lingers, a warmth in his eyes that speaks volumes. "Anytime," he replies softly before disappearing from view.

Left alone, you take a moment to bask in the quiet comfort of the room, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. But as you shift, a sudden realization hits you. Beneath you, the sheets feel damp. Your heart skips a beat as you pull back the covers, dread creeping in as you confirm your fear.

You've stained the bed.

Panic sets in as you frantically inspect the damage, hoping against hope that it's not as bad as it seems. You can't let Chan see this. Not now. Not when everything feels so perfect. With trembling hands, you begin to rip the sheets off the bed.

Your mind races, a million thoughts swirling as you struggle to comprehend what has happened. The embarrassment is suffocating, your cheeks burning with shame

As you hastily toss the stained sheets into a corner of the room, trying to hide the evidence of your mishap, you hear Chan's voice from the kitchen. "Did you want candy too? I have some sour gummies here."

His footsteps draw closer, and panic surges through you as you realize that if you stained the bed, you've obviously stained your clothes as well. And worse-

They're Chan's Clothes

Tears well up in your eyes as you run into the bathroom, desperately searching for a way to clean yourself up. Your hands shake as you scrub at the stains on your clothes, the water mixing with your tears as you try to salvage the situation.

But no matter how hard you try, the stains remain stubbornly in place.

You lock the bathroom door, the sound of Chan's footsteps drawing closer with each passing second. Your mind races, searching desperately for a way to fix the situation before he discovers the truth.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open, and Chan steps inside, his brows furrowing as he takes in the sight before him. His eyes widen in surprise and concern as he sees the disheveled bed and the discarded sheets in the corner.

"Y/N? Baby?" He says hesitantly. You hear his footsteps move further into the room.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. "Y/N? Where are you?"

His footsteps draw closer, each one echoing in the silence of the room. You can feel the weight of his concern hanging in the air as he knocks lightly on the door. "Y/N, are you in there?" he asks again, his voice soft yet filled with worry.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to find the words to explain. "No, Chan, don't come in!" you call out, your voice trembling with embarrassment. "I-I'm fine, just give me a moment."

But Chan's concern only intensifies. "Y/N, what's going on? Are you hurt?"

The panic surges through you, the weight of your embarrassment nearly suffocating. "Please, Chan, just... just wait outside," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be out in a minute."

But Chan refuses to leave, his concern for you outweighing any discomfort he may feel. "Y/N, talk to me," he urges gently, his voice soft yet persistent

"No, it's embarrassing," you had murmured, your voice choked with tears.

"Y/N, please let me in," he implores, his tone filled with genuine concern. "I hate to see you like this.

"I'm gonna go home," you declare suddenly, your voice shaky with emotion. "Don't worry, just leave me alone, and I'll fix everything."

Chan's brow furrows in confusion. "Did I do something wrong?" he asks, concern evident in his voice. "Did I make you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry if I did."

You shake your head quickly, your voice soft but firm. "No, Chan, it's not anything you did," you reassure him, your heart aching at the thought of him blaming himself for your distress.

"Then what is it?" he asks softly, his voice almost pleading.

"Just go, please," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur, laced with embarrassment and desperation.

Chan stands there for a moment, his heart aching with concern and confusion. "Y/N, I don't want to leave you like this," he says, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, just let me help."

There's a heavy silence, the weight of your distress palpable in the air. A few minutes pass, the silence stretching between you like an invisible barrier.

He hesitates, the pain of hearing you so distressed evident on his face. "Okay," he says softly, his voice filled with reluctance. "But I'll be right outside if you need me. I'm not going anywhere."

You can hear his footsteps as he moves away, giving you the space you asked for. Your sobs echoing softly in the silence of the room. Tears stream down your cheeks unchecked, the embarrassment and shame weighing heavily on your shoulders.

And then, without a word, Chan approaches the bathroom door once more, his footsteps tentative as he knocks softly once again.

"I left... some clothes by the table.. near the door if you need them," he says gently, his voice filled with a quiet understanding.

You hear him take a deep breath before continuing, his voice soft but steady. "Y/N, I just want you to know that I love you. Nothing could ever change that. You're not alone, okay? I'm right here for you."

"You don't have to come out until you're ready," he continues, his tone gentle and patient. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here when you're ready to talk or if you need anything else."

As Chan's footsteps fade away, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you feel a wave of emotions wash over you. With trembling hands, you reach for the door and unlock it, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Slowly, you step out into the room, your eyes falling on the clothes Chan left for you by the table near the door. You clutch the clothes to your chest, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of facing Chan after what happened.

With a deep breath, you gather your resolve and quickly change into the clothes Chan left for you. But as the reality of the situation sinks in, the floodgates of your emotions open, and you begin to cry harder than before.

You know you have to face Chan eventually; you can't hide in the bathroom forever. So, you unlock the bathroom door and step back out into the bedroom.

Chan is seated on the edge of the bed, his gaze soft yet concerned as he looks up at you. There is a fresh set of sheets on the bed.

The tension in the air is palpable, the weight of the unspoken conversation hanging between you.

In an instant, he's by your side, pulling you into his arms with a tenderness that brings a fresh wave of tears. But instead of finding solace in his embrace, you feel a surge of embarrassment so intense it's almost suffocating. Mortification courses through you, rendering you stiff and unresponsive in his arms.

You can't bear to face Chan, to let him see you in such a vulnerable state. The shame of what happened weighs heavily on you, and the thought of him witnessing your distress only adds to your humiliation.

"Y/N," Chan murmurs softly, concern etched in his voice. "Hey... its okay." His voice is a gentle caress against your frayed nerves, but you can't bring yourself to look at him.

"Chan," you whisper, your voice trembling with embarrassment, "I-I can't... I can't face you right now." Your words come out in a choked whisper, barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Every fiber of your being aches with humiliation.

"Y/N," Chan says softly, his voice filled with understanding, "it's okay."

You shake your head, unable to meet his gaze. "No, Chan, it's not okay," you whisper, your voice choked with tears.

Chan's arms tighten around you, his grip firm yet gentle. "It's not the end of the world, baby."

"It is to me. This is so embarrassing." The words spill out of you, raw and vulnerable.

In a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating embarrassment, you try to break free from Chan's embrace, your heart pounding with the overwhelming need to erase the evidence of your humiliation.

Your movements are frantic, fueled by the desperate urge to hide, to fix things, to make it all go away.

With tears still streaming down your cheeks, you push against his arms, your mind consumed by the urgency to flee.

Your hands press against his chest, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps.

But Chan holds you firmly, refusing to let you go. "Y/N, please," he pleads softly, his voice filled with concern. "Don't run away. Let me help you."

All you wanted was to break free. To grab the stained sheets and make a beeline for the laundry room.

"Y/N, look at me," he commands softly, his tone soothing yet authoritative.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes, your vision blurred by tears. Chan's face is inches from yours, his expression one of love and concern. His eyes, filled with empathy and understanding, lock onto yours.

"It's okay," he repeats softly, his thumbs continuing to brush away your tears. "You're okay. We're okay."

You begin to calm, your breathing slowing as his words and touch soothe your frayed nerves. Your hands, which had been pushing against his chest, slowly relax, resting against him instead. The urgency to flee starts to ebb, replaced by the comfort of his presence.

"I'm sorry," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with embarrassment. "I just feel so.. gross right now."

Chan's expression softens, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. "Y/N," he begins, his voice gentle yet resolute, "nothing about you could ever gross me out. Accidents happen, but they don't change how I feel about you."

"I love you," he continues, his voice a soft declaration of devotion. "Every part of you, even the parts you consider imperfect. Especially those parts."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with warmth. "I already threw the sheets in the wash," he says gently, "and I'd like to take care of the clothes, too. Just let me help you, okay?"

Chan leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if imprinting his love onto your very soul.

Your heart swells with gratitude, and you nod slowly. "Okay," you whisper, feeling a bit more at ease.

"Now, let me take care of those clothes and let's get you settled back in bed, okay?"

He helps you lie back down, tucking the clean sheets around you with gentle hands. Chan gathers the stained clothes and heads out of the room. You hear the washing machine start up, and after a few moments, he returns. Once you're comfortable, he climbs in beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. "I've got everything taken care of," he murmurs soothingly. "You just relax and rest."

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished.

With the clean sheets enveloping you and Chan's comforting presence beside you, the tension of the earlier mishap begins to fade away.

Chan reaches for the remote and starts the movie again, the soft glow of the screen casting a warm ambiance in the room.

"Open your nightstand door," Chan says suddenly, his voice a mixture of excitement and care.

You look at him, puzzled and startled. "Why?" you ask.

"Open it," he replies with a gentle smile.

Curious, you reach over and open the nightstand cabinet door. Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in the contents. Inside, neatly organized, are all the things you use and love: your preferred pads, medications, a heating pad, wipes, and even your favorite snacks. You can't help but feel overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of it all.

You stare at the items, not believing your eyes. "Chan... what is all this?" you ask, your voice trembling with emotion.

He smiles tenderly, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed, especially during times like this," he explains softly. "I care about you deeply, and I want to make things as easy and comfortable for you as possible."

Your heart swells with gratitude, touched by his thoughtfulness. You can't help but marvel at how he always seems to know exactly what you need, even before you do.

But what catches your attention most are the unopened letters and notes, each one bearing Chan's familiar handwriting, neatly stacked and waiting to be discovered. You reach for them, fingers trembling with anticipation.

"What are these?" you inquire, a curious smile playing on your lips.

Chan's smile widens as he watches you tentatively. "Those are for you," he replies softly. "Letters and notes filled with my thoughts, feelings, and all the reasons why I love you."

You look at him in disbelief before you slowly pick up one of the letters, fingers trembling as you hold it delicately in your hands.

"I wrote them for you to read whenever I'm away.... I know i tend to be busy but... I want you to know that even when I'm not physically here, you're always on my mind, and my love for you never changes."

You look up at Chan, your vision blurred by tears once again but your heart overflowing with love. Without a word, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. His arms envelop you in return, holding you close as you bask in the comfort of his love.

You take a deep breath, feeling the overwhelming sense of love and support from him. "I don't know what I'd do without you," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity.

"You'll never have to find out," he replies softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Chan holds you close, his own voice filled with emotion. "I love you so much," he murmurs softly.

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gamblersdoll · 4 months ago

Text

an: this one may not be suitable for all readers

sometimes you were a nasty bitch. like, really, really a nasty bitch.

so nasty to where you tended to like being called a slut, some cockdrunk whore from down the street who loves big men.

so nasty to where you loved being spat on, a man so mean to you and pulling at your hair like handlebars. even when your black tears of mascara dripped down your face.

so nasty to where you had fantasies about your boss bending you over his desk and fucking into you for such a raise, it became a one time thing.

so nasty that youre fucking your best friends father. and not only that, your friends father knew you for so, so long.

you had came back from college, coming home for summer break and seeing all of your old friends from highschool. of course, you had to see your best friend, megumi.

megumi and you were tight, staying together as best friends since you were practically kids was the longest relationship youve ever even had. of course, there was ups and downs, but its reality.

you had came home only last week, settling in at megumis house because yours was full of people your sibling had over. you, knowing that megumi’s house was your second home, went there second.

and to your disappointment, megumi was staying at yuuji’s house for a bit. no biggie, you knew his father well enough. toji was more the quiet and speak when spoken to type. ever so rarely would he speak first, but when he did it was sometimes either sarcastic or serious.

“you can stay in megumi’s room, you know where its at.” he pointed, not facing you and only finding his shoes to go off to his gym for that couple of hours.

that was a mere day ago when that was said.

sometimes toji did want to just ramble, so every now and again, hed just start a conversation with you when both are in the kitchen.

“yeah, megumi’s mother and i had divorced a couple of years ago. it was stressful, to say. but sometimes that just happens.” he vented, not seeming too fazed by it. he was somewhat right, marriages did come with divorce too, but its all about the persons.

“im sorry to hear.” you mumble, fingers tapping on the mason jar. “on a brighter note! how have you been this week?” you try to change subject, usually being great at this.

“ive been good.” he blankly says back, washing whatever dishes could be in the sink and occasionally looking at you. god, youve grown up so much— and fast too. he remembers when you were just barely moving here and you befriending megumi.

was it wrong that he was looking at his sons friend like this? maybe. and was it wrong you were somewhat looking at his print too? definitely.

that was almost four days ago when that was said.

you both were more open to conversations, both bored and of course megumi was coming over any time soon. so what harm was in having a conversation with his father?

“im glad you passed, youve always been great with color guard.” he praises, a small smile until he involuntarily licks at his scar.

things like that could make a girl hot and bothered. no, thats wrong. thats nasty.

but you could feel his lingering eyes on your grown up body, seeing the curves you developed and the pretty ass thighs you got from the slight athleticism. youre shaped so good, could make a grown man hot and bothered.

“you know..” he trails off, finally peeling his eyes from you and then staring at his phone again.

the relationship between you two spirals, soft touches that can be seen as innocent, but only you two know what either of your actions mean. and because of toji having to be a single dad at some point, his cooking could speak volumes. volumes that you could fuck him good with.

that was a week ago.

you were really some nasty bitch that was hidden with your face and mouth.

telling by the way you sat back, legs spread wide and toji having his face in your cunt.

“how the fuck do you taste even sweeter when i go back for it..?” he growls the question, hands supporting under your thighs to keep them apart. “so fucking wet.”

your moans vibrated in your throat, fingers in his hair and tugging so tight when he gets that good spot on your clit. the spot that makes you snap your legs closed and had you cross eyed.

he chuckles meanly, tongue flicking at your clit and he spitting the arousal mixed fluids back onto you.

until he hears a door open, him stopping and putting a hand over your mouth. he glares at you for a second, “hush.” he says.

“dad!?” megumi yells through the house, your heart stopping and nervous.

“yeah? what you doin home so early?” he yells back, his thumb giving small circles on your clit. he listens to megumi, then smiling evilly and chuckling. “well, just came home from gym so im showerin’!”

words exchanged, he goes back to laughing a bit. you couldnt find this funny, what if he catches you both and tells everyone?

“what are you freaking out about?” he looks and asks, dumbfounded face apparent.

“what about megumi, your ex wife finding out?” you whisper shout, nerves bad and jittery.

“well, they was gonna have to find out, somehow.” he shrugs, eyes lowering to you and. hell no, you couldnt risk that.

you start to gather your clothes, or at least attempt to. “mm–no you dont, come here.” he softly says, hands on your hips and face going back to your clit. “oh, im going to have so much fucking fun with you.”

you bite your lip, eyes squeezed shut when he goes back to slurping your clit and tugging at his hair. “toji, what if i get too loud?” you try to say, almost cut off by a moan.

“i dont fuckin’ care.” he says quick, pulling himself away from your clit. he looks to your panties, grabbing the pair and shoving them in your mouth. “you are the one who has to be quiet.”

you moan soft, toes feeling like to cramp because of the hard curls. “you have a choice to make.” he says in between sucks and slurps. “either you can stay here.. cunt open, legs spread wide–“ he says, but pulls you back in when you squirm, “aht aht, dont you go anywhere.” he says, kissing your clit and sucking while his tongue goes in and out of your walls.

“either you can stay here, cunt open.. legs spread wide.” he repeats, he kissing your clit and labia. “and cum on my fucking tongue..” he starts again, “or you can make me stop.” he goes for your nipple, fingers pinching at the bud, “ill pull my tongue out of your cunt..”

“and you can put your clothes back on and pretend like nothing happened.” he says mouthful of pussy, hand’s massaging your thighs.

he pulls away, looking up at you. “whaddaya’ want?” he asks, chin and nose glossy from spit and cum.

you try to pull his head back down, him being awfully stronger than you and he laughing. “thats my good girl.” he laughs again, leaning up to kiss you. a growl forms, “fuck!” he says in anticipation.

“dad? you good?” megumi shouts out, concern but uninterested as well.

“yeah, slammed my toe.” toji shouts back, mental focus back to your cunny and his eyes rolling back from the sensory overload. megumi doesnt show back, both of you hearing him leave the house and car cranking up.

“get on your belly.” he says, yanking the panties from your mouth and flipping you over. you chirp, ass getting goosebumps from the exposed air hitting it.

“gunna fill your belly with my hot fucking cum.”

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