#reader described as tiny

[moonybug444]

back together, ig

| tw: dubcon, lowkey noncon?? reader tries to kick him off of her, emotional abuse, toxic relationship, connie’s your mean ex boyfriend stuck on you |

——————————————————————————————————

“i’ll be in and out baby,” no he won’t. “promise.”

you take the phone away from your ear and sit it on your bed like it’s gonna help your decision. i’ll be in and out baby. yeah fucking right. he says that all the time and then he tries to fuck you. well he does fuck you, but that's not the point.

you tap the speaker button and lay down in your bed. “whatddya even need this time, connie?”

“i left some shit over there. some uh—”

“—you don’t even know—”

“—you gonna let me finish, pretty?” when you pick up the smile in his voice you also pick up the way your eye twitches. like him to not take shit serious. you and connie have been broken up forever, so how he manages to sneak his way back into your bed over and over again is still unanswered.

truth is the break up was bad, so everytime you see his face it still hurts you. you can’t help it. you’ve told him that too. told him to just leave you alone and let you have some time yourself. time to let you heal.

you don’t know why you’d ever expect connie to give a fuck about any of that.

“i don’t wanna keep doing this connie,” your lips tug down, “do you really need something?”

“yeah.” you hear a car honk in the background when he says it. that asshole was already on his way.

“ok well,” you sigh, “bye.”

“alright, see ya in a minute pretty.”

______________________________________________

he appears at your doorstep less than 15 minutes later. he’s not even in your house for 5 minutes when he’s trying to fuck you.

“fuck baby,” he’s got you laid out all pretty on the couch in nothing but a filmsy tank top and some tinny tiny sleep shorts. your little hands go to push him away when he comes back down to kiss on you but he doesn’t even budge, just grabs them with one of his hands and brings them down to his hard-on.

he pulls away from your lips with a sigh and marvels from the look on your face. eyes droopy and crossed, drool seeping from your kiss swollen lips—he thinks it’s about the prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and smile. he loves that dumb fucked out look you get on your face. he likes how he gives that to you just from a few kisses.

“you good?”

“uh huh.” you breath in heavily and bring your hands up to his face, pouting slightly from the loss of contact.

his eyebrows raise in a teasing manner before he leans down and gives you one quick peck on the lips.

you’re muffling against his lips, trying to get away but also trying to get closer. grinding your hips into his and wrapping your arms firm around his head. your whining in his mouth, not sure if you guys should be doing this.

“shh, shh. i know baby. missed—missed you though.”

you don’t know how you always get yourself in these situations. no—you know exactly how. you’re still as crazy about connie as he is about you. and you hate to admit it. just the thought of that makes you want to cry. you do cry. he makes you feel like you’ll never get over him. you know that you won’t.

——————————————————————————————————

“why do you do this to me?” your bottom half is still draped over him when you push up to look him in the eye. he ignores you, taking a hand a running it on the side of your face before grabbing the remote. you continue.

“you don’t even get it connie! ‘m trying to get over you!…and—and you just—”

he sees the tears before they even come out. can tell your about to cry from the way your eyes shine and how your bottom lip pokes right out and shakes.

“aw baby,” he places a gentle hand on the back of your head and leans your face into his chest, “why do you wanna get over me so bad? i’m trying to win you back, y’know—”

you sit up immediately at that. win you back? that asshole ruined your whole perspective on love. he’s the reason you look at yourself differently. he’s the reason you’re constantly comparing yourself to everyone of his little friends. the ones that you, ‘don’t need to worry about.’ it almost makes you laugh.

“y-you cheated on me! you fucking—”

just like that his whole tone changes.

“don’t piss me off (name), watch your mouth.”

your scoff at him and try to push yourself up off his chest but he keeps you still with his hands firm on your ass.

“i want you to get out connie,” you say it while placing your hands on his chest, fingers softly playing with his hoodie drawstrings.

he doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even look at you when he gives you a bored, “no.”

you’re stunned, “what the fuck do you mean no! i said get out connie.”

he ignores you until you’re all in his face raising your voice at him. you’re trying to push yourself off his lap but he’s got a painful grip on your ass. he turns his head to you screaming at him and gives you one quick kiss on the cheek. “what’d i say about all that yelling, huh baby?”

he always does that shit. tries to play the sweet and gentle act with you, just to be a stupid asshole later.

there’s a beat of silence, “connie please get the fuck out—”

“—what do you want me out so fucking bad for? can you just fucking chill? i’m trying to watch a movie with you.” the nerve he has. it’s hard to just watch a movie with a guy who made you sick to your stomach for weeks. just with him getting here you feel yourself becoming violent.

“i have a boyfriend now.” your teeth grit when you spit it out trying to do anything to get him out, make him feel bad about himself. and all connie does is laugh. he doesn’t believe the lie anymore than you do.

“yeah? i’ll fucking kill him.” he looks you dead in the eye while he says it, before he moves his hand right to your pussy, shoving his fingers in your soaked panties to get a feel of his girl. he’s not joking. you know he’s not. it’s been more than a few times you’ve tried to peaceful move on from connie. let’s say that didn’t end well for you or the guys you were messing with. “your boyfriend know i’ve got you fucking dripping right now baby?”

you go to move his hand, “s-stop it, connie—”

“i know you miss me, alright?” he gives you. a big kiss on your forehead before making work to take your little shorts off. “quit fighting me.”

——————————————————————————————————

of course it was gonna end like this, it always does. connie comes over, you play hard to get for a little before your grinding and kissing on each other, you yell at him, and then you fuck.

connie has you laid out on your back, pushing your knees to your ears and fucking you right. he can’t help but stare at your pretty face every time. cheeks lightly dusted a soft baby pink, pouty lips producing drool, and big teary eyes peering down at where you two meet.

you’re whining the whole time, you try to run from it a little bit. i mean with a fat cock like connie’s he doesn’t blame you. he knows you’re trying your best, such a tiny girl can only take so much.

in the end though connie’s not with the bullshit, you know he can try and play the nice guy act all he wants, he always reveals himself in the end.

“feels good, baby?” he’s still pounding in you keeping a good pace. with every thrust, it seems like your pussy’s talking back to him, letting out wet squirts and lewd squelches. connie thinks it can’t get better than this, no he knows.

why can’t she just fucking cooperate? connie thinks it to himself while looking down at your pretty face, zoned out and making all the pretty sounds in the world. it’s really fucking pointless to keep trying to deny him every time. you must think it cute but it pisses him off.

he pulls out suddenly and once you notice you immediately start to bitch n whine. he rolls his eyes.

your pussy’s leaking and it aches to be filled again. you cry and cry but connie shuts you up real fast, taking a heavy hand and slapping your poor cunt.

“ah— co-connie, hic, st-stop!” he puts a single finger in your pussy and finger fucks your while he talks for a minute, y’know just to keep you happy. he thinks you look so cute all compliant. tits all out, pussy dripping, nothing for you to say out that bratty mouth but an occasional hiccup and a moan.

“we’re getting back together, you understand? sick of you playing these dumb ass games, (name), i mean really,” he stops to get real close to your face. he pulls his finger out your cunt and plops it in his mouth, sucking and slurping on it lewdly, now he’s got your attention.

you start to object but he cuts you off and you can tell by his tone he wants this to make you sad. make you cry.

“you really think you can live without me, baby? find someone fucking better than me?” he lets out an annoyingly mocking laugh and gets all in your area, practically spitting on your face.

“you’re a stupid bitch y’know that?” here they come. “i mean really, who’s gonna put up with you like i can, you’re just another dumb bitch without me, and let’s be honest about that, (n,n).” yeah there they are. and once they start they don’t stop. you’re practically sobbing now, doing everything you can to get this asshole off of you.

connie likes that he has that control over you. it only takes a minimum of three sentences that can bring you down, he likes how only he has that control over you. he puts his dick back in and fucks you hard. he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. hitting those impossibly deep spots inside, he keeps it up.

“who the fuck would you even try to find anyway,” he huffs a sigh and his face scrunches up even thinking of you with someone else. “i’ll fucking kill them, y ‘ know that?” he grabs your face with one hand and pulls you real close. still fucking into your pussy and expecting a full conversation.

you’re crying and crying and trying to bring your arms up to push him away. “g-g-get off—get o-off me!” he thinks it’s cute, you say it like you really mean it. you’re fucking pathetic, he wants you to know your fucking pathetic.

he giggles a bit at his thought, shoving the back of your head back into the sofa and keeping his hand laid there, a tight grip across your face.

“you’re such a fucking crybaby, (name).” yeah that’ll really get you started. you’re borderline wailing now, kicking your arms and your little feet. trying to get him the hell off you.

he loves it. every fucking second he loves it. loves your little wails, your crying eyes, all of it. your pretty lips that try to bite his fingers, any way to get him off of you. your clenching fist, flapping every which way just to hit him once. he loves it.

he thinks it makes your pussy better.

[dietmimo]

HSY: *feral screaming and cursing*

DKOS: I said I was sorry.

HSY: *feral screaming and cursing INTENSIVES*

----

[ID: Animated Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint fanart. Kim Dokja is in Demon King form, and he's much bigger than Han Sooyoung, who's comparatively tiny and is clinging to his nose and face while furiously yelling and thrashing around as Kim Dokja nervously tries to appease her. End ID]

ID by @princess-of-purple-prose

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

A KITCHEN-TABLE KINDA LOVE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit? satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement. 

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles. it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though he chalks it up to his mind playing tricks on him. 

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred, in its normalcy. everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket haphazardly draped over the couch, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

(why is the kitchen light still on?)

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin underneath them — blinking once, then twice. 

yep — it’s still there. that soft fluorescent glow, a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with. 

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you. 

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago. the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile.

do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —

but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft sprouts in his chest, almost otherworldly, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something like a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so, so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach. satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. 

but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a breath, laced with exasperation. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften. the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…” 

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

for a moment, all you do is lean into his touch. a yawn tumbles from your lips, as you lift yourself up, snuggling closer still. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure. it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question.

a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform, arms sneaking around his thin waist to bring him closer. he strokes the back of your head, softly.

satoru’s chest rumbles, as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into him, into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees. lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little, trying to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “… but i fell asleep.” 

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder, followed by a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light, and then there’s something else. something far more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you. “of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, pulling you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought that he’s a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel kinda giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t. having someone to worry for you is a luxury, he’s realized. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away, ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

with a single step back, you look up at him, tilting your head like a sleepy puppy. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he tries not to. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown. “oh,” you breathe. “okay. that’s good.”

one second. then two.

satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip, a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table. satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —

maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you. 

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”

a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.

for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out. 

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but… 

(something about this is just too tender.)

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love. 

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react. 

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting. 

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet. 

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most. 

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.

really. isn’t he being too coddled?

(… but it feels so nice.)

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek,  thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.

when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression. 

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly. 

satoru looks at you for a second. 

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection. 

another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down. 

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. 

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open. 

licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier. 

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse. 

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

[amourtoken]

I love how mad ppl get when I so much as imply their fave would wanna fuck a plus size person or even to go as far as saying they'd *prefer* a plus sized partner. Stay mad bitch!!!! Ur fave wants to suffocate between some thick ass thighs.

[minhio22]

Happy birthday Hajun

It's something i wrote like mid may at night on my bunk bed at dorms a year ago in my book. Its more self indulgent than anything. But damn do i love reading this thing for myself over and over again.

Currently you were running around BAE’s shared apartment trying to get the place ready for a certain someone’s birthday. For the most part you were trying to keep Anne away from burning the kitchen down or making something unedible. Wouldn't want anyone dying on Hajun’s birthday now do we?

You managed to pull Anne away from the kitchen and kept them busy by blowing balloons. You were helping Allen with the streamers now. Despite your nervously shaking hands you managed to keep a steady conversation going with him, that is until he mentioned your shaking hands.

“Say Y/n, why are your hands shaking?” He asked innocently.

You smiled at him nervously. “Well I'm afraid that I might mess this whole thing up. Also I feel like I'm forgetting something but I can't put my finger on it.” You said while thinking about what you might have forgotten.

“Don't worry about it. I'm sure Hajun appreciates that his girlfriend is throwing a party for him. Besides, he's infatuated with you. I've never seen him like that before he got with you.” Allen smiled sweetly at you.

The moment the word ‘girlfriend’ was uttered from him your face had turned red. Despite being together for a while now you couldn't help that help but still become a blushing mess around Hajun. It doesn't help that he finds your blushing face cute and keeps teasing you just to see it. Sometimes you wondered how you managed to land one of the most popular guys at campus and lived to tell the tale. You didn't say anything else and opted to stay quiet as you continue to decorate the apartment.

You were staring at a freshly frosted cake thinking hard about something. You had baked the cake according to Hajun’s preferences that you had apparently stored in your mind and managed to not forget when you asked him what kind of cake he likes a while ago.

“I'm seriously forgetting something.” You mumbled while mindlessly placing strawberries on the cake.

Anne and Allen were deciding on how to surprise Hajun when he came in. He's still not back from his modeling job. You wondered what kind of clothes he was modeling for this time. As if somehow Hajun knew you were thinking about it, your phone buzzed. You unlocked it and read the message Hajun sent. You blushed and stared at your phone when you saw that he had sent you a selfie of himself in the clothes he was modeling for. Insert description for whatever hecking clothes u want.

There was also a message attached to it. ‘Be back soon.’

Ever since that one time where you accidentally confessed that you liked seeing him in the clothes for his countless modeling jobs, he wouldn't stop teasing you that time but ever since that day he would send you a selfie of himself during his photoshoot. Hajun would also give you a copy of the magazines he's starring in everytime they came out to which you said that you would give it to someone else which you never did. In fact all of them were in your room in a slightly hidden corner of your bookshelf. You would never tell him that you still kept it because Hajun would tease you relentlessly. He still kept giving you the magazines though but you didn't mind it since it meant that you didn't have to spend money on them. He probably secretly knew you never got rid of them. Perks of having a rich boyfriend I guess.

While lost in your thoughts, you suddenly heard the jingle of keys and the three of you stopped in your tracks. In a flash you, Anne and Allen were hiding near the door with party poppers in your hands.

“I'm home.” Rung throughout the apartment as none of you said anything. Hajun stepped in and the three of you bursted out of your hiding place shouting ‘happy birthday’.

There was a slight look of surprise on his face but was then replaced with his usual smiling expression. Hajun was staring particularly at you who was standing at the back of the group as he made his way to you with a mischievous and teasing smile.

You were staring at gum, blushing madly with your mouth slightly agape. You didn't even pull your party popper too stunned when you saw him, your brain couldn't process the beauty that was Yeon Hajun standing in front of you, ready to tease you while brushing a stray hair away from your face.

“Like what you see?” Hajun teased.

“I-i. W-waht? Huh?” You were at a loss for words that you just blushed harder and gently pulled the part popper off in his face.

Hajun just laughed at your reaction as bits of streamers hit his face. “I bought it just for today.” Hajun gestured to his outfit. “Enjoying the view?”

You didn't answer as you were taking in all of the details of him. Insert description of hajun's outfit from his birthday illust last year cause i cannot for the live of myself describe it rn and im too lazy. Hajun smirked when you didn't answer and just continued staring. You blushed as humanly possible when you realize you're staring and nodded slowly at him.

“Awww you're so cute.” He pecked your cheek and took your hand leading you to the dining room as you got flustered over the kiss. “Come on. Anne and Allen are waiting for us.”

Indeed they were. The two left you two alone in your little world not wanting to disturb the moment. They had already started eating but left the cake untouched.

“Hurry up, you two lovebirds. I want to eat Y/n’s cake.” Anne exclaimed.

You got embarrassed at the statement as Hajun chuckled. You sat beside Hajun and he stood in front of the cake holding a knife. Allen had taken the liberty of taking videos and pictures as you all sang the happy birthday song as he blew out the candles and cut the cake.

The cake had been cut and the first slice had gone to Hajun. You handed him a fork to which he gave his thanks with that charming smile of his that makes your knees weak. You smiled at him sweetly. He took a bit of his cake and his face instantly lit up. He gestured for you to come closer and you did. Anne and Allen had already started eating again and left you two to your shenanigans. You tilted your head wondering what he wanted.

“Did you like the picture I sent you?” He whispered in your ear. The closeness made you flustered and you nodded. Hajun seemed satisfied with your lack of words for an answer and backed up and took another bite of the cake. “You really outdid yourself this time. I love it.” Hajun praised you.

“Glad to hear.”

“Do you want the strawberry?” Hajun knew about your fondness for fruits and that small gesture made your heart melt.

“I shouldn't. It's your cake.”

The whole time you were saying this he took the strawberry from his slice of cake using the fork and held it in front of your lips. “And that means I can do what I want with it.”

You couldn't argue with that so you ate the strawberry he fed you with a shy but satisfied smile. Allen and Anne were long gone from the dinner table, opting to sit at the living room in front of the TV to give you privacy to flirt but it's mainly just Hajun teasing you.

You savored the strawberry as its sweetness danced on your tongue. Hajun seemed to be enjoying himself, making you blush and teasing you was one of his favourite past times.

“Do you want a taste of the cake now?” Hajun asked.

You nodded nervously as if he would do something unexpected next. And unexpected things he did.

You didn't even have time to comprehend what happened when you felt something soft on your lips. Your eyes were wide open in surprise while Hajun’s were closed, leaning in to kiss you gently.

That sudden action made your heart melt and blush harder than ever. The kiss wasn't short nor was it too long. It lasted long enough that you could taste the cake he had taken a bite of before kissing you. Hajun pulled away and you were to say at the very least dazed and breathless.

Hajun on the other hand had a faint blush on his face but he seemed happy and proud of himself. He was caressing your cheek now. “So? How was it?”

“It tasted sweet.” You mumbled embarrassedly which elicited a chuckle from him.

“I see… Now I wonder what you got me for my present.”

It hit you then. The thing you had forgotten but desperately tried to recall and failed to do so. Hajun seemed to notice the slight shift in your expression.

“What's wrong?”

You felt extremely guilty having forgotten this one important thing. Tears threaten to spill but you didn't want to embarrass yourself over this small thing. “I-i forgot. I'm sorry.”

He rubbed your cheek with his thumb as his gaze softened. “It's alright. Besides you, being my girlfriend is the best gift I could have.” That just you blush seeing him soft like this.

“But you could make it up to me.” You questioned him about what it was. He then moved his thumb on your lip, a slight mischievous and hungry glint in his eyes. “Let's just say….. I won't be letting you sleep tonight.” He grinned.

Nevermind butterflies in your stomach, you felt like you had jumping beans in them. If it was possible to invent a new shade of red, your face definitely did it. Hajun’s expression went back to its usual smile that he put up around other people but that look in his eyes was still there. You couldn't lie and say that it didn't excite you but you felt nervous knowing how he could be. Let's just say you really didn't sleep much that night.

Im leaving the ending up to yalls imagination. What did they do? Idk ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ maybe they stayed up late playing video games.

[sythrynn]

it sucks being apart of a community where most x readers have fem protags and when you FIND q masc reader its like "haha whoops no the reader is fem/'nb presenting' and its a random SIDE SHIP" 3':<

[bubble-dream-inc]

maybe im nitpicky but one thing that annoys me in cod x reader fanfics is when the author describes reader as dainty, delicate, small and soft. my brother in christ do you know how much guns and tactical gear weight. imagine how much these fuckers have to workout to have the strenght and endurance they have. let reader be BUFF and STRONG ffs

[dollfacefantasy]

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[tacticalprincess]

ugh thinking about pure lil reader whos always used her clit to b stimulated and gets scared and panics heavily when trying to finger herself so könig helps the poor thing and comforts her💔

choosing könig to be the first person whose fingers enter your tight, unused hole probably isn’t the best idea. like his cock, his fingers are thick and girthy, covered in callouses from his grueling work. he’ll help you fuck yourself, though, coaxing as many nerves out of you as possible beforehand. due to your lack of experience, it doesn’t take much to get you wet and needy for it, your hole clenching around nothing as he licks into your pliant mouth, hands groping the sensitive parts of your body. you’re desperate for a fullness you’ve never felt and he finds it adorable.

he knows you’re ready when you begin rocking into his clothed cock, trying to feel his hard boner against your messy cunt. he’ll guide your fingers like they’re his own, his tone soft and patient as he instructs you to start rubbing at your swollen clit. he’ll have you dip one finger inside yourself to start with, transfixed by the way your little cunt is drooling all over your thighs, slick pooling at your ass. you gasp at how easily it slips in this time, flustered as you do as könig says, slowly pumping in and out of yourself. he can barely tear his eyes away from the way your cunt swallows the digit, dying to feel how tight and hot you are inside. he’ll make you describe the sensations so he can live through you, his cock achingly hard. you curl your fingers per his request, getting frustrated when you can’t find your own g-spot. with watery eyes, you nearly give up, convinced that it would feel so much better if könig did it himself.

“this tiny pussy can barely fit one of your fingers, what makes you think you can take mine, mausi?”

with his help, it’s not long before you’re worked up to two fingers, hitting the sensitive spot at the front of your canal over and over, until your body erupts into fireworks. he’ll make you jerk him off in return, using your creamy stickiness as lube, but not until he tastes it for himself.

[screampied]

needy choso w needy reader and they’re both so disgusting for each other… 🤭

❤︎ ໋𓈒 needy choso with an even needier reader

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, cowgirl, whiney choso, spit, praise, size kink, mdni.

the moment you walk through the door, choso immediately greets you with a hug—handsy, he was so hot, feverish. his fingers softly traced down your skin before he murmurs out a sweet needy, “…baby,” and you giggle, returning the sweet embrace. you weren’t gone that long actually, he’d always get like this. but you did miss him, for a moment you think choso’s intaking your scent with his face buried into your neck before he sighs. “i- i’ve been so lonely. i missed you,” and then he huffs, awkwardly cheesing. “oh, i mean….how was work?”

“it was okay,” you say softly, lightly pressing your chin against his chest. with arms locked around his torso, you grin. “you sound out of breath. you okay?”

“no,” he replies honestly, and he doesn’t even hesitate. not once, your eyes glimmer a bit from the reflection of the chandelier just swaying above the two of you before he pouts. “didn’t wanna call you while you were working so i had to um…substitute.”

you hum. “what did you do?”

“i— i was listening to your voice memos you send to me. you know, the ones where we—,” and he pauses. you get what he’s saying and a tiny smile creeps into your face. choso was embarrassed, heavily embarrassed. the tips of his ears burn with a scorching hot before he scowls. “i tried touching myself to your voice. couldn’t get myself to finish ‘n you’re here now so…” and he cutely grumbles out of frustration. “can i just kiss you p-please?”

“go ahead, baby.”

“thank—thank you.”

you were barely through the door when choso places his lips onto yours.

silence broke out, you briefly close your eyes, parting your lips before moaning.

handsy, the perfect word to describe him at that particular moment. his heart raced and you slip out a slight gasp once his roughly gentle hands feel towards your ass. he can’t help but give it a light squeeze. “b-baby,” he whimpers out between kisses.

it was more sloppy than anything. your nerves, it ran all through your veins as you felt tiny shivers poke all over your body. “always got me so p-pent up.”

“let me take care of it then, baby.” you murmur, and he’s the one to moan this time, feeling your slender fingers gingerly slide near the inside of his shirt. underneath, you felt his washboard abs.

tracing your fingers alongside the very sharp edges. choso was nothing more than a perfect structured sculpture—his body, you never got tired of feeling it, feeling him.

your tongue ran against his, making him walk further and further back until eventually he gets pressed up against the door. panting, choso was nearly even more out of breath before he makes you rub against him. directly against his bulge, and you felt it, how significantly hard he was.

“i—i need you so baddd.” he whimpers, and after a while he departs his lips. a tangled string of glossy saliva tugs from his and your mouth before he laps it up, just to gift you with another wet kiss. choso leads you towards the bedroom, and by now his lips were already giving you gentle chaste kisses near your collarbone.

he doesn’t wanna waste time at all, that much was obviously apparent.

quickly, he already had you on the bed. he leans in for another kiss, this time it’s more sensual and passionate. you felt him grind against your body, hands softly parting your legs. it was cute, he was always gentle with you despite how needy he was, choso’s thumb skims near your thigh, the very inner crevices and you moan.

you tasted the faint mint on his tongue as his tongue collides against yours, incredibly sweet and oh so candied…

“t-touch me,” he whines, and you simper once you realize he’s propping you to sit right on his lap. once you’re straddling him he leans back, the cutest sheepish expression before gripping your waist. “i… i like when you touch me.”

“i know you do,” you whisper, tugging down his briefs for him. choso prepares a sharp breath, feeling the tips of your fingers lightly graze against his skin. you were slow, you made sure to be—you liked teasing him a bit after all. “you tried getting off to my voice earlier, choso? you could have just called me on my break, you know.”

he starts to pant out short heavy puffs of air. “i know,” he pouts cutely. “i was too embarrassed. even hearing your voice through an audio got me so h-hard.”

“don’t be embarrassed,” you coo, and he’s rambling so much that he doesn’t even realize you already had his black darkened briefs pulled down. you were aligning yourself, hovering over the tip of his sheeny pre-cum tip that was just as desirous as you. you were pretty soaked yourself not to mention, your arms wrap around his neck before leaning in to kiss underneath his chin. choso moans, and stops you before you could pull your panties off.

“keep…keep them on for me,” he grunts, and despite having such a low husky voice, he never refused to not sound so needy and dependent. you jerk a bit forward, complying before he gives your ass another cute squeeze, sliding your panties towards the side. “like this. just keep them over here, okay?”

you smile, kissing the tip of his nose. “okay baby.”

“hmph. s-stop calling me that,” he utters, and he lets off an angelic whine the moment you start to sink yourself further down.

after all the times you took choso, you always had to adjust to his size. he was a packer, there was no surprise there. so hefty, it took you a while to fully sink down on him, his rough hands guided your waist before he bites his lip and groans. “i didn’t mean it,” he murmurs, not fond of how you suddenly grew quiet. it was so cute. “you can keep calling me baby. i—i like it.”

you snicker, peppering a few kisses near the crook of his neck. “so indecisive,” and you playfully run a finger down the middle part of his chest. just your touch alone was enough to make him cum, you were just that good.

at least to choso—he could never control himself around you. whilst your sopping cunt glides just barely over his length, you’re nearly halfway in and choso’s a complete mess.

he looked so pretty though, up close like this. his hair, naturally darkened locks that was known for it being all tied up into two messy ponytails, now down. he looked really good with his hair down, a few strands run down near the front of his eyebrows, just about covering his droopy dark eyes before he makes eye contact with you.

“did….did you miss me too?” he breathes, hearing the brief sounds of squelching your own cunt made. so talkative—he always adored that part. going inside of you and suddenly the entire room grows quiet from the sounds of just your soft breaths and your pussy making all kinds of noise because of choso’s length.

“i missed you,” you purr as a response, bringing a kiss towards his twitching lips. his hands slither towards your hips, and he starts to rock you swiftly in place. your rhythm, it had his eyes already starting to roll into the depths of his head, all the way back before he whines. “i wish i could have came home sooner, cho.”

choso was far more vocal than you by a mile, it was heavenly to listen to—his pure sweet moans that were simply melodic.

“m-mhm,” he’d slip out, making a cute attempt to smack your ass but he quickly caresses it afterwards. he had quick a bit of thickness on him too, his girth stretches all through you that for a moment it had you speechless. “you always know how to make me feel so g-good.”

“you feel good, baby?” and your words were so enchanting, at least to him.

the sweetness that ran underneath your tone, it had him so hard. you’re grinding yourself against in such a slow yet tantalizing pace that he’s just about to lose it. your hips drove him crazy, you drove him crazy.

choso nods, a soft whimper leaving his lips the moment you find a comfortable rhythm. back and forth, the more you went forward—the more you started to feel yourself gradually quicken.

“fuck,” he pants, and his voice grows a tad bit deeper. his eyes were all dark and droopy, always having that forever drowsy timid expression. always with you. “baby, w-wait,” and your eyebrows raise a bit. you’re still riding him, keeping up a pace and that’s when he grabs your hand. you watch as he brings it towards his neck before pouting a whiney. “choke me.”

“choke you?” you titter, a near giggle sliding past your lips before he stares at you blankly, you then realized he was serious. “…oh,” you slyly say, planting a kiss near the under part of his chin. “you’re so kinky today, baby.”

“only for you.”

“yeah?” you moan yourself, feeling him bury himself balls deep—already bottoming out, you were nearly at your peek yourself. it’s probably been a few lengthy minutes before your thighs start to ache, that familiar rich sting of pleasure prickling through your skin. “mhm. i’ll choke you. only if you say pretty please.”

choso’s head goes back, and he whimpers. “you brat,” and you chortle, knowing you were getting the one up on him—he always let you anyway. at the bottom of each of choso’s sloppy thrusts, you shimmied your hips just briefly, and he swallows thickly. “ugh. f-fine,” and his spit-glossed lips part and curl up as he continues to speak. “please?”

“ooh. so close.” you tease.

“…….”

he glares but it only lasts for about three seconds because he can never be mad at you. you watch as choso’s hands roam further down your waist before he whines, correcting himself, “pretty please. choke me so i can g-get off, princess.”

“good boy.” you tease, and your fingers swiftly wrap around his neck. choso stares at you, and a sweet whimper escapes from him the moment you praise him. you knew just as much as anyone how much he loved being by praised. especially by you. the stimulation, it made him groan—he’s just jerking back against you, the bed creaks and creaks it sounds like an instrument.

“harder.” he pants, and you lean up against him. the moment the head of cock finds and securely located your g-spot though, you’re the one letting off the sweetened moans.

you inch closer towards him, squeezing his throat with just a bit more pressure before kissing him deeply. you put a bit of pressure near his pubic area before arching. milliseconds afterward, he pulls away from your lips before gasping for air. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doin’ that.”

you’re squeezing down on him, clamping and just taking him in wholeheartedly. everything felt so good, choso’s ears rang, you had him whipped. he could honestly die like this, his eyelids were fluttering and half-lidded. your stare, choking him like this while riding him until he came—he couldn’t have asked for a more better position.

“open your mouth,” you whisper, a thumb fleetly brushing against the middle part of his throat.

he quickly obeys, not even asking a question. always so obediently needy. you watch as he parts his lips for you, opening his mouth. you hum, leaning in before spitting right into his mouth. you’re still choking him softly, and he moans before registering what even happened. he felt so hot all of a sudden, even more hotter than he’s been feeling currently.

“swa—”

choso already swallows, and pulls you into an even more sloppy kiss directly afterwards. it wasn’t as passionate anymore.

just downright dirty, he was buried way down to the hilt with his cock stuffed into your cunt—you were draining his balls and he couldn’t help but moan. his tongue curls against yours and that’s when he grabs your hips to make your tempo quicken. “f-fuck me, fuck me. make me c-cum, i need it,” he’d whine before rephrasing in a cold sweat. “i need you.”

“lean back ‘n watch me then, baby.”

“okay, o-okay.”

he lets you do your thing, the alignment of your bodies together . . so hot.

he was always such a perfect fit for you, his dick was just driving in and out of you, you thwacked against his full base every so often. you’d even go as far as to massage near his balls to make him meek out a sweet candied moan. he’d beg for you to keep going that, he loved whenever you touched him.

a kiss, a touch, anything…

he savored it all. the smacking thump that continued to be created rang throughout your ears and his. bundles of nerves continue to rise up and up, and you gasp once he prods against your g-spot for probably the umpteenth time now.

choso’s breathing hitches, and once he cums it’s so much. his facial expression was the best part though. his eyebrows contort together and his maw just dangles open, desperately begging for a kiss. you kiss him as he’s pouring such thin ropes of cum into you. you slow down a bit, still riding him and he was so drunk off of you. you had him pussy drunk within a span of a few minutes. choso’s dick ferociously pulses inside of you, and it’s so warm and filthy.

while he’s still spurting into you, he’s heavily heaving—you softly lap your tongue near his bottom lip, pressing your body against his. forever snuggled up within his warmth.

“o-oh my goddd,” he’d drag out, feeling how much he spewed into your tight walls. his bulky arms wrap around you and he just holds you before feeling himself go limp. he’s flaccid, yet he didn’t wanna pull out just yet. he just wanted to stay here, like this with you. “you m-milked me baby.”

“do you feel better?” you purr, sneaking a kiss near the corner of his mouth.

choso’s so out of breath, it takes him a good twenty seconds to reply. “y-yesss,” and then he glances at you. you’re still on his lap, keeping his mess stuffed inside of you. your panties were probably all ruined, sticky and smeared with the remnants of his seed. “you didn’t finish, baby.”

“i’m okay.” you reassure him before gasping once he suddenly lifts you up softly, pulling out. you pout from not feeling so full, so plugged in.

choso makes you lie down on the bed, and he’s panting. heave after heave, dark eyebrows of his form together before he bends down, inching closer towards between your legs. “i want my girl to finish too,” and his voice was so soothing.

you moan, watching him lean closer towards your thighs, your legs still felt shaky and that’s when choso lolls out his tongue, slowly dragging his tongue up your thigh towards near the crevices of your cunt. he was so filthy, simply no shame in tasting his own mess just to ensure you get a sweet orgasm.

choso’s eyes flicker back up towards you before he spreads the lips of your cunt with two simple fingers. “you made me feel good s-so just let me,” and he continued to lap his tongue all over your legs. such lewd, he moans. warm breath fans against your skin before he licks near your panties that were all messy too. “let me clean you up now baby. pretty please?”

[rxmye]

" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 "

𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — you're his entire world, his only thought, the very illness that has corrupted his mind and body . . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / mentions of sleep medication / pathetic yandere / suggestive content / a character slightly aimed towards people with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: edited, Lucas first fanfic is out !! . . click here to read it !! <3

He was someone with fleeting attraction—yet a hopeless romantic, who'd spend most of his class time doodling away in his notebook instead of taking actual notes, writing these scenarios that played out in his mind—tired hazy doodles of small characters, blurry lines of writing, scribbled out text, as he struggled to stay awake—

He had never had a proper sleeping schedule, and if he did he'd never stick to it, a night owl who often faced the consequences of his own actions, sleep medication was something he was all too familiar with, the feeling of being restless without sleep, his nerves always on edge, dark circles under his eyes made him feel insecure, and alarmingly out of character.

He felt something touch his back, he froze, nerves all over the place, a pit growing in his stomach as he turned almost instinctively to face whoever touched him, pushing their hand off harshly . . . "Hey Yoichi . . what's up with you man, why so aggressive?!" Lucas asked . . and then he froze, letting out a nervous and rather embarrassed chuckle, "Ah—um . . sorry Lucas . . just feeling a little tired that's all", he replied softly, voice barely coming out.

To be quite honest, when he first saw you, Yoichi thought nothing of it, he sat at the very back and you for some reason, sat in front of him, not that he minds, you're presence covered him from the teachers eyesight, which allowed him to do whatever he wanted, he was even able to drift off to sleep during that period.

However, it wasn't until he found himself, drawing tiny versions of you in his notebook, little doodles, pink ink staining the paper as he hearted your initials together—his name then your last name . . your name then his last name . . . names of future children—that he realized he was crushing on you . . . big time.

His emotions was fleeting, it had always been, he didn't think much of it . . it was just a simple crush, everyone has one of those, and they go away with time.

Yoichi was a punctual student—and a well organized one—he'd rarely forget his books, much less the notebook with his embarrassing doodles of him and you, it would ruin his image to be quite honest . . yet for some reason he had forgotten it in class today, it could've been his ever-growing restlessness due to a lack of sleep, or maybe the caffeine that's been fucking with his head since early in the morning—he sighed—knocking himself out of his own thoughts, as he twisted the doorknob, hopefully the teacher left the class unlocked.

The door was open, to his utter relieve . . . wait . . . "y/n?", he spoke, taken aback—you were soundly asleep on your desk—you looked so at . . peace . . . calm? . . . Nothing could describe the emotions he felt as he approached you, slowly reaching over to his desk and grabbing his notebook, quickly stuffing it in his backpack—he should go . . , that would be the best course of action . . .

Yet he couldn't . . . he knelt down on the floor, leaning his head on the desk, starring at your face, looking into every curve and line, in his eyes every imperfection just made you even more perfect, the pattern of your breath was soothing to his otherwise restless mind, a soothing scent radiated off of you, and for the first time in months, he felt sleepy . . . like he could sleep without a care . . . everything felt so right. . .—nothing felt displaced or disoriented.

That was the day that started it all, it seems, Yoichi had started forming something that was akin to obsession, he couldn't sleep at all without you—a piece of you—something that reminded him of that calming scent that he felt that day, you calmed his overdriven nerves, you halted his troubles for more than a fleeting moment.

Yoichi knew what he was doing was odd, especially when he found himself picking up the wrapper you threw out, and taking inhaling it, his eyes growing half lidded—he felt like a drug addict—drunk off of you . .

Fleeting touches would tick off his ever delusional mind, a small compliment could set him on overdrive and in the back of his head he knew he was growing addicted, a pit in his stomach grew as he felt slightly disgusted with himself, with the obscene and rather degrading things he'd do, just to get something touched by you.

Lucas stared at his friend, who seemed no better than dead, "Are ya' okay?" he asked, looking him up and down, "You look like a train-wreck", he stated half out of concern and half out of clear disdain and possibly curiosity, "Is it normal?", Yoichi spoke up, taking a gulp of air as he continued, "to want someone so badly that it's hard to explain—like—a part of me feels obsessed, like I feel like carving my own heart out and showing them just to prove my love wont be enough—they could claw out my fingernails—and from where I'm standing, I'd still look at them with only love . . . but at the same time I feel disgusted with the feelings I feel—", Yoichi kept blabbering on, until his friend shushed him, taking a sip of his drink as he jokingly replied, "I mean . . if you love them that much, then their clearly the one . . ."

Yoichi blanked out, as Lucas chuckled, he has no idea how much of his teasing words Yoichi would take to heart that day nor of it's lasting consequences . . .

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[rememberwren]

Tattoo artist!simon giving fem!reader your first tattoo.

He was highly recommended, though the wait list to even get a consultation with him was weeks out.

Physically he is intimidating: tall and broad and fit. The facemask isn’t terribly out of place, not in a post-Covid society. You find yourself giving too much eye contact, staring at what you can see of him: his eyes. Dark, with long lashes. Surprisingly expressive brows.

The shop is clean and well lit. He takes customers by appointment only, so it’s just the two of you.

You stammer over your words as you try to describe your vision for the tattoo, but he listens patiently: still and attentive, trying to see your same vision.

He exchanges private numbers with you (enters his name in your phone as GHOST) and within the week he’s sending three separate mock up images, each better than the last.

It isn’t until he reminds you to wear something appropriate that you fully acknowledge the gravity of just where you plan to let this man tattoo you—but you’ve already put down a deposit and it’s too late to back out now.

You wear pasties, applied with shaking hands in his tiny, clean bathroom. No bra, you suck in a deep breath and push down the straps of your spaghetti strap shirt and give him access to your sternum.

He’s a total professional. It’s in your mind only that his gloved-hands linger on you. It’s wishful thinking that his thumb soothingly strokes the space above your heart when you flinch in pain.

The praise is harder to ignore. He mutters it so distractedly that you have no doubt it is just instinct: “Good…that’s it…breathe through it…doing well…you’re taking it so well…”

He has to stop twice because you can’t seem to sit still, your panties soaked and cunt throbbing. His dark eyes glitter knowingly, mouth quirking beneath his facemask.

It’s almost a relief when he’s done, when you haven’t terminally embarrassed yourself. When you’re one step closer to getting home and rubbing one out with his spooky moniker on your tongue.

“You sat well,” he says. He hesitates. “I’d give you a discount. If you ever wanted to come back.”

But then the charged moment is ruined by his shop co-owner, piercer “Soap” appearing in the doorway, flashing his tongue ring at you and letting you know nipple piercings are buy one get one free.

[tired-biscuit]

I licked it so it’s mine

pairing: stepbrother!yuuji/fem!reader

premise: After a long day of work, you decide to make use of the empty house by having some drinks and a movie night with your older stepbrother. Eventually, one drink turns into two, two become three, and so on. As the buzz of the alcohol progressively fills you with more and more courage, interesting things commence.

cw: 18+ MDNI. stepcest, ‘in the flurry of the moment’ setting, no curses AU, characters are in their 20s, intoxication, dubcon, implied corruption, coersion and pressuring from reader, descriptions of size difference, manhandling and roughness — poor yuuji gets a little too into it in the end.

wc: 6.7k

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight

———

Your big stepbrother Yuuji is likeable. He always has been.

To be fair, what is there not to like? When it comes to his looks, Yuuji is tall, handsome, a proud owner of a pair of pretty honey-coloured eyes that make him resemble a puppy, and an even prettier smile. Every summer, his skin gets this wonderful, almost golden tan that makes him outright glow from within, and his face gets sun-kissed, causing his already rosy cheeks to get dotted with tiny, barely visible freckles that gather under his eyes and only enhance his cuteness.

However, after living with him for so long, you’ve since learned that he rarely actually pays attention to his appearance, much less dresses to impress.

After all, Yuuji is a simple man. He does not care about clothes besides the level of comfort they provide, and yet he still somehow manages to achieve victory. Catching girls checking him out when he’s in nothing but his trusty pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt is a common occurrence. Even listening to flustered whispers and giggles has turned into a regular thing at this point.

On top of all that, he’s also nice. Kind and open and warm – you could use so many more positive words to describe your stepbrother’s wonderful personality, but you’re pretty sure that they’d never do it justice. Perhaps the only bad thing you could say about him is that he’s too nice. Too helpful and giving.

Especially towards the people who don’t deserve it.

And as you watch him from the corner of your eye now, hanging out at the park and licking the ice cream that he’d treated you to as a reward for beating him in his favourite video game, you try to consider yourself as one of the people who do deserve his everlasting kindness. Who do deserve to be treated nicely by him, and to hear the laughter in his voice, and to accept his almost naive generosity.

It’s a nice day out today. The wooden park bench that you’re sitting on currently is warm from the setting sun that still filters through the leaves above your heads. Small, moving patches of light and shadow linger everywhere, causing you to stare, almost mesmerized, as some of them lazily continue to dance across your big brother’s face.

Yuuji’s arms are splayed wide open and draped on either side of the worn backrest that you’re both leaning against. He’s finished his ice cream ages ago, so now he’s got his legs outstretched and his head angled up towards the sky, enjoying the peaceful tranquility that this year’s summer brings. 

There are quite a few people out and about in the park during this time of day – most of them joggers and dog walkers that are using the slightly cooler temperatures to their benefit – but if you listen closely, you can make out distant shouting and laughter coming from a group of children who are occupying the playground that’s on the other side of the trees.

The sound makes you feel kind of old, so you zero in on your sandals to keep yourself busy.

“Remember when you used to scream like that?”

“What?” 

When you turn your head to the side again, Yuuji’s gaze looks expectant.

“Back when we were kids,” he explains, jerking his chin towards the direction of the playground. “You got all shrieky and high-pitched whenever it was my turn to chase you, remember? Made you sound like a deflating balloon just by running in your direction.”

“Oh!” You take another lick of your ice cream, fully flattening the scoop before sinking your teeth into the edge of the cone. The scent of strawberries fills your nose in an instant. “In my defense, that probably happened because I didn’t like playing tag with you all that much.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, your legs were longer than mine, which made you catch up so fast that it wasn’t fun for me anymore. Aaand your hands were also always sticky for some reason,” you reply, still chewing on the wafer. “It was gross.”

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes but it immediately gets followed by a brief chuckle that escapes his lips. “Excuse me for trying to be a little bit sentimental with my clean freak of a baby sister.”

“I’m normal… You’re just nasty,” you fire back, smiling when he goes to playfully shove you.

His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder; so warm, in fact, that you can feel the rise in temperature even through the sleeve of the thin, cropped T-shirt that you’ve put on this morning. 

It doesn’t take you by surprise. For as long as you’ve known him, Yuuji has been one to have blood as hot as molten lava running through his veins. You’re unsure how he survives it whenever the weather is scorching hot, like today for example – August has always proved to be a bitch whenever it comes to heat – but so far he seems to be doing just fine.

And while it may be weird to some, him being hot-blooded is the reason why you sometimes like to drag him into your bed during the winter months, when it’s cold and you come back home from work feeling like your toes have turned half-frozen in your shoes. Besides being provided with good company, he’s also like your own personal heater.

And that’s it. There’s nothing else to it; how could it be when he’s your stepbrother, for crying out loud! You grew up together and have lived under the same roof for years. He’s walked into your room just to leave the lights on and the door open so many times. You’ve endured his godawful Fortnite phase and have seen him be at his worst just as he did with you. The only feelings that you harbour for him are strictly platonic. 

You’re both pretty set on that.

“I should take that ice cream from ya as a form of punishment for being so mean to me,” said stepbrother teases now, pulling you back from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s grinning like a little boy. From ear to ear and in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Cute.

“Nu-uh,” you respond, allowing the evidently distrustful tone to lace your voice. “I licked it so it’s mine.”

“Tsch.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Like that’s ever been an issue before. C’mon, give.” 

“It is for me because unlike you, I’m not- Hey!” Before you can finish your sentence, he swipes the ice cream from your hand, successfully stealing it right in front of your nose.

You glare at him now, brow slightly furrowed in annoyance, as Yuuji proceeds to lick the melting sweet with exaggerated delight. Since whatever was left of the scoop sank deeper into the cone, you realize that you’re unexpectedly intrigued by the fact that he needs to push his tongue out a little more to get to it. 

And he does; of course he does. He twirls it across the flat, creamy surface, and it’s not long before the inside of his mouth is coated in milky pink and there’s a hum of overly satisfied approval sounding from the back of his throat.

You’re unsure how to feel about the entire thing, but you definitely don’t dwell on it.

“Mmm,” he purrs, squeezing his eyes shut. He even makes sure to go as far as to smack his lips. “Mmm-mmm-mm! So good.”

For whatever reason, you feel your stomach do a weird spin as you listen to the sounds he’s making now. It’s like there’s an instant flash of heat searing through your body, similar to the pesky one that you get in the middle of the night when you’re hormonal and on your period, but before you can even properly acknowledge it, it’s gone as fast as it came.

“Again: you’re so gross,” you manage to say with a huff that’s supposed to be disapproving but doesn’t sound like that at all. The shake of your head that you add to the jab also feels somewhat unnatural. Every one of your mannerisms does, actually.

Yuuji, seemingly blissfully ignorant of your inner turmoil, laughs before he takes a giant bite out of the side of the cone and finally hands it back to you.

“Hey, at least my hands ain’t sticky this time.”

———

The house is empty when you come back home that evening.

This too is not much of a surprise, really. Your parents have been gone for the last couple of days, enjoying their yearly vacation to the seaside that neither you nor Yuuji could attend this time because of your work schedules. 

So while your mom and his dad are basking in the sun and drinking sugary cocktails, you’re waking up at six in the morning every day to make it to your dull desk job in time, and he’s stuck flipping burgers at McDonalds and honing his social skills in the drive-through booth for eight hours every day.

Poor, poor you.

“Did you see the drinks they’re having over there? Gosh,” Yuuji grumbles on this exact topic as he throws himself onto the couch and flicks the TV on. His expression looks mildly conflicted at the list of movies he’s being offered by the streaming service you’re both leeching off of, but it eases back into neutral as soon as he rests his feet atop the coffee table and crosses his ankles. “They even had those fancy umbrellas on the top and everythin’.”

“There, there,” you say, quickly patting his knee before sitting down beside him. You’re not sure why, but you pay extra attention to the small sliver of distance that you keep between his leg and your own now. The feeling from earlier didn’t fully go away yet, so touching him or him touching you still feels kind of odd.

Meanwhile, Yuuji doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all, because now he’s resting his head against your shoulder, invading your personal space whilst he pouts.

The action is nothing unusual for him – it’s normal, he does it all the time – and yet you still swallow thickly, trying to ignore the sudden hyper awareness. 

“What is it now, you big baby?” you manage to muster out, taking the remote from him.

“Eh… It’s nothing,” he says.

“Aha,” you say.

“Well… It’s just that I want nachos and cocktails with fancy umbrellas, too!” he bristles at your prodding, pressing the side of his face even further into your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek because of it.

“We have nachos at home,” you utter, trying to avoid the ticklish sensation.

“Yeah. Shitty tortilla chips that come in a bag, with a side of tasteless dip from the fridge,” he quips. “Yum.”

You stifle your laughter. He’s making such a big deal out of a silly thing like nachos. “I’m pretty sure they all come in a bag, Yuu… Come to think of it, theirs are probably stored in one of those big, wholesale bags that most food places get.”

“Well, I want the wholesale ones, then.”

“You’re pretty set on this, huh?”

He just gives you a look.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you ramble, pulling back just enough to make him lift his head and look at you properly. “How about… we try to make semi-decent nachos and cocktails with what we have, and have ourselves a little movie night since we’re both off work tomorrow and we definitely deserve it after all the pain and suffering we’re going through?”

Yuuji muses. “All you do at your job is sit behind a desk all day.”

You feel your eyes narrow. “So?”

“So,” he says, sounding smug. “I’d hardly call that pain and suffering.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you chide. “I wasn’t aware that your job also consisted of crawling underneath barbed wire and coming face to face with excruciating death between all those burgers you flip.”

He pokes you in the side for the insult. After jumping a little bit at the ticklish sensation, you make sure to immediately return the favour.

“Do you want those cocktails or not, Ronald McDonald?”

Yuuji stretches his arms above his head and yawns before he gets ready to stand up. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s make ‘em fancy.”

He follows you into the kitchen then, where you both work to recreate the vacation food and drinks to the best of your – and your pantry’s – capabilities. 

The nachos end up being surprisingly decent after you sprinkle some shredded cheese on top and give them a spin in the microwave. The cocktails, on the other hand, are a mixture of cheap wine from the corner store and coke, adorned with pieces of sliced pineapple at the top because you sadly ran out of cute paper umbrellas, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

Though in the end, everything works out just fine.

You have yourselves a nice, perhaps you could even call it relaxing kind of evening. You change into your comfortable pyjama shorts and tank top, he gets rid of his T-shirt because he prefers being shirtless during the summer, and you play a couple rounds of his favourite game again; all of which you lose because Yuuji decides that he isn’t holding back this time. Afterwards, you watch a movie that isn’t all that good necessarily, but isn’t half bad either, and take rather hefty sips of your makeshift cocktails.

By the time the credits start to roll, you’re both feeling a little buzzed and warm in the face. Neither of you feels like calling it a night just yet, though – being off work the next day at the same time happens so rarely, after all – so you decide on watching something equally as uneventful and drinking some more.

So that is how both yourself and Yuuji end up drinking more than you’d initially planned. The alcohol becomes easier to swallow down when you’ve already numbed out your taste buds and have adapted them to the cheap, shitty wine flavour. It even makes the pineapple slices look cool.

And now you’re both drunk. Not shitfaced, per se, but definitely more than tipsy. Enough that it’s making your vision a little bit blurry around the edges, your limbs soft and pliant, and your mind fuzzy. Enough that it’s making you feel like you could do just about anything you’d set your mind to.

You’re both giggling like morons as you sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch. He’s desperately trying to tell you a story about one of his co-workers, who, according to him, is supposed to be very weird, but he keeps on slurring his words and keeps on losing track so often that it’s making the entire thing outright incomprehensive.

“Dude-” Your voice falters as yet another set of giggles pushes its way out. Goddamn alcohol. “You have got to stop laughing and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me about this weirdo, because if you don’t, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking lose my shit.”

“Listen… Jus’ listen-” 

“I am listening, you dumbass!” you interrupt, reaching over to flick his forehead. He flinches at the action.

“No, but like,” he mumbles now, rubbing the aching spot. “I want to tell you, but at the same time… I kind of don’t.”

This instantly succeeds in sparking your interest. There’s something he’s unsure about telling you? How curious; you tell each other everything!

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees. “How so?”

Yuuji’s eyes flicker towards the television for a quick second. The movie is still playing – it bathes half of his face with light and the other half in shadows. 

Much to your bafflement, he sheepishly bites his lip before he says, “‘Cause it’s a secret.”

“A secret? Really?” You groan as you grab the small decorative pillow just so that you can throw it his way. Despite his intoxicated state, he’s still rather quick to deflect it. It lands on the ground soundlessly.

“What was that for?” he asks now, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I dunno,” you say, bristling. “Did it maybe ever cross your mind that telling me that is only gonna make me want to hear it more?”

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. “I guess…?”

You give him a pointed glare. “You know how much I love secrets, Yuu!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

You pout in answer, clearly unsatisfied.

Yuuji looks at you, his expression slipping into something that’s a bit more sincere and apologetic. He watches as you continue to avoid eye contact and push out your bottom lip, clearly trying to appear upset as much as you possibly can in order to get him to change his mind.

Sooner or later, it ends up working.

A person like him is so giving… Who is he to ever tell you no?

“Oh, fine,” he says, sighing with defeat. “Just pinky promise that you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

Your grin is pleasantly lazy because of the alcohol that’s still coursing your veins as you chirp, “Of course.”

He hooks your pinkies together and shakes them from side to side lightly as if it’ll help solidify the promise better.

“So, what’s the secret?” you ask when you pull your hand back and use it to support your cheek.

After a short moment of silence, he finally forces himself to blurt out, “My co-worker, he, uh… He thinks you’re hot.”

You stare at him, arching one eyebrow. “Wait, that’s it?”

Yuuji can feel his entire face tingling with heat now. The blush that steadily continues to bloom makes his skin slightly itchy, but he refrains from scratching it. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You watch him closely. 

“What?” he inquires, not liking the fact that you aren’t saying anything. The flush of red has crept down to his neck now.

“You’re lying,” you reply at long last, expression blank.

He sputters when he inhales a sharp breath, ready to defend himself. “Am not!”

You throw another pillow at him. He avoids this one, too. “Are too!”

“Stop throwing stuff at me!”

“I will, if you tell me the secret!”

“I already did!”

“The actual secret, dumbass!”

“Fine… Fine! Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He also said that, umm…”

You enthusiastically gesture at him to continue when his voice fades into nothing again. Curiosity is threatening to eat you alive at this point. “Yes? He said what?”

“He said-” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. “He basically told me that if you were his stepsister, that he would’ve been all over you ages ago. Or whatever.”

You stare at him once more. He stares right back.

“What?” he asks again, this time slightly more nervous. His pupils are huge and the blush is starting to make him sweat. “What is it?”

After a moment that seems like forever, you repeat, “...That’s it?”

Yuuji feels like his heart has dropped to his ass. “What d’you mean that’s it?!”

“Exactly what I said,” you say, shrugging. “Your co-worker has a ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck’ fantasy. So what?”

“I-” Yuuji’s eyebrows draw so tightly together until there’s a small v etched between them. He pauses for a long time before he says, “Don’t you think that’s weird, though?”

“Not really.” You take another small sip from your glass and place it back onto the coffee table. “I mean, have you never noticed how popular it is in porn? Lots of people are into that kind of stuff.”

“N-no…” He stutters, somehow succeeding in turning even redder in the face. “I don’t-”

“Watch porn?” you offer quickly, already rolling your eyes.

“Not porn like that,” he quips, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically snippy. 

You chuckle at the tone he uses, attempting to tame the upward curl of your lips. Things are getting interesting and dirty – something you don’t get to encounter a lot whenever it comes to golden boy over here. “Well, what kind of porn do you watch, then?”

Oh, that is very bold. If it weren’t for the liquid courage, you doubt you’d dare ask the question. But it’s out in the open now.

Hanging in the tense air that’s between you two. Waiting. Preying.

“Not the stepsister kind,” he says in a low mutter, surprising you that he even chose to answer. “I’m not into that.”

You can’t help but let the smile show now. “How can you know if you’ve never seen it?”

Yuuji gawks before letting out a nervous laugh. “...What?”

“I said,” you repeat, leaning ever so slightly closer. Enough to make him feel on edge, but not enough to scare him away. “How can you know that you’re not into it-” There’s another pause, another closing of distance. His freckles are visible now. “If you’ve never seen it? Hmm?”

“I just-” He tenses up when your knee bumps into his. The short moment of contact is electrifying for some reason; it jumpstarts his heart into a far quicker rhythm. “I just, uh, do.”

You look him directly in his sweet honey eyes. “Yeah?”

And he immediately rushes to break eye contact. “Yeah.”

“You know,” you trail off innocently, patting his knee this time instead of ‘accidentally’ bumping it. Unlike before, though, your hand remains on his leg. “For someone who swears up and down to not be into it… You really don’t sound so sure about it to me.”

“Well, I am,” he protests in a heartbeat, however the bite that’s supposed to be in the statement isn’t quite there. 

The reason behind it might be because he’s quite tipsy and can’t bring himself to be firm with you. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s staring at his lap when he says it; right at the spot where you’re still touching him.

Your hand feels so warm as it sits on his thigh. And pleasant. 

He doesn’t exactly… want it to go away.

You watch as he huffs in defeat and shakes his head with evident frustration the thought must have evoked. It causes a giggle to bubble up your throat from how entertained you are. You don’t even try to stop it this time.

He could tell you off, call you names, push you away, whatever… But he doesn’t. 

No, he’s just too good of a big brother.

So you allow the flat of your palms to rest on both of his knees now. Still careful, though not nearly as much as before. Meanwhile, your own knees dig into the softness of the couch as you readjust your weight forward so that you can lift yourself just enough to be eye level with him.

Guilty anticipation pools inside his gut and turns him frazzled when you use the momentum to invade his personal space even further. All of a sudden, you find yourself nose to nose with your cutesy stepbrother. Chest to chest. So close that he can feel the heat of your breath on his lips and smell the fading scent of your perfume mixing with thin layers of sweat and sunscreen. 

“Prove it, then,” you say. Your voice could barely be considered above a whisper but the silence that follows after it is so loud.

Yuuji gulps from how unnerving this entire situation has become. Gulps. “Prove… Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re not into it.”

Thump, thump, thump! His heart is going wild. “How?”

“Watch it with me.” You move your hands upwards ever so slightly as you speak the words, but it’s not long before you’re sliding them all the way up to his thighs. 

They’re strong, his legs, and the muscles in them flex and harden underneath your touch, making the lines of his gorgeous, so profoundly male-like physique all the more defined. The hairs there are lighter in colour and they’re silky smooth. They tickle the tips of your fingers when you finally let them settle at the very edge of his gym shorts. 

Digging your nails into his skin just enough to make him jump a little, you add, “Please?”

God, you’re so drunk and… something else. Your pupils are huge; so big that Yuuji swears he can see himself in them, and the laugh you let out a moment later is girlish and kind of breathless. 

And he, well, he just looks so goddamn confused in response to it. Like a little puppy that’s been caught doing something naughty and bad. Big, round eyes, twitchy upper lip and everything.

“I, umm… I dunno,” he chokes out finally. He feels like coughing so that he can clear his throat, but he somehow manages to stifle the annoying sensation. “I just… I’m not so sure about that-”

“Pleeease, Yuuji,” you repeat, pushing, pushing, pushing. You even start pouting right at him as a means to get him to budge. “I wanna!”

Fuck.

The whine that’s appeared in your voice now makes his cock involuntarily twitch. What the actual fuck, his dick is responding to you – his baby sister. Little by little, blood is rushing south; right below his waistline until he can feel warmth slowly taking over every inch of his lower half. He tries to make it stop, to put an end to it, to slow it down at the very least, but his efforts prove to be completely useless.

His throat feels scratchy and dry now from not allowing himself to cough, and his skin feels too tight on his face. It makes him rasp as he says, “You, uh, you wanna?”

“Mhmm,” you purr in a mere instant, squeezing his thighs again just the tiniest bit. Goddammit, since when did those parts start feeling so fucking sensitive? “Wanna… wanna see you start sweating a little when you realize that your dick is getting hard over dirty shit like stepcest, you know? Wanna prove you wrong.”

A second twitch, a second rush of blood. Yuuji’s stomach spins and tightens with anxiety. His nerves go haywire. With each passing second, he can feel his cock getting heavier in his shorts. Can feel pre-cum turning the front of his underwear more and more sticky. Can feel his mind going dizzy with quick-paced lust.

You’re just so goddamn close. Staring right at him, with your tits almost on full display in that tiny thing you call a shirt, and with that infuriating, shit-eating smirk plastered on your lips. Kneeling right between his legs, talking about stepbrothers fucking stepsisters, allowing your breaths to intermingle as if it’s no big deal.

But that’s not all. Besides being too close for comfort, he’s also pretty sure that you’re quietly hinting at the possibility of something happening tonight, like letting him stuff your pussy with his cock. Hell, forget stuffing – even just seeing it would be nice. 

Not that he’s ever thought about laying eyes on his sister’s cunt, much less filling it, but now that this entire thing is unfolding in real time, before his very eyes, and he swears that he can feel the tips of your fingers subtly brushing against the ridge of his hard-on over his clothes… He doesn’t feel like refusing the idea necessarily, if it were to actually happen.

Fuuuck!

“It-it won’t,” Yuuji stammers in one last attempt at keeping his sense of morality, however all he does is end up fumbling over his own damn self like some pathetic loser. He’s so red in the face, it’s obvious now. “I, ah, I already told you-”

His sentence gets interrupted by a sudden kiss that you press right onto his still half-open mouth. 

You don’t know what exactly it is that compels you to do it, but here you are. Kissing your big brother. Latching yourself to him. Offering him things you shouldn’t.

Oh, here you are, all right.

The kiss itself is clumsy, rash, idiotic. Your teeth clash as you hurry forward to wrap your arms around his neck, and there’s a small, muffled noise – that terribly sounds like a squeal of excitement – escaping your lips when his big hands find your waist and he yanks you forward until you’re fully seated on his lap.

One second ago you were merely looking at each other, tip-toeing the line but never quite overstepping it, and now you’re grinding against one another like animals in heat, tangling tongues and tasting each other’s spit. Everything happens so fast and it’s all based on pure instinct and executed with zero thinking, because if it happened any other way, you’d surely regret it.

He tastes like pineapple and the lousy chewing gum that he bought back at the corner store earlier in the afternoon but spat out pretty soon after. You shouldn’t find the odd combination of flavours that good, you know this, but right now the inside of his mouth tastes like sweet, sweet heaven.

And possible release.

“Fuck, Yuu,” you pant between messy kisses, running your fingers along his undercut. “You’re so hard, look… Proves me right, mm?”

Yuuji wants to tell you to shut up, to stop saying things like that, to stop making him feel both so guilty and turned on at the same time because it’s complicated and he doesn’t fucking know what to make of it.

But all he ends up saying instead is, “Yeah...”

Because, as always, he’s simply too good of a big brother. Too good to tell you no.

Especially when you’re right.

And even if your big brother’s cock is hiding underneath several layers of clothing, you can still feel it pressing firmly between your legs now. Thick and heavy and in urgent need of some tender affection; a little sisterly love, if you will. It’s making you grow more and more expectant of what’s to come. There’s no space for shame left.

His size seems promising – at least judging by the feel of it. Each time you push your weight against him, circling your hips a little, he responds by pushing you down even further with the help of his hands on your hips; spreading your folds slightly apart and allowing the seam of your shorts to dig straight into your clit.

Your breathing grows laboured because of it. Slowly but surely, you’re becoming a hot mess of mm’s and ahh’s. And Yuuji, poor, sweet Yuuji, is nowhere near to being any better after he’s forced to hear all of it.

He’s sweating like crazy. Is throbbing between his legs. Is trying to tame his pulse but it just keeps on hammering and ringing inside his ears. The blush is making his entire face itch all over again and his clothes feel too tight on his body. What else is there?

Oh, even his heart feels like it’s jammed itself inside his throat when he pulls back just enough to break the string of saliva that’s bridging the narrow space between your mouths and asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Just fuck me already, god,” you hiss in response. You’re so sexually frustrated that it’s making you pissy.

Neither of you has planned this nor expected this to happen, but you’ve both been feeling lonely, terribly single; are yearning to be touched. It’s been a while for the two of you, shit happens and people get too busy to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, and you both consider the other to be attractive, so… why not?

Why not? Maybe because this entire thing could, quite possibly, be a disaster in the making.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a disaster when Yuuji’s hands wrap around your sides and slam you down on the couch. Doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he blindly hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and you bring your legs closer to your chest and lift your hips a little so that he can tug them off easier.

Either he’s too impatient to wait or he did it by complete accident, but he manages to pull down your panties right along with your shorts. They’re both left dangling from your left ankle now, hanging uselessly and completely forgotten because he’s too busy trying to push himself inside you.

His back is hunched and his rosy lips are parted as he sucks in and exhales sharp breaths above you. They fan your forehead, cooling the sweat that’s gathered there, only causing you to shiver. 

You press your foreheads together when you lift yourself slightly with the help of your elbows so that you can reach between you, tug his waistband low just enough to expose him and guide him inside you. He grits his teeth, baring them like a threatened animal as soon as your fingers curl around the base of his cock, mindlessly stroking the impressive length, spreading the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip without any sense of patience.

Neither of you looks into each other’s eyes; all of your attention is aimed at the spot where you almost connect. After all, his fat cockhead is bumping against your sticky pussy now, inconsistently gliding up and down and smearing arousal. Every time he teases your entrance, your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you cling onto him a little harder.

“Yuujiii,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so harshly that you fear you might have drawn blood. He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of your voice. “What’re you waiting for?! Put it iiin!”

“Yeah… Y-yeah, okay,” he bites out, trying to stop the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek. His arms feel like giving in but the muscles in his biceps still flex and shudder with anxiety and anticipation when he finally presses in.

His cockhead pushes past the initial ring of muscle pretty effortlessly from how wet you’ve gotten from mere kissing and a little bit of grinding. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making you so pliant and eager, but it’s easy to open your legs wider so that you can let in even more of him.

Yuuji feels dizzy; like the entire world is spinning. You’re underneath him, panting so loudly and you’re so warm inside, so accepting, so wet. Your pussy hugs him just right, walls squeezing around his girth, sucking him in further. The sensation makes him drop his entire weight right on top of your writhing body the second he allows himself to slowly rock into you and sink balls deep.

He hides his face into the crook of your neck as he begins to lazily thrust inside you, doing whatever feels best because he can’t possibly bring himself to form thoughts right now. In and out, the strokes are long, slow and deep. So deep, in fact, that they make you wince each time he hits the sweet spot that’s hiding inside.

You’ve ended up so close yet again; with your limbs intertwined and your bodies pressed tightly together that your shirt is crinkling between you. It rides up with the movement of his hips slamming against your own, exposing your stomach, making you stick to each other from how sweaty you’ve gotten.

“Nngh… You feel… s’good,” he grits out, quiet moaning already lacing his voice. His breathing has gotten so heavy that it’s creating moisture on the small patch of skin on your neck that he’s got his mouth pressed against. “Won’t last long… Ca-ah… Can’t.”

He sounds so fucking drunk as he continues to say pure nonsense into the side of your throat and keeps on pressing you into the softness of the couch. Not only on alcohol, but also on your pussy it seems. 

It makes him practically start pounding into you now. Abusing your tight little hole. He slips one arm underneath you and pulls you even closer so that he can steady himself a little bit, and wetness squelches between you as a result. Skin slaps against skin, breaths intermingle. His fingers tangle into your hair crudely – it hurts when he tugs at the roots even if you’re well aware that he doesn’t mean to.

He’s so big above you. So strong. So stupidly male. And he’s also gotten lost in the moment. For a second it makes you scared of him a little bit even if he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a real proper marshmallow. And it doesn’t help that his cock is as big as the rest of him is; stretching you so deliciously, splitting you wide open, causing tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes even if the booze that’s coursing your veins is supposed to numb you out to a size like that.

“Yuuji, wa- fuck, wait…!” You cross your ankles at his waist in an attempt to slow him down, heels panically digging into his back dimples and toes curling. 

“N-no, I can’t, please… Don’t make me wait, please, please, please, c’mon,” he babbles, still not slowing down, not stopping. His eyes are half-closed and they show concern, but they’re also dark and foggy when he lifts his head just enough to look at you. “Just a lil’ more, yeah…? Yeah? Just a lil’... Ugh, keep still just a bit longer- I’m almost there. So… mmh… close.”

You try to fight against him, tugging on his hair and sinking your nails into his back, but all he does is endure it, not really caring much about your thrashing and turning. He’s got you caged underneath him, crying out his name, clawing raw red lines into his broad back. It’s all drunken breeding instinct and no brain as he uses your body like a toy, and the realization that you can do nothing but take it is terrifying as much as it is thrilling.

His pounding has turned borderline ruthless by now and in his urgency to cum, he’s pushed himself so deep inside you that you’re pretty sure he’s fucked his way straight into your goddamn womb. In his weak attempt to make you last until the end, he’s even started to messily rub irregular circles into your clit.

It makes a thin line of drool dribble down the corner of your mouth from how fucked out you’ve become in a mere fifteen minutes. The overstimulation is probably completely accidental, but it achieves the same result just the same. He outright forces the climax out of your body, and the second he feels you squeeze around him, abused pussy trying to milk him dry, he’s giving in, not resisting anymore, shooting his load inside you in an instant.

The groan he lets out is almost like a growl. He arches his back again, balls tightening, grip almost turning iron-like. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it fills you in steady waves of pleasure. 

You both stay still for a long while after that, trying to gather your senses, attempting to calm down your trembling. His cum is warm and sticky; tacky between your thighs. It starts to drip out of your hole by the time his cock softens enough to create more space. 

There’s just so much of it. A fuckload.

And he’s still breathing so hard. You both are.

“I’m so sorry… Fuck, I-” he rasps out. His mouth is so dry that he feels like he could chug an entire jug of water, but he pushes that need away for now in order to get a good look at you instead. “I just- I-”

Yuuji stops mid-sentence when he sees you push two of your fingers between your legs before bringing them up in front of your face again. He watches, eyelids heavy, as you spread them then, toying with the glimmery, cloudy white substance that’s gathered there until you gently push them inside your mouth, licking his release right off of your fingertips.

His jaw almost hits the floor. He’s so baffled by what he’s just seen that he barely registers the fact that his cock is trying to get hard again, throbbing against his thigh.

“What?” is all you say in response to the incredulous look that sits on his face now. Your voice is muffled from the way you keep your mouth stuffed full.

“I licked it so it’s mine.”

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello! Can I plz request Alastor x Doe! Reader where he meets Charlie's best friend who's the reader and becomes possessive over her, maybe his instincts tell him to mark the reader as his mate. The reader is a white doe. :)

Yessss i love this idea teehee i maybe got carried away and also i unintentionally made this sort gender neutral and a teeny tiny speck of smut, i hope that’s okay if not it’s at the very end so it’s skipable, hopefully i did your idea justice and hope you enjoy!! thank you so much for this xx

At first sight

PART TWO PART THREE

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: SMUT 18+, doe reader only describes white ears tail and pink nose rest is ambiguous, possibly corny ahh dialogue, love at first sight kinda trope, angel/hellborn reader, slightly OOC Al y’know smut love, reader cooks, biting & briefly blood, penetrative sex, reader makes deal with al to give themselves to him, swearing, NOT PROOFREAD I think that’s it lmk if i missed anything!!

Charlie ran manically around the hotel, fixing various things and studying the entire building under a microscope to ensure it looked its best. Zipping her way to the lobby, she caught the gaze of Angel Dust, who was in the middle of sucking down a frozen popsicle.

“Be nice today! Look your best, oh oh! No porn on the TV!” Charlie shouted rushed and frazzled as she came up beside Angel to fluff out the couch cushions. Husk watched silently ears zeroed in on the conversation unwillingly, focusing mainly on Angel. “Geez toots, what’s got your feathers in a bunch?”

Angel smiled amused by Charlies odd demeanour. “My best friend since, like, forever is coming here today! To see the hotel!” Charlie exclaimed lurching forward to grip Angels shoulders. Smirking at her Angel continued to suck on the popsicle. “So what, is this broad special or something?”

Charlie leaned back pulling her hands down her face, an exasperated groan crawling out from her throat. “Yes! Her mother was friends with my mom when they first came to hell, her mom ended up falling for a hell spawn and we born around the same time,” Charlie explained ringing her hands while pacing.

“She’s my best friend we grew up together, i’m worried she won’t like what i’m doing here.” Charlie finally confessed with a sigh, her body deflating as she herself came to terms with the fact she was afraid. Vaggie lingering in the background finally approached Charlie sticking her hand out to message her arm comfortingly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine toots! Plus she’s a born sinner! Ain’t no way anything here’s gonna be shocking her.”

Despite her worry she could admit Angel Dust was right, AND you’re her best friend there’s no way you’d be unnecessarily cruel to her dreams, you were always supportive and imaginative along with her. Smiling down at Angel, Charlie then plopped down beside him, resting her hooves after hours of hecticily running around. “You’re right Angel, thank you.” Angel hummed out an arrogant ‘you’re welcome’ while Vaggie circled the couch leaning over the back of it.

“So how long has it been since you’ve seen them?” Vaggie asked poking Charlie’s cheek. Looking away she counted on her fingers before turning to look at Vaggie. “Four years, they stayed with me while I tried getting over the absence of my mom; they live in wrath though and eventually went back.” Clapping her hands Charlie stood from the couch her brief moment of hoof rest over, the three sinners watching as she muttered to herself about everyone being on their best behaviour while walking off, clearly the talk only did a little to hush her nerves.

~

Standing outside the hotel doors your ears twitched at the sounds coming from beyond it, it’s clear as day that Charlie was instructing people to behave, be nice, and- not show you porn? Suddenly the door opened startling you slightly but that quickly wore off when you were greeted by the joyous face of your best friend Charlie. Tugging you into a bear hug, Charlie squealed about how excited she was, you naturally fell into her giving her a warm tight hug right back.

“I am so glad you’re here! I’m so happy to see you!” Charlie exclaimed pulling back and examining you. You hadnt seemed to change much to Charlie, the white tail you had wagged behind you happily, your equally platinum ears relaxed occasionally twitching at the sounds around you, your pink deer like nose that was perfectly contrasted with your skin colour.

It was clear you were half an angel, and Charlie lemented, when you two were younger, that she was jealous you had a more animalisitc appearance in comparison to her, but you reminded her that it didn’t matter because she was still as gorgeous as ever. “I’m so glad to be here! I was starting to think you’d never end up inviting me.” You laugh warmly.

Charlie beckoned you inside linking your arms together, the two of you walked inside. Vaggie was punctuated and ready to great you as you came further into the room. “Hi, I’m Vaggie-“ Vaggie was cut off promptly by Charlie who excitedly pulled her into a bear hug, cheek to cheek. “My girlfriend!” Charlie finished with a shout.

Your ivory tail flicked behind you happily as you grinned. “Holy shit! You’ve got a girlfriend? Damn we really need to catch up! Its so nice to meet you Vaggie.” You smile shaking her hand as she stuck it out, Vaggie only nodded smiling seemingly quite reserved.

After some rushed introduction of those around the room including Husk, Angel, Nifty, and Sir Pentious, Charlie took you to your room to settle in. Closing the door behind the two of you Charlie watched as you laid your suit cases down by the bed, unzipping them and pulling out your clothing. “Sooo,” Charlie trailed hands tucked behind her back as she wandered around the vacant room.

“You remember Alastor right? The radio demon?” Charlie questioned, sounding suspicious. Looking up from your folded laundry you quirked a brow fearing where this might be heading. “Yes… i do.” You say slowly, fixing your posture waiting for her to turn to you, but she seemed rather interested in the wallpaper. “Well… y’know… this hotel takes a lot…. and when i first started…” Charlie trailed off gazing out the open window, stepping towards her you carefully placed a hand on her shoulder.

Looking at you she knew there was no sense in keeping such a prominent part of the reason this hotel was possible secret. “Alastors here, he helped since the start. He hasn’t asked for anything in return and he’s already fought for us!” Charlie spat the words out so fast you barely had time to comprehend. You and her were raised around each other meaning you had the same interactions with many of the princes’, sins, and hellborn, but human overlords were always were more…. well they weren’t used to power and immortality so they often over did it, Alastor was no different from what you were aware of.

“Are you sure having him is a good idea? Does your dad know?” Charlie nodded confirming her dad did know. “Yeah he doesn’t know who Al is, and to be fair none of us did! I promise he’s not that bad. Give him a chance?” You hummed looking away as she looked to you, you didn’t want to upset her by the discomfort that would be evident in your eyes. You didn’t enjoy brawls and fights, and you fear the demon would initiate that.

“Well i suppose i could trust him if you do, but i am skeptical; you’re always seeing the light in demons, even when it’s not there.” You laughed out recalling some things of the past that ended poorly because of a Charlie’s trust in certain sinners. And though at times foolish it was still an admirable trait and you aspired to be as kind hearted as she could be. “Where’s the guy anyways?” You asked after a short moment of pondering.

Charlie shrugged looking as if she was trying to recount the day. “Well he did say he had a meeting with Rosie,” She muttered quietly, although you didn’t know who Rosie was, you didn’t bother questioning it instead you pat Charlie on the shoulder, telling her that you’d like to get some rest, and you’d worry about Alastor later.

And so you spent a bit of time unpacking your things and settling down, you always preferred to be more in touch with the animalistic parts of yourself so your belongings held a lot of earthy aesthetics to them. Sitting on your bed, stripped of the hotels sheets and remade with your own, you opened your laptop and began typing.

You had forgotten about Alastor for the most part but you remember Charlie brining it up as he began his tyranny after his death. Charlie had always been pretty involved with her people, mainly focusing her energy on human sinner so you weren’t surprised that she knew of him, you were however surprised she was so willing to let him in when he massacred her people.

After a few minutes of light research about the demon, you established with how long he was gone perhaps he would be willing to change however you’d keep up your guards just to be sure.

~

Humming to himself Alastor got ready for the day, though he rarely slept he did occasionally get into evening outfits if he was staying in. He fixed his hair, ensuring not a hair was out of place and with a finally dust of his sleeves, he materialized his microphone and trotted his way out of his room.

A new scent hit him the minute he got to the staircase, the reaction was instantaneous, his ears perked, his tail stiffened thank the hellions no one was around to witness his discomfort, because it was evident. Fixing his posture, and his smile, he pretended nothing was up and continued his way downstairs. He greeted Husk as usual, and like usual Husk only grunted at the demon.

Making his way into the kitchen Alastor was stunted in place by the sight in front of him. There you stood deer tail wagging, singing along to music as you mixed a bowl of who knows what together. Alastor observed you quietly as ever, and definitely not checking you out because that would be rude- however your tail was very much distracting.

Clearing his throat the static spitting out behind his voice, you jumped slightly at the sound of him, looking over your shoulder to where he stood at the kitchen entry. The two of you simply stared at each other for a moment, the song in the background seemingly quieter than before, as if the two of you were in your own little zone.

Alastor couldn’t describe the gravitational pull he had toward you, he would’ve been a fool to deny your beauty, but he’d never had issue admitting when a demon or person was beautiful, it didn’t matter to him, so he couldn’t grasp why you seemed to have an immediate effect on him.

You too felt similarly gawking at the sight of him, i mean you’d never seen pictures of him, only art or depictions, which really didn’t do him any good. You were honestly a little embarrassed, you thought he was incredibly handsome, contrary to your beliefs prior to this moment, and you felt a little silly to suddenly feel like going back on your apprehension about him simply because of how attractive he was.

Deciding to finally break the intense yearning gaze the two of you held, Alastor perked up stepping close to you swinging his hand out to shake. “Alastor darling, pleasure to meet you, quite the pleasure.” Going unnoticed by you, Alastor’s voice involuntarily dropped lower, making it come out more sultry than he’d ever done during an introduction. Of course Alastor was aware it wasn’t his normal voice and wondered why the hell he decided to modify his tone to come out as seductive as it did; was it just by nature?

“I’m YN, Charlie’s best friend. I don’t know if you knew i was staying but i am, surprise! Heh,” You say a little nervously sticking out your hand but quickly retracting it, as it was covered in dough. “I’m making bread and breakfast, do you like french toast?” You finish finally gaining the courage to meet his gaze properly.

His eyes were lidded, and he looked down at you only with his eyes keeping his head forward, which made you feel some type of way. He had such a big presence, height aside, that would make anybody on the receiving end of his heated gaze, shrink. “I suppose i wouldn’t mind a little bite to eat, tell me little doe, how do you make such a meal?”

Of course Alastor knew what french toast was, but he’d much prefer to play stupid so he could listen to you speak, and have you look up at him so deliciously. “Well, i’m making some homemade no yeast bread, and then i’m gonna do the egg and frying, normally i mix some cinnamon and honey in, but i might not since i don’t know what you guys like. A lot of people put syrup, but i can’t stand it; too sticky.” You explained mixing all of your ingredients, turning to him you smiled.

“Would you mind greasing the pan for me, please?” Alastor nearly purred at you with how you requested his help he would’ve bent himself backwards if it meant you’d ask him like that again. The way these emotions hit him in the gut; the undeniable feeling of desire he was trying to fight against was incredibly intense and oddly, he liked it. “Of course my dear, whatever you wish, i shall see to.” With the snap of his fingers his hair had been pulled back, suit jacket gone, leaving him in only his white button up, and a pink apron.

Shamessly your eyes roamed his figure watching as he began to grease the pan with his hand. His eyes still lidded and smile relaxed. You enjoyed how he stood tall and relaxed, and it was only now when you caught a peek of his red tail that you realized; “You’re a deer?”

Alastor paused momentarily, eyes lazily difting toward you. He didn’t mind that you saw his tail, and he was a little surprised you lacked to notice he was a deer. “What did you think i was sweetheart?” Alastor exclaimed his entertainment persona peeking through as he did. You peeled your eyes away feeling a little bad for staring at him, instead you focused on placing the bread into the bow greased pan before responding. “Maybe a fox, but to be honest i didn’t think too much about it.”

Alastor hummed in agreement, watching as you placed the bread in to the oven. There weren’t many does Alastor has seen, many bucks but does were more of a rarity. The two of you made breakfast, bantering about things here and there and getting to know one another.

“What’s earth like?” You asked watching him prepare dough for beignets which he insisted you tried as it was a lousiana breakfast staple- but also because he wanted to have you to himself just a bit longer, and show off his cooking skills. “What do you mean dear?” Alastor questioned brows furrowed slightly, but his inquiry came soft with no judgement. “I’m not human, moms an angel, dad was one of the few hell borns that kinda just popped up, we don’t know where he went to though, anyways i’ve never seen the earth.”

Now that, was news to him. He suspected you were something special based off the tugging feeling he had toward you, but being a literal angel wasn’t something he would’ve bet on, but should’ve guessed on. Without a worry in his mind, Alastor happily told you about his home in new orleans, what it was like being a radio host, how in got into voodoo, how he new some cajun french, as well as his mother.

Leaning on the counter head rested on his hand, looking at you dreamily while the beignets fried. “My mother was an angel, she was my biggest supporter at the time, the reason i kept pushing. I have the upmost respect for mothers like mine.” You, as equally lost in the dream like bliss Alastors presence brought you, smiled at his story’s ogling at the man who spoke so highly of his mom. “That’s the sweetest Alastor, I wish i could’ve met the woman who made you into such a gentlemen.” You flirt subtly gently patting his arm.

Alastor hummed a lovesick smile on his face his tail wagging happily behind him as the two of you continued to yap. Tails syncing with the way they swayed unnoticed by you two as you lost yourselves in eachother, also going unnoticed was Charlie giddy as could be, in the background jumping up and down. Slipping away to Vaggie, Charlie gripped her like she was her life line. “YN and Alastor are totally going to get together! Ahh!” Charlie squealed shaking a limp Vaggie back and forth.

~

“Mhm Alastor please please please,” You chant wrapped tightly around the demons waist, as he pressed you up against your dresser. After a full day of being alongside Alastor the tension snapped between you two, although it took a few things to get there. First Angel hitting on you right after breakfast, it made Alastor seethe the symbols and static materializing as he watched Angel hit on you. It made Alastor realize such a sweet doe like you must be marked, can’t have other buck or demon filth thinking they can just put there hands on you.

The second thing that egged him on was when the two of you went for a stroll together, and while in a store witnessed a demon repeatedly harass you while you simply tried to pick out a dress! Alastor apologized for the blood shed, but he professed he needed to obliterate that demon to protect you and that would be the only time he would ever put you in a position to see such things. Which made your heart flutter, you felt the desire to have him protect you, it’s not like you couldn’t do it yourself but it made you weak in the knees to have a demon like Alastor jumped to protect you.

Thrusting into you needily, Alastor growled like a mad man his hand climbing up your body to grab your cheeks gently fixing your gaze up to him. “You’re mine,” Static laced his tone as he hissed out at you, pushing his body flush to yours. Moaning like a whiny porn star, you nodded in your head in a daze. “My mate,” He muttered again breathing deeply as he clenched his teeth.

Reaching your hands up to grab his antlers that sprout, you couldn’t help the way your body shook and the way you lewdly moaned. You felt so electrified and couldn’t contain the pleasure Alastor was making you feel. “Please Al, I love it so good,” You whined against his lips, his smile closed and strained as his lips brushed against yours, your breath tickling him as you whined.

Smashing your lips together Alastor picked up the pace feeling like a wild animal. He wanted you, forever, he wanted you to be his one and only, his only doe. Making himself hornier with the thought of having you all to himself his static crackled loudly as he thought up something mischievous. Pulling back from your heated kiss, you whined begging him to kiss you, touch you and fuck you, smiling at you in your disheveled state, a green huge suddenly engulfed the room.

The two of you lit up like neon as symbolize shined in the background. “Give yourself to me little doe, be my mate for entirety and the world is yours, anything you or your friends want i will give you. I can’t let such a thing like you go, i need you.” Alastor statically said, it sounded quite ominous but you were too horny to pick up on that, you could only pay attention to the need you had between your legs and in your heart. Alastor wanted you to be his forever, linked to you for eternity. Perhaps it was the fact that you were both deer that you two had this simultaneous connection, but regardless you couldn’t care you just wanted him back as much as he wanted you.

Thrusting yourself upward into him, you gripped his hand, while clenching down on him at the same time. “Yes, always i’m yours only; it’s a deal.” You moaned. Growling demonically Alastors green disputes like electricity, escaping this room and flowing through the hotel like wave. Feeling his heart bloom Alastors ears clipped back as he jackhammered into you, the dresser slamming against the wall while you squealed a little giggle bubbling out from how needy he became. That giddiness left as a violent hot mass washed over you, screaming out a moan you clutched Alastor, singing out his name through moans of appreciation as he coaxed you with praises through your orgasm.

It shook your body, and soon after Alastor came to a halt inside you, biting down hard on your neck. You moaned his name, not even feeling pain as he sunk his teeth into you down to the gum. After a few moments of licking up your blood he pulled away gazing into your fucked out eyes. As you were about to tell Alastor that you needed to figure out why you were both so suddenly connected, Charlie bolted in.

“YOU MADE A DEA- FUCK IM SORRY!” Within the span of two seconds Charlie had two separate panic attacks, one because she saw the green deal making light shoot through the hotel while you were alone with Al, and the second right after she closed to door from seeing the two of you intertwined at the hips.

[nereidprinc3ss]

make me late

in which spencer finds a few minutes to spare with fem!reader in the morning

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering (here we go again), 'slutty' is used to describe an action but not by spencer, spencer slaps r's ass one (1) time, (hot), mild overstimulation a/n: apparently need to post at least one fingering fic per week or i'll fucking die. very short and sweet but as always let me know if you like it, i have a crush on all of you!

You’re used to Spencer’s alarm going off early in the morning—typically you tune it out or sleep right through it. Today, however, it rouses you more than usual. You roll over, blinking your eyes open. 

“Sorry,” Spencer mutters, finally turning it off and leaning over to kiss your head. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him down again when he tries to get out of bed.

“Don’t go,” you beg into his shirt, slinging a leg over him. His hand slips under your (also his) shirt, rubbing the bare skin of your back.

“I have to. You know that.” 

“I just want you to stay for a little bit,” you insist. 

“No you don’t,” he drawls, voice still gravelly with sleep, “You want to make me late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say innocently, burying your face further into his shirt as if you could extinguish the heat in your cheeks. 

His hand drops from your back to reach under your thigh, pushing your underwear to the side. You gasp when his fingers make contact with your soaked core, involuntarily pressing your hips closer. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Stop it! That’s not fair!” You squeal, attempting to wriggle away once you regain your senses. But the bastard wraps his arm around your waist like a vice, forcing you to stay in place as he sinks a finger into you with no preamble. Instead of satisfying him with a vocal response, you keep your face hidden in the crook of his shoulder and remain obstinately silent. When he begins to slowly pump his finger, you’re forced to bite the fabric of his shirt to shut yourself up. 

“If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll stop,” he says plainly, but obviously he knows that’s the last thing you want. His ring finger joins the other and your mouth falls open, a tiny, choked breath against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

Don’t give in, you say to yourself. Wait. What are you not giving in to? Fuck, that feels good. You hum quietly—an excellent display of self-control considering the noises you’re actively holding back. 

“Are we already getting whiny?”

“‘m not whining,” you bite. 

“You’re always whining.” There’s nothing to do but prove him right when he begins massaging that spot inside you with a practiced stroke of his fingers—the one that makes you arch your back further and spread your legs a little wider—makes you oh-so compliant and all together, a bit slutty. But Spencer has told you that by definition, you’re not a slut if it’s just him who you lose all self-respect around. “My pretty girl feels so good, huh?”

You agree with a mindless mumble, forgetting that you were ever going to try and fight the pleasure. 

“It feels so good.”

“I can tell, baby. Listen to the mess you're making.”

Soft, wet sounds emanate from where you’re probably dripping around his fingers. A moan is muffled by his shoulder as your own fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt and sink into the flesh of his waist—though you doubt he minds. 

“Please don’t stop, please please please—" It’s quiet, almost demure as you plead. 

“You’re so sweet when you get like this,” Spencer coos. “I wish you were always so well-behaved.”

No, he doesn’t. Both of you know he loves fucking the attitude out of you, and at times, back into you. But you’re not in any place to correct him right now, as his fingers slip in and out of you so quickly, exactly where you want to be touched. 

“Oh, right—right there, that’s—oh, god,” you squeak. 

Your face is still nuzzled in his shirt, your voice is still so delicate and weak with sleep, rising in pitch with your pleasure until it breaks. 

“Right here? This is where you need it?”

“Yes,” you practically cry, “I’m gonna come, Spence—” your hips rock back and forth to meet each stroke of his fingers inside you, vision going white with with pleasure. 

“Yeah? My pretty girl is gonna come all over my fingers?”

“Mhm!” You speed up the motion of your hips. He chuckles, which might offend you if you were in your right mind, but it’s early, and you’re tired, and your soul is trying to untether itself from your body. 

“Let me feel it, baby. I wanna feel you coming, can you do that for me?”

A breathy keen rushes from your throat as your orgasm begins to suck you out to sea like a riptide, flooding your lungs and blood and everything with so much easy pleasure you’re barely awake and you don’t care one bit. 

“Uh-huh, good girl,” Spencer murmurs, not letting up with his fingers as you fall through your orgasm. Another choked moan takes you by surprise when his free hand falls with a heavy clap to your ass, before rubbing the stinging flesh. “Let go a little bit longer, baby, I’m right here.”

You’re barely breathing, still seeing stars as he continues to fuck you leisurely with his fingers, more out of pure affection than anything else. Eventually he slips them out, teasing gently over your clit as your stomach tenses. But you let him keep going. You’ll do anything to keep him in bed for a few minutes longer. To that end, you gather enough breath to speak. 

“Can you please fuck me?” 

He hums pityingly, moving his hand from between your legs to lovingly soothe the tender skin he’d slapped just a moment ago. 

“You know I can’t, baby. I shouldn’t have even done this. I really have to get a move on.”

“But you did do this,” you say, eager to point out the fallacies in his argument, “which means you could also have sex with me and we could be really fast and you could just take less time getting ready for work.”

Your chin is now resting on his shoulder as you look up at him with wide, imploring eyes, and he leans down to kiss your nose. 

“The answer is going to stay no, sweet thing. I don’t care how much you beg.”

He’s already gently sliding you off of him and getting out of bed as you pout. A few moments pass, and you can’t think of a good retort as he moves about the room, gathering a towel for his shower and digging through the dresser. 

“You’re mean.”

“Aw, poor baby. You only got to come once. Nobody has ever had a harder life than you.” Spencer dodges the pillow you throw and laughs, coming back to lean over the bed as you glower at him. “I’m sorry I woke you up. If you can’t fall back asleep in the time it takes me to shower, I’ll make you fancy coffee.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll be extra nice to you when I get home.” He kisses your head and then your lips, and then disappears into the bathroom. 

In a completely predictable turn of events, you’re dead to the world by the time he gets out of the shower. He makes you the fancy coffee anyway, leaving it in a thermos on your nightstand. 

He’s late to work. He can't pretend to be sorry.

[lovlidollie]

dollie!reader who finds the cutest shirt online !!! it’s pink n pretty with the words on it outlined in sparkly gems, of course she just has to get it !! soon as she places the order (courtesy of rafe’s money obviously) she’s bouncin’ around the place, talking rafe’s ear off about how excited she is to show it off. he simply grumbles ‘n rolls his eyes, muttering a “yeah, yeah, dollface. ‘m sure ‘s perfect.” (he doesn’t really understand fashion — or more specifically her fashion — but he likes to entertain her anyway)

and then the day finally comes, the package is here !!! she’s so excited that she breaks a nail trying to rip the packaging apart, doesn’t even have time to mourn over it because she’s finally got the soft top in her hands. it’s even better than she could have ever dreamed off !! she’s running up the stairs, tiny kitten heels clicking loudly, excited giggles reverberating across the house. she’s ripping off the the outfit she already has on, a cute sleeveless cami ‘n skirt combo, before pulling the new shirt on, immediately squealing with delight ‘n prancing off to show rafe.

“look, look ray! took ages but it’s finally here, isn’t it so adorable?!” rafe’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees it… adorable .. was one way to describe it. in her excitement it seems like dollie somehow managed to buy the top in a size one too small .. maybe even two sizes.. it clings to her like a second skin. the low cut shows off more than enough cleavage, tits pressed together from how tight it is, jiggling lightly every time dollie impatiently moves. his mouth starts salivating when he notices her nipples poking through the material and in all honestly he feels like a perpetually horny teenager again. his lips quirk into one of his signature smirks once he catches what the shirt says; “all tits, no brains ♡"

rafe’s hands slide up her hips, gripping her waist tight, fingertips brushing the hem of the top. there’s a possessive glint in his darkened eyes, voice grittier when he speaks. “mmh — ‘s real adorable, baby. makes my girls look even better, dont’ya think?” he stands up, towering over her frame, grip over her body so strong that she naturally arches into him, glossed lips popping open with a gasp.

“listen uh — this is an inside shirt. y’get me? inside shirt. f’me. f’my eyes only. f’this house only… now how ‘bout you give daddy a spin, hm? wanna see my pretty doll.”