#so it’ll continue to go very slowly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joemama-2 · 2 months ago

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velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 12.7k (huhhhhh?) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation, mentions of miscarriage a/n: smidge more angst, delves more into yns internal thoughts & feelings series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“Sa…” you can’t even find it in yourself to finish that sentence, to utter his complete name. As if afraid that when you do, it’ll be like summoning some sort of demon. Only this time, it’s the father of your child—same thing.

He looks as shocked as you, if not more so. His eyes widen and then narrow in a rhythmic movement that makes you scared, anticipating whatever utterance will fall from his pretty lips. If only you could go back in time and deny even the thought of going on this whatever with Mr. Ito. Maybe then you could’ve been spared, at least given some time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing the face of the man who has been practically haunting you for five years. Maybe then, he wouldn’t look so…different.

“Ms. Y/N?” Mr. Ito’s confused voice snaps you both simultaneously out of the small staring contest you were just in. When Satoru finally acknowledges the other man, you can see a small tick on his eyebrows. Mr. Ito—well he’s not dumb. Every feature of Satoru reminding him of a small, much younger someone who happens to be in his kindergarten class. “O-oh…is this…do you two…know each other?”

What do you even say to that? Yes? No? Maybe so? It’s all so fucking confusing and complicated, but Satoru seems to save you. “And who are you?” he asks, voice flat and calculating. His eyes dart between you and Mr. Ito, like he’s trying to silently gauge what’s going on between you two. His analytical skills always seem to put you off, so you look away.

“Um…well, I’m Ms. Y/N’s son’s teacher. Nice to meet you.” Mr. Ito slowly explains, putting on a timid smile, outstretching his tan hand towards Satoru.

To no surprise, Satoru doesn’t reciprocate the welcome gesture. He is instead, clenching his fists by his side. You can see his jaw tick from your peripheral, as if he’s doing his damned hardest not to blow the hell up right now. “Are you now?”

Mr. Ito, caught in the middle of something he has no business in, glances around awkwardly. A weird chuckle leaving his mouth, lowering his hand back down to his side. “Um, yes, sir.”

“Funny,” Satoru laughs, though there’s no humor laced in it. He looks back down at you. “Very funny,” Satoru adds, his voice light, almost conversational. His sharp blue eyes flick from Mr. Ito to you, then back again, but there’s a glint in them you recognize all too well—calm, composed, and dangerous.

Mr. Ito doesn’t seem fazed, meeting Satoru’s gaze with polite confidence. “Yes, we were just discussing some things regarding her son,” he says, his tone smooth and professional. There’s a flicker of curiosity in his expression, though, as he glances between the two of you, clearly piecing things together.

“Were you now?” Satoru’s lips twitch into a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He then casually pulls out a chair from the table and sits, resting one arm on top of it as if he has all the time in the world. “And what kind of things are we talking about?”

With every second that passes, you feel yourself grow closer and closer to pissing your pants. You know exactly what he’s doing, it’s the calm before the storm. Satoru is great at saving face, but after knowing him so intimately, you know his true intentions and feelings. But still, you’re too frozen in place to stop it all before it gets out of hand.

“Well,” Mr. Ito replies, still composed but he spares a look at you before continuing. “Just a few concerns regarding his talkativeness.” Mr. Ito keeps it vague, still a little on edge by this sudden change of events.

Satoru lets out a low hum, nodding slightly. “Oh, he talks a lot, does he?” he says, his tone almost too soft, too soothing. His eyes slide to you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm. “And that’s become a problem?”

Mr. Ito nods.

Satoru smiles, arms crossing and one leg crossing over the other. “Must be a little troublemaker, he seems to take after his mom.”

The subtle barb stings, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. Mr. Ito, seemingly oblivious, smiles warmly. “Hah, well, I’m not sure who he takes after.”

“Correct.” Satoru simply responds.

Mr. Ito pauses then continues. “But, She’s an excellent parent,” he says, glancing your way. “We’ve had a few chats during pick-up. It’s always nice to see someone so involved in their child’s education.”

Satoru’s smile tightens ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he leans forward just a fraction. “It is nice, isn’t it?” he says smoothly, his voice calm but edged with something you can’t quite name. “I mean, a teacher like you must see all kinds of parents. You’ve really taken the time to notice Y/N, haven’t you?”

Mr. Ito hesitates for the first time, sensing the subtle shift in Satoru’s tone. “Well, I try to be passionate about connecting with all the parents of my students,” he replies, still polite but less certain now.

Satoru’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it widens slightly, though his eyes remain cold. “Of course,” he says, leaning back as if completely at ease. “You’re just doing your job. Going above and beyond, I see.”

You can feel the tension radiating off Satoru, even if he’s doing his best to appear calm. It’s in the way his fingers tap against the table in a measured rhythm, the way his gaze sharpens with every word.

“Satoru,” you interject quickly, trying to defuse the situation before it escalates. “Can we ta—”

“Oh, just a second,” he holds up a long finger, regarding you with such simplicity in a way that makes you feel inferior. Eyes not moving from Mr. Ito’s. “I mean, I should probably be involved in this conversation too, no? Considering I’m the—what do you call it?—Oh, right, father.”

You gulp hard. Mr. Ito once again shifts his position, hands awkwardly clasping together.

“Anywho,” Satoru switches back to the subject at hand. “Passion’s a good thing. As long as it’s directed where it belongs, of course.”

The remark hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Mr. Ito moves uncomfortably but keeps his polite demeanor, clearing his throat. “Well, I should probably get back home, I have some things to grade,” he says, glancing at his watch. “It was nice meeting you, Mr.…”

“Gojo,” Satoru finishes for him, his smile razor-sharp. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

Mr. Ito nods, grabbing his jacket he put on the back of his chair. “Goodbye, Ms. Y/N. I'll see you on Monday.” He still has the audacity to give you a warm smile before leaving the cafe, the bell dinging following his departure.

After a second or two, Satoru’s calm facade finally cracks, his jaw clenching as he exhales slowly through his nose. You brace yourself, knowing that the real conversation is about to begin. The way his eyes scan you up and down in an analytical way makes you feel naked. “And look at you,” he huffs, head tilting in a patronizing way. “Silent and jittery like a little mouse. If I didn’t have other things to say, I’d say you look quite pathetic.”

Blow number 1, there he goes already. Though, you can’t find it in you to rebuttal that. Scared to say anything, honestly. There’s a pause as Satoru picks apart every little thing about you inside his head. You might have felt better hearing it out loud instead of being stuck on the silent end of the stick. Eventually, you find your small amount of courage. “Satoru…”

“Oh, look. You do my name. Thought you would have forgotten it after all the sneaky shit you seem to have been doing these past few years.”

“Can we please talk?” You ask, voice laced with desperation.

“Hm?” His eyebrow raises. “We’re talking right now, right? Why don’t you sit down?”

Hell no. You bite your lip, hands trembling by your sides. “Please, somewhere private.”

“What makes you think you deserve anything right now?”

He’s right, really right. You probably deserve shit with the lies and deceitful nature you’ve been harboring these years. But, can’t he have at least a little bit of sympathy for you? He has no idea about the shit you’ve been going through all this time by yourself. And while yes, you do feel guilty, he should be still trying to address the situation in an adult-ish manner. “Satoru…please. We shouldn’t talk here, let’s just…go somewhere more quiet.”

Satoru mulls over your words, a part of him wanting to drag this out even longer and make you more uncomfortable. You deserve it. But, you’re also right. So, he takes in a deep breath, stands up, and motions his head towards the door in a silent command. Without wasting a second, you turn around and walk out of the cafe with him hot on your tail. Intending to lead him to the secluded park that you and Koji frequently visit because there’s not a lot of foot traffic. Although your ideal spot would be indoors, you can’t exactly lead him to your apartment right now—not that you want to, anyway.

It’s only a few minutes of walking, but the entire time feels horrible. He stares at the back of your head, eyes roaming down to your back, legs, and then ass. In that specific order. Satoru’s always saved the best for last, and while checking you out should be the last thing on his mind, staring at your ass will at least somewhat calm him down. You’re not stupid either, it’s like you can feel his eyes shamelessly darting about. However, that’s the least of your worries right now.

You see the familiar bench in the distance, taking a seat. He sits beside you, leaving a considerable distance between your bodies. There’s another silence, this one feeling more suffocating. It suddenly hits you that you’re about to do this—about to have this conversation with him, own up to all your bad deeds. You have to, no more hiding. You gulp down the lump in your throat before speaking, “I know this is all probably…really bad. I know you’re mad at me, you have every right to be.”

Satoru doesn’t respond right away, leaning back on the bench with an air of nonchalance that contrasts starkly with the storm brewing in his eyes. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if giving you the floor—but the weight of his silence feels heavier than any words he could’ve said. “Mad?” he finally repeats, his voice low and deceptively calm. He turns to you, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You wince, his words cutting deeper than you expected. Your hands grip the edge of the bench, knuckles turning white as you scramble for the right thing to say, the perfect way to explain yourself—but nothing feels sufficient. Nothing ever will. “I know,” you whisper, forcing yourself to look at him even as shame threatens to make you shrink away. “I know I should’ve told you—about Koji, about everything. I was just… scared. I didn’t know how to handle it, and—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his tone sharp enough to slice through your excuses. His gaze pins you in place, icy and unrelenting. “Don’t you dare try to justify it. You made the choice to keep my son from me. For five years.”

The raw anger in his voice makes your chest tighten, guilt clawing at your insides. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” you plead, voice trembling. “I swear, Satoru, I thought I was doing what was best—”

“For who?” he snaps, his calm facade slipping for a brief moment, revealing the frustration bubbling underneath. “For me? For Koji? Or just for you?”

You flinch at his words, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “For Koji,” you choke out. “I wanted to protect him. There’s—there are reasons why I didn’t…..” your voice trails off, unable to get the remaining part of your excuse out. But it’s true. You had—have—your reasons. And while most people still might not consider it good enough or justifiable, you truly believed what you did was for good.

Satoru lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair as he looks away, shaking his head. “Reasons?” he mutters, almost to himself. “And what, you think keeping my son a secret all because of ‘reasons’ makes this situation any better? Are you that fucking stupid?”

“No, no, I…know it won’t make anything better,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “I know that. But back then, I just… I just thought that…he wasn’t ready for your world, like I’m not.” By world, you mean quite literally that. Satoru grew up spoiled, his inner elite circle is all he’s ever known. Responsibilities at such a young age, responsibilities no child should face. Expectations, public display, people constantly butting their heads in your business, you have absolutely zero privacy. Satoru would vent to you about that, and you knew—just knew—you couldn’t put your innocent baby boy through that. There’s a class divide between you and Satoru, the main reason as to why you two broke up in the first place.

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to lash out again—but instead, he exhales sharply, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You didn’t even give me a choice,” he says quietly, his voice laced with hurt. “You decided for both of us. For him.”

The weight of his words crushes you, the reality of your actions settling in your chest like a stone. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears finally spilling over. “I’m so, so sorry, Satoru. I just… I didn’t know how to face you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his head bowed as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts. When he finally looks up, his gaze is softer, but no less intense. “Do you have any idea what it’s like,” he murmurs, “to find out you have a son—your son—after all this time? To realize you’ve missed everything?”

Your heart breaks at the pain in his voice, and you reach out instinctively, your hand hovering over his before pulling back, unsure if he’ll accept your touch. “I know I can’t fix this,” you say, voice shaking. “But I want to try. I want to make things right. For you. For Koji.”

Satoru studies you for a long moment, his piercing gaze searching your face for something—truth, regret, maybe even hope. “Making things right?” he echoes softly. “You can’t make this right. Because you did something so fucked up, I think I’m starting to hate you.”

“I don’t expect you not to,” you say, sniffling as you wipe your eyes. Now’s the time to be transparent.

“Tell me,” he commands, looking at you with an unrecognizable face. “Tell me every single fucking reason why you thought what you did was okay. Then maybe—only maybe—I’ll decide how we should move forward from this.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I thought I was doing what was best for Koji,” you repeat softly, though the words feel hollow even to your ears. “Your world, Satoru—it’s suffocating. The spotlight, the responsibilities, the pressure... I didn’t want him to grow up with that. I didn’t want him to be molded by something he never asked for. I–I just wanted him to have a normal childhood growing up, something you weren’t able to have…”

He stares at you, unblinking, his expression unreadable but his jaw visibly tightening.

“And then... there was us,” you continue, your voice faltering slightly. “We had just broken up, and I—I didn’t think you’d want to settle down with a kid so soon after everything. I didn’t think you were…ready.”

His eyes narrow, sharp, and cold. “So you assumed I wasn’t ready, just like you assumed it would be better to keep him from me?”

“It wasn’t just that,” you say quickly, the tremor in your voice betraying your desperation. You let out a shaky exhale, willing yourself to continue, even though it’s getting harder to breathe. “After the miscarriage... I couldn’t handle the idea of telling you I was pregnant again. I was terrified, Satoru. Terrified of losing him too, and what that would do to both of us. I thought... if I kept it to myself, maybe I could protect him, protect us from that pain.” The words of your past are extremely hard to get out. You vowed to yourself to never even utter or think of the word miscarriage ever again, though that’s hard to do when you’re explaining yourself. It was hard, so fucking hard for you. No words or exercises can prepare you for the pain of having a child, just like nothing can prepare you for the pain of losing one. It happened two years into your relationship, and although it was completely unexpected and accidental, you felt something in your bones that told you to keep it.

Satoru tried, as hard as he could, though you’re not sure that means a lot. You could see the exhaustion and fatigue in his face, feeling guilter by the day for wanting to keep it. While he never explicitly voiced out getting rid of it, you knew he wouldn’t be upset if you did. That alone was the start of your relationship’s downfall. Maybe it was your own version of stress, anxiety, and whatever else you were going through back then, but you lost it. Your body wasn’t strong enough to house and grow a production of your love, which you hated yourself for. Maybe even a small part of you started hating Satoru, thinking about how happy he must have been behind his soothing words and even more soothing hugs. You thought how ecstatic he must be, lying straight to your face after crying with you. Of course, you never voiced these malicious feelings out either. The memories you’ve locked away for years now come crashing through your defenses, spilling out into the open where they can’t be ignored.

You remembered the nights spent curled up on the bathroom floor. The heavy blood clots, mixed with strong abdominal pain. Sobbing silently so Satoru wouldn’t hear you, your hands pressed to your stomach like you could keep your child safe just by willing it. But it hadn’t been enough. Nothing you did was enough.

The moment you’d lost your first child, a part of you had shattered beyond repair. The guilt was unbearable, the self-loathing even worse. A horrible thing for a twenty-one year old to experience; for any woman to experience. Every reassuring word from Satoru felt like a lie, no matter how sincerely he meant them. It’s almost like you could see the shadow of relief in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking, the slight easing of tension in his shoulders that felt like a betrayal even though you couldn’t blame him for it.

It had eaten away at you, little by little, until the mere thought of being pregnant again felt like a cruel joke. You’d failed once—what if you failed again? When you saw the test, you didn’t cry out of happiness. You cried out of fear, choking on your sobs as the weight of the decision pressed down on you. Keeping Koji meant risking everything again—your heart, your sanity, your relationship with Satoru, already frayed and stretched thin. Could you go through that pain again? Could he?

You didn’t think you could, and that thought was what finally broke you. Because if you couldn’t handle it, how could you expect Satoru to? You’d already seen the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he’d tried so hard to comfort you when he was barely holding himself together. And the truth that you never said out loud, the truth you could barely admit to yourself, was that you didn’t believe he’d want to try again.

You were terrified he’d ask you to get rid of it this time. Or worse—he’d do what he did last time: try to be there, try to support you, while secretly wishing for a way out. You couldn’t handle the idea of hearing him say it. You couldn’t bear the thought of watching his love for you chip away under the strain of something neither of you was ready for.

So you decided. Alone. After the break-up. That is when you found out, after all; three weeks later.

You told yourself it was for Koji. That keeping him away from Satoru’s world—the world of power, expectations, and relentless spotlight—was what was best for him. You told yourself it was for Satoru, too, because he deserved to live his life without being shackled to a family he might not have wanted. But deep down, you knew it was also about you. About your own cowardice, your fear of rejection, your inability to face the possibility of losing everything again.

Sitting here now, with Satoru’s eyes burning into you, the weight of your decisions feels unbearable. The excuses you clung to for so long sound hollow, even to you. But they were your truths at the time, however twisted and fragile they might have been. “I thought I was protecting all of us,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. The words hang in the air, raw and exposed, as you finally let yourself feel the full weight of the choices you made and the people they hurt.

Satoru feels his world pause when you mention the traumatic event you both went through. His stomach twisting in a disgusting feeling, a hint of bile rising in his throat. Memories, painful memories playing on repeat in his mind. He even feels the familiar tickle at his eyes, blinking rapidly to avoid any pour out.

Then, for a moment, his gaze softens, just a flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face—but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “So…by protecting, you decide to hide it, him, everything from me. You decided I didn’t deserve to know him,” he says bitterly. “That I didn’t deserve to be there for him—or for you. Did you just think that I wouldn’t be the man I was supposed to be towards my children? You didn’t give me a second chance, to—to prove to you we could’ve done this, together. You…You didn’t even give me a chance, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t just about you,” you snap, the frustration bubbling up despite your guilt. “I was scared, Satoru. Scared of rejection, of what your family would think, of how we’d even make it work with everything stacked against us. I didn’t have your money, your power, your family name. I was just... me. And I didn’t think that would ever be enough.”

His brows furrow, and you can see him processing your words, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think I care about any of that?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I’d let a class divide or family politics get in the way of being there for my son?”

“I didn’t know what you’d do,” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You were so far out of reach, Satoru. And after we lost... after everything we went through, I didn’t think you’d want to try again. I thought it’d be easier for you—easier for both of us—if I just disappeared.”

“Easier?” he repeats, his voice rising slightly, his calm facade threatening to crumble. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve hated myself for the last five years? For losing you? For wondering what could’ve been?”

You blink at him, startled by the crack in his voice, the sheer vulnerability in his words.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. “It wasn’t you, Satoru. It was me. I was scared, and I made the wrong choice. I know that now. I know I can’t fix this, but I want to try. For Koji’s sake. For your sake.”

He leans back slightly, exhaling sharply as he runs a hand through his hair. The silence between you is deafening, the weight of everything you’ve said hanging heavily in the air. “Do you know what I’m feeling right now?” he says finally, his voice quieter but no less intense, “How it feels like to find out you have a son you’ve never even met, to know you missed his first steps, his first words, his entire life so far? And why? Because you took that from me.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t wipe them away. “I know,” you whisper. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was selfish. I thought I was protecting him, but I was just protecting myself.”

Satoru looks at you for a long moment, his piercing gaze searching your face for something—truth, regret, maybe even hope. Finally, he exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “You’ve done a lot of damage, Y/N,” he says quietly. “And it’s going to take more than an apology to fix it.”

You nod, wiping your tears away. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, Satoru. I’m just asking for…a chance to make things right.” Your head lowers, vision blurry as you focus on your trembling hands in your lap.

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting to the horizon. “This isn’t about you and me anymore,” he says after a long pause. “It’s about Koji. And I’m not going to let you shut me out of his life again.”

“I wouldn’t,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I–I swear, Satoru. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. For him.”

Satoru lets out a slow breath, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then let’s start now,” he says, his tone firm. “Take me to him.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the reality of the situation sinking in. This is only the beginning—and there’s no turning back. “H-he’s at home.”

“So take me there.”

You stand, fumbling with your words. “I…I can’t just have you two meet out of nowhere, I have to tell him in advance.”

His lips purse, and downturn into another frown, a look that lets you know he’s this close to stop being lenient with you. However, he concedes. “Tomorrow. Here.”

“Whe–”

“Ten in the morning, I’ll leave my meeting early.” he glances at the pristine, gold watch on his right wrist. “Give me your number, in case you try to run and lie again.”

A pang of hurt flies through you, though you can’t blame him for being cautious. Even if that cautiousness is riddled with snide remarks and insults. He gives you his phone, to which you go to contacts and place your new number in, marked by your name. Without another word, he pockets his phone. When he looks at you for one last time, it looks like it hurts, like he’s forcing himself to. After a second, he turns around and walks away, leaving you to your own devices.

Letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you sit back on the bench, head in your hands and lightly tugging at your strands of hair. Things still don’t feel right. You know you two still have a lot more to say to one another, unspoken words being your enemy. It’s far from over, actually.

But at least you two have come to a small conclusion, for now. However, you don’t know how tomorrow will go. You can only hope you don’t cry too much, and that Koji and him will get along well.

Still, you can’t help that lingering sense of anxiousness. Is it okay for you to feel this way? To be wary? Or are you stretching your already little luck?

The walk back home feels boneless and empty. Taking your time, going through small detours, and whatnot. You get back home after a few hours, it’s already twelve in the afternoon. Regarding Sana with a muttered greeting and haphazardly giving her her money. When she leaves, you’re left alone. Koji’s surprisingly down for a nap. Usually, you would question why he’s sleeping this early in the day, but you could honestly use the peace and quiet right now. You could use it every day, actually.

You sit on the small, worn-out couch. Letting your body sink into the thin material, head leaning back against the cushions. You’re in your mind again. It seems like every day is more exhausting than the last. As the saying goes, you learn something new every day. And today, one of the things that surprised you most was how Satoru said he’s been miserable in these past five years. He missed you? He hated himself for losing you? Then why didn’t he fight for you? Why’d he just stand there and take everything? If he really wanted you, he would’ve begged you to stay, he would’ve come up with some solution to your deteriorating relationship. Unless he said all that now just to make you feel even more shitty. You don’t know what’s right anymore.

The thoughts spiral like a storm in your mind, each one crashing into the next without pause. The quiet apartment, usually your refuge, feels stifling now. The weight of everything Satoru said—and everything he didn’t—presses down on you like a heavy fog. You pull your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as if it could keep the memories and doubts at bay. It doesn’t. His words replay in your mind, over and over.

"You think I’d let a class divide or family politics get in the way of being there for my son?"

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to find out you have a son you’ve never even met?"

It’s not just his anger that haunts you; it’s the pain you saw flickering behind his icy facade. You knew it would be there, but experiencing it firsthand feels nauseating. Satoru Gojo wasn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but in those fleeting moments, his vulnerability was almost unbearable to witness.

Still, you start to wonder. Why didn’t he fight for you? That thought burns the most. It’s a question that’s lingered in the shadows of your mind for years, one you tried to bury under the weight of your choices and responsibilities. The truth is, you don’t have an answer. Maybe you never will.

You glance at the small coffee table, littered with Koji’s coloring books and the half-empty mug of coffee you didn’t finish this morning. It feels like a snapshot of a life you’ve tried so hard to hold together, but now the cracks are impossible to ignore. You think of Koji, sleeping soundly in the other room, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. He’s your anchor, the one thing that’s kept you grounded all these years. But now, with Satoru back in the picture, everything feels uncertain.

A part of you wants to believe he meant what he said—that he missed you, that he hated himself for losing you. But another part of you wonders if it’s just anger talking, a need to lash out and make you feel as miserable as he does. The exhaustion pulls at you like a tide, and you let your head fall into your hands, groaning softly. You want to scream, cry, or maybe just disappear for a while. But none of that will solve anything. You can’t rewrite the past.

The soft hum of the refrigerator fills the silence, a dull reminder of the life you’ve built here, brick by fragile brick. And now, in just a single morning, Satoru has shaken the foundation of everything you thought you knew.

You sigh heavily, forcing yourself to stand. There’s no use drowning in your thoughts. You glance at the closed door to Koji’s room, then at the kitchen. Maybe you should prepare something for lunch. Maybe you should sit down and write out everything you’ve been feeling, like the therapist you saw briefly after Koji’s birth suggested.

But instead, you just stand there, frozen in place, as the weight of your choices and the uncertainty of what comes next presses down on you. He’s gonna meet his dad. Koji’s finally getting what he’s wanted after so long, after so many curious questions. You think about how happy he might be, a little shy at first, but he’ll grow to become best friends with his dad. Bitterly smiling, you walk to the kitchen, forcing open a locked cabinet. You pour an unknowing amount of small white pills in your palm, dry swallowing them to quell your monstrous cluster migraine. The pills burn slightly as they go down, a sharp reminder of how raw your nerves are. You grip the edge of the sink, your fingers curling into the cold metal. The thought of Koji meeting Satoru feels like a knife with two edges—one gleaming with hope and the other with fear.

Once Koji wakes up, you’ll need to have a talk with him. Koji’s been asking about his dad for as long as he could form the words. His innocent curiosity, his longing, had always been a reminder of the choices you made, and now…now, you’ll have to confront what those choices mean for him.

He’ll most likely be jumping off the walls, but…you start hoping he doesn’t. You imagine his face lighting up when he sees Satoru—those wide, curious eyes sparkling with excitement and the kind of joy you could never quite give him on your own. That should make you happy, shouldn’t it? He deserves to have both parents in his life. But the thought of him bonding with Satoru, looking up to him, and maybe even loving him more than you…that thought digs into your chest like a splinter. You hate how petty and small it makes you feel.

You’ve done your best, haven’t you? You’ve given everything you could, sacrificed so much, and tried to shield him from the harshness of the world. But Satoru has something you can’t give—a life free of constant worries, opportunities Koji can only dream of, and a charisma that pulls people in like gravity. It’s stupid, you know it is. But you start worrying that Koji will begin to prefer Satoru over you. That he’ll find more comfort and happiness in a parent he just met than the one who’s done everything she could.

But that’s the thing.

Maybe your everything, your all, it just wasn’t enough. It still isn’t enough. Because while you’re giving Koji the bare minimum, you can’t do the littler things. Vacations, buying him toys he loves that he constantly sees on TV, newer clothes and not the thrifted kind, going out to eat dinner. None of that, and more.

You glance at the clock. Koji will hopefully wake up soon. There’s no more time to wallow in your thoughts. You rinse your hands under the cold water, hoping it’ll steady the tremor in them. "This isn’t about you," you remind yourself firmly, staring at your reflection in the window above the sink. The woman staring back looks older than her years, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and worry. But beneath all of that, there’s still love—a fierce, unrelenting love for the boy who’s about to have his world turned upside down. You can’t control how Koji feels about Satoru, just like you couldn’t control how things fell apart between you and him. But you can control how you navigate this moment, for Koji’s sake.

You take a deep breath, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack your face. When Koji wakes up, you’ll talk to him. You’ll answer his questions, help him prepare, and do your best to hide your own fears. Because this isn’t about you.

"It’s about him," you whisper, as if saying it out loud will make the truth easier to accept.

“What I say, baby, I want you to listen well, okay? Can you do that for me?”

The young boy nods and grins. “I can listen, Mama,” he admits proudly.

You should also probably bring up the issue Mr. Ito expressed to you, but that’s for another time. Also, you feel as if you weren’t getting the full story there. Whatever, that’s for another time. You steel yourself, choosing the correct words to say. “So, you know how Papa is always busy?”

He nods.

“Well,” you continue, taking his much smaller hand into yours, presenting a warm smile. “Papa won’t be busy tomorrow.”

He gasps, already seeing the twinkle form in his eyes, and you feel a tad jealous at how happy he’s already getting. “He is?!”

“Mhm,” you nod back. “Do you want to see Pa—”

“I wanna see Papa!”

He cuts you off, causing your jealousy to momentarily skyrocket. You catch yourself before the feeling twists any further, biting down the sharp edge of jealousy threatening to creep into your tone. This isn’t about you—it’s about Koji. It’s always been about Koji. “That’s great,” you say, forcing your smile to stay steady, even as a part of you aches at how easily he lights up for someone who’s been a ghost in his life until now. “But, Koji, baby, you need to listen to me first, okay? Seeing Papa is a big thing, and we need to talk about what that means.”

He tilts his head, the excitement in his eyes dimming just a little as he picks up on the seriousness in your voice. “Is it gonna be like when we see Uncle Ren?”

Your heart twists at the innocent comparison. Ren, for all his faults, has been one of the only constants in Koji’s life outside of you. But no—this isn’t like Ren. This is his father. Ren’s the nicer, older man who runs the sweet shop down the corner. He always greets you two with such warmness, even giving Koji a free lollipop most of the time.

“Not exactly,” you say carefully. “Papa is... someone very important. He’s not like Uncle Ren. He’s your family, Koji. Your real family.”

He blinks, trying to process your words. His little brows knit together in confusion. “So... he’s gonna stay with us?”

You feel your stomach drop at the question. You hadn’t prepared for this. You hadn’t thought about how to explain that Satoru isn’t coming into Koji’s life as a permanent fixture—not yet, at least. How do you tell a child something so complicated when it’s barely something you’ve figured out yourself? “Not right now,” you say gently, squeezing his hand. “But he’s going to start spending time with you. He’s been waiting a long time to meet you, Koji.”

“Really?” His face lights up again, his tiny frame vibrating with excitement.

“Really,” you confirm, though your voice feels thick. You clear your throat, forcing the emotion back down where it belongs. “But when you meet him, you have to be on your best behavior, okay? No running around like crazy or talking over people.”

“I’ll be good!” he promises, practically bouncing in his seat. You hope so. More than anything, you hope this meeting is what Koji dreams it’ll be. That he gets to see the man who is half of him and feel nothing but joy.

But as you watch his wide, excited smile, your stomach churns with doubt. Will Satoru disappoint him? Will Koji’s expectations crash under the weight of Satoru’s complexities? Or worse, will Koji grow to love him so much that he stops looking at you the same way?

You push the thought away, leaning forward to kiss Koji’s forehead. “I’m proud of you, baby,” you murmur, even as the ache in your chest refuses to subside. “And I’m so excited for you to meet Papa.”

Koji giggles, his little arms wrapping around your waist in a hug so pure it threatens to undo you entirely. You hold him close, pressing your cheek to his soft hair, and try to anchor yourself in this moment—this fleeting, fragile peace—before tomorrow comes and changes everything. As Koji pulls back, his eyes are gleaming with uncontainable joy. “Do you think Papa likes dinosaurs?” he asks suddenly, his voice pitched with excitement. “I can show him my dino book! And my drawings too!”

Your lips twitch into a soft smile despite the heaviness sitting in your chest. “I think he’ll love them, Koji,” you say gently. “But remember, it’s okay if Papa doesn’t know everything about dinosaurs. You can teach him, right?”

Koji nods eagerly, his little hands fidgeting as if he’s already planning how he’ll show off his collection. “I can teach him all the big words, like pachy... pachycephalosaurus!” he declares proudly.

Your laugh is small but genuine, breaking through the weight of your thoughts. “That’s a big word, alright,” you say, ruffling his hair. Koji’s excitement is infectious, and for a moment, you let yourself bask in his enthusiasm. It’s easier to pretend that everything will go smoothly, that tomorrow won’t bring possible complications you can’t predict or control. But as he bounds off to his room, presumably to organize his dinosaur books and drawings for tomorrow, the silence that settles over the apartment again feels excruciating. You glance toward the kitchen, where the locked cabinet hides the pills you’ve been relying on far too often these days. For a moment, the thought crosses your mind, unbidden: Would it even matter if I wasn’t enough anymore?

You shake your head sharply, disgusted with yourself for even entertaining it. No. You have to be enough—for Koji, if nothing else.

Sighing, you push yourself off the couch and move toward his room. You lean against the doorframe, watching as he carefully stacks his books into a neat pile, his little hands moving with purpose. “Koji,” you call softly, and he looks up at you, his face lit with the same pure joy it’s always had.

“Yeah, Mama?”

“I just...” You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. I just love you so much. It feels too simple, too heavy all at once. Instead, you force a smile. “I think Papa’s really lucky to have you.”

Koji beams, his smile wide and toothy. “And you, Mama!” he says, matter-of-factly, before returning to his project.

You linger for a moment longer, letting his words wrap around your heart like a fragile thread. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring—if it’ll heal or shatter you further—but for now, you let yourself hold on to the hope in his voice. Because like always, Koji is your guiding light in a world so dark, he’s the hand that pulls you out when you’re sinking too deep. If you begin to question your love for even yourself, your love for him is enough to keep you going.

Today’s a little more warm than usual, though that doesn’t say a lot considering it’s winter and the air feels crispy; still sunny. You hold your son’s hand, guiding him along the sidewalk and to the inevitable meeting spot between father and son. You left a little early; it being 9:30. It feels slightly calmer within your mind, probably because Satoru isn’t here yet.

You sit with Koji on the bench, letting him find placement on your lap. Adjusting his red beanie and gloves. “Are you excited, Koji?”

“I’m really excited, Mama. do you think Papa will like me?”

You coo. “Of course he will. Papa already loves you.”

“Really? Even though he’s never seen me?”

“Koji beams at your words, his small hands tugging at the ends of his gloves as if to keep himself busy. “Do you think he’ll play with me? Maybe dinosaurs or tag?” His little backpack is full of things he wishes to show his father, most of them being either dinosaur or car-related.

You smile softly, stroking his cheek. “I think he’ll play whatever you want. Papa will want to get to know you, Koji. You’re very special to him.”

His grin widens, and he leans into your touch, the warmth of his trust settling heavily on your chest. You wish you could bottle this moment—his innocence, his excitement, his unshakable belief that everything will turn out fine.

The minutes pass as you and Koji wait for Satoru, the latter being more excited than the other. Finally, the sound of footsteps crunching in the frosty grass pulls your attention, and your heart skips. You glance up and see Satoru approaching, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. His coat flutters slightly in the breeze, his pace steady yet reluctant, as if he’s as nervous as you are. He’s wearing sunglasses, per usual. A voice in the back of your mind berates him for that fashion choice. “There he is,” you murmur, nudging Koji gently.

Koji hops off your lap, his tiny hand still clutching yours tightly. He squints toward the approaching figure, his expression a mix of curiosity and awe. “Is that Papa?”

You nod, your throat tightening. “That’s him, sweetheart.”

As Satoru comes closer, his steps slow, his gaze fixed on the little boy beside you. His expression is unreadable—somewhere between wonder and hesitation, like he’s trying to process the reality of seeing his son for the first time.

“Koji,” you say softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Say hello.”

Koji looks up at Satoru, his shyness momentarily overtaking his excitement. “Hi, Papa,” he says, his voice small but filled with hope.

Satoru stops a few steps away, his hands shoved in his coat pockets. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. His blue eyes flicker to you briefly before settling on Koji. “Hey there, little buddy,” he says, his voice quiet. He crouches slightly to Koji’s level, offering a tentative smile. “You must be Koji. I’m Satoru.”

Koji nods, gripping your hand tighter. “That’s me. Are you really my Papa?”

Satoru chuckles, though there’s a faint crack in the sound. “Yeah, kid. I am.”

Koji’s face lights up, and he lets go of your hand to take a step toward Satoru. “Mama said you love me already. Is that true?”

For a moment, Satoru seems at a loss for words. His gaze softens, and he nods, his voice rough with emotion. “Yeah, Koji. I do. I’ve always loved you.” The boy beams, closing the remaining distance to hug Satoru’s waist, his little arms barely wrapping around it. Satoru freezes for a second before carefully putting his hand down, his large palm resting gently on Koji’s back.

Your chest tightens at the sight, and you quickly look away, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. This is their moment, you tell yourself. A moment you’ve waited so long for, no matter how bittersweet it feels.

Koji pulls his head back, a wide and toothy smile as he regards his father. His head tilts, staring at his own reflection within the tinted shades of the glasses before Satoru reaches and pulls them over his head. It’s like a mirror, almost uncanny how similar the two look; you seem like an outsider. There’s an unspoken moment as the two continue to look at each other, as if finally saying this is really him. Their eyes are like when you place two mirrors in front of one another.

Satoru’s lips twitch upward into a faint smile as he holds the glasses out, letting Koji’s small fingers curl around the frame. “Here, try them on,” he says, his tone light but carrying a hint of something deeper—an unspoken acknowledgment of their connection.

Koji’s eyes widen with delight, and he eagerly slips the oversized glasses onto his face. They sit crookedly on his nose, far too large for his small frame, but his grin stretches even wider. “Do I look cool, Papa?” He asks as the glasses slide down his nose.

Satoru laughs softly, a sound that feels warmer than you expected. “Cooler than me, for sure. Guess I have to step up my game now.”

The boy giggles, and you watch the interaction with a bittersweet ache in your chest. This is what you’d imagined all those nights when you wondered how the two of them would get along. The way Koji lights up under Satoru’s attention is both heartwarming and a painful reminder of what’s been missing. Koji pulls the glasses off and holds them out to Satoru. “Here, you can have them back. Mama says sharing is nice.”

Satoru takes them, sliding them back over his forehead. His gaze briefly flicks to you, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he looks back at Koji. “Your mama’s right. Sharing is pretty nice.”

You clear your throat, feeling like an intruder in their growing bond. “Koji,” you say softly, “how about we sit down for a bit?”

Koji nods eagerly, pulling Satoru’s hand as he moves toward the bench. Satoru lets him lead, his expression softening as he glances down at the boy. It’s a strange sight—Satoru, who’s always seemed larger than life, brought down to such an intimate moment. As they sit, Koji climbs onto the space beside him which is in between you two, his legs swinging with restless energy. “Papa, do you like dinosaurs? Mama says I know a lot about them!”

Satoru leans back, crossing his arms as he smirks. “Dinosaurs, huh? Bet you’re smarter than me already. You’ll have to teach me everything.”

“I can do that!” Koji declares proudly, bouncing slightly in his seat. Satoru hums, his gaze shifting to you again momentarily. There’s an unspoken question in his eyes, as if silently acknowledging the effort it must have taken to bring this moment to life. It’s gone before you know it.

You offer a small, shaky smile, unsure if it’s enough. But for now, it seems to be all you can give. Koji digs into his backpack, pulling out his dinosaur drawings and books. Koji’s small hands fumble with the zipper of his backpack, his excitement palpable as he pulls it open and begins rifling through its contents. “Wait, Papa! I gotta show you something!” he exclaims, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

Satoru leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, curiosity piqued. “Oh yeah? What’ve you got in there, buddy?”

Koji triumphantly pulls out a stack of slightly crumpled drawings, held together by a paperclip, and a well-worn dinosaur book with a cracked spine. “These are my favorite! Look!” He spreads the drawings out on Satoru’s lap, pointing at each one with his little finger. “This is a T-Rex—it’s the king of dinosaurs. And this one’s a Triceratops! It has three horns, see?”

Satoru’s gaze moves over the colorful scribbles, a mix of crayons and markers. He chuckles, tapping the corner of a particularly fierce-looking dinosaur. “This T-Rex looks like it’s about to eat someone. You’re a pretty good artist, Koji.”

Koji beams, his chest puffing out with pride. “Mama helped me with some of the colors!”

You can’t help but smile at the way he gives you credit, even as you hover a few inches away. “He did most of it himself,” you say, your voice softer than you intended.

Satoru glances at you, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Koji. “You’re really into dinosaurs, huh? You know, I think I might need some lessons. I don’t know much about them.”

Koji’s eyes widen. “You don’t? Oh, Papa, I know so much! I can tell you all about the Velociraptor! They were super smart and super fast, like this!” He hops off the bench and runs a small circle in front of them, his arms tucked close like claws.

Satoru laughs, leaning back and watching his son’s animated movements. “Fast, huh? Guess I’ve got a lot to catch up on. You think you can teach me everything in one day?”

Koji stops, his hands on his hips as he considers the question. “Maybe two days,” he says with a solemn nod, as though he’s made a grand concession.

“Deal.” Satoru holds out his pinky, and Koji eagerly hooks his smaller one around it.

You watch the scene unfold, a lump forming in your throat. It’s a simple, tender moment—a glimpse of what could have been all these years. The sight of Satoru interacting so effortlessly with Koji stirs something deep within you: a mixture of relief, regret, and longing. For now, though, you let it play out, quietly holding onto the hope that maybe—just maybe—this is the start of something better.

Watching Satoru and his little carbon copy switch from topic to topic so animatedly, laughing practically in the same tone, hopping up from the bench and making their way over to the playground a few feet away where they play tag and other parently things, it’s bittersweet. Their voices overlapping with excitement, is nothing short of surreal. They laugh at the same things, sounding so bright, carefree, and unrestrained. It’s uncanny how similar they are, from the sparkle in their eyes to the animated gestures they make when they’re especially engrossed in a story.

Satoru follows Koji without hesitation. His long legs make exaggerated strides as he pretends to struggle to keep up with Koji’s smaller but determined ones. They dart toward the playground a few feet away, the father pretending to stumble dramatically as Koji tags him with a triumphant giggle. “Gotcha, Papa!” Koji exclaims, hands on his hips in victory.

Satoru clutches his chest, feigning defeat. “Oh no! You’re too fast for me! How am I ever gonna catch you now?” Koji’s laughter fills the air, high-pitched and unbridled, and Satoru’s laughter follows—louder, but just as genuine. They move seamlessly into other "parent-y" things: Satoru helps Koji up onto the monkey bars, playfully pretends to lose at rock-paper-scissors, and even kneels in the dirt to “help” Koji build a small castle from wood chips and fallen leaves.

It’s poignant.

On one hand, this is what you always wanted for Koji: the joy of having his father present, the sense of belonging that comes with it. Seeing them together, it’s clear they’re already forming a bond—one you never doubted they’d have. But on the other hand, it’s a painful reminder of what could have been. Of all the moments you and Koji missed out on, of the milestones, Satoru wasn’t there to witness. It feels like watching a puzzle finally fall into place, except you’re the piece that doesn’t quite fit.

You sit on the edge of the bench, arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying to focus on the joy radiating from Koji rather than the ache in your heart. The past five years feel heavier than ever as you watch them, your mind flipping through memories of bedtime stories, scraped knees, and birthdays spent alone. You did your best, but sitting here now, it feels like it was never adequate.

Satoru glances over his shoulder at one point, catching your eye. There’s something obscure in his expression—maybe it’s a touch of hesitation, or something softer. For a moment, you hold his gaze, unsure of what to say or do. Then, Koji calls his name again, and he’s pulled back into the moment, grinning as he lets the boy climb onto his back for a piggyback ride.

You smile faintly, blinking back the sting in your eyes. This is for Koji, you remind yourself. This is for him. Even if it hurts, even if it feels like you’re standing on the outside looking in, it’s worth it for him. Always for him. Because at the end of the day, no matter what his parents are going through, he needs Satoru just as much as you, and vice versa.

What if he starts needing Satoru more? Fathers and sons always have that special bond that can’t be replicated by mother and son, it’s like how daughters and mothers have a relationship like no other. Fathers and sons, they always seem to share a unique connection, one that feels effortless and almost predestined. The kind of connection you can never quite replicate, no matter how hard you try; and daughters naturally gravitate toward their mothers, a coalition that feels like it was written into their DNA.

But Koji’s all you have.

What if he starts asking for Satoru more? What if this new relationship between them becomes so strong, so unshakable, that you’re left standing on the sidelines? A shadow of the parent you’ve always tried to be. The thought sends a jolt of panic straight through your chest, cold and unrelenting.

What will you do then? No, you think, that can’t happen. It won’t.

You shake your head, trying to banish the thought as quickly as it came. That can’t happen. It just can’t happen. You’ve been there for every scraped knee, every bedtime story, every nightmare that needed soothing. You’ve carried the weight of being both parents for five long years. There’s no way Satoru can just step in now and take your place, no matter how effortlessly he seems to connect with Koji. But that was because you chose that, a voice in your head reminds you.

Still, is it bad to hold your son this close to you? Fearing that he’ll be ripped away from you before you can even blink? Is that co-dependence? To want to shield him from a world that feels like it’s constantly trying to take him away from you? Is it selfish to want to keep him tethered to you, even as you know he deserves the freedom to explore this new relationship with his father?

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Maybe it is selfish. Maybe it is in fact co-dependence, this need to keep him as close as possible, as if letting go even a little might mean losing him completely. But how could it not be? He’s been your everything for so long, the only light in a world that’s often felt impossibly dark. You glance at the playground again, watching as Satoru spins Koji around in his arms, both of them laughing like they’ve known each other forever. And maybe they have, in a way. Maybe some part of Koji has always been waiting for this, for his father to finally show up and fill the space you couldn’t. Wait, you know he’s been waiting for this.

Your chest tightens, and you force yourself to take a steadying breath. This isn’t about you. It never was. Koji deserves this, and you owe it to him to put aside your fears and let him have it.

Even if it feels like it’s breaking you apart in the process.

It’s been a few hours and if possible, it’s like Koji and Satoru are best friends. That’s good, right? Satoru has always been a charming person, one you could easily find comfort in. You’ve lived that. Koji’s sweating by the time he comes over to you. “Drink water,” you gently instruct, handing him his small Spiderman water bottle, and wiping at his sweaty face and neck with the sleeve of your coat.

“Energetic little boy,” Satoru sighs in mild exhaustion as he comes over. He seems to be sweating too, cheeks flushed a nice red, chest heaving up and down. He undoes another button on his casual button-down, giving you a view of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You catch yourself staring too intently and look away before he can say anything.

He notices.

“Mama, Papa is so fast. I wanna be fast like him.” Koji breathes out, smiling at you, his cheeks red in similarity to his dad.

With a light chuckle, you take his water bottle back once he’s done. “You’re already fast, Koji. But when you grow up into a bigger boy, you’ll be really fast, maybe even faster than Papa.”

“Hey,” Satoru cuts in, giving you a frown that teeters on the line of a playful pout. “He’s not there yet, let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

The word let’s makes your stomach twist a bit. A reminder that he does want this, he does want Koji, he does want to be a father. You entertain the idea of him wanting you, before quickly shuffling that away.

“Papa, are you coming home with us?” Koji innocently asks, unaware of the way his two parents simultaneously stiffen. The question hangs in the air like a weight, heavy and unrelenting. Koji’s wide-eyed innocence is almost cruel in its purity, completely unaware of the way his words have sliced through the fragile peace you and Satoru have been clinging to.

Satoru’s eyes dart to yours, his expression unreadable, though the slight twitch of his jaw betrays his tension. You can feel his gaze searching for some kind of answer, some indication of how you want him to handle this. But how could you possibly guide him when you don’t even know what to say yourself?

You force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace, and gently brush Koji’s hair back under his red beanie. “Papa has his own home, sweetheart,” you say carefully, your voice soft but firm. “He’s not coming home with us today.”

Koji’s face falls just slightly, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks back at Satoru, his small hands clutching the hem of his sweater. “Can I see Papa again?”

Satoru crouches down to Koji’s level, his long fingers lightly ruffling the boy’s hair. “Of course, you can,” he says, his voice warm and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere, buddy. You’ll see me again real soon.”

The promise is sincere, and it makes something in your chest ache. For Koji’s sake, you want to believe him. You want to believe that Satoru will keep his word, that he won’t somehow put his work over his own son. But a small, bitter part of you—the part that remembers how he let you go so easily all those years ago—can’t quite let go of its doubts.

Koji seems satisfied with the answer, his smile returning as he hugs Satoru tightly. “Okay! I’ll see you soon, Papa!”

As Satoru hugs him back, his eyes flicker to you over Koji’s shoulder. There’s something there, something unspoken but heavy. Guilt? Hope? Regret? You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to. When they finally pull apart, Satoru stands, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looks down at you. “I’ll walk you both back,” he offers.

You hesitate, your first instinct to decline, but Koji’s excited cheer cuts you off. “Yes! Papa can come with us!”

And just like that, you’re outnumbered. You force another tight smile, nodding as you gather Koji’s things. “Alright,” you say quietly.

The three of you set off together, Koji happily chatting away as he skips in front of you, completely unaware of the tension simmering just beneath the surface. Satoru walks close enough that his shoulder occasionally brushes against yours, each touch sending an unwelcome jolt through you.

It’s a painfully wistful image, the three of you walking together like some semblance of a family. But deep down, you know it’s just that—an image. A fleeting moment in time that doesn’t change the years of distance and pain that still stretch between you and Satoru. And yet, for Koji’s sake, you try to hold onto it just a little longer. Even if it hurts.

The closer you get to your apartment, the more the houses look a little run down. Trash on the streets, beat-up cars, the way the number of people slowly dwindles down as if they know not to cross an unspoken line of the city. You suddenly feel extremely self-conscious; you know Satoru is having internal questions.

You live here?

Is this even a safe neighborhood?

You’re raising my son in some place like this?

He stays quiet, but you know he wants to say something. He has to want to. Because Satoru was given everything growing up, all in pristine condition. He’s never had to worry about whether those were fireworks or not, he’s used to the kind of neighborhood where your neighbors are mowing their lawns at seven in the morning, greeting everyone in a happy way.

The tension is stifling, stretched thin by the unspoken judgment you feel radiating off Satoru. You don’t dare look at him, your eyes fixed on Koji’s little form skipping ahead, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering behind him. Your cheeks burn with shame, and you hate yourself for it. This is your reality, your life. You’ve done everything you could to provide for Koji, and while it may not be perfect—or anywhere close—you’ve kept him safe, fed, and loved. But under Satoru’s unspoken scrutiny, it suddenly feels like none of that is enough.

He’s used to opulence, to security, to the kind of life where struggle is nothing more than an abstract concept. What could he possibly know about living paycheck to paycheck, about stretching every dollar, about the fear of your son asking for something you just can’t afford?

Still, his silence grates on your nerves, each step you take toward your apartment building making the tension in your chest tighten like a vice. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, measured—but you can hear the edge in it, the careful restraint. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

You stop walking, Koji a few feet ahead now as he fiddles with a crack in the sidewalk. Turning to Satoru, you feel your stomach churn at the unreadable look on his face. His hands are still stuffed in his pockets, his posture casual, but his piercing blue eyes burn with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Yes,” you answer, lifting your chin slightly as if that could shield you from the vulnerability creeping up your spine.

“And this is where you’ve been raising Koji?” There it is. The question you knew was coming, coated in a thin veil of curiosity but laced with something deeper—concern, maybe even disappointment.

“Yes,” you say again, your voice firmer this time. “This is where we’ve been.”

Satoru lets out a slow breath, his gaze sweeping over the street, the cracked pavement, and the graffiti-stained walls. “It’s not exactly... ideal,” he says carefully, though the criticism in his tone is unmistakable.

Your fists clench at your sides, a rush of defensiveness coursing through you. “I know it’s not ideal,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “But it’s what I could afford. It’s where we’ve made a life, and Koji is happy here. Isn’t that what matters?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he looks at Koji, who’s now crouched down and inspecting a dandelion sprouting from a crack in the sidewalk, blithely unaware of the storm brewing between his parents. Satoru then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying you haven’t done your best,” he says, his voice softer now. “But...he deserves better than this.”

The words hit you like a slap, and you take an involuntary step back, your heart sinking into your stomach. “You think I don’t know that?” you hiss, your voice trembling. “You think I don’t hate myself every single day for not being able to give him more? I’m doing everything I can, Satoru. Everything. And if that’s not good enough for you, then maybe you should’ve been here sooner.”

“Then maybe you should’ve told me sooner,” he’s quick to quip back.

The silence that follows is deafening, and for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the weight of years of pain and resentment hanging heavy between you.

Koji’s voice breaks the tension, cheerful and oblivious. “Mama, look! A flower!”

You force a smile, blinking back the sting of tears as you walk over to crouch down to Koji’s level. “It’s beautiful, honey,” you say, brushing a hand over his soft hair. “Just like you.”

Behind you, Satoru says nothing, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy with something you can’t quite name. And as you take Koji’s hand and lead him toward your building, you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, and what this moment means for the three of you.

You three finally get to the poor excuse of an apartment lobby, making your way to the elevator that always makes questionable sounds. Once inside, you press the 3 button, and you’re off. The doors creak shut and the small, dingy light above flickers during the ascent. During this time, you wish Koji would mask the awkwardness with his childish nature. Too bad he’s pretty tired from playing til his heart’s content, leaning his cheek against your arm.

The elevator hums and groans as it ascends, the sound filling the uncomfortable silence that hangs between you and Satoru. Koji’s small, warm weight against your side is a comfort, but it’s not enough to dispel the tension. You steal a glance at Satoru, who stands a step away, his hands shoved into his pockets as he leans against the elevator wall. His expression is unreadable, his blue eyes fixed on the faintly glowing numbers above the doors.

You wonder what he’s thinking. Does he regret coming? Is he silently judging everything—the elevator, the building, you? You hate how self-conscious you feel, how his presence has peeled back layers of armor you didn’t even realize you had put on. Koji shifts against you, mumbling something incoherent. You brush a hand over his head, smoothing down his messy hair, and whisper, “Almost home, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, there’s a sound of a ding. Followed by another. And then another. And then another. Confused, you glance over at Satoru who subtly pulls his phone out to glance at his home screen, a frown pulling at his lips. You can’t see who’s texting, but it looks and sounds like a lot. You know you have no right asking, but you can’t help but speculate about who’s blowing up his phone, and why he looks so annoyed by it. And why he also looks like he’s trying to hide the phone from your view.

The elevator jerks slightly as it reaches the third floor, and Koji stirs, blinking up at you sleepily. “We’re here?”

“We’re here,” you confirm with a small smile, gently nudging him upright.

Satoru stuffs his phone away again as the doors creak open, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond. The carpet is worn and the walls are scuffed. You promptly feel another intense wave of embarrassment. You’ve grown used to this place, its imperfections blending into the background of your daily life, but seeing it through Satoru’s eyes makes you painfully aware of every flaw. “This way,” you say, your voice tight as you step out, leading them down the hall.

Koji perks up a little, his steps are more energetic as he tugs on your hand. “Papa, wait till you see my room! I have dinosaurs everywhere!”

“I can’t wait,” Satoru replies, his tone light and easy, but there’s something in his eyes as he glances around. He’s taking it all in—the peeling paint, the faint smell of dampness, the creak of the floorboards under his expensive shoes. You stop in front of your door, fishing your keys out of your pocket. The chipped paint and tarnished doorknob seem to scream your insecurities aloud.

“This is it,” you say quietly, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

Koji rushes inside, his earlier fatigue forgotten as he kicks off his shoes and heads straight for his room. “Wait here, Papa! I’ll show you my dinos!”

Satoru lingers in the doorway for a moment before stepping in, his gaze sweeping over the small living room. It’s cluttered but clean, with Koji’s toys and drawings scattered here and there. The couch is worn, the coffee table scratched, and the kitchen in the corner is cramped and outdated.

“It’s... cozy,” Satoru says after a moment, his tone careful.

You bristle instinctively, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s what I can afford.”

“I didn’t mean—” He stops, exhaling softly. “You’ve done a good job, really. Koji’s happy. That’s what matters.”

You study his face, searching for any trace of condescension or pity, but all you see is sincerity. It catches you off guard, and you look away, busying yourself with tidying up. Satoru takes a few steps further into the room, his gaze lingering on one of Koji’s drawings taped to the wall. It’s a crayon depiction of you and Koji holding hands under a smiling sun. Next to you, there’s an empty space, as if waiting for someone to be added.

He doesn’t say anything, but the slight tightening of his jaw tells you he’s noticed.

Koji rushes out with his toy dinosaurs, holding them up for his father to take. The two move to the couch, the weight of Satoru causing it to creak weirdly. Once more, Koji is giving his father a lesson about dinosaurs, their names, and what they were like—even what sounds they made.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask, looking over to the kitchen. “I have water and some juice.”

He looks up momentarily. But just as he’s about to answer, his phone rings, this time a call. The three of you look down at his phone, Koji tilting his head in confusion before focusing on making his dinosaurs fight again. However, you’re a little more focused. Seeing a name, a woman’s name, accompanied with a picture of your ex kissing a woman you’ve never seen before.

You feel your muscles stiffen, a tug at your heartstrings. As if he notices your behavior from his peripheral, he locks his phone and lets it ring, putting it back in his pocket. “Sorry.” is all he mutters before looking at Koji. “Hey, buddy.”

Koji looks up at him. “Mhm?”

“Papa has to go home now, I have work to do,” Satoru responds slowly.

“You work today? But Mama doesn’t.”

The older of the two nods. “I know, but it’s special work.”

“Special?!”

“Special.”

“Okay!” Kojis nods, grin widening. “When will you come again, Papa?”

Satoru hesitates for a moment, his eyes moving to you, then back to Koji. You notice the brief pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He doesn’t look at you directly, but you can feel the shift in the space between you both. “I’ll come back soon, buddy,” he says finally, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’ll see you again. We’ll play more, alright?”

Koji’s eyes light up, and he nods vigorously. “Okay! We’ll play dinosaurs again!” His excitement bubbles over, as if nothing has changed, as if the uncertainty of the last few minutes never existed.

Satoru smiles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “You’re the best, Koji.” He stands, looking over to you now. There’s an awkwardness that lingers, like the space between you two is suddenly filled with things unsaid.

“Thanks for letting me come by and meet him,” he adds quietly, the words sincere but tinged with something you can’t quite place. His gaze flickers down to his phone again, but it’s almost as if he’s avoiding it now, like he knows the reminder of what’s going on in his life is right there.

You nod stiffly. “Of course. Thanks for spending time with him.” Your words feel distant.

Satoru turns towards the door, his steps slow. “I’ll text you about when I can come back,” he says, his voice a little more subdued than before. He opens the door, then stops, his hand resting on the handle. “Take care of him. And yourself.”

You can’t tell if the last part is meant to be comforting or a reminder, but you nod anyway, your own thoughts swirling. With that, Satoru steps out, and the door closes behind him. You hear the faint click of his shoes as he walks down the hall, and then everything goes quiet.

Koji is already back to his dinosaurs, chattering to himself, completely unaware of the complexities unfolding in the space between his parents. You stand in the living room, your gaze lingering on the spot where Satoru had been, a thousand different emotions crashing inside you. The woman’s name on his phone, the kiss, the way he shut down the moment you noticed—it all gnaws at you, but you don’t know how to confront it. How do you even begin to ask? And what would it change, anyway? Why do you even care in the first place?

You take a deep breath and walk over to where Koji is playing, forcing a smile for his sake, trying to push everything else to the back of your mind. For now, it’s just you and him, and that has to be enough.

a/n: can you guys tell i love ominous endings? ^--^

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins @sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited @duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee @devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping @chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus @ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve @eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower

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darnell-la · 5 months ago

Text

𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧

pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader

warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.

request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.

note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.

teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming…

———

How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.

“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.

“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.

“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”

“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.

“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.

“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.

“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.

Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt

“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.

“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.

“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.

He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.

Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.

“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.

Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.

“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.

“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.

“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.

“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.

“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.

“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.

“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.

“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.

“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.

“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.

Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.

It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.

He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.

“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.

Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.

“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.

Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.

The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.

Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.

Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.

Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.

“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.

“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.

“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.

Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.

Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.

“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.

“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.

She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.

“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.

“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.

Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.

The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.

The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.

“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.

Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.

Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.

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coldfanbou · 3 months ago

Text

In Plain Sight

Here we go with Chaeryeong. She just can't help herself. Also, guest Yuna makes a small appearance at the end and is just as big a perv as Chaeryeong.

Length: 2k

Chaeryeong X Mreader

A little past noon, you took the girls out shopping, except for Chaeryeong, who had chosen to stay home instead. The shopping trip was for Yuna more than it was for Ryujin and Lia; while both women could do some shopping, Yuna was the one who loved it. She dragged you along to every store, looked through every rack of clothing, and tried on everything she liked. It was a tiring experience for you, but, at the very least, it was something you had to do only every few months, or Yuna would start to complain.

Once you were done with shopping, the drive home, and the girls chatting in the van's back seats over Yuna’s mountain of bags, it was all going smoothly until you hit a traffic jam. Yuna was the first to complain, stomping her feet against the floor. “Why aren’t we moving?!”

“We’re in traffic, Yuna!” You’d yell back at her, earning you a pout from the maknae,

“There was no need to yell,” she says quietly, making the others laugh.

At the dorms, Chaeryeong glances at the clock and lets out an exaggerated sigh. You and the others had been absent for what felt like an eternity. She whips out her phone and dials your number: “Manager! When are you getting back?” She playfully whines, her impatience laced with humor.

You laughed at her, “We hit some traffic, Chaeryeong.” You stare out the window, a line of cars piled ahead. “It’ll probably be another hour or so. We’re piled up behind a lot of cars, and we’re barely moving.” You hear Chaeryeong huff and hold back another laugh.

“Alright, but don't take forever, " she says before ending the call. Chaeryeong rises from her bed and heads to the living room. “Another hour to myself,” she groans, settling on the sofa. She scrolls through her phone, wondering what to do, when she thinks, “They won’t be back for an hour… maybe I should…” A naughty thought worms its way into Chaeryeong’s mind. She purses her lips and heads back to her room, searching the back of her bottom drawer and pulling out a ruby-red dildo. She pauses for a moment and places the dildo on the counter, stripping herself down before grabbing it again. Chaeryeong smirks as she hurries back to the living room.

Chaeryeong lays on the couch, searching for porn with one hand as she holds the dildo with the other, her tongue swirling around the head as she prepares. Once she finds a video she likes, Chaeryeong settles in and brings the dildo between her lips. She coos and shuts her eyes for a moment, letting the pleasure flow through her body before focusing intently on the video. The young woman runs the dildo between her legs, coating it in her nectar, and once she sees the woman in the video getting fucked she follows along, pushing the dildo deep into her cunt and filling the room with her moans. Chaeryeong makes the toy disappear inside her, ensuring every inch is in her before pulling out and ramming it back into herself. She follows the pace of the video, moving slowly when the actor does and fucking herself senseless when she sees him going wild. As time went on, Chaeryeong stopped focusing on the video, dropping her phone and focusing her energy on fucking herself.

Chaeryeong grabs at her breasts, pulling on her nipple as she moves the dildo in and out of her cunt. She feels her climax approaching and arches her back, moaning loudly. She speeds up, her face becoming flush and skin sweaty as she pushes closer to her orgasm. “Just a little more,” she moans, feeling a tightness in her core. “C’mon,” Chaeryeong whines as she pushes the dildo deeper inside. Her hand practically slapping against her pussy as she continues to fuck herself.

Just then, she hears the sound of the doorknob jiggling and grabs the throw blanket on the couch, covering her naked form. Chaeryeong scrambles to grab her phone, changing the screen from the porn she was watching to Instagram. “We’re back!” Yuna yells as she barrels through the door, heading to her room. You walk closely behind her, carrying a mountain of bags. Chaeryeong gulps as everyone moves through the dorm, barely paying her any attention.

Yuna swings back to the living room after you’ve placed her bags in her room and throws herself on top of Chaeryeong. Her weight forces Chaeryeong down and pushes the dildo deeper inside the young woman; Chaeryeong feels it rub against her cervix and bites her lip to keep from moaning. “Did you miss us, Chaerry?” Yuna asks, bouncing on Chaeryeong lap.

Chaeryeong nods, “Mhm,” she hums, responding the only way she could. Her body was tingling, and Yuna kept bouncing on her lap, making the dildo move inside her.

“I found so many pretty clothes today; you should have come with us.” Yuna cheers, grabbing Chaeryeong’s hands. The older of the two presses her elbows against her sides, keeping the blanket in place as Yuna chatters about what she bought. “You would’ve loved one of the dresses we saw. Wait here, I’m going to change into a few outfits and show you how I look.” Yuna said, getting off Chaeryeong’s lap and heading to her room. Overhearing the conversation, Ryujin and Lia quickly made their way into their rooms and shut the doors, refusing to be spectators for another one of Yuna’s fashion shows. In their rooms, they blasted music and locked their doors, refusing to become involved in any way.

You walk into the living room and notice Chaeryeong sitting on the couch, squirming under the blanket. You know Chaeryeong, you know what she likes. You approach the young woman and place your hand on her forehead. “You’re pretty hot, Chaeryeong. Are you sick?”

She shakes her head, “I’m fine, it’s…just a little stuffy in here.”

You chuckle and press down on her lap, forcing the dildo to move inside her. Chaeryeong squirms under your touch. You get by her ear and whisper, “You were masturbating again, weren’t you?” You watch a crimson blush appear on her face. You lean down and kiss her neck, “Go on already, Chaeryeong.”

“Manager, please fuck me,” The young woman whispers, desperate for your touch now that you are offering.

You pull off the blanket covering Chaeryeong’s body and glance at her, noting the red dildo in her pussy. You slide your hand down her slick body until you reach her cunt; you grab the base of the dildo and fuck her with it. Chaeryeong bites her lip, trying to keep her voice down as you attack her body.

Nipping at her neck and teasing her with a slow fucking, Chaeryeong begins to whimper, wanting more from you. She reaches down to your pants, rubbing your growing bulge and begging for you. You figure that Chaeryeong had probably been denied the chance to cum and speed up your thrusts, moving the dildo in and out of her wet cunt like a machine.

Chaeryeong’s eyes shoot open, and she opens her mouth, gasping as the tension she’s feeling gets broken down, and she cums on the couch. You continue to pump in and out of the young woman, her voice eventually breaking through, “Oh God,” She groans, feeling her muscles tighten as her orgasm rocks her. You drive the dildo inside her one final time before slowly pulling it out and tossing it onto the couch.

You move Chaeryeong into a sitting position and take a seat beside her, pulling out your cock. Chaeryeong weakly reaches over, grabbing your shaft and sliding her hand along it. “There’s a better way to do this, Chaeryeong,” you whisper into her ear before grabbing her waist and placing her on your lap, your cock between her legs. You press her legs together and move Chaeryeong along your cock, as if she was a toy. The tired woman groans as she feels your warm cock between her lips.

“I want it inside, put it inside,” she whines.

You line yourself up with Chaeryeong’s entrance and hold her in place. She tries to lower herself, but you keep her from moving. “Not yet, Chaeryeong.”

“Manager, please,” she whines, “Please fuck me; I want your cock inside me,” she begs. You feel a sense of satisfaction hearing Chaeryeong beg. You drop her onto your cock and thrust up, burying yourself inside the young woman’s tight cunt.

She thanks you repeatedly as you thrust into her. Chaeryeong bounces on your cock after you let go of her waist, riding you with enjoyment as your cock fills her up. You move your hands up to her breasts, squeezing the modest mounds and pinching her nipples, knowing that she loves it. Chaeryeong moans getting louder only prove your thoughts. You let Chaeryeong ride you for a couple of minutes, enjoying the sight of the young woman fucking herself on your cock.

Soon enough, though, you wanted to ravage her. You make her kneel on the couch and take her from behind, spanking her ass as you drive your cock deep into her. Chaeryeong hummed, loving every hit. Her moans slowly grow louder, and your bodies continue to clap against each other.

As you’re fucking Chaeryeong, Yuna comes back into the living room, her initial shock replaced by arousal. Her eyes are glued to the action as she watches Chaeryeong moan and enjoy being fucked. She slips her hand down under her shorts, touching herself while you pound away at Chaeryeong’s body.

Chaeryeong’s walls begin to tighten around you. “I’m cumming,” she groans. Chaeryeong collapses onto the couch, her back arched and allowing you to go deeper into her cunt. You wrap Chaeryeong’s hair around your hand and pull her head back as you thrust. Chaeryeong stares right at Yuna, gasping. Being watched by Yuna makes her cum instantly; her body shakes as she cums on your cock. You pull Chaeryeong’s body against yours, letting Yuna take in the sight of her member’s naked body. You force Chaeryeong to look at Yuna and watch the maknae finger herself.

You move your other hand to her clit and toy with it as you continue to ravage her. The pleasure is overwhelming, and Chaeryeong’s body shudders against yours. Her walls clamp down around your cock as she cums a third time. Her juices squirt out onto the couch and floor, and you both watch as Yuna’s knees grow weak and her shorts become darker as she cums herself. You smile and turn Chaeryeong’s head, kissing her before picking her up and taking her to her room.

Yuna kneels in the living room, recovering from her orgasm, as she spots Chaeryeong’s dildo. She crawls over to it, taking it in her hands and stroking it. Yuna hears the muffled sounds of Chaeryeong’s moans coming from her room and walks over to the door, pressing her ear against the door and listening. The temptation is too great for the young woman, and she drops her shorts and panties to her knees, pushing Chaeryeong’s dildo inside her and fucking herself as she listens to your session with the older woman. Yuna initially imagines herself in Chaeryeong’s position, but then her mind wanders to watching the action instead. The idea turns her on more than being fucked herself, and Yuna cums as she imagines the sight of Chaeryeong’s naked form cumming in front of her. Yuna presses herself against the door for support as she drives the dildo deeper into her, her thoughts filled with Chaeryeong’s body being taken by you. Yuna drives herself to an explosive orgasm, cumming just as Chaeryeong cries out from her climax.

You knew Yuna was outside and considered inviting her in, deciding against it. You wanted to see Yuna act on her desires and come in herself. So, for now, you enjoyed your time with Chaeryeong, fucking the young woman as you liked and taking her in any position you desired.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #itzy smut #chaeryeong smut #yuna smut

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connorsui · 3 days ago

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UNLIMITED ACCESS!

This was wonderfully requested by my beloved @madam8 who gave me such a beautiful idea for a sylus date and I couldn't let go of it until I completed it 😭😭🩷🩷 like it's so cute that even when I was studying I kept thinking of new ways to end the fic or new scenes to add into it. --- it was ...AAUGH- my heart ...tho I do apologize for how long this one took out ur girl was busy trying not to fail classes 💀💀 ...lol 💅🏻

p.s if you see my corpse surrounded by flowers anywhere you can blame it on this ask ✨️ I LOVE IT

It started, as most things with Sylus did, with...

extravagance.

He had a habit of planning nights that felt more like events—private rooftops overlooking the shimmering city skyline, candlelit dinners in places that required reservations months in advance, evenings where the very sky seemed to bend to his will.

Luxurious. Impeccable. Always grand.

And while you loved those moments—loved him—there was something else you had been craving lately.

Something... simpler.

So one evening, as he idly twirled a glass of dark liquor between his fingers and casually mentioned taking you to a private villa on an island, you leaned into his space, resting your chin on your palm, and asked—

"Why don’t we do something more…plain? Just for the day—I mean."

Sylus stilled slightly, red eyes flickering toward you, waiting.

"Don’t get me wrong, I love our dates," you continued, "but I think it’d be nice to just do something fun. Silly, even. Maybe a little childish?"

A playful smile curled at your lips.

"Just… something where you don’t have to rent out an entire skyline to impress me."

He raised a brow, surprised. "You wish for something plain?"

You grinned. "Exactly. So let’s just have a normal date. Like—oh! What about an amusement park? Or an arcade? Or the fair!"

Sylus exhaled through his nose, setting his glass down with a measured movement. "Your ideas are enjoyable… I wouldn't mind indulging in them."

"Yeah! It’ll be fun, I promise. We can see what rides you like, if you’ll actually tolerate roller coasters, or if you’re one of those people who insists they’re too predictable." You smirked. "Oh, and you have to try winning me something from one of those carnival games."

He regarded you with that ever-neutral gaze, quiet and considering, before finally murmuring—

"For you, I wouldn’t mind fulfilling that request."

You smiled, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek, already excited for whatever simple, carefree date he would plan.

Or so you thought.

Because somehow—somehow—things escalated.

Instead of just buying tickets like a normal person, Sylus had decided the best course of action was to…

Buy. The. Entire. Damn. Park.

Your favorite amusement park, to be exact.

And now here you stood at the entrance, staring up at the massive sign that should have been buzzing with families, groups of friends, and screaming children running past in excitement.

Instead, it was silent.

The ticket booths? Closed. The parking lot? Void of life.

The only people here were you, Sylus, and the staff, who stood patiently, waiting only for the two of you.

You turned to him slowly, your brain still buffering.

"Sylus… I—when I said I wanted a fun day with you… this isn’t exactly what I had in mind."

Sylus, as usual, looked completely unbothered. "Did I get the wrong park?"

You blinked. "…No, but—Sylus, what—" You gestured at the empty surroundings, struggling to form a coherent thought. "You didn’t have to—How did you even do this?"

He tilted his head, as if you had asked a genuinely confusing question. "I bought it."

You took a deep breath. "No, I know that, but why?"

Sylus blinked at you, expression calm yet calculating, like he was trying to gauge whether you were actually upset.

"Would you prefer a different one? I can acquire another if this one isn’t to your liking."

You choked. "Acquire—Sylus, I meant let’s just have a normal day at the park! With other people! Like… buying tickets, not—not monopolizing an entire amusement park for us!"

He hummed thoughtfully. "That would be inconvenient. I don’t like crowds."

Your brain short-circuited. "Okay, fair, but I’m not even sure how to react to this." You ran a hand down your face, staring at the vast, empty park. "Do I just… accept this? Should I ask you to sell it back? Is it even going to open to normal people when we're not here?"

Sylus exhaled softly, fingers curling beneath your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His red eyes, sharp yet steady, held an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"I wanted you to have the best experience," he murmured, his voice low, deliberate—like he was peeling back the layers of his thoughts just for you. "No interruptions. No strangers ruining our time. No one else pulling your attention away."

His thumb ghosted along your jaw, his touch as careful as it was possessive.

"I wanted today to be ours. Every moment, every ride, every second—only for us."

Your heart squeezed at the weight of his words.

Sylus was always confident, always in control—but this was different. This wasn’t about power or extravagance.

This was about ...you.

He had done this for you.

Damn him.

Damn him and his ability to turn something so ridiculous into something that made your heart melt.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples before looking up at him again. "You really don’t do things halfway, huh?"

His lips twitched, almost smirking. "Would you expect anything less?"

You huffed, shaking your head. "Not at all."

His hand slipped from your chin to your wrist, fingers curling around it as he tugged you toward the entrance.

"Then let’s stop worrying about it and enjoy it as much as we can."

You let him pull you forward, your brain still catching up to the fact that this was happening. That you were about to experience an amusement park that was literally all yours for the day.

And honestly?

You weren’t going to complain.

But as you walked in, something felt... strange.

The park was…alive?

Despite the complete absence of other guests, the workers were still here—acting as if today was a completely normal day.

Vendors stood at their booths, flipping burgers, making cotton candy, lining up pretzels under warming lamps. The game stalls were manned, workers casually leaning against counters, ready to hand out prizes.

The park’s parade performers were still marching down the street. A princess in a poofy dress waved at you. Mascot characters moved in synchronized greetings, despite the fact that no one was here but you.

It was… surreal.

Sylus squeezed your hand as you slowed to take it all in. "I told them to proceed as usual. It would’ve been eerie if everything was frozen."

You turned to him. "So… it’s like the park is still running, but we’re the only ones who get to experience it?"

He nodded. "Yes. Don’t you think it’s better this way?"

You inhaled deeply, looking around again.

Sylus watched you carefully, his sharp eyes scanning your face. "Are you alright?"

You hesitated, then let out a quiet laugh.

“Of course! I mean—” You hesitated again, glancing around as your expression softened. “It’s nothing wrong, I promise! I love that you did this, I do, but…” You exhaled, running a hand through your hair before looking up at him again.

“I just—I wanted this day to be special not just for us entirely, but to have a moment together surrounded by everyone and everything.” Your voice was gentle, thoughtful. “The chatter, the energy, the crowds moving past us. The chaos of it all.”

You shrugged, a little sheepish. “I know you don’t like being around too many people, and I love that you wanted to make this day perfect for me, but part of what makes an amusement park so special is the shared experience, y’know? That feeling of being one in a sea of people, laughing together, screaming on rides, getting bumped into by kids running past, standing too close in lines because there's no choice…”

Your words trailed off as you searched his gaze, unsure how he’d react.

For a moment, Sylus didn’t say anything. His red eyes remained locked onto yours, unreadable, but there was something contemplative in the way his fingers idly traced over your knuckles, as if considering your words carefully.

Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose—slow and measured, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“…I see...I- ” His voice was as calm as ever, but there was a shift in his tone.

He glanced around, taking in the completely empty pathways, the stalls with no customers, the parade performing for no one but you two. The sight of the workers, stationed and waiting, but missing the usual life of the park.

Sylus was pragmatic. He saw a problem, he solved it. Simple. To him, the best way to ensure you had an amazing day was to remove all obstacles—the crowds, the noise, the inconvenience of waiting in lines or dealing with other people.

But now, as he watched you, something seemed to click.

“…Would you like me to open the park?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—you mean, like, right now?”

He nodded once. “If it would make you happy.”

Your heart stuttered. "Sylus—I didn’t say all that just to guilt you into—”

He raised a brow. “It’s not about guilt. You wanted to share this moment with people and I took that possibility from you” He pulled out his phone as if he could undo an entire park shutdown with a single call—which, knowing him, he probably could.

You stared at him, then let out a disbelieving laugh, reaching to stop his hand before he could dial. “Okay, hold on, let’s think about this rationally—”

Sylus merely looked at you, waiting for what you were bound to say next.

You exhaled, lacing your fingers with his properly. “Look, it’s okay. I love what you did, and I will enjoy this day with you.” You squeezed his hand. “I just needed a moment to process it, that’s all.”

Sylus was silent for a moment, his red eyes scanning your face as if committing every little twitch of emotion to memory. Then, his gaze flickered past you, landing on a nearby booth.

A teddy bear stand.

Without a word, he turned, gently tugging you along by the hand.

You blinked in surprise. “Wait—where are we—?”

He stopped in front of the booth, staring at the rows of stuffed bears lined up in varying sizes, from tiny keychains to ones nearly as tall as you. His jaw was set, unreadable, but his grip around your hand was firm.

“Sylus?” You tilted your head at him, watching as he eyed the game—a classic ring toss setup.

“I failed to give you what you really wanted,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You should at least receive something in return.”

Your chest tightened at the way he said it.

Soft, but laced with frustration.

Like he was genuinely bothered that his attempt to make you happy had missed the mark.

“Sylus…” You squeezed his hand, stepping closer. “You don’t have to win me anything—”

He ignored that, already rolling up his sleeves with practiced ease. His focus was entirely on the game now, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the distance, the weight of the rings stacked beside the booth’s attendant.

Your lips parted in disbelief.

Sylus said nothing, simply holding his hand out for the rings. The worker—completely unphased, as if watching an overpowered, absurdly rich man win rigged carnival games was just another part of the job—wordlessly handed them over.

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Sylus, you really don’t have to—”

The first ring landed perfectly on the bottle.

Your mouth snapped shut.

Another.

And another.

Without missing a single shot.

The worker gave a small, almost-impressed nod. “Pick your prize.”

Sylus turned to you, expectant.

You stared between him and the game, caught between laughter and disbelief. “This your way of an apology gift?

“And would that change anything if I said yes?”

“Sylus –”

You huffed, shaking your head before pointing to one of the bigger teddy bears—one with a white soft, plush face and an oversized red ribbon around its neck.

Sylus retrieved it without hesitation, turning to face you fully as he held it out.

“ you sure you didn't have me in mind? ” he said simply.

You giggled at him, your fingers curling around the soft fabric as you accepted the gift. “mayyybee”

It wasn’t about the bear. It wasn’t about the game.

It was him.

Sylus, who never half-assed anything. Who overthought in ways you weren’t always aware of. Who, despite his arrogance, still hated feeling like he had let you down.

Your heart squeezed painfully.

“…You’re too much at times” you murmured, hugging the teddy bear to your chest.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Says the one getting emotional over a stuffed animal.”

You shot him a playful glare, but when he reached out, brushing his fingers against your wrist, you softened.

“....Still,Thank you, for everything-- I mean” you murmured.

Sylus didn’t say anything, but his grip lingered—just for a second—not thinking of letting you go.

But as you continued walking, you caught the way his fingers brushed against his phone once more, a brief flicker of thought crossing his expression.

You narrowed your eyes. “Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not secretly opening the park back up again ….behind my back…are you?”

His lips curled, amused. “...perhaps”

#suiwrites🍒#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x you #lads x mc #lads sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus x reader #lnds sylus x reader #l&ds sylus x reader

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palmerzy · 1 month ago

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Okey so... Hear me out. Sub! Spence but it starts with him being a total sub then reader finally lets him fuck her and its just too good that Spencer gets cocky about it like sort of showing off how good he can make her feel. If you add a bit of body worship i wouldn't be mad about it *wink wink* :D

i feel like i might’ve strayed a little from what you wanted, but it still has the same essence (i hope)!! thank you for requesting, anon, enjoy 🍒

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes.

he’s at a random bar, for a work night, pouting to himself in the corner as he watches you, a stranger in an outfit all too appealing to him. he’s lucky you meet his gaze, and you’re just about intoxicated enough to not really care who you’re going home with, as long as it’s someone.

you can obviously see spencer staring at you, his puppy dog eyes silently conveying things so sinful you’re sure he doesn’t realise how blatant his gaze is. spencer reid, innocent boy genius, looking at you like he wants you undressed right there and then so he can sit by your feet at your beck and call. it’s humorous, really, and you figure - why not entertain it?

an hour or so passes, and you’d finally go up to him, plonking yourself so close your thighs are touching. at this proximity, the desperation in his eyes is evident, startled at your presence. he’s not one for hookups, and he’s definitely not one for talking to girls in bars. yet, when morgan gives him a thumbs up from across the room, he finds himself not wanting to disappoint.

it’s probably within half an hour that you’re stumbling back into your apartment, spencer’s needy touch wandering your face, your hips, your ass, your tits, he really doesn’t care, not as you’re pulling him by his tie towards your bedroom.

spencer’s not sure how in the hell he ended up here, but he knows better than to complain. he’s managed to find his way into a pretty girl’s apartment, into her bed, he can’t fuck this up. he has to prove himself. he has to.

in your mind, he’s just an innocent, needy little thing, and you’ll probably have to finish yourself off, but either way, you’re having him. he’s cute with his big brown eyes and messy hair, so he’s definitely good enough to warm your bed for the night.

every movement he makes confirms your thoughts, the way he fumbles with the hem of your dress as he helps you get it off, nimble fingers working at the buttons of his own shirt. “you’re so pretty,” “wanna make you feel good, wanna have you,” “so gorgeous- god, so everything,” he mumbles over and over, until you’re both thudding onto your bed, naked and ready.

spencer is definitely more talkative than anyone you’ve meaninglessly hooked up with before, but you decide to let him continue before ruling that as a con. perhaps you’re just not used to it, but you know you’re definitely not used to the way his head dips down, lips attaching to your breast in a desperate fashion, kneading the other with his hand.

oh, so this boy knows foreplay. he knows his way around, even though he’s looking at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever seen. he’s whispering sweet nothings to you against your chest, slowly pressing kisses along your sternum, until eventually he reaches your hipbones. you’re spiralling slightly in your drunken mind, convincing yourself that there’s no way a random guy from the bar is about to eat you out. no way. plus, even if he does, there’s no chance it’ll be good.

but it’s good, and you’re so very wrong. he’s starting off slow, licking a stripe up your slit, analysing your face for your reaction. “can you just- can you sit up a little? i wanna watch you,” he’d pull back and mumble, his lips in a soft pout.

before you know it, he’s burying his face in your pussy, pointed nose nudging against your clit with every movement of his tongue at your entrance. this boy is good, and this boy is deceiving. you can’t help the shocked moans slipping from your lips, a hand reaching down to tug at his messy locks, sitting up on one elbow so he can see you as he’d requested.

he looks almost offended that you’re shocked, pulling back with furrowed brows at the hint of surprise in your moan. “what? are you okay?” “did you not- am i not supposed to do this? i really want to do this,” “you’re so pretty, tastes so sweet, let me do it,” he mutters against your skin, pressing soft kisses to your thighs. he’s nibbling lightly at the flesh there, whispering something about how soft you are, how grateful he is to be here, before he’s diving back in again when you shut him up by pushing his face forward.

you can almost feel him grinning against you, like he knows you thought less of him, and here he is, proving you wrong. you thought he’d be another sloppy, nerdy, desperate guy, meanwhile he’s moving his tongue against you in ways other guys couldn’t even dream of.

spencer’s hands are gripping your thighs, his fingertips digging into your skin, yet somehow his touch is so tender. his tongue is eventually paired with his fingers, two gently curling within your warmth as he suckles your bud into his mouth, humming around it like a man starved.

it’s not your fault that your hips start rutting against his face, desperate for him to make you come, because you’re starting to believe he can. he’s grinning even brighter now, ever so proud of himself as he pulls away just before you tip over the edge, licking the corners of his mouth and shaking his head.

“mm, no, wanna feel you come around me. wanna show you how good i can be. how good i can make you feel,” he’d smirk, coming back up to your level. that awkward, desperate boy from the bar must’ve been a completely different person, because the man before you is suddenly fuelled by confidence, turning into a cocky bastard the minute he’s inside of you, having you moaning his name (which, he definitely had to tell you again).

either way, you’re certain he’s coming back to your apartment in the near future. there’s not a chance you’re letting another person find this hidden gem, shimmering away in the corner of a dive bar.

#tia’s ask box 💋#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #matthew gray gubler

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barefoot-joker · 1 year ago

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Snake in the Garden~Yandere! Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! I hope you all are well! Today I bring you a Yandere! Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) story. I do apologize if he's OOC, I tried to make him a bit suave. I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2105

Warnings: Snakes, Kidnapping, Swearing

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I hummed as I slipped on my straw hat and sandals. Today was gardening day and I was very excited to be outside. My garden was my passion. It was something to look forward to each day after work. It was especially nice in the eighty degree weather we were having, cool breezes making it bearable to be outside.

Grabbing my metal bucket with my shears, trowel, and gloves, I made my way out the back door of my house. My neighbor Terry was sitting on his porch rocking in his chair, basking in the sunshine. When he saw me he waved. “Yello, Y/n! Enjoying the day?”

“Of course! How about you Mr. Johnson?”

“Oh you know, just taking a sunbath while the wife is out grocery shopping. If you catch my drift.”

“Perfectly.”

“Well have fun, little lady!”

“Will do, thank you!”

I gave a simple wave and headed towards my small garden. It wasn’t the most spectacular thing, only having five or six rows of vegetables, but I was so proud of my little paradise. I set my bucket down and walked down the row of beans, inspecting each one. My humming continued as I began picking and gently setting the vegetables in my pail. As I was working I heard something hissing. Confused, I looked around and didn’t see anything. I turned back to my work. It was silent for a moment until the hissing continued. I glanced around when suddenly my eyes caught sight of something white in the bushes. I stood up and walked over, pushing the foliage to the side. I gasped when I saw a white snake, its pale pink underbelly had a large gash. I slowly reached down and stroked its back. The snake turned its head, the red eyes staring me down. “Hey there, little fellow. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt ya.”

As I continued to stroke its back, the snake must have understood my message. “Let’s get you patched up, little guy.”

I gently grabbed a hold and made sure to cradle him close. Walking back inside, I set him in my kitchen sink and went to grab supplies. I made my way to the bathroom where I grabbed some gauze and disinfectant from a cupboard. I then returned back to the kitchen. I lifted my scaly friend to flip him over and started to rub some disinfectant on his gash. I grabbed some paper towel and dabbed it dry. “Almost done, little fellow.”

Ripping off some gauze, I carefully wrapped it around the wound. Tying it off, I sealed it with a kiss from the fingertips. “And, all done! Not my best work, but it’ll do.”

The snake’s tongue flicked out in appreciation. “You know what? I think I’ll name you Red. You know, after your very beautiful red eyes!”

The white snake hissed and slithered closer to the edge of the sink. I picked him up and cuddled him close as we walked back outside. When we made it to my garden I gently let him down before I went back to work. Red stayed the whole time I was outside, slithering alongside me. When it was my time to head inside, I said my goodbyes and watched him slither back into the bushes.

After my run in with Red I would see him every time I entered my garden. I would lay out some greenery for him to eat and some water to drink all the time. He would even wrap himself around my arms as I worked. One day as I was preparing my small table, Red came out of the bushes as per usual. He slithered up my leg and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Red, that tickles! Stop! I have to get this ready!”

He just stayed there. “You silly boy.”

I caressed the top of his head and set up my nice (favorite color) tablecloth. Just as I was placing two mugs down, I heard a male voice call my name. Red slid off my leg and curled down by the table leg. I turned to see my boyfriend s/o standing at my back door. “S/o!��

I ran at him and gave a big hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Me too. We’ve been planning this little lunch date for a while.”

I led him over to the table and we sat. “I made us some tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, honey. You know I’m down to try anything.”

We both took a sip from our cups. “So, how has your garden been going?”

“Pretty well actually. All of my vegetables have been thriving, which is nice. I even met a new friend!”

“A new friend? Well I’d love to meet them.”

“Hold on one second.”

I leaned under the table and gently picked up my snake buddy. “This is Red. Isn’t he gorgeous? I’ve never seen a snake with a pink underbelly before.”

“Me neither. Can I see him?”

“Of course!”

I started to hand him over when suddenly Red struck forward and sunk his fangs into S/o’s hand. “Ow! God dammit that hurt!”

“Red!”

I set him down and gently took my boyfriend’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“No, your fucking snake bit me!”

I sucked on my teeth. “It does look bad. Here, let’s take you to the clinic.”

We stood up and walked to my car. I had him sit in the passenger seat while I drove.

Hours later I had dropped off S/o at his apartment. We had gotten him some antibiotics and luckily Red wasn’t poisonous. Thank god. I sighed as I slipped off my shoes and walked into my living room. I was looking at the floor when suddenly I let out a gasp. Standing staring at some of the photos on my wall was a short man, his back towards me. From what I could see he wore a big white hat, white and red jacket, white puffy pants and tall black boots. At the sound of me entering, the man turned and I couldn’t help but let out another gasp. The stranger had white skin, short blonde hair and red circles on his cheeks. His red eyes were quite striking as they seemed to stare into my soul. “Ah Y/n, you’re back! Jolly good.”

“W-who are you?”

A black cane with an apple on top magically appeared and the man gave a theatrical bow. “How rude of me. My name is Lucifer dear, but you’re probably more familiar with calling me Red.”

“R-red? But you’re a person and he was a snake…wait a minute. Lucifer? As in the Devil?”

He let out a dark chuckle and I stepped back upon seeing the two rows of sharp teeth. “Exactly!”

I gulped and ran off, trying to head for my front door. I screamed when he appeared in front of me, but this time dressed in green. I bolted towards my back door but he reappeared, this time in red. A few more Lucifers in different colored clothes surrounded me, parting to let the original through. “Look Mr. Satan sir, I didn’t summon you, nobody sacrificed me, nothing like that! Why don’t you just return to Hell and forget this ever happened!”

His cane came up under my chin and lifted my head to look into his eyes. “And forget the lovely lady that helped me? Not a chance! I was lucky I stumbled upon you that day. You see, I had gotten into a fight with a contractor and he got quite a few hits in. I got away with a stomach wound and that’s when I slithered into your life. You patched me up and made me whole!”

His face got closer to mine as he told his tale, our noses almost touching. “You’re so intoxicating, dear. Just like the apple I offered to Eve.”

My breath hitched as his lips got close. “Okay, I helped you. Now why can’t you just go away?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Please, leave me alone.”

A few tears collected in the corners of my eyes and he was quick to wipe them away. “I’ll explain in due time. But I’ve wasted enough time. We need to get going.”

“Going?”

“Yes! You’re coming to Hell with me!”

My eyes widened and I attempted to flee. His arm wrapped around my waist and with the other he waved his cane in the air. Golden dust began to accumulate on the floor, swooshing around and around until a portal formed. The arm around my waist forced me to walk with him. He threw his cane into the air and like magic it disappeared. “Now this may cause a slight headache but I’ll be sure to tend to it when we arrive.”

“No please-”

“In we go!”

He forced us to jump forward and I let out a shriek. I tightly closed my eyes and my stomach lifted into my throat as we fell. This feeling stayed until I landed on something soft. My body was tense as I slowly opened my eyes. It seemed we had landed in a foyer of sorts. The large marble fireplace had a roaring blaze going and from what I could see out the large Victorian windows it was night outside. The dark red clouds swirled like my nerves as I watched Lucifer fluff his jacket. He turned to me and smiled. “I apologize if I frightened you, my dear. It wasn’t my intention. I know first time portal jumping can be quite tedious.”

He adjusted his hat before sitting next to me on the deep red velvet chaise lounge. “Now then I know you skipped lunch since you took your little boy toy to the hospital, so how about some dinner? I can cook a mean steak!”

The situation was starting to be too much to handle and I couldn’t help the sobs that wracked my body. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Shh, shh. There, there.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms around me in a hug and I could feel his claws combing my hair. “It’s alright, little apple. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He just made me cry harder. “I just want to go home!”

“This is your home now. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but I promise if you give Hell a chance you’ll forget all about silly Earth and that wretched boyfriend of yours.”

His claws dug in a bit when he brought up S/o. It made me shudder. “But he doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here for you and that’s most important.”

He pulled away slightly to wipe at my eyes, his touch gentle compared to before. “You know what will cheer you up? A nice cup of spiced hot cocoa! I’ll be right back.”

He stood and made his way towards the white door. Before leaving he gave me a smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The door shut softly. As soon as he was gone I quickly looked around trying to find an exit. I spotted a door opposite me. I ran to it, threw it open, and rushed out of the room. My legs carried me far as I dashed through the spiraling halls, rushing down a grand staircase, and arriving at what I assumed was the front door. I yanked them open and before I could step out an angry hiss made me pause. Two large golden snakes sat on the doorstep and stared me down harshly. I slammed the door shut and urged myself to breathe slower. “I see you’ve met David and Goliath.”

My head shot up to see Lucifer standing there without his jacket, a faint smirk on his lips. “Why the heck do you have giant snakes on your property?!”

“To protect us. Being the rulers of Hell comes with a target on your back.”

“What do you mean rulers?”

“I brought you here for a reason, Y/n, silly goose!”

He began walking towards me. “I intend to court you and make you my Queen. I’ve been alone for seven years. My wife and I split and my daughter and I don’t have the best relationship. However, I intend to rectify that, my sweet apple. You and I are going to be together forever.”

He stopped in front of me and held my face in his hands, thumbs gently rubbing my cheekbones. My heart sank as I realized I wasn’t getting out of this any time soon and the look of adoration in Lucifer’s eyes made that fact.

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pellucid-constellations · 9 months ago

Note

Hi so I have a couple ideas for your drabble! Reader and Cassian trying to hide the black eye Cass accidentally gave her during training from Azriel or Azriel being jealous of the readers book boyfriend(s)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~700

Warnings: Injury

a/n: Yayy this was so cute and fun to write :) I did your first idea!

____________________________________________

“Holy shit, I’m dead,” Cassian cursed, his hand resting on your back as you hunched over in the training ring. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You groaned, holding your hand up to your eye in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pain. “I’m fine by the way,” you grumbled, slowly rising to catch the panicked gaze of your friend. “It’s fine, Cass. It’ll be nothing in a day or so.”

“Y/n, you’ve been mated for a month.”

His elbow to your head must have made you delirious. You furrowed your brows and immediately regretted the action. “Yes?”

“Y/n,” Cassian repeated. “A month. 30 days. Azriel is going to pummel me into the ground when he sees you. You already have a bruise forming.”

“He won't!” you brushed him off, rising on shaking legs. “He was the one to suggest that I train with you. Getting black eyes comes with the territory. It’s like a battle scar. Very impressive.”

The General bent down to inspect your eye further, his expression pinched in worry. “Gods, I did a number on you. I’m sorry. Azriel is going to kill me.”

You sighed, the pity within you growing greater than the pain. “Well, then Azriel won’t find out, will he?”

Your plan was not going well.

You’d ignored every call down the bond and spent most of the day in the library. But then you realized the library had many dark crevices where shadows could linger and give away your secrets, so then you spent the rest of the day in a park. In direct sunlight.

The longer you spent away from Azriel, the faster your eye could heal. You’d just glamour it, but that would most certainly be worse. Azriel could scent a glamour from a mile away, and then he’d be more angry at the lie.

If you rode out the rest of the day, alone and dismissing every call from your mate, things would go more smoothly. At least that’s what you told yourself as you slammed a sturdy wall down in response to your mate’s gentle tug at the bond.

Poor Cassian, with his rough and tumble face all sad and worried.

You had to hide this for him.

“So you’ve been avoiding me in favor of sunbathing?”

A screech left your lips involuntarily at the sound of the Shadowsinger materialzing at your side. You quickly rolled over on the blanket you’d called home for the past few hours, burying your face in your arm.

That was a completely normal response.

“Um, hi,” you greeted, words muffled in your elbow. “I was just taking the day.”

“Taking the day?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

You felt a shadow overtaking your body, the Illyrian closing in on you. “Odd, considering you told me the list of things you had planned today just this morning. None of which included sunbathing in a park. Or avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you!” you stressed.

This looked ridiculous, you were sure.

The sound of leather bending met your ears, and scarred hands lingered on your arm. “Are you okay?”

To quote a close friend—shit.

You couldn’t continue to hide when he sounded like that—all sweet and concerned.

You needed to get your emotions in check.

“I’m okay,” you mumbled, but speaking the words into your blanket felt so insincere.

You had to stay strong.

“Are you angry with me?”

Your resolve didn’t just crack. It was decimated and then ground into dust on the ground. Azriel ran a hand from your arm up to the back of your head and you were a goner.

“You have to promise not to get mad, okay?” you almost whined, guilt eating away at you.

“Why would I be mad, angel?” Azriel posed, clear confusion lacing his tone.

“Just—promise.”

A beat of silence. The hand on your head tucked your hair behind your ear, but you refused to move until his confirmation came.

“Okay, I promise.”

You slid your face out from the crook of your elbow, wincing in anticipation as your eyes adjusted to the light and Azriel’s expression went from one of confusion, to panic, to rage.

“Who—” he began, but you sat up quickly and rushed your own explanation.

“It was an accident!”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #drabble

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 4 months ago

Note

i need more of that Shameless toji fic, god please

i'm SICK 😭😭😭

Shameless Mini Drabble

Tags: dilf!Toji x fem!Reader, reader is pregnant, breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, all the kinks idk, smut, nsfw, mdni

An: Hi! A lot of people requested a part two of the Shameless fic I posted not too long ago. I actually never intended on continuing that story because I figured no one would really like the ending lol (everyone seems to hate the pregnancy trope at the end), but I’m not opposed to writing one-offs with those characters.

“Mmmn~ So pretty, mama.” Toji’s voice quietly rasps out after he unlatches from your nipple. He’s been excessively attached to you recently, and you have a sneaking suspicion it’s because you’re starting to show.

Your belly is starting to take shape, and you have a small little bump. Pants were starting not to fit you anymore, and you have noticed a lot more new symptoms as well.

Achy breasts are one of them.

“Toji… please, it hurts..” You softly whimper as you roll your head to the other side of the pillow. He’s been going at this for at least an hour: gently torturing you with his mouth.

“I know it does.” He purrs lowly before lapping his tongue over the small bud of nerves again, causing for you to shudder. “It’ll start feeling good soon. Just trust me.”

His mouth gently clasps back over your nipple, and his eyes flutter shut. His hand is mindlessly toying with the other one — making sure it doesn’t “feel left out”.

Your nose scrunches at the odd feeling. Your breasts were so sore these days it was torture having to put on a bra (Toji definitely advocated for you not to wear one anymore), but right now the pain was tolerable while he was stimulating you.

Your back subtly arches off the bed as a small hum emits from your mouth. You’re starting to feel a different sort of ache between your thighs. You press your legs together, trying to cope with the feeling of your panties growing damp.

Toji slowly pulls away and smirks up at you. “Told you that you’d start feeling good soon.” He teases with almost a smoldering look in his eye.

“Shut up.” You mutter out as you look away from him, feeling embarrassed that it was so easy for him to get you in the mood.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t you get an attitude with me because your pussy likes me so much.” Toji continues on with his teasing, and his fingertips just barely brush against your core, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

With a small chuckle, Toji pulls off your sleeping pants and panties. “Oh, poor thing.” He muses as he gazes between your thighs.

You quickly cross your legs with a huff. “Don’t say those things while you look down there!” You whine with a pout. You loved how vocal Toji could be in bed, but sometimes, it made you feel all shy and embarrassed.

He rolls his eyes and places his hands on his knees before he forces your legs apart. “Don’t try to hide ‘er from me.” He chastises as he leans down between your legs, pressing a soft kiss at the very top of your core. He can almost smell your arousal like a damn dog, and his mouth starts to literally water from the promise of your cunt.

“She’s cryin’ for me.” He drawls lazily as he licks a stripe between your glistening folds. “Mmm, she wants to be bred so badly, yet she doesn’t know I’ve already done that.”

Your hands fist at the sheets as he teases you. Your body is restless, moving around to try to feel something. The under stimulation was going to kill you. “Toji, please.” You whine to him, trying to make him speed things along.

Toji’s pretty green eyes look up at you as he laps at you again. His dick throbs in his pants as he realizes your getting desperate. “What is it, pretty mama?” He doesn’t break eye contact as he goes in for another lick.

Your body shudders as you hold his gaze pathetically. He’s so fucking good at driving you up a wall. He literally fucked you this morning, and you’re already so pent up again. “More — please, I.. I need more.” You beg to him.

His tongue immediately swirls around your clit in tight circles, causing for you to hiccup and gasp. Your juices are practically flooding his chin. “Greedy pussy.” He mutters lowly before giving the small bundle of nerves a gentle suckle. “Always so desperate to be bred by my cock.”

After another torturously slow lick, Toji gently places his thumb against your clit, and he rubs in small circles. His eyes are fixated on the way your cunt clenches around nothing. Your body is practically begging to be filled by him!

“You know, most animals don’t fuck while pregnant. Biologically, there’s no point to it. Maybe I should wait until you pop my brat out before I fuck you.” He suggests with a small smirk.

“W-what-?” You immediately ask in a pouty tone. Realistically, you know Toji’s just bluffing, but you’re in such a vulnerable state that you immediately try to dispel his claims. You know, so he’ll fuck you. “That’s.. mmnf~.. that’s not true, Toji… Cats can have a litters from - hah! .. multiple dads. That means they fuck while pregnant.”

“What are you suggesting, slut?” His voice drops to a dangerously low warning tone, and he adds pressure to your clit. “You tryin’ to get fucked by another dad?”

“No-!” You immediately cry out as you feel his thumb bringing you dangerously close to the edge. He’s so mean when he gets jealous. He gathers spit into his mouth before he expels a glob of his saliva onto your pretty cunt. The sticky wet sounds only grow in volume as he continued to rub. “I only w-want you, daddy.”

Toji grits his teeth upon hearing you profess your want to him. His dick is painfully hard as he’s been carefully grinding himself into the mattress while he was eating you out. He wants to feel you so bad; his dick is practically pulsing your name in morse code.

“Atta girl.” He grunts as he removes his hand. You immediately start to whine and protest since you were so close. His hands push down his boxers, and his cock immediately springs upwards from the confines of his clothes. His tip was an angry shade of red from neglect, and there was a small pearl of pre-cum gathered on his slit.

“Let’s see if you’re still stretched from this morning, eh?” He muses as he gathers your legs, and he places them on his shoulders. He doesn’t put you in a full mating press out of fear of making you feel uncomfortable with your bump, but he keeps your body at a 90 degree angle.

He holds your gaze as he presses his cock against your entrance. He’s slow to push himself in, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from busting inside you prematurely. Your cunt is just so fucking warm, and you’re practically gushing around him.

The ring of muscle makes a sort of ‘pop’ feeling as his tip bullies its way inside of you. “Fuuuuck, mama..” He groans as his hands grip onto your thighs tightly. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes himself in until he’s buried to the hilt. Your gummy walls pulses around him as feeling so full pushes you right over the edge. Your head tilts back with a loud moan.

“Did you just cum from me puttin’ it in-?” He asks as he eyes you closely. A dangerous chuckle escapes him. “I’m gonna mmf- fuckin’ marry you one day, doll.” He professes as his hips go to work, pounding himself into you.

Your eyes cross as you’re completely blissed out — already so ruined, and Toji’s only just started on his fun. He grabs at your thighs and pulls you into him with harsh thrusts. His broad chest is barely covered by your legs as you’re just a little thing compared to him.

Toji groans as your pussy is squelching around him with each thrust. He can’t decide if he wants to look at your pretty cunt taking him so well or your face as he makes you take his fat cock while you’re so sensitive. Your little fucked out face is quite literally a masterpiece to him.

“Mmnn~ daddy-! Ah..” You’re a babbling mess, calling him by his government name and by your little nickname for him.

“Feels good, don’t it?” He asks as his reaches down and starts to rub tight circles on your clit.

“Y-yes!” You hiss as your back arches off the bed. Your thighs are already trembling, and your slick pools on the sheets below you, creating quite the mess.

“Shh, shh.. don’t wake that brat up, you hear?” He warns. Little Megumi has only recently started sleeping the whole night in his own room, and Toji has been taking full advantage of that. Normally you two will sneak off for quickies in the bathroom or laundry room, but now, he’s keen on taking you in the middle of the night and waking you up with your cunt full of his cum.

“Hah~ ah..” You pant as your hips start to flutter upwards to meet his with each thrust.

“Dirty fucking girl.” He muses as he watches you try to fuck yourself on his cock. He adores when you get so desperate like this, like a little fucktoy who can’t help themselves. “Just need to be bred, huh?”

“Ngh.. please Toji..”

“Nuh uh. Ask me properly, doll.”

“Please breed me, d-daddy!”

Toji leans in a bit, almost forcing your body into a mating press. His hips slam into yours; his tip kissing strings of pre-cum onto your cervix. He becomes so animalistic when he’s close like this. “Yeah? Again? Want daddy to breed you again?” He growls lowly as he continues to stuff you full of his cock.

Fat overstimulated tears slip down your cheeks as you spasm around him once again. Toji’s hand reaches up and grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking you to look up at him before he forces his lips onto yours.

His cock then pulses inside of you, shooting rope after rope of warm cum deep inside your core. It seems like he never runs out. As if his body has to keep up with his almost breeding kink.

His rough hungry kiss slowly calms as he empties himself into you. He gently helps your legs off of his shoulders, and his kisses turn tender and loving. Post-nut clarity hit, and he remembers that you’re his pregnant girlfriend. He’s almost angry with himself for being so rough sometimes.

“Did so good, doll. You hurtin’ anywhere?” He asks between soft kisses.

“No… I think I’m okay… just sore.”

In between his wet loving kisses, a knock on your bedroom door could be heard. “Mama.. papa..” A small voice sniffles from the other side with another small knock. Poor Megumi had a nightmare… something about papa making mama scream? Weird.

Tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby @gojosburger @sparkling-obsidian @thatonehotguy15 @honey-teaaaaaaaa @saucypeanuttt @3llawrit3s @viecyi @fancyzombiepuppy @missthatgirl @desscries @alaida777 @kuro-chi69

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk suggestive #jjk toji #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk smut

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domuspeccati · 4 months ago

Text

Day 4 : On Duty

Ft. Danielle

Kink : Roleplay

“Freeze!” The voice comes from the other side of the house. The thin Australian girl runs as fast as she can, trying to catch the intruder. Her necklace makes noise as she runs, filling the room with a faint sound to play in the background as it accompanies her footsteps. Being in uniform is the only time she wears shoes in the house.

The feet of the suspect hit the floor. You hit the ground running, eager to increase the distance between you and the girl. Shaking your head at her request for you to stop running, you duck around a corner.

She runs even faster. Her toned legs carry her far and do so quickly, the rushing continuing. Danielle chases you down, not letting you out of her sight. She almost trips as she follows you into the bedroom. Her left hand grabs the doorframe, allowing her to steady herself for the coming takedown and subsequent interrogation.

You look back at the girl. Seeing Danielle over your shoulders, you stop moving. Her presence makes you stop everything except your breathing. You’re in too deep and you don’t want to lose your place as the suspect.

Danielle creeps up behind you. Her warm breath exits her mouth as she looks at your back. “My, my, my…” She trails off, her Australian accent making every single word have its own unique sound. Each time she says the word is more drawn out and more exciting than the previous one.

You swallow hard. As your eyes meet hers, Danielle shakes her head in disapproval. “Attempting to evade arrest is a very serious crime, you know.” She chuckles softly and grabs the baton from her belt.

“I’m sorry, Officer Marsh,” you tell her. You feel a baton smack you right behind one of your knees. “Dani,” you mutter. She grabs your chin and looks into your eyes. You shut up and the antics continue.

She exhales sharply while holding your chin. “That’s not my name,” Danielle replies. “I am an officer and you’ll treat me as such.” She lets go of your face before motioning for you to turn around. “Stand up slowly. We can do this the easy way or you can push your luck while I do it the hard way.”

You stand up as slowly as you can. Taking your time, you occasionally look back at the girl. Each time you look back at her on the way up, Danielle maintains her icy glare. You stay still as she grabs your shirt. “Officer, what are you doing?” you ask her. “I’m not hiding anything. I can promise that.”

Danielle’s breath gets soft. “I don’t believe you.” She grabs your shirt tighter. While she has you in her inescapable grip, the officer gives you further instructions. “Put your hands above your head. It’s the easiest way to pull that shirt off. You could be hiding anything there.”

“This is an abuse of power!” you blurt out. Before you can say anything else, Danielle uses the hand holding the baton to lightly hit you just above the crotch with it. She then puts the baton back on her belt. “Prove that you’re willing to cooperate. Let me see what is inside of here.” Danielle starts to pull the shirt above your head.

Your shirt comes up slowly, the collar being pulled up to eye level. As the shirt continues to rise, you watch the fabric go in the direction of your raised arms. You know that you have no choice other than to comply, so you won’t try anything. You’re in no position to do anything anyway, even if you wanted to.

Danielle succeeds in the first part of her mission. She pulls the shirt off above your head. “Doesn’t seem to be anything here.” She tosses your shirt onto the chair that’s in front of the desk on the other side of the room. The next step for her is to grab your waist. “A strip search is perfectly normal. Just stay still and it’ll be over. Then the interrogation will be even more fun.”

You look down at your jeans. “You do what you have to do,” you say to her. As she unbuttons your jeans, you release a sigh. Slipping out of character, you get yourself back in by remembering your role. The jeans are then unzipped and dropped to the floor.

She then pulls your underwear down. Letting it come to a stop around your ankles, she carefully walks around to the front. “I see nothing.” Danielle puts her hands all over your crotch, running her fingers around the area to do whatever she wants with her power. “I think I should be asking you some questions now.”

Danielle walks back behind you. She grabs your cock from behind with one hand. “Tell me whatever I want to know,” she demands. “Why did you run away from me? It’s a heavy punishment to resist me.” The officer starts to give you a slow handjob.

Her fingers start to massage an answer out of you. “I…” You trail off as she grabs your penis tightly. “I wanted to see what you would do. Some officers can be brutal, you know?” You moan softly while she moves her hand back and forth.

She nods. “You could be a dangerous man.” Danielle strokes you faster, going at a brutal pace. As her hand moves so fast that it almost hurts her, she starts to speak again. “What is your reason for committing the crime in the first place?” She looks over your shoulder to see your twitching rod.

You try not to moan. It gets stifled as you clench your jaw while trying to not bite your tongue. While Danielle strokes your rod slower to switch up the pace, you feel it twitching again. You can’t let yourself cum this early. To you, this is still practically foreplay.

A strong tug makes you open your mouth. “FUCK! FINE!” The snappy words exit your mouth loudly and somewhat painfully. She gives you another tug, inviting you to keep playing along. “I did it for the same reason that I ran away from you. Anything that can get the cops on my tail sounds fun.”

Danielle reaches around with the other hand to massage your balls. Keeping you in place by keeping your member occupied, she switches the speed up again. One hand fondles your testicles as she thinks of another question.

You go to open your mouth but she opens hers first. “That hardly seems like the only reason.” Danielle then uses the hand that’s been stroking you to slide towards your tip. Her fingers play with the tip and only the tip. “I think you need to spend the night locked up.” She shakes her hips to cause the cuffs to make a soft metallic noise.

“Oh?” You look back at her yet again. Your eyes go down to the handcuffs as she toys with the tip of your cock. A moan escapes your mouth, the sound telling her that she’s doing her job much better than she originally thought.

Danielle smirks and the hand that was fondling your balls moves up to your shaft. With both hands on your erection, she takes her time. “Don’t you dare get any ideas,” she tells you. “Only an officer can use cuffs to arrest someone.” Your hand reaching for her cuffs triggers her submissive side.

Feeling that it’s time to turn the tables, you turn around. The motion prompts her to let go of your rod. “You said it’s bad to resist arrest, didn’t you? Then you know I can say the same thing.” You grab the cuffs with one of your hands.

With the handcuffs in your possession, you use the situation to your advantage. Danielle falls back onto the bed of her own accord, willing to let you be the one in charge. You can tell that she’s inviting you to fuck her, so that’s what you’ll do. You position your nude body over the girl in uniform. “I’m going to have so much fun.”

Danielle looks up at you. “You can’t do this to an officer!” Almost unable to keep a straight face and stay in character, she puts her hands up. She lets the cuffing happen, her hands being bound together by the cold metal. Her legs go up into the air as you grab the baton. “You know you want to.”

You pull her jeans down, moving them enough to wear you can comfortably pull her panties down. While Danielle’s legs are up in the air, her underwear is moved to reveal the hole that you’ve been waiting for.

Your erection is waiting to be put in. It’s yearning for proper usage. Not wanting to deny it any longer, you push the baton into Danielle’s ass. Leaving it there to plug her seems like a good decision to you. With her other hole being occupied, you listen to her moans and see the look of pleasure on her face.

“Put it in me,” she says, begging you to use her. Allowing her body to be used isn’t how she saw this going, but Danielle embraces the spontaneity. The officer moans when your tip is pushed into her pussy. “Finish the job I started. Consider this to be your community service,” she jokes.

You fuck her hard without even a few warmup thrusts. Not wanting to give her a chance to guide you, you let your body move naturally. The bucking of your hips dictates the flow of things, shaking her cuffed hands with the momentum.

Danielle puts your needs before hers. She doesn’t care about if she cums; the roleplay was your idea after all. Seeing that you may reach your orgasm faster than she intended, Danielle tries to clench her muscles. The fit girl shudders in her uniform, excited at the thought of being filled, regardless of the hole.

Your penis enjoys the time inside of her. Knowing that you won’t last long, especially after the handjob, your thrusts get harder and more deliberate. Danielle is treated as your toy and her wet pussy drips onto your rod as the mattress creaks from the effort being exerted.

“Cum in me,” Danielle says. The baton in her asshole adds to the stimulation. Being used is all she wanted, to be in a position of power and have it flipped on her. Danielle relaxes her cuffed hands, enjoying her time with her feet up in the air, her shoes resting on your All good things must come to an end. Your knees sink into the mattress as you fuck her harder. The orgasm is inevitable and it drives you to give her what she’s been after. “Seeing an officer get taken while on duty is what I live for. You protect and serve in different ways with emphasis on the last one, don’t you?”

As Danielle nods, your orgasm arrives. Unable to hold it in, you spray your cum deep into her vagina. The hole gets filled quickly, hard and sizable spurts delivering the gift right to her doorstep. You put your hands on her chest, feeling the small breasts through the uniform as more semen oozes into her.

Once the deed is done, you pull out of her. Danielle shakes her head, surprised how quickly her suspect flipped the situation on her. Seeing that you fulfilled your task, you fix your clothes with no hesitation.

“Wow,” Danielle muses. She feels the warmth in her as some of it drips out. “Just wait until I have you in protective custody so no one else gets you.” She motions over to the fuzzy handcuffs dangling from the bedpost. “I’ll make sure that no one else is able to contact this person of interest except me. I’ll be on the case.”

You smile and adjust your clothes as you make yourself decent again. “Well I’ll make sure to make sure I’m obedient,” you tell her. You reach for the handcuffs as you approach her again. “Go and get cleaned up. Next week, you can put me in protective custody.” You free her and smack her ass before she walks out of the room.

#kpop smut #m reader x danielle #danielle #roleplay #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #newjeans smut #danielle smut

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darnell-la · 5 months ago

Note

i crave more mob boss!wolverine

𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗗

pairing: possessive mob-boss!logan howlett x stripper!reader

warnings: kidnapping, forced working, strangers to lovers, stripping, spoiling, grinding, breast play, tit sucking, riding, orgasm, possessiveness, rough fucking, claiming, etc.

summary: y/n had no idea who the top boss was and what he wanted from her. She soon found out during an unexpected requested private dance.

note: Logan is a man who’s going to mark his grounds. He’s very territorial. Reading this story will make you understand…

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

Working at a strip club was one thing when y/n first started the job. She was uncomfortable, but the ladies had made her feel welcomed.

Working for a mob boss was another; this time, she had to work whether she was comfortable or not. She tried talking to her boss, but his boss was the one who said she needed to relocate. There was no arguing.

Y/n tried to quit that day and soon found out how dangerous this man was. A few men had broken into her apartment, taking the lady with a fight.

She pled for help, but the people in the apartment knew whose men they were. They quickly went back into their own space and minded their business.

She now lives in a nightclub unwillingly. She wasn’t trusted by the top boss, so he made her stay where she would always be supervised.

This club was different than the last one she had worked at. It was bigger, cleaner, seemed more expensive, and the work she had to do was harder. She had never given private dances, but with her new schedule, she had to.

She’d never met the boss before. She demanded almost every day, but for months, Logan had sat back and ignored her requests.

When she first started at the other club, he hadn’t paid any attention to her because he had other things to worry about, but after he noticed her growth and the business she brought in, he decided to pay attention to her.

That meant he watched her dance, watched her have fun with the other girls, had people surveillance her outside of work, and maybe he’d do it himself if he had time.

The woman grew onto the man, so much, he couldn’t ignore her. He’d think and ask about her every day until too he finally told her boss, the man who worked for him, that she’d be relocating to his top club.

Y/n couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t being treated right occasionally. Her dances cost more, the private dances could pay her old rent, and she would get a daily allowance from the mysterious boss, which was double what she made in a week.

Anytime she thought about running away and making the higher-ups upset, she would sit back and think about her life, and the money.

She had no idea if this man was capable of killing her, and why would she run away from a job that gave her so much money, she could buy literally anything she wanted.

Y/n didn’t know this, but Logan would never harm a soul. Especially her. If she were to run away, he’d simply get her back.

“How long is this dance?” Y/n sighed as she walked in front of one of the VIP doors that was guarded more than usual. Usually, there are only two being on each side of the door, but tonight, the whole hallway was full of security guards.

“As long as he says,” the man replied to her with no facial expression. Y/n rolled her eyes as she opened the door to go in.

Once she got in, she saw a man in a chair, facing the other way. He was smoking a cigar and had a bottle of hard liquor sitting on the coffee table next to him.

Y/n closed the door before dimming the lights. She had no idea who this man was, as always, but she still continued her work.

Y/n pressed a button on the wall which turned on music for her. Her own playlist that she made to make her work against her will.

Logan, the boss would never allow any of his workers to do this, but for y/n, he exuded it. He wanted to make her feel comfortable without giving her up. That is why he gives her an allowance. Steppers don’t get an allowance from the boss.

“How do you want this session to go, baby?” Y/n asked as she came up behind the man, touching his shoulders softly as her lips slightly grazed his ear. The smell of her this close smelled amazing to the man.

“Touchy and slow,” the man said, making the girl walk around him until she was in front of him. “Good choice,” she smirked, knowing those are the best-paying sessions.

Y/n took a few steps away from the man and began stripping, slowly. She had this tight dress on she had never worn before. He picked that out for her.

“Slower,” he demanded in a soft and low voice. Y/n listened, pulling the straps from her shoulder as slowly as she could go with the music she had chosen.

Once y/n got the dress off, she turned around, showing off her body to the man. He had also picked the lingerie. He knew she’d look stunning in it.

“C’mere,” he said as he sat his cigar down and shifted in his chair. Y/n slowly turned around and walked towards the man who patted his lap.

“Sit,” he said, and she did as told, putting her knees on both sides of his outer thighs. “You can touch anywhere that’s not clothed,” y/n said as the man slowly placed his hands on her ass cheeks, gripping the slightly.

“Ain’t that so?” He softly chuckled as she began grinding her hips. “Mhm hm,” she hummed as she placed her hands on the man’s shoulders.

“What if I tell you I’m a special request? — A special guest,” he said, making her lean into his ear. “Then you’ll have to talk to my boss about a price change,” she said, knowing most don’t.

The man laughed as he softly traced his hands u the girl's body until she cupped her cheek, making her look into his eyes.

He was one of the best-looking customers she’s had. Tall, dark, handsome, muscular, actually smelled good, and the way he touched her almost seemed like soft and careful loving touches.

“Maybe I will,” he said, making her heart skip a beat. “I-I don’t know if he’ll allow it though,” y/n tried lying, and he knew that. “And why would that be, Bub?” The man asked as she kept grinding on him with soft but rough touches on his chest and shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied, making him chuckle again. “Lemme ask him real quick,” the man said before he closed his eyes shut. Y/n stopped her movement, confused about what he was doing.

She went to speak until his eyes finally opened. “He said, I can,” Logan answered for himself. “I don’t think that's how it works, baby,” y/n giggled, finding the man funny.

“Oh, but I do, Bub,” the man said as his hands slowly traced up her body until his fingers hugged into her bra. “Hey, if you wanna good session, you gotta follow the rules-“ Before she could say anything, the man ripped her bra off, clean.

Y/n let out a short scream as she covered herself up. “That’s it — Get out!” Y/n went to get up, but he gripped her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“Why is that?” He asked with a smirk, liking how defensive she got. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call the boss,” she said, making him chuckle. She had no clue. She was about to find out.

“Told you, he said it was alright,” Logan said, making the girl give him a face of confusion. She was confused and thought to herself until it clicked in her head. He was the boss.

That’s why he had so many guards outside of the VIP room. That’s why she was requested to wear a certain outfit. She was dancing for the boss.

“O-Oh, sorry, I — I didn’t know,” y/n said, still keeping her breast covered, but had lightened up her body, trying to relax more so she wouldn’t lose her job. Yes, she’s thought about escaping, but with the money. I’d he fired her and kicked her out, she wouldn’t get the money.

“All good, darling. Just wanting to surprise my favorite girl,” Logan said, hands softly grabbing her wrist to pull them away from her chest. She fought back for a second, but soon let him do what he wanted.

“Good girl — Too pretty to be coverin’ up in front of me,” he said as both of his hands cupped her chest, massaging them with kindness. He wanted her comfortable before he brought out the man he was.

“I-I know I work for you, b-but I don’t usually do this,” y/n stuttered as the man’s fingers pinched and played with both of her nipples slowly.

“Mhm hm,” he hummed, fixated on making something spark in her, and he soon did. A small moan escaped her mouth after she parted her lips. It was hard to hide how good his touch felt.

“Logan- Mister Howlett,” y/n corrected herself, trying to come out of respect, but it’s not like he’d get rid of her. She could punch him right now, and he’d keep her. He’d shit shows her the consequences of those actions.

“Can call me Logan, Bub,” the man said right before he latched his mouth around one of the girl's nipples. Y/n moaned lightly, hands flying to his hair to tug on, but not away.

“Oh, fuck,” was all she could say as she started on the man again. If this was another man, she would’ve been fought, but with him, she couldn’t bring himself to. He played with her too well.

Logan groaned onto the girl's chest, sensing vibrations through her body as his hands tried to her panties until he ripped them off clean, just like her bra.

“Gonna listen to your boss, baby?” Logan asked in between his sucks. “Y-Yes, sir,” she whined as she leaned her head back. “Good girl,” Logan groaned as he pulled back and shifted under her.

“You’re a tasty little thing, but still a hard ass,“ Logan said, making the girl's heart pump. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise,” y/n felt like she was begging, and she was. Who knew how much she actually needed this job, and how much she needed him.

“Oh, yes, you will, because you got a lot of making up to do for me,” Logan said as he finally got his cock out of his jeans. Y/n’s sucked in a low breath at the size and sight of him.

He was huge. He was hard. He was leaking. He was hurting. He’s needed y/n for a while, and she’s about to find that out. “Ride me, Bub,”

Y/n was hesitant, but managed to lift herself up, allowing Logan to shift his body under her so she was right aligned with him.

“Listen to me, baby, or you’ll regret it,” Logan quickly changed his attitude, which didn’t alarm y/n in a bad way. It was actually making her more wet than she already was.

“Y-Yes, sir,” she stuttered again before he slowly sunk down onto the man. “F-Fuck,” y/n quickly winced at the pain. He stretched her quicker than she’d ever been stretched before.

“That’s it, baby — Get me all in,” Logan placed his hands on her waist to guide her down quicker. Y/n clenched around the man. She even twitched.

“Ah huh,” the man breathed out as she finally got every inch of him inside of her with a slight eye cross. She had felt the knot in her stomach built in an instant.

“Start movin, Bub,” Logan spoke in a warning tone, making sure she knew he didn’t want to take any type of time with this. “I paid for this session,” the man added.

Y/n placed her hands back on the man’s shoulders to help herself before she began bouncing slowly. Cunt gripping his pulsing rock-hard cock as.

“Fuuck,” the man groaned as he threw his head back. “So fucking tight,” the man admitted as she whined. It didn’t take long for her wetness to coat his cock, allowing her to move on him smoother.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Not like I haven’t already,” Logan said as he leaned his head back up, watching y/n crumble on his lap.

“Gonna be my girl, baby? Officially? Some gotta work no more, only for me,” Logan said as a hand softly wrapped around her neck. “Mhm hm,” y/n accepted something she didn’t even think about.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and stick by my side for the same pay?” He asked. “Yes,” y/n whined, but down, she didn’t care about the pay, and he could see that. He could read right through her.

“Money isn’t the prize for you though, now ain’t it, baby? You just wanna ride my cock until you go dumb,” Logan said, making her nod her head repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah,” the man groaned darkly as he planted his feet and began plunging up into the younger lady, making her take him far more than she could handle.

“Oh, fuck,” y/n cried as the grip on his shoulders tightened. “Good little girl — So damn pretty and obedient. Almost thought you hated me,” the man smirked up at her as she shook.

She did hate the man. That was until she realized how good-looking he was and how damn good his cock felt.

“So drunk on my cock, you’re forgetting I basically took you from your home,” the man fake pouted as he snapped his hips harder, allowing the room to fill with their skin clapping.

“I’m gonna cum, sir,” y/n warned, making him groan at how good she sounded calling him sir. “Good, baby. Cum on my cock. Soak my jeans. Show me who you belong to. Show me who I belong to,” Logan said, feeling his own orgasm near.

“Oh, yes — Yes, yes,” y/n cried out as she shook, letting loose all over the man with a loud moan. “That’s it! Fuckin’ cum on me, y/n. Cum!” The man’s grip on her neck and waist tightened, making y/n feel taken over. That feeling only made her mind foggy.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. You gonna like that? Gonna take it? — Tell me you’re gonna take it, baby,” Logan needed to hear her. “Gonna take it,” y/n could barely get out from how slow her mind was moving her the lack of air getting out of her throat. “Ah huh, ah huh!”

Logan brutally fucked the girl with a loud groan, spilling into her as she shook and went slack. He held her up though, making sure her half-opened eyes looked down at the man who now claimed he’d officially.

“Yes, baby,” the man couldn’t stop rutting into her. The pleasure only grew more as he heard her and his cum mixing together in her cunt. She was full, but he wanted to fill her more.

“Fuck, c’mere,” Logan said as he picked y/n up and threw her over his shoulder. He paid no attention to the state they were in and walked out of the VIP room.

“Cancel all appointments with y/n for tonight and any other night — Buy everything on the list I made all week so she’ll have something good to wake up to,” Logan said as he walked down the hallway and out of the back door that lead to other parts of the club.

Logan carried y/n to his room which was on the last floor of the large building. He knew she had questions to ask the whole way up, but all she could let out were whines.

Her cunt still leaked his cum, occasionally dropping down his arm as he stepped through his building. He fucked her well and planned to put her to sleep.

“Gonna wake up like a princess tomorrow morning, Bub,”

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vanesycho · 3 months ago

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• bf!minho x gf!reader x minho's friend!jisung | m.list

warning | smut, p in v, fingering, squirt

word count | 1,2k

a/n | this could be shit, I haven't written in a long time, I needed to get my head together

anyways enjoy reading！

“Yeah, of course you can come. Jisung? Oh I don’t think it’ll be a problem for him.” Minho’s eyes drifted to Jisung, who was on the computer while he was talking to you on the phone, knew very well that he was listening to him. “I love you too, baby, see you later.” After he hung up, he stood up and walked towards him, approached him from behind and spoke close to his ear. “Y/n will be here soon.” Jisung jumped at the sudden chill in his neck and turned his head to him. “Ah..Should I leave you alone?” he prayed for him to say yes. Hearing you fucking from a room while he couldn’t resist his feelings for you was getting on his nerves.

Minho knew exactly how he felt about you. He would have to be an idiot not to know, Jisung was a very obvious person and could never keep a secret. Was he angry tho? Strangely, no. The thought of you with him excited him in a vague way. He didn’t hesitate to share you with Jisung, so he was the one who specifically asked you to come today. You had already set off, knowing everything.

The corners of Minho’s lips curled up. “No, no, don’t go anywhere. Having you here will make everything more fun.” The sentence he said caused Jisung’s eyebrows to furrow. While he thought about the meaning of the sentence he said, Minho left him alone with question marks in his head.

You turned your head to the side and looked at your boyfriend, who was sitting sprawled out on the chair. The slight smirk on his face and the way his eyes roamed all over both of your bodies as he watched the two of you. “Fuck, Y/n.” Jisung let out a groan, you whimpered as his cock slowly slid inside you. He had been dreaming of this for so long that he wanted to take his time, he didn’t even care about your boyfriend watching you from a corner of the room anymore.

Minho stood up, walked towards the bed, and leaned into Jisung’s neck while not breaking eye contact with you. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” His breath was burning his neck, he couldn’t speak, he whimpered as he thrust hard into you again and nodded. Seeing how needy he was, Minho let out a small chuckle. “How cute. You’ve been dreaming about this pussy for a long time, haven’t you? How good she would feel, how tight her walls would be around your cock, how your name would flow from her lips…”

Every sentence of his would make Jisung cum faster, he put his hand on the side of your head and took a deep breath before looking at you, the way you looked so beautiful under him...He wasn’t sure he could ever get that image out of his head. “You better faster now. I’m not done with you yet.” He glanced at Minho who had sat back down on the chair and did as he was told. While it was the two of you in bed and he was the one fucking you, it was the one in the corner of the room who was actually dominating.

His entire cock started to enter you quickly, you moaned his name, unable to hold back your moans, each hard thrust bringing you closer to your orgasm and Minho knew it. He knew you like the back of his hand. The hard strokes inside your pussy didn't stop you after a while, you cum around his cock. Jisung continued his thrusts a little longer and then pulled back, jerking himself off with his hand and soon coming between your legs.

“Now...” Jisung turned to him, out of breath. Minho spoke as he stood up again and walked towards the two of you. “Tell me Jisung, have you ever made a girl squirt?” He placed one hand on the bed and leaned over you, the other hand starting to caress your cheek. “I- no…” he hadn’t even fucking with a girl in a long time. Minho turned his head to him. “Do you want to try?” his eyes widened in momentary surprise, making Minho laugh, fingers moved towards your pussy. Jisung watching every move. Minho positioned two fingers at your hole and watched them slowly slide inside you. Then he turned back to Jisung and watched how he swallowed hard. “It’s not that hard, here, I’ll guide you.” He looked up at him "I'm- I'm not sure hyung, just-"

"I said do it. Are you disobeying me? I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend, weren't you imagining this?" He held his chin tightly, getting closer to him, Jisung tried to pull away but couldn't because of his gaze, he just nodded "Good boy." He turned his attention to you and gave you a small smile, leaving a small kiss on your lips. "Now, put your fingers inside her and start fingering like normal." He didn't hesitate, two fingers sliding into your still wet pussy, the feeling of your tight walls making him let out a small moan. Curled his fingers inside you as he moved in and out of you at a normal pace, watching how your breathing became irregular and your legs parted for him "Come on, don't be so delicate with her. You won't hurt her, sure she came easily under the rougher stuff." The voice in his ear was making things harder, his fingers started to speed up, the sound of your wetness and moans filled the four walls. "Good. Now put your other hand on her lower belly and press lightly." He didn't hesitate again.

Jisung's hand went to your lower belly and gently pressed you down onto the bed, preventing you from moving your hips, while Minho's thumb started to play with your clit.

A whimper left your mouth, this time your legs started to move but Minho held one of your legs tightly. "Stay still." His finger stroking your clit sped up, the pleasure you were getting from both sides was driving you crazy. The two fingers were fucking your pussy hard, relentlessly. The strange feeling enveloped you as your orgasm approached, you knew there was more. The sheer pleasure was already making your eyes water, Minho let out a small chuckle at the sight. "Look at her. Are you that needy, baby? Does Jisung's fingers feel good?" you couldn't speak, you just nodded in agreement. "Then let him know."

Your gaze turned to him, seeing your eyes full of tears, made him curse under his breath, you let out another moan as his finger fucked your pleasure spot. “Jisung- fuck..You feel so good..Please, I-” you couldn’t finish your sentence, the stroke on your clit sped up and the weird feeling in your stomach increased. It didn’t even cross their minds to slow down when they both knew you were close. A few more thrust to your pleasure spot and with a loud moan you came, no you literally squirted. Your eyes were closed in exhaustion as the two stared at the mess you had made, Jisung slowly pulled his fingers out of you, moan slightly as the sight made his cock harden again. Minho looked at Jisung who was still insatiable, one last whisper in his ear was enough to make the night last longer for you. “Just so you know, Y/n is so fucking good with her mouth.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know imagines #lee know smut #lee minho imagines #lee minho smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han jisung imagines

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cheyisagirlkisser · 2 months ago

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mdni cause this is wild it's 3am don't hold me to this

College Ellie who is a hyper ass girl when it comes to sex!! Like obviously she’s going for rounds cause it’s with another girl but i think she would be so overstimulating in bed and almost in a goofy way. If she’s the bottom, she’ll be squealing and so close to tapping out forreal but just can't because it hurts so good. She is wayy too obsessed with how your tongue feels on her clit, circling around the bud and (not successfully) trying to keep up with the girl who is squeezing your face almost suffocatingly with her freckled thighs. She’s already overstimulated, why tf does she need more? You want to ask her, but it’s hard with her pussy all in your face. If you even try to talk, it’ll be muffled and she will get riled up all over again. Scissoring is dangerous territory too cause it can apply to either bottom or top Ellie, when she’s bottom she is just whining and somehow doing half the work just by bumping up into you after being the one who begged to get fucked. If she’s the one who is supposed to be in charge it’s even worse because then she’s whispering filthy shit in your ear that makes you want to cum. (but you should be holding out, cause she isn’t gonna stop if you do cum) “This pussy loves me so much, doesn’t it?” Yes, Ellie. It does, even though you’re fucking insane. “Wanna cum inside you so bad..want me to cum in you?” No, Ellie, you can’t do that. You’re grinding coochies. Maybe it’s cause she’s a rugby player that she has so much stamina to go the extra rounds. However, nothing compares to when she’s slinging strap, cause oh lord you’re so done for. She goes wild. She won’t stop if you cum once. In fact, she’ll just pull out soooo very slowly to tease you then ram back into your hole over and over and over again. If you cum a second time and aren’t too wrecked, she’ll just flip you onto your stomach and fuck you again. The cycle continues. If you need a break, sure. She can grant you one. But best believe you will be fucking all night with college Ellie.

#ellie williams #tlou ellie #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #blurb cause i need to prepare myself for college rugby ellie #the last of us part 2 #lesbian sex

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orcihd · 2 months ago

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Rafe Cameron x shy!gf!reader

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Credit for line divider: @nicodefresas

Summary:

You’ve always been a shy person. So, when you start dating Rafe Cameron- the Kook Prince-, it forces you out of your shell a bit.

Warning: 18+, smut, mdni, swearing, reader hides her face during sex, Rafe helps reader out of readers shell a bit, reader is slightly insecure, no y/n, not beta read, Rafe calls reader “goddess” once, petnames(baby, princess, sweet, etc..), (brief?) breeding kink.

an: this is my first ever fic so it’ll probably be bad. Pls go easy on me. I will make more. This is written on my phone. Any and all feedback back is very much appreciated. I was inspired when reading an Miguel O’Hara x reader fic. This fic is heavily influenced by it and is alike a lot. I can’t remember the author but if you know them pls tell me so I can credit them.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Fuck, you’re so tight f’me baby.” Rafe groaned as he pounded his length in and out of your seeping heat. The sounds is skin against skin and sounds of pleasure filled the room along with the thudding of the bed hitting the wall. “Rafe!” You squealed as Rafe repeatedly hit your g-spot.

When Rafe finally lifted his heads from your boobs he saw your hands covering you face. You beautiful, beautiful face. “What are you doing?” Rafe stopped. “Why are you covering your face?” The grip on Rafe had on your hips tightened almost to the point of it hurting you. “…I’m ugly..” your voice came out as barely a whisper. “Excuse me?” Rafe’s tone was darkened.

You didn’t want to make him mad. You remembered the last you did and how he stormed around the house and the punishment you got. “I’m ugly.” You repeated loud enough for Rafe to hear but still quiet as a mouse.

A long silence filled the room. The quietness from Eafe made you open your eyes and split the fingers covering your eyes to see what was going on. “Why do you think you’re ugly sweet?” Rafe’s voice finally cut through the silence.

“…”

“You don’t know?” Rafe asked as his cerulean eyes looked onto yours. Your eyes and fingers snapped back shut as you shrugged and mumble. “Baby, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Every time I hear someone say that someone else is the most gorgeous woman ever, they lie. Because that’s you. You are the most gorgeous and amazing woman ever in the history of time. Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if you were some type of goddess of some sort.”

As Rafe kept on ranting about how he thought you were the most beautiful woman ever your face warmed and you got flustered in a way you never had. But, there was also a warmth in you. Sure some of your family had said something similar like that to you. But when Rafe said it.. it was completely different. It made you feel wanted and happy and all gushy and happy inside. You didn’t know why, but it just did.

“Rafe!” You whined as you slapped your hands on his face to stop him from his continuous ranting. “Hey what the hell!” Rafe said loudly as the was a crisp ‘smack’. You let out a mumble that Rafe could guess was ‘stop’. Rafe then slowly took your hands off his face and held them.

Finally. He could finally see your beautiful, beautiful face. The face he was blessed to see every morning when he woke and every night he fell to sleep. “Hi princess.” Rafe’s iconic smirk was plastered on his face as your eyes met for the second time. “There you are my beautiful.” Rafe spoke softly as he kissed you.

The simple kiss reignited the fire the was inside both of you a mere minute ago. You let out a soft moan as you felt start moving again. Soon enough the slow and wholesome sex became what it’d been before: Rafe rearranging for insides. “Ah-! ‘M s’ close!” “Yeah? Yeah you gonna cum on my cock, huh?” You didn’t know why, but the way said ‘yeah’ had always spurred you on. And with the combination of his pounding you into next year, it was enough to send you ever the edge.

Rafe groaned as he felt you tighten around him as you came loudly with your name on your lips. “Where you-shit want me?” Rafe spoke as his release was getting close. Your response was your legs tightening around his waist. “Wanna have me cum in your pussy huh? Want be to make you a mommy yeah?”

The idea of carrying Rafe’s child didn’t seem so bad right? “Yes! Make me a mommy. Wanna have your kids!” You hiccuped as you spoke. Rafe could only find it funny. “God, you really are far gone huh?” Rafe teased. “Fuck it why not?” Rafe thought as he came inside of you, groaning loudly.

As you both came down from your highs, you felt Rafe start again. You looked up at him asking what he was doing silently. “Well be gotta make sure you get pregnant right?”

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe fic

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the-saltiest-saltine · 1 year ago

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Reservations and Repose

(Yan!Chrollo x Fem Reader)

@sukunasfavoritehole hopefully this is enough to tide you over until my ao3 finally gets an update hehe

Word count: ~7.3k

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You’re naïve enough to believe Chrollo’s asleep. He loves that about you.

Warnings: NOT SFW, non -con thigh fucking, somnophilia, drugging, imagined not sfw scenarios etc

a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IT WAS 3/4 FINISHED THEN I FORGOT ABOUT IT my sincerest apologies.

Also this is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me 😥

Chrollo is very disappointed in you.

You let him kiss your cheek this morning following a deep sleep. You didn’t reciprocate, though he continues to see your progress and knows that an ever-hopeful yet can be added to the end of that statement. To some extent, the allowance of such an act could be chalked up to his acceptance of you, flaws and all, willing to appreciate the neutrality of it as opposed to ardent rejection. In a matter of weeks, you’ll be returning the gesture. And in a matter of months, you’ll be doing it gladly. Warmth, or perhaps weariness, has slowly but surely seeped its way into your actions recently, your shaky hands finding a place in his, fingers interlaced.

Is that to say he was under the impression that you’d completely given yourself to him? Absolutely not. There’s fear in your smiles, as much as they may have metamorphosed from obviously and mockingly forced to meek and endearing. Chrollo has shown you all that you know he can do. This has been enough to keep you relatively restrained over the months. If he showed you all that he knows he can do, you’d most likely curl up into a ball and sob until you dried out. That’s not necessary, though. It’ll never be.

Like many things, it wasn’t linear. It was a path that went upwards and downwards and forwards and backwards and in cycles, cycles that would always leave you curled up, sobbing in his arms, grasping onto him for whatever comfort it would give. But progress is progress, right?

Ignorantly, he began to believe the crumbs of affection, of acceptance, of acquiescence. Stupidly, he thought you were making progress. It’s been a significant amount of time since he was last this naïve. If he wasn’t so disgruntled by your transgression, he’d most likely bask in the nostalgic feeling. But he can’t, for the time being, because you’re trying to do something very rash.

As unfortunate as it is, you’re trying to leave him.

It’s audacious, having thought that the monumental power difference between you two had been thoroughly demonstrated on multiple occasions, a well established and silently acknowledged fact of your travels with him.

It’s irritating, although regarded with the same irritation as one would have with a pet goldfish trying to jump out of its tank. You silly thing, why do you want to abandon the place in which you are safe?

It doesn’t particularly make sense, though. He’s checked his cards - nothing suspicious has been bought in his name. No travel tickets or prepaid car hire. He’s even checked the jewellery collection - maybe you’d snatched up a nice necklace or bracelet or pair of diamond earrings to pawn off. But again, nothing. No suspicious bags have been packed. No loose tiles or floorboards or ceiling panels to hide supplies in. Your clothes are all neatly folded and hung in your wardrobe.

You’ve got something up your sleeve- something desperate and jittery and not fully thought out. Something that relies on luck and prayers far more than precision and blow-by-blow planning. He never particularly took you for a daredevil, but to see you get pushed to such a limit, to be forced against your own timid nature, is beyond satisfying. If he could pluck it out of you and analyse it under a microscope, he’d be elated. Or perhaps even, he supposes to himself, he’d be so fulfilled that he might abandon the current pathway of his life, aimless and bloody and cyclical, finally so consumed with his obsession over you that nothing else is valued in the slightest.

He can’t say he didn’t expect an ulterior motive for your apparent benevolence, at least initially, but for it to be kept up for this long? The stares felt almost too natural. The gradual lessening of your flinches when he placed a hand on your shoulder, the way your gaze would be drawn to him rather than away, even if only to flick away immediately - the subtleties were downright impressive. To be able to track everything simultaneously, to be able to remember to exhibit so many behaviours at once…Perhaps he should be taking acting lessons from you.

Chrollo had watched you, humming a pop tune this morning, cheekily shaking your hips from side to side as you fried some eggs, over easy, the notes sometimes interrupted with a sharp inhale between your teeth when the oil spat just a bit too high and would burn you ever-so-slightly. A domestic sight.

You’d let him give you another kiss on the cheek before he shrugged his coat on, giving you one last lingering glance before he’d walked out the door and into the hallway of the apartment, locking it with warm Nen made of comfort rather than capture. He gave you another cheek kiss (despite his ever-growing urge to dip lower) when he got home to the smell of spices and vegetables and the bubbling sound of a low simmer. You don’t fight them anymore, and barely even recoil now, a result of steady but slight crossing of boundaries - his record was eleven times in one day (at least, his record for when you were conscious) when he was feeling particularly affectionate, although you’d definitely soured up by the end.

The…fantasies he’d had of domesticity…they were just that, weren’t they? Fantasies, mere ideas that were appealing enough to fully flesh out in his mind. Whatever actions you’ve taken, whether it be pecks to the cheek or folding his shirts, staining them with the scent of you, they’ve all been a means to an end. That certainly wasn’t part of the fantasy.

You’ve been buttering him up like the thick slices of white bread next to his bowl. What a betrayal.

Tonight’s stew is spicy and chunky, served courteously by you. His palate is experienced from an adulthood of travel, wealth, and nights spent with gullible women who couldn’t tell the difference between a Prince Charming and a swindler. Truly, there is little he hasn’t at least tried. Including this.

So, if there’s no other signs of you wanting to leave the comfort of the apartment and the familiarity of his presence, then what could’ve possibly cued him into your motives?

It’s something tenuous, something that could’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else. It’s something subtle, buried under layers of rosemary and thyme and paprika. But diphenhydramine is such an acquired taste. And it’s one that’s made the past few weeks and months crumble to dust.

Oh, you sweet thing.

Acting as oblivious as ever, he spoons chunks of zucchini and carrot onto the bread, taking large bites, chewing and swallowing with purpose, the taste of the sedative lingering. He considers smacking his lips for good measure, to play around with you a bit, but eventually decides against it. That’ll come later.

You sit across from him, silence between you two. Normally, he’d fill it with tales from his busy day - but you’ve been so good lately, that he’s begun to refrain from doing that. Nowadays, he asks you what you’ve been up to, every painstaking detail from your dull days without him. But that’s only if you’ve been good, or at least if he’s under the impression that you’ve been good. As it turns out, you haven’t been good, you aren’t being compliant, and now he simply waits.

You stare into your bowl of stew, but he can tell you’re watching him in your periphery. It’s so very fascinating, the way you absorb each mouthful he takes, washed down with frequent sips of water (there’s no other substances in that, obviously). He takes another swill of the liquid, tilting his head slightly back, and in the corner of his eye, he can see the way you observe his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Does it appease you, the sight? Does it intrigue you? Does it make you, even for a moment, reconsider what you’re about to do?

Chrollo pauses for a moment, before placing the half-empty glass back onto its coaster. He knows the smirk that comes onto his face is nothing short of wicked, but he truly can’t help himself.

“Are you not hungry, my love? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Barely is an understatement. You haven’t touched it at all, in fact. Stupid, really. He knows that you know that he’s observant - but that information is irrelevant in this situation, considering it doesn’t take an keen eye to figure out your pattern of stirring your spoon around, picking up some carrot - even blowing on it for good measure - and nodding along with what few words he spoke initially, before giving an mhm! of agreement and letting it drop back into the bowl. You spend extensive amounts of time apparently fishing for just the right piece of zucchini, sorting through copious amounts of lentils (and seemingly taking the time to individually count them all), dragging chunks up the side of your bowl only to push them back down into the fray of assorted vegetables.

There’s almost a sort of jump in response to the words, ringing clear and well projected. But it’s contained above the shoulders - your head snaps to look at him, your eyes widening momentarily, staring into his own, trapped.

He can feel the shaky breath you take to steady yourself from over here, air stagnant and mouth dry.

“No,” you reply, “not particularly.”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, mouthing an oh before returning to his meal. It doesn’t matter whether you take the bait or not, his suspicions have long since been confirmed. Confirmed, in the sternest sense of the word, syllables enunciated with force, the knowledge of your true intentions well recognised. Whether that displays on his face or within his interactions with you is inconsequential to the known ending of your silly stunt.

The sound of you chewing is enough to bring his attention back out of the bowl. That’s not fake.

So you’re eating it too? It’s certainly a bold move, but one he wouldn’t dare put past you anymore. You were always a clever one, one to be placed a mere few tiers below his own intellect.

He hasn’t caught you swapping the bowl out for a fresh one. Maybe you’ve mastered the art so quickly that even he can’t notice?

No, not likely. Not in just a few months. That’d be impossible.

Your bites of pumpkin are preceded with the slightest hesitation, a quick breath to presumably psych yourself up to the self-sabotage. He hates to see you so scared when you’re properly sharing a meal with him like this, deciding to return to normalcy as a reward for your cooperation.

“Tell me, darling, what did you get up to today?”

Your eyes flick to his, momentarily ensnared in the grey, before looking up at the ceiling to aid in the process of giving a verbal description of what you read, how you cleaned, how you entertained yourself with rearranging your meagre book collection (not his, that would be asking for trouble). The response is practically identical to every other time he’s asked the question, plain and unindulgent. It’s boring, he thinks, even with the unacknowledged omission of the hours you spend staring at the walls and pacing around the living area. He’s tempted to pry into how you decided on tonight’s dish, but decides against it. Not for lenience or mercy, but rather amusement. To give away what he knows now would simply be a waste of a situation you’ll never attempt to put yourself in again.

If you knew what Chrollo knew, would you still bother to indulge him?

You stare at him for a moment, allowing him to draw things out, before nodding at the I see he gives in response. He gives a forward nod to your bowl, giving you gracious permission to eat again after starving you for the length of your interrogation, merciful as ever. Your fear is better contained behind a split second’s confusion before you register the nonverbal instruction, picking up your spoon once more and eating with more confidence this time, taking exaggerated bites of zucchini that barely make it past your teeth, chewed excessively into grey paste before being swallowed. Maybe you reason that if you chew enough, you can break the drug down into something that won’t knock you out. A cute thought.

The spices stain your lips an enticing red, the chilli making them plump up so deliciously. If he kissed them, would they burn him? Would the capsaicin leave his lips tingling, a reminder of your soft touch?

He likes to think he’ll know the answer soon.

Chrollo feigns sleepiness, furrowing his brows in mock confusion as he tells you that he can’t quite keep his eyes open - perhaps he overdid it at work today.

Yes, work, as he loves to call it, like there’s the possibility of him spending his time away from you at a desk, punching in numbers on a computer, monotonous and repetitive and damn, couldn’t things just switch up for a day? Work, as in a beer-bellied husband whose idea of experimental fashion is changing which tie he wears with the same white button-up and black dress pants each day. Work, as in an assembly line employee who wakes up at three o’clock to be at the factory by four, ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to support his loved ones. Work, as in something at least vaguely respectable.

Work, as in literally anything other than stealing and slaughtering and scourging.

Chrollo relishes in the way your shoulders relax a little. It’s almost too adorable. Chrollo also relishes in the way they tense up again when he adds how it’s suspicious really. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt a tiredness such as this.

There’s an underlying anxiety in your pretty, pluckable, ever-so-slightly bloodshot eyes. Where others would be concerned for your health, he finds endearment, you precious thing. After admiring them silently for a moment, he announces that he’ll be off to bed now, darling. Remember to be there for me when I wake.

He leaves you alone in the kitchen to stew in your unease.

____________

Now he’s lying in bed, on the side closest to the door, limp as anything. It doesn’t matter whether his facade convinces you or not, he’ll have you in his arms by morning. The blinds aren’t fully down, leaving a pleasant blue hue that gives him a good visual of most of the room. Your side of the bed is still firmly tucked in from when he made it this morning, after running his hands up and down your arms until you’d given a great shudder and shoved him away - a pitiful attempt that he’d impishly gone along with.

Anticipation tickles his nose and prods at his heart. Childishly, he wants you to get over with it already, to sprint in, swinging a knife wildly, or cue him to start the chase with a slam of the front door so violent that the hinges threaten to crack. It’s unfortunate how your faux compliance conditioned him to be unable to accept a halt, or even slowing, of progress.

Ah, some solace - he can hear your footsteps come up to the door, attempting, albeit poorly, to be quiet. Or maybe they are quiet, to the average man, but someone well-versed in the art of stealth can practically see the way you tiptoe closer. The faint sounds paint a detailed visualisation of your movements - the balls of your feet lifting from the ground, the flexing of your toes, the dorsiflexion at your ankles, the soft thud of your heels hitting the ground.

The bedroom door creaks open, a thin streak of light hitting his eyelids, making him see an ever-so-slight orange behind them. He might be able to visualise your walk accurately, but the same cannot be said for your face. Are you fearful, lips downturned and eyes wide? Are you determined yet cautious, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line? Are you smug? Condescending? Grinning from ear-to-ear, excited to finally have what you believe to be freedom?

You’re not, he discerns.

Instead, you huff a sigh, a sweet note that makes his heart jump, a small flutter that could only be instigated by you. It’s a sigh of relief. The door is shut. He expects another door to be slammed, too - the front door, hinges quaking as you sprint to the stairs as far as you can, too scared to wait for the elevator (and for your sake, he hopes you’ve brought a pair of running shoes - you’re on the 35th floor, after all). But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, he can hear the clanking of bowls and dishes, the smooth schwip as you push breadcrumbs off the chopping board into the bin with the back of the serrated-edge knife, and how you place said knife into the block without taking another one out.

So you’ve decided against stabbing him tonight? How agreeable.

In fact there seems to be no malice in the way you’re stacking the bowls, no scraps of extra force in how you shut the fridge. Whilst the sounds of your cleanup are nothing short of a ruckus to his alert ears, there’s an intentional tenderness he can hear. A conscious effort to be as quiet as possible with somebody sleeping peacefully in the next room.

It’s a gesture he’ll interpret in the best way he can. Even if he knows he’s deluding himself that you want to be quiet for his own peace rather than so you can escape, he’ll be sure to bring up the former as reasoning for your actions over the next few days, regardless of how you’ll spit venom at him, hissing that he couldn’t be more wrong.

Next is a movement he didn’t expect in the slightest.

You come back to the bedroom, with a pile of fabric in your hands - clothes, maybe? He thought you’d be off and away as soon as possible, or you wouldn’t get close to him again at the very least, standing patiently by the door until whatever you’re waiting for had occurred.

The quiet-ish footsteps make their way past him this time, and straight into the ensuite.

There’s the soft sound of clothes falling, and then the tap is turned on.

You’re…showering before you leave?

You really are a good teacher of the quirks of humanity. Logical as ever, he’d most certainly take no time for hygiene practices if it reduced his chances of being able to go on a small, liberating adventure. But perhaps that’s part of the plan? Do you not want to have a speck of dirt on you so you don’t smell bad? Will you hide out at a fancy gala, and have to be as fresh as possible? Are you trying to wash off Nen, perhaps?

No, that would never work, and he’s certain you know this too. Still, the idea of a little hopeless fire in you, taking a precaution you know is futile, makes his lips twitch.

So many questions, few of them answerable at present. His mind is stimulated so wondrously, for once not finding boredom in the predictability of human behaviour. He’s truly chosen well.

And then there’s something else, rising above the sound of the rushing water, above the drain gurgling it down, greedily gulping it away.

You’re humming.

It’s relatively random, most likely improvised, and slightly off-tune, but endearing all the same. He can taste the notes, sweet and soothing, running down his throat smoothly and pooling warmth in his belly.

You heave a sigh, and the tune changes. And then he recognises it.

It’s something he heard as a boy, back in Meteor City. He’d hear it at night, walking back to whatever semblance of a refuge he had with Franklin and Shalnark, past the hamlets of the younger children. Letting himself get lost in it, he can feel himself crawling to shelter on scraped knees, walking on calloused heels, eating stale bread, all accompanied by the faint smell of garbage, a smell that years of exposure had waned to a neutral accompaniment of the setting, rather than an inconvenience or hazard.

Despite the unhygienic nature of it all, it’s sweet. It’s these memories - memories of grime and rot and infection - that are the most pure. The most uncorrupted. They’re full of innocence and hope - just like you.

These qualities make you think you’ll leave him.

Upon remembering this, he’s tempted to barge in and ruin your peace, eager to hear your inevitable yelp and nervous laugh as he quizzes you about tonight’s events. But he doesn’t. Your lullaby is too enjoyable, the tune far too agreeable to stomp out yet. Resisting sin by committing another, he decides he doesn’t want to kill this mockingbird, if only to selfishly continue to hear it sing.

Few moments have come like this since you came to be with him. They’re all short-lived in comparison to the cold life he’s had, a firecracker popping on his tongue, fleetingly filling his mouth with syrupy sweetness before quickly dying off, barely an aftertaste to be savoured. He’s scratched them all down in an old leather journal with a quill and ink, lest he forgets what it feels like, or how to get that feeling again, but thankfully they’re scratched even deeper into his psyche.

You’d been agreeable enough for a reward of a dinner somewhere several stories up, city lights shining behind you, framing your hair beautifully. You were reluctant at first, turning your nose up at him and the priceless food in front of you, opting for the bottle of red wine instead. It wasn’t supposed to be gulped down with such vulgarity like that, but that was part of your charm and by your second glass you were giggling and halfway through your third you looked at him right in the eye, cheeks tinged pink, and you smiled a smile that you’d forget by morning but he wouldn’t…

He’d returned to the villa after a long day to find the fans blasting, and you slumped over on the couch as credits rolled on the screen in front of you. He’d flicked the TV off, not before noting the rom-com’s name, and regarded you, with your deep, even breaths and singlet strap falling down. He picked you up and carried you to bed, laying you down on the thin blankets, fixing your strap despite the small voice that called to him to take off the thing entirely. Your head rested on the pillow, your face not scowling for once, and you’d huffed the sweetest of sighs…

That’s the kind of moment this is.

There’s no thought of what he’ll be doing with the troupe tomorrow, or in a week, or what move to make next depending on what you decide to do. Every nook and cranny of his mind, every convolution of his brain is filled with the thought of you. Tonight, it’s warm and viscous, slowing time and cutting both of you off from the rest of the world; the rest of its filth.

In this moment, he can see himself in the shower with you. He’s across from you, lathering body wash onto his shoulders, letting the foam run down his back. All the while, he keeps his gaze on you, watching how your hands run over your body, soap running along your sternum, between your breasts, along the curve of your hips, your ass, all whilst you hum that tune… shit, he can’t let himself get hard now. He manages to drag himself out of the daydream, barely, just managing to claw himself to the surface of reality.

Caps are popped open and the lathering of soaps can be heard over the course of your performance, with a finale of the tap being turned off. There’s a fumbling of fabrics before you come out, followed by yet another move he doesn’t expect.

You walk up to the bed, peel the sheets back, and lie down beside him. You then roll onto your side, facing him. After a few moments, you prop yourself up onto your elbow.

A moment of nothing. You’re frozen, as is he. Calm before the storm, he prepares himself to catch your wrist and hear you shriek.

You lean over.

And then there’s a featherlight sensation on his forehead, right in the middle of his tattoo.

Had it been a split second later, he would’ve opened his eyes and turned to face you with a smirk as you screamed. But it’s not a split second later, it’s now, and now you’re kissing him. There’s no real benefit for doing such a thing that he can identify right now - perhaps you know he’s awake, and would like to make amends? Surely you know that that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

The contact sends an electric zap to every corner of his body, although he manages to not make himself jolt. Months of stifled desire bubble up from his insides, desire that’s spent so long smothered by rationale of better outcomes and forcing himself to think of his bloodied obstacles and late nights alone in the shower. As often as his lips find their way to your forehead, unfortunately the reverse doesn’t occur even half as much.

You pull away, like you’re hesitant about what you’ve done, like you’re waiting for him to snap his eyes open and sit up with inhuman speed, ready to pin you down or tie you up or even slap you for tonight’s inconveniences. But that doesn’t make sense, because hesitation is supposed to occur before such an intrepid act, not afterward.

After receiving apparent confirmation that you’re not about to be attacked, he can sense your head slowly but surely coming to rest on your pillow. You shouldn’t strain your neck like that, someone like you could get hurt over time.

The back of his shirt is peeled up, slowly, delicately, and he has to focus to keep his breathing even.

There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, his number a pale contrast to the black ink, practically jumping out at you.

It’s your reminder, he supposes, of what he is. Theoretically and legally nonexistent, practically traceless. Zero evidence. Zero remorse. Zero morality.

Zero.

Then-

One, two, three.

Your lips mark a trail up his spine, at the bottom of the abdomen, right in the middle of the zero, on its head. Don’t shudder.

Once your deed is done, you pull back. There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, so silent that you’re barely breathing.

The fabric of his nightshirt is guided back down. You roll over and proceed to go limp, succumbing to the drugs intended for him.

What was that?

You’re not touching him anymore. He can sense the gap between your bodies, one that he would close every night, pulling you close.

Was it a relief? To go to sleep without him touching you?

You’d always stirred up such a fuss about his arms being around you as you slept.

It had always been a cause for seething rage on your part, later argument, later whining, and more recently huffing. Even last night, the stiffness before you fell asleep was a cause of his own discomfort. But you didn’t have to deal with that tonight, and now you’ve fallen asleep in record time. He can’t say it was just from the pills.

Did you change your mind on leaving after you felt their effects? It doesn’t seem likely that you’d ditch all that to sleep. Rather, that you wanted to sleep on your own terms.

He’d spent so much time concerned with stopping a potential escape, that he didn’t stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, that was never the goal to begin with.

And now Chrollo rolls over to face you, gently tugging on your shoulder to pull you onto your back.

You’re serene as ever, a sight to behold.

He brushes the back of his knuckles along your hair, feeling its texture, so light that his calloused hands - hands that have seen many a bruise and burn and slice and hangnail caught and ripped on the job - almost can’t feel it. Your exhales come out more as huffs and sighs now compared to gentle breathing, and he allows a chuckle (one that he finds incredibly endearing, as much as you’ve let your disagreement to that sentiment be known, preferring to describe it with wounding words such as “condescending” and “grating”) to slip past his lips.

It reminds him of you when you’re awake, when you used to try so hard to be difficult for him, when you used to scream and scratch as he’d spoon you, grip ironclad, until all you could do was huff and puff and plead with him (and as much as he enjoyed your attempts to compromise, this was something he simply could not relinquish) and eventually, your cursing would die down, your muscles would go limp, and you’d fall asleep.

Sometimes the sun would be up by the time you relented, and your breaths would be the heaviest then. It was amusing, how quickly you’d switch. One second, you were cussing him and his troupe out, the next, you were a paragon of tranquillity, the visage of an angel before him. He’d pray you love him.

He wants to grab your jaw, hold it firm, and kiss your lips as hard as he can. He wants to tilt his head and take and take and take. He wants to keep taking even if your breathing lightens. He wants to keep taking even if your eyelids flutter open, hazy doe-eyes looking at him with dozy confusion.

Well, he’d never deny his own indulgence.

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to your forehead, just as you did to him.

The touch is as gentle as he can make it, as gentle as he can permit himself to be. There’s a split second of what he could almost call fear, an image of accidentally squeezing you too hard and hearing your bones snap flashing in his mind.

He rubs his thumb over where his lips previously were, feeling an unanticipated wetness left behind.

It’s then that Chrollo realises his mouth is full of his own saliva - whether that was because he was so entranced by your actions that nothing else mattered, body as limp as he could allow, or because, like some sort of filthy animal, he couldn’t help but drool at the contact from you, starved for it like a hyena, he doesn’t know. He swallows. That’s better.

And now for the main event.

He dips down to your lips, and lightly presses his own against them. The feeling is so heavenly, he wonders if you really are an angel. If you were one, would you bless him? Would you destroy him?

If you were to know what he’s doing, would you hate him more?

He pulls away.

The journey to get here was sizable. Memories of tonight flash by; your cooking, your conversation, your shower. Your humming.

Ah. The tune he heard as a boy. Innocent, naïve, hopeful.

Well, he’s a man now. And far less innocent.

He lets out a hum of his own, deep and rumbling.

Chrollo moves to straddle you, peeling the duvet and sheets back, layer by layer, unveiling the best present he’s ever gifted himself. Just moving into such an intimate position is enough to send pangs of heat downwards, the hardness he fought against earlier returning with an urgency.

For a moment, he tries to fight against it.

Is it to save himself from your hatred? Is it to save you from what he’s planning?

It’s neither, he discerns, as the attempt was doomed to fail before it even started. He knows it was never meant to succeed.

His groin only throbs harder, aching for friction. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, the way he presses it against your clothed crotch, rocking back and forth, the slight relief just momentary as his desire only grows.

He regards your unsuspecting face. Stunning.

Restraint is draining faster now, but still is present just enough to stop him from grinding any harder despite the urge. But if he’s to stop his movements, he’ll need a different kind of stimulation.

He bunches your shirt up, pulling, sliding a hand under your back so he can slip it off your arms and neck.

Now your chest is bare. How ravishing.

His fingers hook under the band of your sleep pants, dragging them off in a clean motion.

And now your legs are bare. How alluring.

He doesn’t take your underwear off - that would simply be crude, and he doesn’t need to tempt himself anymore. If he got the privilege (or right, considering your standings) of seeing you fully nude, as opposed to having a single layer covering the most tantalising part of you, he’d be oh-so-inclined to do something regrettable. His logic fights to win space within his buzzing thoughts, fingers daring to twitch as his imagination fills in the gaps of what the thin black layer forces to be left to it.

Chrollo parts your thighs for good measure, the maximum he can allow himself at this moment. It’d be impossible to not let his hands and gaze trail up them, observing how as he roams upwards, your flesh gets softer, warmer; how the flimsy fabric can’t hide all of your darker flesh; how your lower lips are pressing against the cloth, visible despite the darkness…

God, you’re so fuckable.

There’s a pretentious voice in his head, albeit muffled, that cries protests at the use of such a word to describe you. You’re something far more than that - beautiful, exemplary, one-in-a-million, ethereal. Surely your mouth would be better put to use having a fulfilling conversation with him, a conversation he can dissect and steer and puppeteer, as opposed to just opening as wide as it can to accommodate his cock, taking it as deep as your gag reflex will allow, barely able to breathe, much less talk. Although, he thinks with a faint, deep groan, twitching in his pants, that’s certainly a hypothesis I’ll have to test.

With the sight of your breasts, nipples hard and skin goosebumped from the chill of the room, it’s decided. Just because making his cheeks warm and his cock rock hard isn’t your most prominent trait, doesn’t mean that you aren’t absolutely exceptional at it.

Temptation isn’t something he’s inclined to resist, brushing a thumb over your nipples before leaning down to take one into his mouth. He swears he can hear your breath hitch as his tongue swirls around, breathing getting slightly lighter. An eager hand reaches for the other one, kneading as gently as he thinks he can.

Soft is the first thing he thinks. Your flesh is so soft, so delicate, so tender. If you were awake, he’d vocalise his compliments - and do so loudly, unrestrained.

Your breathing changes as he points his tongue to lightly flick at your nipple repeatedly. Chances are you’re being taken out of REM sleep, but your consciousness doesn’t matter at this stage. And some part of him hopes for it, brief images flashing in his mind of barely-open teary eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head. They’re obscene, so utterly immoral to even fantasise about, yet even the split-second thought makes his stomach jump, shivering a bit as he feels himself be almost overcome by them.

He can’t help but slightly wet his lips in anticipation, relishing in the knowledge that his instincts are being held back with the slightest thread. If he moves even slightly faster than his rational, calculating, non-carnal mind intends, then it’ll snap. He’ll snap.

Almost trembling, he reaches across to his bedside table. The movements are imprecise, but he’s sure this practice will allow him to execute them with much more grace for the inevitable time you’ll be awake. Yes, you’ll be awake and whining and he’ll wet his lips in anticipation and be met with your lingering taste and you’ll want him as much as he wants you-

He almost falls forward as his own lust threatens to overtake him. Focus on the necessary steps.

Taking a shuddering breath, he leans down to pull open the drawer, to find a bottle hidden at the back, purposefully concealed behind an upright copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Quickly shifting his weight back, he pops the cap open, spreading some of the slick contents onto his fingertips. With his free hand, he pulls down the loose elastic of his pyjama pants, shucking them off, the cold air making him quiver slightly.

Time’s running out.

The movements are trembling, sloppy as he pours lube onto his length, and then onto your spread thighs. There’s a frantic inertia of sorts, a mad momentum - the more he does, the faster he has to go, the anticipation making his stomach swell and dip. He’s really going to do this. It’s really going to happen, and it’ll be amazing.

There. Done. Everything’s ready.

Chrollo takes a shaky breath, gripping just above your knees, and squeezes your thighs around his dick.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your thighs are warm from the duvet, perfectly cosy and wet from the lube for his cock.

Little time is wasted as he begins to thrust his hips, trying not to give himself too much too soon. The steady pace is slowly increased, little by little, a fragile incline so he can drag this out for as long as possible.

Can you feel it? Can you feel the warmth radiating from him? Is there some part of your mind that’s awake, but can’t do anything to stop him? Or better yet, is eager to please him?

He strains out a hiss through gritted teeth, peppering kisses over your exposed neck, trying his best not to bite. The pace increases yet again. His eyes are fixated on the mound in your underwear, a more sinister form of curiosity burning within.

What does your pussy look like?

He won’t use En, that’s just cheating. He wonders and ponders and conjures up the most filthy images his mind can muster. A warm, tight hole that clenches for him as he slips in and out, teasing you. A pretty clit for him to tease with his fingers as you whine, for him to suckle on as you choke on sobs of pleasure. Folds for him to run his tongue through as you rut your hips against his face; for him to run his tip along, collecting your slick.

He imagines how his cock would look disappearing inside of your cunt, how your grip would be so suffocating, how your tits would bounce as he fucks it (because shit, they’re already moving so vigorously now, as he holds his strength, and he can’t even begin to picture what they’d look like if he loses control buried deep inside you, repeatedly stuffing you to the hilt as you cry out). He imagines how you’d tighten around him, babbling something incoherent as you wrap your arms and legs around him, and oh fuck, he can’t pull out now. He imagines the tension snapping, giving a rumbling groan as he shoves himself into you as deeply as possible, eyes screwing shut and burying his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, riding out his high with a few shallow thrusts.

And finally, he imagines how his cum would look leaking out of your pussy, twitching and swollen from a nice good fuck. The afterglow. The squeak you’d give if he fingered it back into you, growling at you to not waste a drop, keep it all inside for me.

The thought makes his hips stutter a little, threatening to slip out of the plushness between your thighs. Once he regains his rhythm, though, they’re speeding up, relentlessly fucking himself into your thighs over and over, kneading the flesh as he squeezes them tighter and closer.

Chrollo cups your face with a single hand, and leans in.

It’s the second time he’s properly kissed you tonight, and it feels fucking amazing. Your soft lips, your soft thighs, they’re all working together to make his head swim in bliss. You’re working to make him feel good. Yes, him. Nobody else. You’re his.

The thoughts run wild. He has as little control over them as he does his hips.

How would it feel to fuck you in some other position? How would it feel to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back to meet his, as he stuffs himself into your sopping cunt over and over, watching your ass bounce? How would you cry out at the way his balls slap against your swollen clit, building up the pressure inside you until you just can’t take any more?

How would you grind on top of him? How would you moan as you bounce, tilting your head back as you stretch yourself on his length, panting? How many times could you do it until your legs trembled uncontrollably, forcing yourself to impale yourself on his cock just one more time? When he’d plant his feet on the bed firmly and thrust his hips up, grabbing yours and bouncing you in time, would you wail, or simply slump over, completely unable to form a thought as you cum around him for the nth time?

You’re flexible enough to fold into a mating press, right? How deep could he go? How fast could he go? How would your beautiful skin look covered in love bites?

The coil of pressure within him grows even tighter even faster, balls slapping against your thighs, hips pistoning rhythmlessly.

If he asked, oh-so-nicely, for you to get on your knees and please him with your mouth, would you oh-so-sweetly do it? Would you suckle his swollen tip? Would you tease him with a glint of mischief in your eyes? Would you find his most sensitive spots and exploit them? Would you trace your tongue along the veins? Would you massage his balls? Would you let him control the pace, a hand intertwined in your hair? Would you look up at him as you tear up, doe-eyes wide and eager to please? Would you rub your pretty pussy while he shoots thick ropes of cum down your throat, pressing your nose against his pelvis?

Yes, he decides as the coil begins to snap, you would.

Chrollo comes to a sudden halt, choking out a rich groan in a low timbre. The noise becomes more strained as he rides out the high, the overwhelming euphoria becoming just a bit too intense as it begins to morph into overstimulation. Once he’s sure the moment’s over, he lets go of your legs, pulling back to catch his breath and admire his work.

Ropes of cum paint your chest, some making it as far as your neck, your chin. It’s beautiful, the unruly mess he’s made - no, the mess you’ve made of him.

You’re a real beauty, you know that?

The bathroom tiles are cold against his feet as he grabs a washcloth to clean you up. It’s sad to see it go, to a primal extent, but it’s probably for the best to ensure he doesn’t get any ideas for a second round tonight.

For future nights, though? The chest he’s covering up will soon be exposed soon enough.

He’ll have to get more sleeping pills. You simply must try this again soon.

Next time, he’ll taste you. The time after that, you’ll taste him. He can hardly wait, nor can he stop the dull throbbing starting up in his groin again.

He sates himself for the time being with the knowledge that the time after that, you’ll be awake.

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