#this broke my heart oops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taintedcigs · 11 months

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˚ 　　　 . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄

vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader

summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!

authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.

please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily

read vol 2 here

Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.

Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch.

Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes.

Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you.

The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you.

With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with.

Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.

Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him.

You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone.

Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that.

The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.

You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise.

You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him.

Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.

You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.

The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger.

“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact.

Steve fucking Harrington.

Falling right into your lap.

Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now.

Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.

With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.

But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.

Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out.

The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.

You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.

Exactly what you fucking need.

You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.

This would be a little reward.

“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth.

You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical.

And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.

God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips.

That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.

God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.

“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you.

With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.”

“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body.

Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.

And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it.

“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier.

“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.

“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.

“Oh, yeah?”

“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy.

“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”

Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.

“You’re on, King Steve.”

It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.

The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.

And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.

A win-win.

You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.

But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you.

You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be.

The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship.

Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch.

“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips.

“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body.

“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.

You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind.

“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.

“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut.

If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him.

“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.

“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage.

“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.

“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready.

“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat.

Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos.

“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him.

“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.

“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more.

He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…”

He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper.

He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”

His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him.

“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you.

He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before.

“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious.

And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.

He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue.

He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name.

Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling.

“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it.

“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good.

“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise.

His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you.

You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.

A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him.

He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor.

So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips.

The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more.

Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind.

Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you.

As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck.

Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor.

“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric.

You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest.

Asshole.

With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache.

“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line.

You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk.

King Steve, indeed.

You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in.

He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft.

He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.

Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.

He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.

“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.

“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs.

He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further.

Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.

Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.

You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly.

You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.

And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.

“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue. “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.

“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.

Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.

It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.

Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.

“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight.

“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him.

He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.

“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.

He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane.

“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.

Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease.

His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!”

“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.

“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner.

“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely.

You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.

You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.

Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.

He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you.

His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down.

You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.

“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”

“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.

You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.

“What the fuck? I thought-”

“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised.

“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk.

One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.

Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe.

The poor boy.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.

Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop.

His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls.

“But–”

“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone.

He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left.

Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.

And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive.

#steve harrington x reader #king!steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #king!steve harrington

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octoberautumnbox · 9 months

Text

I Got All I Need

Le Sserafim Kim Chaewon (ft. Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader)

Categories/warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation, voyeurism i think, anal, abuse, rough sex, like really really rough sex (kinda)

Word count: 1.6k

a/n: wrote on a whim lol no proofread no beta im sorry anways--

Chaewon lay bored in her bed, having exhausted her SNS feeds and Watch Later playlist. Her members sent all manner of pictures with their families and other friends in the groupchat, and honestly, genuinely, Chaewon was happy for them! And just a teeny bit envious, that's all, cross her heart and hope to die.

Her phone read 6:06 pm, and on her first long weekend off in the year, she had nothing to do. She was getting desperate for some fun. She opened her contacts app and punched in a random number.

"Ah, sorry, Chaewon-ssi," the voice on the other end of the line admitted, "Yena won't be back in Korea until next Friday. I'll let her know you called."

"Hi, this is Eunbi! I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave me a message and I'll get back to you in a jiffy!" Of course she uses an answering machine, Chaewon thought.

"Hi, Unnie!" Chaewon was overjoyed! "Hey Minmin, I was just curious if you were down to eat--" The sound of a bell rang loud in the other side of the phone call. "Oops, I'm really really sorry Unnie. Gotta get back now. Long night ahead of us, they're even killing my character again today! See you soon!"

Looking to her closet, Chaewon's mind was half-set to just put on a warm coat and go out alone. That's a thing people do nowadays, right? Go out and eat by themselves?

Sighing, she went for one last-ditch effort. She knows she won't pick up. She knows that even if she does, she wouldn't want to come out. She knows that if she wants to come out, it'll be shabu-shabu and sitting around by the Han River. "Oh well," Chaewon resigned, "At least I won't be alone."

She scrolled down her contacts and found her name. Tap, tap, tap, and the ringing started. One ring, two, three, and four. Chaewon expected this, so much so that she's not even disappointed.

"H-hello?" Chaewon fought back a gasp! "Hey, hi Yuri! I was going to go out for a bite--"

"Ah, fuck..." Silence filled the phone line for a good few seconds before Yuri's end broke it again. "Shit, th-that's really good."

"Yuri?" "Ffffuck yes, just like that..." Disbelief filled Chaewon's mind. "Sorry," Yuri struggled to whisper, "wh-who is this?"

"It's... It's Chaewo-" "Fuck! Shit, shit, shit, please..."

Chaewon had half a mind to just drop the call then and there, and she should, right? This is one of her best friends in the world. Busy, as they say, with something important.

"Unnie, I'm so sorry, I just have the thickest cock ripping my asshole apart right now, ahhh, oh fuck, OH FUCK!"

Although, as much as Chaewon wants to deny it, dropping the call was out of the question now. She had to know just what exactly was going on.

"Are you okay, Yuri? Do... you need me to call someone?"

"Haahhhhh... Ahh, AHHHH!" Yuri's scream ripped through the phone line, and Chaewon couldn't keep her own free hand from straying anymore.

"Unnie, I... I need y-you... to keep a... a secret," It was hard for Chaewon to decipher what her friend was saying, between every moan and grunt littered across her speech. She couldn't resist, though, that she was paying more attention to them than whatever words could be spilling out of Yuri's mouth.

"I'm... with my... with my boyfriend. He's p-pounding my ass right now..." Chaewon was groping her own ass at that moment, and she could feel herself getting moist.

She heard whispering at the other end. Yuri's voice rang clearer, even if a bit shakier. "He says... if I end the call... he'll tie me up and, and leave me," Yuri's breaths are heavy and laced with exhaustion, "un-until morning. So I'm sorry, but I can't... Mmmmff..."

Chaewon couldn't believe she was getting hot to the sound of her friend getting fucked hard. There was no way pure, sweet, innocent Yuri was like this, right? Absolutely impossible.

And yet, she found her own hand slipping under her panties. She felt her smooth pussy lips, how they were slick against her fingers, and how her insides were starting to burn up.

"Unnie... he's making me tell you..." Chaewon was all ears now, desperate for more.

"I have six inches of cock up my ass... and three ffffingers... in my soaking cunt." Three wouldn't fit, Chaewon thought, so she settled for two inside herself. Her pussy lips parted for them, and Chaewon let out a tiny "mmmh."

"He... he's rubbing my clit, and... AHHH--" Chaewon was palming her own clit as her fingers shoved themselves slowly in and out of her pussy, letting more of her juices out and onto her panties.

"... and he's s-slapping and pinching it, Unnie..." Frustrated and in heat, Chaewon frantically stripped and kicked away both her shorts and panties; they were ruined anyway. She lay comfortably back onto her bed and spread her legs, in prime position for her own missionary fucking, with regrettably nothing more than her left hand.

"And Unnie..." Her former member's deep and heavy breaths occupied the phone line. "P-please... don't let this... change how you see me... God, please, no..."

Chaewon pumped her fingers in and out of her pussy hard now. Her juices were falling all over her bedsheets, and the scent of her sex reaching her nose only spurred her on.

"Yuri... Tell me."

"He... he creampied me, Unnie..." Suddenly, Chaewon's hips lifted off the bed momentarily as she heard this. Her fingers found a good spot as she returned to the bed, and from then on strove to hit it again and again and again.

"More, Yuri-yah... please..." She couldn't hide it anymore, Chaewon was moaning just as loudly now as her beloved friend.

"Th-three times, Unnie... in my ass..." Chaewon's eyes shut tight as her brain locked onto what was being said. "And... six... I think, in my... my pussy... oh- OH GOD!"

Chaewon started grinding against her palm, forcing more pleasure through her crotch. She humped against the air, lifting and dropping her hips in a needy bid for her sweet release.

"FUCK! Unnie, I can't remember-- Shhhhhit, shitshitshitshit... How- how many times he came in my cunt- AHHHH!"

She could hear it so much better now, how her friend's ass slapped against her boyfriend's waist. Yuri's moans rang louder still, pushing her phone's speaker to its limit.

"Unnie, holy fuck, Unnie... Please... don't..." Yuri collected herself for a moment before starting again. "He... he has my-my nipples in clamps, too... It hurts so good, Chaewon-unnie, shit... everything is so good..."

Chaewon struggled against her top, and managed to get all of it up past her chest and under her neck. Her breasts bounced out from under her bra and relaxed. She pinched and squeezed her left nipple as hard as she could, feeling the nub stiffen against her fingertips.

"And I came, Unnie..." Her fingers returned to pleasuring her now-leaking pussy. Chaewon rubbed around her lips to collect more of her slick, before shoving now three of her fingers inside her.

"I came so... so many times. F-fifteen... before I- ahhh- lost c-count." Chaewon found her pace and rhythm again. She pistoned her fingers into and out of her sex as her moans reached the other end of the line too.

"Fuck, Yuri-yah, that sounds so fucking good... I'm close... I'm so close!"

"He's forcing me t-to tell you, Unnie, ahhhhh..."

Chaewon shut her eyes again, wishing, imagining it was her getting the railing of her life. Only now did she realize how big the wet spot on her bed between her legs was.

"I'm... Unnie, I'm... his slut. I'm his ffffuuuckdoll..."

Chaewon was straining herself now, her arm muscles burning with overexertion. She felt her cunt leak so much of her sex all over her hand. She wildly fingered her g-spot, praying that her climax comes soon.

"I'm his pleasure girl, Unnie," Chaewon heard her friend's voice break with sobs between words and moans. "I'm his slutty, hhhorny, p-personal o-onahole..."

At this point, Chaewon was sobbing too. Why couldn't she have a boyfriend like that? Why can't she be the one getting sexually taken advantage of? She even bet she could make Yuri's boyfriend feel worlds better than Yuri ever could.

"I'm his... I'm his slutty fucking cumdump, Unnie! He fucks me raw and creampies my cunt- AHHHHH- and I love when he fills my womb up so much it leaks out of my abused pussy!"

A scream dragged itself across Chaewon's throat, and she made sure both Yuri and her boyfriend heard. Chaewon's arm burned hotter with overfatigue as she was nearly breaking her own pussy with how hard she was pumping. "Fuck, Yuri! Please! I need to cum!"

"Fuck, Unnie, me too! Shit, Unnie, I have to tell you..."

Tears streamed down Chaewon's cheeks now, her crotch and thighs soaked with her slick. She's already lost control of herself and fully gave in to her body's desires, wailing cries and moans that she couldn't even recognize as her own anymore.

"I'm not safe, Unnie! I'm so fucking f-fertile! He's going to make me pregnant! H-he's put- FUCKING SHIT, PLEASE DADDY- He's putting a fucking baby in my womb!!! AAAHHHHHHH!"

"FFFFUCK, YURI! HOLY FUCK I'M CUMMING SO MUCH!!!"

Chaewon's cum sprayed out of her sore cunt in intense streams. Chaewon forcefully pulled her fingers out as her hips convulsed violently, wringing out every last drop of her climax. She kept squirting for what felt like ages, and with every spurt of her girlcum she grew less and less alert.

Her eyes were heavy, and her ears were failing her. Her hands dropped to the sides, as did her waist onto the mattress as her climax overwhelmingly resolved. She grew less and less aware of her heart beating out of her chest, and, finally, passed out naked on her cum-soaked bed.

a/n: lmao jesus christ anyways this wasn't the incest smut i was talking abt that's still in the works

#girl group smut #izone smut #kpop smut #le sserafim smut #kim chaewon smut #chaewon smut #jo yuri smut #fic box

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awxcoffeexno · 29 days

Text

giving him a reason

logan howlett x human!reader

fic masterlist

summary: you've been on the run from the yakuza and are taking refuge in an old, forgotten family home. logan's been protecting you this whole while because that's just who logan is.

content: i've lifted the setting straight from the wolverine (2013). reader is taking mariko's place--reader is mariko, mariko is reader (no names are taken tho). lovemaking ensues. this fic is super tender and gentle because bitches need to remember how tender and gentle logan really is (i'm bitches). this is porn with no plot lolol. f!reader.

warnings: extremely 18+ content. MDNI. i'll kill u if you do. tender love making, logan goes down on reader like a champ, piv, reader is a virgin but logan's vvvvvvvvv gentle and caring, there's hardly any talking but there is proper consent taking, logan just wants to take care of reader, all is good in the world (at least for now), and logan's lost his healing powers so several mentions of him having bullet wounds.

word count: 3k (oops? might've gotten a teeny tiny bit carried away)

a/n: back at it again, but publishing my first nsfw fic, praying y'all don't hate me. if you don't like this, istg the nsfw version of claw worship is NEVER seeing light of day.

you hear him groan behind the door and the sound makes your heart catch.

you and logan have been on your feet all day, save for the train ride to the small village in nagasaki you've finally reached. running from the yakuza had decidedly not been your plan for the day after your grandfather's funeral but what choice did you have in coming here really?

not to mention... logan saved your life yesterday. several times. he was shot seven times per what the doctor told you.

and he is not healing. your grandfather told you that kuzuri had exceptional healing powers. he'd told you this several times. but logan is not healing at all and it makes you tic. he'd told you that this was the doing of your grandfather's doctor. you cannot imagine the agony he must be in.

you've never done well with seeing or hearing people in pain. yukio always suspected you had some type of emotionally perceptive powers but you don't think so. you just have an inherent need to help and that's that.

carefully, hopefully noiselessly, you slide the door to the bedroom open and though he has his back to the door, his neck is already craning towards you. apparently whatever that doctor lady did to take his healing powers did not dull his hearing.

he's standing shirtless, feet shoulder width apart to keep his balance, skin glistening from a sheen of sweat.

"may i see?" you ask and he takes a long, deep breath.

you stand in silence, at first waiting for him to decide and then watching him turn around, bloodied black shirt in hand and an uneasy vulnerability in his eyes.

his stitches look mostly in place apart from the ones on the wound on his abdomen that have started to bleed. you pad over and reach a steady hand out to touch gingerly around the wound.

logan's jaw tightens but he lets you examine him, his breath warm on your face.

he's burning hot and it would be startling but he'd explained yesterday that it's normal for him. his fever had started when he was 9 and it never broke. so you ignore the unnatural temperature of his skin and step away to find him a cloth and some hot water to clean himself with.

when you return, however, he has clearly already showered and is trying to tie a dark kimono on. you have no idea where he found it and his efforts on keeping it in place force you to bite back a smile.

"let me." you offer, putting the contents of your hand aside to help him.

he immediately pulls his hands away in defeat and you find yourself barely an inch away from him yet again. his breath on you makes your toes curl this time. there's something different about his stance, something... more inviting.

"you need this tied like a proper samurai," you explain as you work on the obi.

there's a moment of silence, the pitter pattering of the rain comforting in the silence. he's thinking, you realise.

"your grandfather called me a ronin." his voice is low. tentative. "a samurai without a master. he said i was destined to live forever... with no reason to live."

that's probably the most you've heard him speak.

you swallow thickly. "was he right?"

"yes," he says, voice laced with such melancholy, it makes you ache.

he has taken seven bullets for you knowing he isn't healing. dodged perhaps a hundred more whilst protecting you.

you remember how he'd stood directly in an open doorway in front of a gun-wielding yakuza man to distract him so that you could run. you'll never forget the sound of those bullets hitting his metal skeleton. like nails on a chalkboard.

he'd put his life on the line for you over and over and over again.

aren't you reason enough then? haven't you become reason enough? after everything you've both been through? together?

you muster up all the courage you can and stuff it into one word. "still?"

your eyes dart up to his for a flash before coming back down to finish up. you pull your hands away but... but after the two dreadfully long days that you both have spent together... after seeing him fight to so furiously to keep you safe the way he did... after everything, you simply cannot bear the thought of stepping back.

neither can he apparently because one of his large, warm paws comes up and cups your cheek, ever so slowly pulling you into a kiss.

something about you has been haunting him since he first looked into your eyes three days ago at your family home in the suburbs of tokyo. especially after you, like a goddamned fool, tried to jump off the roof. he cannot pretend to understand why he's been so taken with you but he knows if he hadn't stopped you from jumping that day, another part of him would've died.

he supposes it's something about the saddest eyes on some of the most beautiful women ever that draw him to them. first kayla, then jean, and now... you. and that's only in the last half-century.

so he kisses you, warm and gentle and desperate to comfort. he kisses you like that until you mewl into his mouth, soft and needy. and then his own need shifts.

still careful to be gentle, his hands slip into your hair to hold the back of your neck to angle you better for himself. he's a tall man and leaning too far down is causing him pain he isn't very used to.

you feel so small in his hold, his hand wrapped around the entirety of the back of your neck, fingers resting under your ears, soothing your tingling skin.

pulling away a little, you run a thumb across his cheek. a small, very small smile spreads across his lips.

"hey." he says, voice low and soft, making you blush.

this should feel wrong. he's the kuzuri your grandfather told you bedtime stories about. the kuzuri whose bravery and determination gave you the strength to also face your nightmares as a little girl. you shouldn't be doing this.

but maybe that's why it feels right. you feel safe around him. truly and wholly safe; something not harada or even your own father has ever made you feel. you've known this kuzuri your whole life and you know he'll protect you.

you don't even bother thinking about how you're engaged to noburo. no, you've heard enough whispers about him sleeping with other women after your engagement to him. it doesn't faze you in the slightest.

so you kiss him again, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his smile. you feel one of his hands run down your back, coming to a stop right atop the bow of your obi, sending a shiver of thrill down your spine.

you've never felt this excitement before. you and harada had never gotten this far and noburo... well, something about his predator like advances made you want to throw up, so you never even let him this close.

but here you are, in the arms of kuzuri, a literal predator, and you feel... warm. nice.

he looks at you, brows dipping in an ask for consent. when you nod, sucking your lip between your teeth, he yanks the obi open and gently slips your kimono off one shoulder.

your soft, smooth skin makes him bite back a primal growl. he'd hate to scare you off, but standing here in front of him in the glow of the moonlight, you look so edible.

leaning in, making your tummy do a backflip, he presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to your shoulder. it makes you squeak and hold onto him tighter lest your knees betray you.

"logan!" you whisper with a gasp, feeling his teeth sink in and your feet leave the ground as he scoops you into his arms and takes you to the mattress in the middle of the room.

carefully, he kneels onto the floor and sets you down, his movement so light and tender it makes your heart ache.

pressing another kiss to your throat and then your mouth, he moves to place himself onto the mattress, between your legs.

you look at him with such big doe eyes, he cannot help but bring your hands together and press a soft kiss in the middle of your palms.

he then moves to undo your kimono like a wrapped present and take you in fully.

you're beautiful. the moonlight makes you shine, so perfectly womanly and delicate in his gaze.

reverently, he bends forward, right hand wrapping around your left thigh and pulling your legs apart so he can finally claim you with his mouth. his wounds ache for relief, the position actual torture but he barely even notices, so taken he is by your presence.

you push a lithe hand into his hair when you first feel his tongue, tugging as your hips arch up and you cry out his name.

"logan, god–"

he smiles into your mound, not having expected such a reaction this quick, but it only makes sense. you've both been so wound up after everything, you obviously need this.

"i know, princess," he coos as he licks a stripe across your leaking pussy all the way up to your clit.

he brings his lips around the little bundle of nerves and sucks experimentally and he's forced to hold your hips down when you moan out loud again. he was not expecting you to be loud in bed but he sees absolutely no reason to complain.

his tongue works on you expertly, undoing you with every lick and stroke and bite and suck. his fingers squeeze into your sides painfully hard, so badly wanting to mark you as his. he runs his hands down to your thighs and gently pulls them around his neck, sitting up to relieve the pain in his wounds, pulling you up with him.

"lo–"

"i've got you, you're okay," he reassures immediately, making your tummy flip again. he's so so so gentle and it kills you to have seen him as nothing but a brute until you reached the village.

his mouth continues to perform its delicious hot magic on your nerves as your eyes roll back in your head and you unconsciously reach up for one of your bared breasts. he freezes when he notices your movement, distracted like a cat having heard a mouse scampering across a field.

your eyes fly open to finding him watching your movements with a dark and hungry lust.

"don't stop," he urges and though his voice is strained, it isn't unkind. if anything, it almost sounds pleading.

how can you possibly deny him that? especially when he says it in that voice, looking at you with that expression.

so you continue, cupping a handful of your breast and squeezing gently, making yourself moan. he groans into your heat and buries his mouth back against your pussy, eyes never leaving your hands.

he continues his good work, watching you like a hawk as you knead your breasts, biting your lip. carefully, you circle your finger around one nipple as he sucks on your clit again.

you lose yourself to it, the rhythm of playing with yourself, the beautiful way it harmonises with his mouth, it's all so delicious. just like that, you feel yourself winding up, up, up...

"c'mon, princess," he encourages, "let go for me."

and you fall. fast and slow, all at once, right over the edge. you fall and fall and fall, and he continues to do the wicked thing with his tongue around your clit, lapping at your pussy and you give your everything to him.

he works you through it, moaning your name softly, his hands bruising your thighs until you slump in his hold. gently pulling your legs off his shoulders, he sets you down and crawls over you.

his hands come to rest on either side of your head and the warmth is so inviting, the scent of tobacco and his earthy musk filling your senses.

"can you give me another, angel?" he asks, kissing you right on the mouth so that you can taste yourself on his tongue; heaven, the mix of his need and your release tastes like heaven.

you shake your head no, too overstimulated but he's already working his way down to your breasts, leaving wet, hot kisses in his wake. and when he gets to one nipple and sucks it into his mouth with a soft groan, it sparks the fire right back up in your core.

"watching you play with yourself..." he murmurs, trailing off as he licks a flat stripe up the valley of your breasts before looking up at you.

the look in his eyes and his unrelenting mouth make you whine. "logan... need you."

that makes him smirk. how quickly he's worked you out.

"yeah? don't worry, babygirl," and he's spreading your legs apart again, "i'll take care of you."

he pulls the kimono off himself so quickly, you suspect it might have something to do with the claws that retract into his hand. you didn't even realise when he took them out.

he's... glorious. every muscle in his body is taut and stretched across his body like a work of art. his tan skin is dusted with hair so fine it makes your mouth water.

your eyes cross his pecs, his wounds, his bruises, lower and lower until... fuck. he's... big. big and so red, surely it must be painful.

he brings a hand up to your face and you think he's going to cover your mouth but he simply says, "lick."

you oblige shyly, savouring the salt of his skin. he pulls it away, spitting and then wrapping his surprisingly long and thick fingers around his cock. he runs it up and down the length, watching you with such intensity, it makes you blush as he positions himself in front of your opening and you bite your lip, looking up as he crowds you again.

you feel him push into you and within seconds, he's already stretching you open so wide it makes you grab the pillow behind your head in desperation.

he stills, gauging you. he knows this feeling. he's felt it in other women before; the squeezing of walls so tight there could only be one explanation. you're a virgin. shit, he needs to be careful.

rubbing your thighs with both hands, he gently and carefully pushes in just a little bit more.

"never done this before?" he asks, leaning down to press the softest kiss to your lips.

of course he's right. you have no idea how he knows but it makes you redden that he's caught onto your inexperience. are you making it that obvious? oh god, are you not making this good for him?!

immediately noticing your agitation, he pulls all the way out and kisses you again.

"easy... easy," he says, stroking your hair away from your face. "just gotta relax."

his voice is so even, so warm and soothing, that you cannot help but nod.

"good girl," he smiles encouragingly, once again positioning himself at your entrance.

he pushes in again and this time it's easier. you aren't quite so wound up and he slides in smoother because he's already made you adequately wet. still, he goes slowly, making sure it is good for you.

until you realise he's going too slow.

"lo–" you gasp, voice more a squeak than you'd like. "more– need more, please..."

around anyone else you'd feel pathetic. begging for something so filthy, so raw. but with logan, it's so comfortable. knowing he'll give you anything you ask for, even if you've known each other only half a week.

so he pushes himself completely into you, and he's so fucking big, so fucking much inside you as he whispers words of encouragement into your ears, kissing and biting at your neck. the ache of the stretching almost immediately gives way to a sharp pleasure that shoots through you straight from his tip and into every last nerve in your body.

it makes you wrap both hands around him, needing so desperately to be as close to him as possible.

you initiate the kiss this time as he starts moving in you. you slip your tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his, making him groan. the sound is so delicious, you roll your hips to cause it again. his hands grasp your waist, steading you, moaning your name around your tongue.

one of his hands comes up to grab the back of your neck again, taking charge of the kiss as he starts thrusting into you with more vigour.

you cannot imagine a better feeling than being right here. being held by him, being kissed by him, and being filled by him.

tentatively, you squeeze around him, realising you're reaching another orgasm quickly. he growls into your mouth at that, picking up further speed. it makes your hips buck and you're skin feel like it's on fire.

"logan, i'm... i'm..."

"me too, angel," he grunts.

and with one final thrust he presses all the way intp you, making you cry out as you come undone again. he snarls your name, a man possessed, the squeezing and fluttering of your walls pushing him over his own edge.

he fills you up, forehead coming down to rest against yours. he pants softly, never having felt tired like this before. but he realises... he doesnt mind it so much, not when he's tired because he got to make love to you.

you kiss him sweetly, breaking him out of his thoughts and he smiles at you.

"so beautiful," he murmurs, pulling out of you and lying down next to you.

he tugs you onto his chest and presses a kiss into your hair.

"logan?" you say, so spent your eyes are already drooping.

"hmm?"

"still?" you say and he realises you're repeating his question from earlier.

he hugs you tightly at that, wrapping his arms around you, warm and possessive.

"no. i don't think so."

wrote this at 6 in the morning before work so if there's errors, it's not my fault :))))

ik everyone hates the 2013 movie but i rewatched it recently and i remembered every last line. fuck me it's soooooo good.

really hope u like it tho.

love, d <3

retroactively tagging @techwrecker for being a cutie in the comments in all my other fics 🙂‍↔️

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett xmen #xmen #xmen fanfiction #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan x reader smut #wolverine x reader smut #logan x mariko

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skyrigel · 3 months

Text

" It's okay baby, leave him." You grabbed Simon's hand, too big against yours but the effect wasn't, his gaze softened when he met yours, you had seen the murderous glare he gave that man.

" But—"

" he doesn't deserve it babe, c'mon, let's not ruin our date." You hopped on your feet, dragging him with you not that you could but he simply allowed himself, squeezing your hand gently as he leaned to kiss each knuckle.

" You're an angel." Simon smiled, his eyes filled with warmth as he carried the books along.

" and you're my angel ! " You grabbed his collar, pulling him in a kiss, you were almost sure that Simon was going to kill him, but Simon didn't pick up fights, never when you told him not to, he kept out of trouble. Angel

" Ofcourse." Simon peppered, glancing at the other lane but the man who ' accidentally ' grabbed your butt was gone.

—

Simon was reluctant but it has to be done, he took your arm that was wrapped around him and placed it on the pillow, sliding away as his foot touched the cold floor, how much he just wanted to be wrapped in your warmth and smell, you looked extra angelic when you were asleep. He pressed down a kiss on your forehead, sighing deeply.

He didn't like lying to you but you were just too good of a girl, always forgiving, always nice, always angel and these fuckers, they just didn't deserve any of it. He locked the door as he made his way to his workshop, humming along a song you liked very much, thinking about making pancakes for you tommorow.

The workshop was dark with it's steel and iron, he didn't bother to light it up as he pulled a vase aside, revealing a switch he turned up, a creaking noise followed and small space opened down the floor, revealing a steep staircase.

He heard it, his heart relished as he did, the sobbing was like music, Simon descended down the stairs, a smirk plastered to his face

" Hi Bastard" He opened the lights, the man in question squeezed his eyes, his whole body bleeding with ropes too tight against his naked body.

" ple...plea.. please." He croaked, Simon made sure to keep his mouth open because how wonderful it would be to scream and scream and have no one to hear, blood brilliant.

Simon grabbed a nail, placing it between the bruised man's knuckles, he had duct taped his wrist to a table.

" oops." Simon said nonchalantly, as the man screamed with his dry throat, the hammer striking on his middle finger on instead.

" ... please...I be..g " he was howling, Simon shaked his head, looking at the nail that was yet to be penetrated.

" My girl is very soft you know, very sensitive my cupcake." He said, placing sharp edge of the nail on his index finger, looking into his eyes while the man cried back in horror, " I understand that was an accident."

" sorry...so..AHAH ! " He shrieked when the hammer hit the nail, blood splashing out.

" you touched her with these filthy fingers, didn't you ? " Simon sighed, his eyes glinted when the man broke into a cry, big tears mixing with blood as the came down his pathetic face.

" perhaps it was the left hand, don't you think ? " He perked up, the man shaked his head profusely, throat unable to form a scream as Simon shifted his gaze to the left hand, " Oh, you think so too." Simon whispered it down, revealing a box full of nails.

Masterlist

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cloudcountry · 4 months

Note

I sent my request via dms but I'm still sending an ask for the sake of it, woops

Remember to hydrate and unshrimp :}

SUMMARY: idia doesn't how how to react when you show up at his door late at night and reveal something as earth shattering as your most recent breakup.

COMMENTS: we talked about this in dms but i hope you like the finished product!! <3

I CANT TELL IF THIS OR ANGST OR FLUFF. MAN.

reading this against its def angst oops

idia has issues but you're gonna get him through them trust 💪

The sound of mindless clicking, fans whirring, and Idia’s steady breathing are the only sounds that can be heard this late at night. It’s not that the residents of Ignihyde are sleeping—no, they’re all tucked away in their rooms, either tinkering with new tech or in the same position Idia is now. His lower back starts to ache from his slouched position in his chair, and so he straightens out his back to ease the pain. His spine cracks once, twice, thrice before settling down, and Idia promptly falls back into his old posture.

He briefly hears your voice in his mind, a reminder to sit up straight and not surf the web too late. He blinks slowly, briefly considering obeying your imaginary command, before he rationalizes using his PC more because you’re not actually here, you’re out with your boyfriend right now.

Or so he thinks.

It’s as though he summoned you, your knock on his door, a secret knock that only you would ever use. Idia insisted on a precaution like that so he’d know when it was safe to open the door and when it wasn’t. So far you hadn’t abused the privilege, never using it when you had friends with you. In fact, Idia was fairly certain you’d created a new knocking pattern recently when you had friends with you, just so he could know it was okay to respond but he didn’t have to open the door if he didn’t want to.

It's the knock that tells him you're alone.

So this time, he wants to.

He stands up, pushing his gamer chair to the side as his joints creak from being held in one position for far too long. He stalks over to the door, shaking hands reaching towards the doorknob. Because of your boyfriend, he’s always kept his feelings about you under wraps, wanting your happiness first and foremost. Besides, in what world would anyone be interested in him? He wouldn’t even want to associate with you like that, the thought of dragging you into his darkness was too much.

The doorknob turns and his door creaks open, a sliver of light spilling into his room until the rest of it is blocked by you. Idia opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing at his door this late, especially since you have a boyfriend and if anyone should be hanging out with you this late it really should be him and—

And—

And you have never looked more serious. It makes the words die in his throat, his lips parted like a fool.

“Do you have time to talk?” you ask softly, shifting from foot to foot in your pajamas and oh Great Seven, did you walk across campus like that? There were so many bugs out at night and snakes too, and what if you tripped because you couldn’t see where you were going? You came alone, WHY would you come alone this late? You could have gotten hurt—

His hands are twitching as your eyes drift down towards them, watching silently as they shake towards and away from you, like he wants to touch you but isn’t sure if he can. You initiate, taking his hands in yours and gently pushing him back into his room, nudging the door shut with your foot as quietly as possible.

“Um...what are you doing here this late?” Idia asks softly, his hands in yours, still twitching restlessly.

“I had to tell you something. It’s nothing bad on your part, before you start overthinking. It’s something to do with my boyfriend, now ex.” you say, each word purposeful and slow, like you’re picking your words very carefully in your sleepy haze.

“You broke up?” Idia murmurs, ignoring the way his heart jumps in his throat.

Of course he’s happy you’re single now. Of course he is. But that doesn't mean now is the time to start fantasizing about actually dating you. Oh who is he kidding, he wouldn’t be starting that, he’s been doing that. The last thing he needs to his feelings getting in the way and making things hard for you, you’ve been his best friend for years now, ever since he came to NRC you’ve always been in his corner, even though sometimes you don’t get to see each other that often and he’s not going to fuck this up because he likes you more than he should, no way is he going to fuck this up—

“Yeah. We broke up a few weeks ago.” you say, moving your hands from his and pressing them into your thighs.

“Oh.” Idia says dumbly.

You smile weakly, glancing around his room before gesturing to his bed. Idia feels his heart in his throat again—it’s the only place with room to sit, yeah, but it’s so messy and oh Great Seven what if his manga makes you think he’s weird and you never want to speak to him again.

You don’t even spare a glance at his mess. You just sit down and clench your hands in your lap, watching him as he sits down next to you. His eyes land on your hands, white knuckled and shaking, and it squeezes his heart when he thinks about just what your boyfriend could have done to hurt you like this.

Your ex, he means. Your ex. He’s never going to be your boyfriend again, even if he apologizes, because as much as you’re hurting right now Idia knows you'll only come back stronger for it.

It’s one of the reasons why he admires you so much.

“It...wasn’t something I was planning on broadcasting. And as far as I know, he hasn’t told anyone either. Not that he’s good at telling people things.” you remark bitterly, a frown twisting your lips.

“Was he not talking to you?” Idia asks, balling his hands into fists in his lap much like you.

“No. He wasn’t.” you sigh, looking down at his floor, “He wasn’t at all.”

His room grows silent again, but Idia hopes you don’t hear the gears in his brain turning. He wants to make things better for you, he wants to make sure all the time you have left with each other is good for you, he wants to make sure you can live the rest of your life happy with the knowledge that you’ll never have to think about this guy.

He wants you to be happy so he can let you go after you two become seniors.

“Is...there anything I can do?” he mumbles, eyes darting around the room for a distraction, “Um, I made a mini planetarium projection for Ortho since he likes the stars so much and I think I have it somewhere in here—”

He knows exactly where it is. Like he’d ever forget.

“—I have some games, um...which ones do you like? I probably have something—”

He’s fairly certain you’d love the game sitting on the bottom shelf of his desk. It reminds him of you whenever he plays it.

“—or would you like to watch anime? Read a manga? You can leave too, that’s okay, just let me walk you home so you don’t get hurt—”

Not again, at least. But he’ll do anything to keep you here with him.

You cut him off with a small giggle, your balled up fists now pressed up against your face in relaxed palms, covering your mouth as your eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I’d love to stay. Thank you, Idia.” you smile softly and move your hands away from your mouth, and Idia feels his heart jump into his throat again because of course you’d know.

You’ve always known.

He swallows back a wave of sadness as his mind reminds me once again that he will leave you one day, and that day will come sooner than he wants it too, that he’s cursed and he shouldn’t taint you too—

“Anything is good as long as it’s with you.” you laugh quietly, falling back onto his bed with a soft thump.

It’s like you were always meant to be there.

#rubia <3 #auburn's fics <3 #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #disney twisted wonderland #gn reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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kevin-ibw · 4 months

Text

Aventio body swap with Kavetham while Cyno and Tighnari get increasingly confused by their friend's sudden change of habbits like;

Aventurine gambling, so this Kaveh person is no longer broke when they hopefully switch bodies back.

Tighnari: "Kaveh, what are you doing?!"

Aventurine: "Relax, friend, I'm just taking a little gamble."

It would also be really funny one he hears of Dori and just scams her back, too. Like Aven is very much willing to buy trailblazer all of the three options he presents to us in the messages, so why not do this guy a little favor and help him out while's stuck in the mean time.

Can't day that Cyno is enjoying his sudden record of losses against Aven, with him getting more frustrated because TCG is a skill based game. How the hell do you keep getting lucky with the the DICE.

With Alhaitham, it's a little jarring because he's mostly the type to keep to himself and not be bothered with other's, very much a "this isn't my problem unless it inconveniences me in some way." Ratio at heart, just wants to cure the ignorance out of people, which is why he became an educator, and that's not stopping him in this universe. Sure, he had to week or two to fully grasp the knowledge of this world, but it doesn’t stop him!

Ratio and Tighnari talking about nerd things and the entire time Tighnari is like: 'This isn't Alhaitham. There is no way this is Alhaitham. Should I say anything? I wonder how Cyno is doing with Kaveh, I should tell them about this.'

Tighnari gets a chalk thrown at him for being slightly distracted, but Ratio is glad Tighnari can keep up with him.

I firmly believe that Teyvat has to somehow be in the HSR world, which means that Aventio could possibly still use their own abilities without problem, but I can't say the same for Kavetham and their visions OOPS.

#hsr #honkai star rail #genshin impact #kavetham #aventio #dr ratio #hsr dr ratio #aventurine #hsr aventurine #kaveh #genshin kaveh #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham #tighnari #cyno #genshin cyno #genshin tighnari

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biteofcherry · 6 months

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Steve + “Are you trying to hide from me?”

Thank you for sending the Hoe Fairy my way, through all the trials and dangers of time zones 😆💖

Grateful for it, I wrote something slightly longer than a drabble? Oops.

I'm creating a new dark-ish universe here, so brace yourselves.

New World Order

soft dark!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: After the snap and the breaking of the Avengers the world has turned into a darker place than it already was. Being under Steve Rogers protection should be your beacon of light, right? So why does it sometimes feel as if you're caught in a sticky web?

warnings: semi dystopian universe; soft dark Steve Rogers; manipulation; sprinkle of gaslighting; economical/situational power imbalance; dub-con; smidge of breeding kink; sex (p in v);

word count: 3k

Main Masterlist

A small creak startled you. Your body tensed and jerked, the jars in your arms almost falling to the floor. You held your breath, tightening your hold on the precious cargo.

The sound came from the other room, the one anyone from the compound could’ve walked into, so it shouldn’t scare you. Not when you made sure to cover any tracks leading to this special, secret unit, which you’ve discovered a few days ago.

Slowly, careful not to make any sound that might alert whoever was roaming out there, you put the jars down on the shelf. One by one. Gently. You kept your breath shallow as you did, keeping your movements to the minimal. Then you stayed still, counting down seconds in your head and listening for any sounds from outside.

As one minute passed into another, then another, until it was seven minutes, then eight, you began to relax slightly.

No further sounds, steps, nor voices came. You assumed they were gone, whoever it’s been.

With a little huff of breath, you turned around. The nose of your boot bumped into the box of supplies you sneaked inside. It made little to no noise, but it was enough for the domino to fall down completely.

Something clanked on the other side of the wall. Then the hidden passage in the wall opened.

Bright daylight filtered through and the broad, dark silhouette filled nearly the entirety of the doorway.

You lifted your hand to shield your eyes from the sudden burst of light, letting out a small squeak as you curled inwardly. It took you a mere second to recognize who caught you and while your heart eased at the realisation, there was still a part of you that feared the outcome.

“I was wondering what kind of mouse has been hiding in the walls,” came his soft, deep voice. “Turns out it’s my own little scrapper.”

Captain Rogers walked in. Despite wearing heavy boots he still managed to move quietly.

The wall closed automatically after him, leaving the two of you in a small room with light fixtures casting pleasant, but artificial glow from the ceiling.

“Are you trying to hide from me?” His lips curled in a lopsided smile, but the way he slightly tilted his head made you aware that he wouldn’t like it, if you said yes.

“Of course not,” you let out a nervous laugh, gripping the edge of the counter behind you.

“Not from you, Steve.” Nervousness still buzzed inside you, spiking as he neared closer and closer.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, could be a scary motherfucker, if he wanted to. Usually, however, it was reserved for anyone trying to harm people he protected. Or if his subordinates broke his rules in any way.

He may not be the golden boy you remembered from the very few, rare press conferences and pap photos from a decade before. Too much has happened, since he was the poster of glorified values the government tried to sell.

First, they stripped him of the crystal areola they put themselves on him. Named him a fugitive and a traitor, for wanting to protect his best friend and fight for justice.

His other colleagues have turned away from him, leading to breaking of the Avengers formation, which was supposed to protect the people.

Then, when the ultimate threat appeared, the remaining politicians blamed Steve and the other heroes for being unable to defeat Thanos. Tony Stark never returned. So many others have dispersed into dust. For a few years - as the world around you spiralled into dystopian nightmare - phantom governments have been using Captain America and other Avengers as the arguments for why so many things were failing.

Living became hard. Well, even harder than it used to be. People turned jaded and distrustful, so very few still tried to show each other support. Unable to count on governmental help, people have started forming their own little groups. Little communities that took care of each other, but were very wary of anyone else.

You met Steve when you shyly walked into one of the support groups he was leading. You’ve seen posters inviting people to the meetings, but for quite a long time you stayed away from them, because Captain America or not, these groups always meant selling your soul in some way.

Steve lured you in with his patience and soft voice, but was firm in pointing out that if you’d like to take some of the provisions back home, or needed aid, you had to do some labour in return.

You weren’t opposed to that, but you were wary. Still, you agreed.

Each task seemed more and more important, or that’s what you told yourself, because with each you’ve somehow gotten to work closer and closer to the Captain himself.

You worked dutifully, which was something Steve didn’t omit to praise you for on a few occasions. Which perhaps was the reason why he assigned you to a team that so often worked closely with him.

As much as it filled your chest with warmth, your gut tightened each time he got a little closer.

And he always got closer.

You always sensed his gaze on you. Felt your heart jumping whenever he grazed his fingers along your arm, in a seemingly innocent, sweet gesture. But there was something about his attention, about Steve himself, that made you feel uneasy.

He was charismatic, but also less lenient.

Caring, but didn’t give second chances.

Patient, but often merciless in his decisions.

He was still Captain America, but bitter and darker. Worn-out and dirty, like his suit, with the trace of a star that used to shine hope to those who saw it. Now that faith trailed with darkness.

When Steve approached you one evening, as your team was scavenging the territory the Captain and his Avengers have liberated from under the influence of bloodthirsty gangs, you felt that quickened pulse and whispers of self-preservation instinct telling you to be wary.

He said that he noticed you watching him. Which rendered you speechless for a moment. If anything, you always caught him looking your way.

Did he really think you were the one checking him out? Was it why your gazes met every time?

You stuttered with your response, not quite knowing how to explain yourself. Steve offered you that disarming, comforting smile. He touched your hand. Slipped his fingers between yours, ever so slowly rubbing the pad of his index finger between two of yours.

Such a small, meaningless gesture, but something about it had your cunt clenching in response, as if he was insinuating he wanted to rub you somewhere else.

Before you managed to explain the situation, Steve turned the tables on you once again. He leaned in and confessed that he missed intimate touch, as well. That it was understandable and he felt honoured you would give him your attention.

Then he simply walked away, joining Natasha to make further decisions regarding the operation; leaving you dizzy with confusion and conflicting emotions.

Was he right? Were you subconsciously seeking out his attention? Was your sense of unease in his proximity provoked by your attraction to him?

Because Steve Rogers was a very handsome man. From the soft strands of hair he had grown a little longer, to the way his broad chest tapered into narrow hips and possibly the sexiest ass you’ve ever seen.

From that moment, the Captain often approached you, smiled at you, and touched you however briefly. The pounding of your heart increased each time, your thoughts still clouded.

When he caressed your cheek one time, while having just returned all dirtied and splattered with blood from a mission abroad, your breath stuttered. He asked you to help him out with patching some bruises and you didn’t find the strength in you to deny a request from a wounded man. Captain America at that.

He took you to his quarters. At Steve’s command, the AI closed the door after you. Your fingers trembled as Steve guided you how to unzip and take off his suit (since his shoulder throbbed so hard, he seemingly couldn’t do it himself).

Steve’s fair skin was indeed marred with bruises and a few cuts, which you cleaned and patched. In response to your breathless “I better leave” after you were done, Steve slid his big hands onto your hips and softly asked you to stay.

Perhaps it’s been too long since you kissed anyone. Or maybe his grip on you tightened enough for the fear of repercussions freezing you in place.

With a tiny whimper, you gave in to his demanding lips and wandering hands. Despite your brain screaming at you to run away, your heart rate accelerated with pleasure, quickly drowning out the fear.

Steve had you sinking down on his thick cock right there, while he still sat in the chair and his suit was barely pushed past his hips. He groaned praises at how good you felt; how hot it was to feel your tight cunt stretching around him; how sexy you sounded struggling to take it all.

Even with some of your brain cells fighting against it, your whole body surrendered to Steve and the pleasure he drew out of you over and over again.

Maybe he was right all along and you were starved for intimate contact.

Maybe you were choosing to let him take you, so he wouldn’t hurt you or your family in any way.

Later, as you laid in Steve’s arms, you debated with yourself how good it felt to be held and protected, and that maybe it was worth following Steve’s subtle commands.

He took you again in the morning. On your side, sliding into your sore pusy from behind. When you hissed that it hurt, Steve slowed down, but didn’t stop. He distracted you by arousing other parts of your body - rolling and pinching your nipples, sliding his fingers between your lips and fucking your moth with them, using his wet digits to rub your clit.

Both of you returned to your duties afterwards, but in the evening Steve simply wrapped an arm around you and greeted you with a kiss on your temple. Then guided you back to his quarters.

He talked to you about everything, asked about your past, as well simply about your day.

But not once did he ask, if you wanted to have sex with him.

As the days passed, the less brave and determined you were to reject him. Especially not after Steve started coming over to your quarters, to meet your parents and play this whole thing, as if you really were a couple.

So if he was this sweet and supportive, why did you still fear displeasing him in any way?

“I mean I’m not hiding at all.” Your speech quickened slightly, as you explained your actions. “I may have hoped no one would find this spot that quickly. I would tell you about it, I was going to. But first I needed to, um, I wanted to-”

“Easy, honey.” Steve cupped your cheek.

He ran his thumb along your lip, cooing at you softly.

He didn’t look angry, nor suspicious. Which lessened your worries.

“So you found one of Tony’s panic rooms.” Steve took a quick look around. “Not many people know about their existence. Not many can find them.”

“It was actually an accident,” you laughed at that, remembering how you stumbled when changing light bulbs in a weird fixture in the main lounge room and instead of breaking the mirror on the wall the pressure of your fall activated sensor in the wall, opening the passage to this room.

You told Steve the story, watching mirth form crinkles around his eyes. He kissed your forehead softly, before pulling away. Not enough to leave much space between your bodies.

“And why are you storing provisions here?” He glanced at the jars and cans you stacked on the few shelves.

“Just in case. We have a storage and everything is rationed generously, but-” your gaze dropped as you mumbled- “somemayhavebeenstolen.”

“What was that?” Steve’s tone chilled and you felt the hair on your nape standing to attention.

With two fingers, he tilted your chin up. Blue eyes bore into yours, a Captain’s command in them snapped you into obedience without an order falling from his lips.

“I think I’ve noticed someone sneaking out some portions. Often.” You admitted. “I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t suffer much loss, in case that person continued to steal.”

“Why haven’t you reported it?” Steve frowned, his hold on your chin turning into an unpleasant pinch.

“Because the person I should report to first, is the one who takes it.” You also tried to convince yourself that maybe Walker simply was giving it away to someone in need.

“You could’ve told me.” Steve pointed out, his frown deepening in displeasure.

“But you always talk about the importance of chain of command,” you blurted out.

Which actually surprised Steve. His eyebrows arched up and then his disapproval was shifting into amused satisfaction once again.

“You’re so dutiful, honey.” Steve’s grin made you gulp nervously.

His gaze slowly trailed down. When it returned to your face there was a possessive glint in the blue irises. A hot jolt stroke down your spine, pooling in your lower belly with heat in preparation for what was to come.

Because even if your lips wanted to part on a pitiful No, you knew Steve would take anyway. And he’d make sure your body was on board with his desires.

“Why don’t you continue your impeccable service for your Captain, huh?” Steve dragged the zipper of your jacket down.

It was butter soft brown leather; once belonging to Steve, but since it was too big on you, he graciously encouraged you to cut and sew it, so it fit you better.

Steve parted the sides of the jacket, exposing your chest. One move was enough to yank down the stretchy top you had underneath. Your breasts spilled out and you clenched your fingers on the edge of the counter, forcing yourself not to cover yourself, even though you felt shy.

Steve cupped your breasts with his hands; squeezed them and kneaded gently. The coarse fabric of his fingerless gloves provided additional sensation. He rolled one nipple under his thumb; pinched the other. His mouth swallowed each little moan of yours.

He drew out a whine out of you as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, at the same time unzipping your jeans. Steve knelt down to take off one of your shoes and pull your leg free from the pant leg. Enough to have you spread for him as wide as he wanted.

“Umm-” you swallowed hard as Steve stretched to his full height.

He was so much bigger than you. So much stronger. Sometimes, when he had you in his arms, it truly made you feel safe. Other times it scared you; made you quickly comply.

Steve picked you up so easily, sitting you on the narrow counter and standing between your legs.

“I don’t have any more pills,” you revealed. “Contraceptives, I mean. Bruce said it will take a few weeks for the production to be finished, after that one ingredient turned out to be spoiled.”

Steve met your eyes. He listened to what you were saying, nodding his head intently as you spoke, but still unzipped his suit and freed his cock.

You couldn’t help it, your gaze flicked down. Seeing it almost daily didn’t diminish the awe of the cock a primal part of your brain declared perfect. Your pussy clenched, growing wetter in preparation for what was inevitable.

Steve’s hand closed around his girth and he gave a few pumps before guiding the angry-red tip into your hole.

He slid inside with a groan. Your own choked cry responding.

When he met slight resistance due to your position, Steve hooked his arms beneath your knees and pulled your legs upwards. Your ass tilted and your upper body angled backwards. It allowed him to sink fully in, until you felt that unpleasant pressure against your cervix and his balls met your buttocks.

Then, as he bottomed out in your unprotected pussy, Steve regarded your words.

“Slight inconvenience. But we’re skilled in adjusting to new situations and challenges.” He rested his forehead against yours; his voice growing more raspy and breathless. “If fate wants us to have a child, then we will rise to that blessing as well.”

He rocked his hips into you, his pelvis grazing your clit. You squeaked, bracing your hands on Steve’s shoulders.

“Fuck, honey.” Steve withdrew a few inches then slowly thrust back in. “Your sweet cunt is so tight and wet for me.”

It was tight, because he hadn’t prepared you thoroughly - sometimes it was a blessing, because there were other times when Steve was so focused on making you soaked that he turned you into an overstimulated mess.

Also because his dick was so fucking thick.

“My perfect pussy. Isn’t it?” Each stroke was a purposeful, unrushed torment, so that you felt those inches penetrating you. Owning you.

“Y-yes, Steve. It’s yours,” you mewled when he poked your cervix again.

“It was made to be filled, honey.” Steve’s pace started increasing. “Its purpose is to take my cock and milk every last drop of my cum, until your womb swells with it.”

There were protesting voices in your head, demanding that you shake your head no and that you tell him you didn’t want to get pregnant. But they never made it past the barrier of voices supplying that you always dreamed of having a family and that Steve would take good care of you.

Even if the objections somehow made it onto your tongue, the moans and cries Steve was eliciting with each thrust and filthy word deformed them into agreement.

“That’s it, honey. Taking your Captain so well. Going to take all my cum and thank me for it.”

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers imagine #soft dark!Steve Rogers #soft dark!Steve Rogers x reader #soft dark!Steve Rogers x female reader #dark avengers #Siri #stargazingfangirl18

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sonotpattismith · 12 days

Text

we hereby conduct this postmortem. (Yuta Okkotsu x Reader)

WARNING: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS BELOW

word count: 7.8k (oops)

warnings: angst, mentions of death, mourning, smut, Yuta in Gojo’s body manga spoilers 18+

summary: reader attempts to cope with Yuta’s new body, mourning the loss of his previous one

a/n: Hi!!! No one really requested this but Yuta is my man fr and this idea has been heavy on my heart 😮‍💨 Yuta is aged up in this as it made more sense for the point in their relationship they were already in. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I loved making it!

Life as a sorcerer was one littered with pain, fleeting hope, loss, and regret. These pitiful factors could practically be named the pillars of the damned lifestyle. You knew what you were getting into right when you joined, and you were reminded of it as your love held you close to his chest, his large hands secured over your head as if to cement you into his memory. Yuta pulled back just a hair, still clutching your head between his hands to look at you, fingers digging into your scalp gently as his long eyes fluttered around your face.

Through the haze of your tears, he appeared blurred. Still, you could make out the inescapable expression of fear that clutched his features. It wasn’t the battle he feared— far from it. He felt as though he could slash through an army at the moment. What gripped his mind and soul so fiercely though, was the thought of leaving you behind. His warm, dark eyes regarded you with care, taking in the way you clutched at his white shirt as if willing him not to go. It broke his heart.

“Everything’s going to be alright, my love.” Yuta assured gently, trying to keep his trembling voice leveled. He was well aware of the countless sorcerers surrounding them, allowing them the privacy of their intimate moment. They pretended not to watch— not to listen, but their hearts were collectively breaking for the pair before them. “It’ll be over before we know. We’ll go home. I’ll cook you something nice— maybe not burn it this time, huh?”

A laugh escaped you despite your tear soaked face. He smiled softly at the sound. The pads of his thumbs reached out to swipe the surface area of your cheeks before pulling you in softly. Your eyes closed as he placed a soft kiss to one eye, moving to the other and doing the same.

“I want the special rice—” you choked out, attempting to pull yourself together for him. Reaching out to run your fingers gently through the end of his hair, you clarified. “The one you had in Kenya.”

“Yeah? The pilau?”

You nodded softly and forced a smile. He laughed breathily at your reply and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Okkotsu?” Their peer that called out to him sounded apologetic to be interrupting the delicate moment, but, then again, there was a war to be won.

Without tearing his gaze from yours, he nodded in understanding. Leaning down with a certain determination in his energy, Yuta captured your lips in his. It was powerful, rough— desperate. His looming figure hunched over you, as if attempting to swallow you whole. Perhaps you would have been happier if he had.

It was the last time your lips felt those of Yuta Okkotsu.

You had been sent out as support, patrolling the area. Realistically, you knew there wasn’t much that you could contribute. While you served as a perfectly decent sorcerer— your techniques were nothing to be put up against the horrors that lied beyond the culling games. It was mainly a distraction. Your peers didn’t want you to watch the fight. They didn’t want your eyes to have to bear witness should your lover be slain that night.

For a few hours, you would get updates from them. First, it was that Kenjaku was dead. A silent tear slipped down your cheek, but you quickly swiped it away as you thanked them for telling you. It was a victory— one of astronomical proportions, but the fight was far from over. After the second hour with no update— a small part of you already knew. After twenty more minutes of radio silence, you forced yourself to go back inside, despite the fear raging in you of what you may find.

As you entered silently, all heads snapped toward you. You knew. Without a word, you made your way back to where Shoko had set up her make-shift infirmary. It ended up being Kusakabe that called out to you— subtle warning in his tone. As if motivated by his attempted persuasion, a few more of your peers began to step forward, but, before they could reach you, you slipped into the dimly lit hallway. Yuta’s katana was leaning up against the wall beside the infirmary, unsheathed and bloodied. Through the sound of the blood rushing through your ears, you faintly heard a commotion stirring from outside the hall. Your mind was miles away from the beloved friends and colleagues gathered just outside though. Your fingers delicately grazed the hilt of his precious katana, wondering if they had to pry it from his stiff fingers.

One more step. It was terrifying— the sense of impending doom that echoed within the chasms of your mind. Just beyond this door frame, it would no longer be a fleeting ghost story whispered between two lovers— a worst case scenario— a horrifying ‘what if’ that was consistently followed by reassuring kisses and desperate love making. The shouting behind you was growing louder now, rushed footsteps pounding down the hall, screams of your name to not go in there, you don’t need to see it.

You took the final step. The healer stood in the middle of the room and seemed to be busying herself with cleaning. She was cleaning a body. Its mid section was cut off from your vision by her somewhat tense figure. Still, laid unceremoniously at the end of the steel stretcher, the unmistakable locks of dark hair your fingers had been buried in just hours prior. As if sensing your presence, Shoko shifted to see who had been watching her work. Her movements faltered when seeing the face of the stiff corpse’s lover. It was too late though, no matter how quickly she tried to adjust her position once again, the image had been burned into your mind— branded.

The body of Yuta Okkotsu lay bare on the examining table— or what was left of his body. It had been mutilated; your beautiful love’s temple disgustingly desecrated. The cavity of his chest was practically split open, slashes running down his once gorgeously cream skin. Even worse though— his head. It was split down his forehead. His paler than usual head was turned just fractionally toward the door. Your lover stared back at you, eyes unmoving, unloving, gone.

There was blood in your mouth. The iron tinging your taste buds was the only way you realized the visceral shriek that emitted from deep within your gut. Your realization didn’t stop you though, and neither did the pain in your throat as you ripped it to shreds once again, knees buckling underneath of you.

“Yuta!” You sobbed, voice eviscerated raw already. The hurried footsteps from outside seemed to finally reach you and, before you could process what was happening, there were hands everywhere. They were on your shoulders, at your elbows, over your eyes— doing anything to attempt to shield you from the sight before you, which you assumed they never intended for you to see in the first place. It was overwhelming: the attempted, hushed coos of comfort that all merged together to sound like the humming of angered bees just waiting to strike at you; the varying grips all pulling you in separate directions, all with the intent to just get you out of that room. Still, despite their efforts, through the gaps of their fingers and shoulders, Yuta’s dead eyes still stared hauntingly back at you.

Pushing against them all with a newfound strength, you fell against the unforgiving floor on your hands and knees, determined to reach him.

“Please, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this.” Kamo attempted to get through to you, his hand once again reaching for your shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” Your wavering, sliced whisper caused his motions to falter for a moment before reaching out anyway. Another sob was ripped from your mouth at the feeling of hands everywhere again. “Please, please, I just need to hold him. Please. Let me hold him.”

“I told you all to make sure she didn’t come in here.” The commanding voice that spoke up had all five or six desperate individuals looking toward the door. Had you been more present in the moment, you would have recognized the voice. With your peers distracted, you crawled forward once again.

“My love,” The term of endearment reached your ears, making you pause. Wide eyes staring at Yuta’s still lips, you gaped silently. Shoko suddenly moved to cover his body with a sheet she’d retrieved, breaking you from your haze. Reaching out with trembling hands, you attempted to fist the sheet between your fingers. “Please, don’t do that.”

The individuals whose hands had been grappling with you just moments prior released you all together, before another set of firm, purposeful arms slid around your midsection. In mere seconds, you were being hauled up off the floor. For a moment, you were suspended mid air by unfamiliar arms. You thrashed around furiously until they set you down on your feet once again, and you turned to smack whoever it was that was still holding you back.

When the eyes of Satoru Gojo met yours— your movements faltered. A phantom, right before your very eyes. He was real though, you could see his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths, and the warmth radiating from his arms that were still wrapped uncharacteristically around you.

“Gojo—” It was all too much, as you tried to make sense of the scene before you, all the while in the midst of mourning— or attempting to come to grips with the fact that you should be mourning. You suddenly felt as though you might pass out. Steadying a hand on the firm chest before you, your face began to pale a bit. “How are you— what’s—”

Your words failed you though— and so did your body. Satoru leaned down quickly just as you began to slip away. It was too intimate— the way he was looking into your eyes, and the manner in which he held you to his chest. You wanted to push him away, but you felt weak. The snowy whisps of his white hair swayed as he scooped you up and brushed the hair from your forehead. You flinched away from him. As you looked up incredulously at him to question his inappropriate behavior, your eyes caught the scar running along his forehead.

“Everything is okay,” he murmured, but the voice wasn’t comforting, it was confusing as it fell upon your ringing ears. “I’m here, my love.”

The term snapped you from your chance, the murmuring and shuffling around the two of you coming at you in full force as if you’d just come up from underwater. Staring unblinkingly at the man before you, you watched as his piercing, blue eyes drooped softly and uncharacteristically into a haunting stare that was so unmistakably—

“Yuta?”

Following the closure of the grueling culling games, most sorcerers were granted substantial time to rest, and both you and Go— Yuta, were unarguably granted as well. After what you’d seen, what Yuta had subjected himself to for the sake of everyone’s safety, there was a quiet understanding that the pair needed time to adjust to one another again— to heal. As you walked into your shared apartment with the unfamiliar body behind you though, you couldn’t help but gulp down the lump in your throat.

Relieved wasn’t the sufficient word to use to describe how you felt upon learning Yuta was still alive. Granted, he was certainly alive in a very different way than he had been previously— but his soul was still with you. He was still there. Still, the anxiety and grief was eating you alive. You had seen his corpse, seen his lifeless eyes staring back at you. Yet you were still expected to latch onto him once again, resume your bond as if it hadn’t already been irreparably changed. It made you feel selfish— being so uncomfortable by the means by which he remained alive. You wouldn’t say it to him, not after all that he’d been through and the selfless way he sacrificed so much for his peers.

The door of your shared apartment shut behind you. A soft sigh of relief left you. When you last exited this familiar apartment, the two of you were unsure if you’d ever return to it again. A lone tear slipped down your cheek as Yuta set his katana against the wall and came up to grasp at your shoulders. His grip was firm— firmer than you ever remember it being. Feeling the tension in your muscles, he rubbed soft circles into them.

“You want me to start a shower for you, love?” He offered in that unfamiliar voice, his cheek grazing yours as he leaned down to meet your ear. Unable to speak, you simply nodded. With a soft kiss against your temple, he made his way down the hall and disappeared into your shared bathroom. The distance eased some of the pressure building in your chest, and you leaned back to rest against the wall.

How could this ever go back to normal? Gojo was a man who had watched your love grow together from the moment the both of you were introduced as mere teenagers. He’d given a horribly anxious Yuta advice on how to talk to you, given him money to take you on a nice first date before the boy had received his first stipend from the school. And now— now you were expected to live with him, to wake up to him every morning, make love to him. He wasn’t a stranger, but in a sense of closeness and intimacy, your body saw him as just that.

With a shaky sigh, you pushed off of the wall when you heard the shower running. Entering the bathroom with your towel folded over your arms, the steam from the shower enveloped you like a warm blanket. It invited you to wash away all the atrocities you’d faced in the past weeks. You placed your towel on the sink, but your pre-shower routine was cut short when you felt fingers grasping at the hem of your shirt to pull it up. A startled gasp escaped you, and you whipped around to face Yuta. He abruptly halted his attempts to undress you, staring at you with wide eyes. Much to your mortification, he was naked.

“Oh—” You stuttered out, staring up at the ceiling, at the wall behind him, anywhere but him. “Sorry. You— you can shower first.”

Yuta stopped you with a soft hand on your wrist as you moved to exit the bathroom. You were stiff before him, flinching away just barely noticeable as your arm made contact with his bare chest.

“Hey,” he said softly with a chuckle. It sounded a bit forced though— he sounded scared. “It’s just me, love. You can— you can look at me.”

Your head was still turned away from him as he pulled you closer against the stranger’s body, leaning down to press a delicate kiss against your cheek. Your eyes drifted and were met with your reflection in the mirror, wrapped up in the arms of Satoru Gojo. Following your gaze, his icy blue eyes met yours in the reflection. As if recognizing the apprehension in your expression, his face dropped a bit. Your heart clenched guiltily.

“S’okay,” Yuta attempted a nonchalant laugh, his strong arms loosening their grip on you. He gulped down the nausea that began to stir within him along with the pang of rejection. “Umm… I’ll be out in a minute. Why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch, yeah? We’ve probably missed out on a bunch.”

With a soft nod and forced smile, you couldn’t have exited that small bathroom quick enough.

Time. You just needed some time.

Following your own, mind numbingly relaxing shower, you made sure to dry off and dress in the safe confines of the bathroom. You smiled softly at the feeling of the fluffy rug against your toes as you stepped into your very missed room. Yuta was already under the covers, remote in hand as he read the description of the movie you’d picked out. He was chewing absentmindedly at his bottom lip, a habit you’d never seen Gojo partake in before. It made you smile softly— something that was uniquely Yuta still shining through. His gaze snapped toward you while you stood hesitantly on the side of the bed. Smiling warmly, he opened up the blanket on your side of the bed in invitation, a faint glimmer of hope sparkling in his blue eyes.

“Yu, this shirt is…” Your comment drifted as you fingered at the tshirt spread too tightly across his broad chest. It clung to his bulging arms unnaturally, straining against the muscles.

A blush painted his pale cheeks, and you were once again put off by seeing the innocent expression on the face before you. He smiled sheepishly, looking down at himself.

“I know. None of my stuff really fits me anymore.” He explained bashfully, reaching up to scratch his head awkwardly. “Guess that means we can go shopping, and you can pick out all my clothes like you always wanted to, huh?”

You giggled softly at the idea. Truthfully, you were grateful he’d put the shirt on despite its tight fit. For the past few days, he didn’t even smell like himself anymore. But now, as you timidly shuffled closer to him and buried your head into his chest, you were able to inhale the lingering scent left behind by his previous body. It was the only thing keeping you huddled closely to his new one that night.

You dreamt of him that night— the old him. He was wrapped around you, his grip merciless as he clung onto you, as if you might float away. When you turned to look at him, the sight of his big, warm, puppy dog eyes filled your chest with butterflies. You recognized the scene, it was the first time you’d tended to him following a mission. Both of you unaware of the other’s feelings, timid in the way you brushed against one another, hyper aware of every breath and stare. As you dapped the alcohol-soaked cotton against his cheek, his shaky hands came up to grip innocently onto your waist. In truth, though you teased him relentlessly for it, he really just didn’t know what to do with his hands in the moment. When he saw the way your face burned under his touch, something had shifted between you— an understanding.

Your head burrowed deeper into the pillow below you as you were pulled from your slumber by the heavy hole in your chest. The arm strewn across your waist tighter around you, drawing you closer as he hummed. You smiled softly at the sound of him awakening. Shifting to catch a glimpse of those warm eyes that had just been plaguing your dreams, you were ripped from your trance. A startled yelp escaped you, sending you flying to the other end of the bed at the sight of the electric blue eyes staring back at you. In response, Yuta jumped out of bed with a start, staring at you in bewilderment.

“I— I’m sorry,” you cried breathlessly, not even feeling it when tears began to fall down your face. It was as if you could hear his heart break as he watched you. Running a trembling hand across your damp face, you attempted to calm your breathing. “I’m sorry, Yuta. It’s not your fault, I just—”

“You need time.” He finished softly for you.

For the following weeks, Yuta slept on the couch of your shared living room. It made you feel awful, coming out every morning to see him twisted uncomfortably on the furniture that was far too small to hold him in this form. You insisted that it should be you sleeping on it, given it was you who was so startled by the arrangement, but he refused to even hear of it. He said he’s always found the couch comfortable, but you knew that was about four inches and fifty pounds of muscle ago.

With the guilt knawing away at you, you made every effort to adjust to the dramatic change. The two of you watched your usual television shows on the couch together every night before he’d give you a longing goodnight kiss on the cheek and forehead. He never pushed you for more. You had just begun feeling somewhat comfortable enough to press quick, timid kisses on his lips every now and again, and he relished in each and every one of them like a man starved. It was evident in the way his eyes remained close and his lips chased yours each time you’d pull away.

He really did mean it when he said he wanted you to go shopping with him. After one too many ripped pants and boxer briefs in the trash, you insisted it be sooner rather than later. His wispy hair did a good enough job concealing the fading scar across his forehead while you two stepped out in public for the first time again. Being out of the stuffy apartment helped to ease the underlying tension that had grown between you. Yuta was making you laugh, charming you with his sheepish jokes and shy charisma— the type only he could pull off. It was good for you. You two walked from store to store, and you felt his pinky finger graze hesitantly against yours.

Looking up at him, you found his blue orbs already focused on you. They were wide, hopeful— asking for permission. Smiling softly at him, you silently carded your hand into his large one. It felt foreign, but the wide, excited smile that he tried to conceal seemed to mask any apprehension that bubbled within you. For the remainder of the day, Yuta walked with more confidence in his stride, pulling you giddily along with him wherever his attention drew him to.

It was a much needed break from the awkward push and pull you two had found yourselves in. So, when you returned to the apartment that night, you were almost scared to break that bubble. The two of you fell into your new routine, regarding each other friendly, showering separately. You were just gathering your things when he emerged from the bathroom, a towel hung loosely around his waist. Quickly averting your gaze, you muttered an apology as you attempted to step past him.

“Hey,” he called softly, stepping to the side to block you from entering the restroom. You felt his fingers clutch your chin and turn you to face him. His platinum hair clung to his face, droplets of water spilling onto his chiseled face. A blush rose to your cheeks at the sight. An amused smile fell easily on his lips. “You haven’t blushed like this looking at me since we were in high school.”

Your brows furrowed at his words, envious on the way he seemed to be unable to find the insanity of the situation. His damp hand ran down the side of your neck, creeping over your shoulder and arm until he grasped one of your hands in his. His intense gaze stayed focused on you as he brought your hand up to place on his chest, softly running it down his abdomen.

“I want you to… be comfortable with me again. Be able to look at me again.” He mumbled, his chest beginning to rise and fall more dramatically at the sensation of your hands exploring him once again. You gulped, your fingers catching on the scar that circled all the way across his stomach, sides, and back. It made you tear away from your hesitation, finally allowing yourself to look down at his sculpted body. You circled your finger tentatively around the jagged scar, your other hand creeping up to test the waters in feeling the wet ripples of his abs. Yuta seemed to tremble under your touch, a soft moan falling from his lips at the sensation. It snapped you from your haze. It felt wrong, hearing Gojo’s voice like this, thinking of his body in such a way. You withdrew your hands from him.

“Time.” you quickly reminded him, refocusing your gaze on his face again. His lips were parted, eyes half lidded but blown out with a lustful haze. You darted past him and into the bathroom, hearing him repeat it breathlessly as you closed the door.

“Time.”

You were still a bit shaken up when you exited your shower, pacing the room pensively as you clung to your towel. Looking around, you noticed the small, discarded pile of Yuta’s old shirts that he’d likely just removed from his drawers to make room for his new ones. You smiled fondly at the sight. Picking one up, you brought it up to your face and inhaled deeply. Though evidently fading, his smell still clung to it. It was faint though, so faint that it made your eyes water as you clutched desperately at the material. He was slipping away, every part of him, and all you could do was watch as each bit was replaced. Shoving the discarded shirts into your own drawer for safe keeping, you shed your towel and slipped one over your head before climbing into bed, relishing in the soft, familiar smell that graced your senses.

After a moment or so, there was a gentle knock at the door. Yuta poked his head in and smiled hesitantly at you.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he greeted softly, stepping fully into the dim room. “I just… I wanted to say goodnight to you. You okay?”

You nodded with a sad smile, blinking rapidly to stop more tears from manifesting in your traitorous eyes. Humming softly, he sat on the edge of the bed and grasped your head between his large hands before leaning in to press a gentle kiss against each eye.

“Goodnight, my love. I love you always.”

You couldn’t stop the silent sob that wracked your body as he turned to return to the living room for the night. It was pathetic, the way you continued to mourn for the man sat just outside your grasp. Just moments ago, you stood in tears, willing him not to slip away, yet you were allowing just that.

“Yuta?” Your meek voice made him turn around in question. “Can you… can you come to bed?”

His face lit up the dark room, moonlight illuminating the way his blue eyes seemed to spark at your request.

“Y-Yes, yeah!” He stammered out, looking around eagerly. The man seemed to trip over his own legs as he made his way to the door, holding a reaffirming hand out in front of him. “Hold on, I’m gonna grab my pillows— don’t move!”

Even through your tears, you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he still didn’t seem to have full control over his new body yet— at least not when he was buzzing with the excitement of a teenage boy. Just seconds later, he barreled back into the room, slamming the door behind him and eagerly jumping into his side of the bed. The both of you giggled at the way the bed creaked under his sudden weight. As the laughter subsided, he stared breathlessly at you, eyes gleaming.

“Do you think it’d be okay if I held you tonight?”

Your lips began to tremble at the pained vulnerability in his timid request. Without answering, you scooted closer to him, and he quickly opened his arms for you to tuck yourself against his chest. His chest heaved with a sigh of relief at the feeling of holding you close again. All too soon, he felt his eyes begin to droop despite his burning desire to stay awake and just be with you for a little longer. You were both fast asleep within seconds.

With his old shirt and scent wrapped around your frame, your subconscious couldn’t help but manifest him just as it had remembered him. Again, it was a familiar scene— the night before you two left your apartment for the final time. Before— what happened to him. His dark hair hung lazily over his face as he desperately grinded into you. A gasp over took you at the feeling of him entering you. Your fingernails raked mercilessly across his chest, squeezing the firm slab of muscle there. Yuta whined at the soft stinging that accompanied this action, but it only spurred him on. He wanted to mold himself to you, become one with your body. You helplessly moaned out his name.

Back in reality, beside you, Yuta was stirred from his own peaceful slumber by your shallow, whiny breaths. Your body practically trembled against him, your fingers grasping at the arm that circled your waist.

“Yuta.” Your soft moan filled his ears, making all the blood in his body rush down to the uncharted territory below his waistband. The manner in which you writhed desperately against him did nothing to calm the storm brewing in his pants. Gulping roughly, he allowed his hand to wander from your thigh up to your side, slipping under the thin fabric of your shirt— his shirt. It was the only thing donned on that trembling body of yours save for your underwear. You looked ethereal with the barely risen, morning sun kissing at your supple skin. Leaning down, he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, dragging his lips down to peck and lap aimlessly at your neck. You arched into him, rousing from your sleep with a gentle moan of his name.

“Yeah?” The man mumbled against the back of your neck, gently rutting into your ass from behind you. The wandering hand that had slipped up your shirt grazed over the lush skin of your breast before squeezing it gently between his fingers. A whimper fell from your lips. “Let me take care of you, my love, hm?”

You could only nod breathlessly, and, in an instant, he disappeared under the covers, eagerly shifting you onto your back. Typically, Yuta was a soft, gentle lover— slow in his care for your body. He loved taking his time with you, savoring each sound he could pull from you with each inch of skin he explored. Now though, as he found himself face to face with one of his favorite parts of you for the first time in weeks, he had no patience.

Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he shoved his face into your clothed core. A high strung moan ripped up your chest and out your throat as he mouthed lazily over you for a while, wetting the already damp fabric with his drool. Getting tired of the damned barrier, he wanted to taste you for real. In hasty motions, he ripped your underwear down your legs before settling against his breakfast once again.

“Yuta!” You gasped, face reddening with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. He moaned against you at the sound of his name falling from your lips again. His hips involuntarily rutted against the mattress, but he stopped himself. This was about you.

Your fingers trembled, making their way under the sheets to grip his hair firmly. His head swayed side to side as he ravished you, drinking up everything you were willing to give him. Your hips bucked up to grind against his face, making the sheet fall down his back. Looking down, you were met with the sight of Satoru Gojo between your legs, lapping lewdly at your sensitive core as if it gave him life itself, as if it made the sun and the moon and brought all the stars to the night sky.

His eyes opened upon feeling your gaze on him. Those piercing blue eyes that you were becoming so accustomed to regarded you with a deep lust, a carnal desire that had your release creeping up your toes, into your legs and torso, to the very center of your mind.

No, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t come undone like this. It was so wrong, and you felt as though some part of you was betraying Yuta, despite the fact that he was the very man currently worshiping you with his tongue. You partly wondered if he knew what was going through your head right now, watching as his brows suddenly furrowed and his grip on your thighs tightened with a newfound determination. With a harsh, loud suck to your clit, his gaze demanded to be met as you tipped over the edge. Your back arched up with a deafening cry, all the while Yuta’s lips hungrily laid open mouthed kissed against your core as you came down. He caught your clit gently between his lips, pulling at it a fraction before releasing it.

You were gasping for breath, trying to catch yourself before you passed out in an overwhelmed haze. Yuta licked a final, loving stripe up your folds before peppering kisses up your trembling body. Sliding a hand under the arch of your back, he abruptly sat you up with a strength unfamiliar to you. You landed atop his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck to catch yourself before you fell back.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whimpered, capturing your lips against his desperately. They were still wet from their assault against you. Between rushed kisses, he gasped out against your lips. “So beautiful, my love. You’re everything to me.”

You moaned against him at the sound of his familiar praises, pressing your chest against his. He broke from you for barely a millisecond, tossing his shirt over his head before grappling for you once again. His hands found their natural place on your waist, gripping firmly as he brought you down to grind against his straining manhood. Gasping at the sensation of your folds sliding against his thick length, you reached up to grasp at the ends of his hair as you always did. It hit you then, as your fingers grazed the slowly growing hairs of an undercut, that you were about to make love to someone else. Breaking from him with a gasp, you looked at the man before you. His eyes were practically glowing, drinking you in in a manner that told you his thoughts were positively filthy at the present. Closing them once again, he chased your lips with a determined hand against your jaw. You flinched away. Slowly opening his eyes again, he watched in horror as you climbed off of his lap and stood from the bed, looking around for a pair of shorts.

“W-Wait!” Yuta gaped, practically tripping over himself to follow you out of the bedroom.

You pretended not to hear the desperate confusion in his tone, pretended it didn’t squeeze at your chest with guilt. Opening the fridge, you busied yourself grabbing ingredients to make you two a quick breakfast. He called out your name softly, dejected. Bracing yourself, you glanced back at him. His massive frame was hunched in on itself, and his eyes looked so hurt you could practically shoot yourself in the foot for being the cause of it.

“What are you doing?” Yuta breathed quietly, watching as you spread all the ingredients onto the counter.

“I’m making omelets. You want cheese on yours?” You asked over your shoulder, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet for mixing.

“What? No, I—” He could feel the irritation rising in his chest, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing. Stepping closer so he was right behind you, he grasped your wrist softly to halt your rushed movements. “Baby, I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Yu.” You whispered, unable to meet his unwavering gaze. You heard him sigh in frustration at your response.

“No, love,” he pleaded, grasping your hips to press you roughly against the ever present bulge in his sweatpants. Releasing a shaky breath, he snaked a hand across your collarbone before lining it with hot kisses. “I miss you.”

“Yuta,” you protested, slipping away from his grasp. “I’m sorry, I just need—”

“Time?” He cried out, tears welling up in his sad, wide eyes. “You can take all of my time— have all of it! But please just— please look me in the eyes and tell me I’ll still get you back at the end of it.”

“I’m trying!” You sobbed, smacking at his bare chest. He took it all without so much as a flinch. “I’m trying but every time I look at you all I can see is—”

“I’m not Gojo! I’m right here, I’m me. Look at me!”

“Well I don’t recognize you anymore, Yuta!”

His response got caught in his throat. Those glittering blue, six eyes watched as you fell to the floor, clutching your hands to your face. Gentle sobs shook your frame as you curled in on yourself. Yuta stood before you, unsure if touching you would be helpful or not right now.

“I saw your body, Yuta. Your head was split open. Your eyes were lifeless! I accepted that you were dead!” You felt a hesitant hand come down on your back. He slowly sat beside you on the floor. “And then you come back, and you have a new face, a new voice, you even smell different. You’re bigger and you’re stronger, and you’re not my Yuta anymore, okay? You wanted everything to go back to normal but it’s not.”

“I just… I don’t see Yuta anymore.”

Both of you agreed that you needed some time apart that day. Yuta insisted that you be the one to stay home, but you convinced him that you needed time outside of the apartment.

You found yourself in front of Shoko, who regarded you with surprise at your sudden request.

“I want to see his body.”

She blinked a few times at you, slowly. Not even Yuta himself had bothered asking what it was that they did with his body. When he came to, the only thing that was on his mind was the overwhelming relief that he’d be able to come back to you. As the healer looked over your bloodshot eyes, and the dried tears on your face as you clutched at the old t-shirt covering you, she understood what you really needed.

You blinked down at the simple grave before you. It was large, marbled and domed. It had Gojo’s name on it.

“Is this some sort of joke?” You asked breathily, your brows furrowing in anger. A fiery glare was shot in the direction of the woman standing beside you. “Where is his body?”

“Right in front of you.”

“Then why isn’t his name on here?”

“Because Yuta Okkotsu isn’t dead.” Shoko stated flatly, eyes steady on you. “Satoru Gojo is.”

The words sank into your soul as you slowly looked back up at the name etched onto the grave. It was the name of the man you were sure you had been betraying your lover with for a month. Yuta— his former body rested here, but no one mourned for him here. No, this is where they came to mourn Satoru Gojo. You were the only one who had ever mourned for Yuta.

“Satoru Gojo is dead, and the man waiting for you at home loves you— no matter the flesh that wraps his soul.”

You cried the whole way home, but, this time, your tears weren’t being shed in mourning. Rather, they fell down your face in hot streams of guilt. Yuta had been so understanding, so patient with you. He had gone through so much, lost his body, lost his mentor, his friend. The only thing he asked in return was to live the rest of his life with you once again— and you couldn’t look past the flesh attached to his kind heart.

Slowly creaking open the door of your apartment, there was music flowing softly through the air of your shared apartment. Over the rhythm, you could hear the clashing of pots and the clinking of utensils. There was a faint smell of smoke filling the room as well. Shutting the door behind you, you cautiously made your way to the kitchen, gaze melting at the scene before you.

There was an apron tied haphazardly around Yuta’s waist. It was too small on him— straining against his broad, muscular chest. The smell of smoke seemed to be coming from the large pot that was practically vibrating on the stovetop, angrily hissing at the chef, who was too distracted trying to set a pair of plates and cutlery neatly on the small dining table. He was cursing under his breath, white eyebrows pulled up and together in a concerned, puppy-dog like stare. You giggled from behind your hand. His head shot up at the sound.

“No, babe— gah!” Your lover was cut off as he tried to grab the lid off the top of the smoking pot before abruptly dropping it, seemingly burned from its hot surface. It clattered against the stove noisily. “You weren’t supposed to be home yet— shit!”

He paced the length of the kitchen, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet as he ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. The mannerisms— they were so undeniably Yuta Okkotsu. Smiling fondly, you stepped forward to turn the stove off, making him grumble in disapproval.

“I-I was trying to make us pilau.” He pouted, those wide, puppy dog eyes taking in the sight of you. Despite the commotion you had walked into, he was relieved that you came back to him.

“Yeah?” You questioned with an amused smile, reaching behind him to untie the apron from his back and pulling it over his head. Your hands replaced the ties around his neck, pulling him down toward you. It was gonna take you a while to adjust to this sudden, more exaggerated height difference. “What happened to you not burning it this time?”

The pale skin of his neck and cheeks flushed under your intense gaze, making him chuckle nervously. It was evident in the tentative manner he slid his hands around your waist that he was unsure of what you’d be comfortable with.

“Are you gonna come down here, or are you gonna make you climb all six feet of you?”

His Adam’s Apple bobbed against his taut neck, a boyish grin spreading across his lips as he shook his head.

“I have a better idea.”

In one quick motion, he squatted down to grab the backs of your thighs and toss them high around his waist. You gasped at the abrupt motion, clinging around his chest like a spider monkey. He wasn’t even holding onto you as he began walking the both of you to your room. No, his hands were instead grasped on the sides of your head, pulling you into him for a desperate kiss. Shutting the door behind him with his foot, he turned to sit on the edge of the bed, your comparably smaller frame still attached to him.

You fell slowly into his lap, biting at his lips with an unanticipated fervor. Your hands grazed under the hem of his shirt, palms freely exploring the planes of his chest and shoulders. He whimpered under your delicate touch, breaking away from you only to allow you to pull the fabric off of him. Pushing back on his firm shoulders, he fell back against the bed with a huff, watching with bated breath as you kissed each inch of new skin you were presented with. You wanted to commit him to memory— learn the new ways to make him gasp and whimper in that way only Yuta could pull off. As you traversed down his abdomen, he reached down and yanked the hem of your loose shirt over your head, groaning at the sight of your bare chest that he’d missed so much.

Just as your lips grazed the hem of his sweatpants, he sat up abruptly to stop you.

“No, I can’t— I just need you right now.” He rasped, grasping at your waist to toss you down onto the bed.

“Jesus, Yu!” You gasped as your body bounced with the impact. He grinned sheepishly at you as he stumbled out of his sweats before crawling over your body.

“I’m sorry… not used to it yet.” He apologized before grazing his hand over your clothed core, sighing pathetically at the wetness that met his digits. Your teeth were clashing together as the two of you sloppily kissed each other— a bundle of gasps and moans. He molded himself against you as he dragged your soiled panties down your legs before standing up to remove his boxers. You tried not to stare— you really did. The last thing you wanted him to think was that you found his previous parts insufficient. Lord help you though, because— now? Yuta was massive. Watching your apprehensive expression as you took in his new, bare body, he grabbed your hips.

“Come here.” He commanded gently, easily lifting you up to sit on his lap. You both gasped as your core bumped against his painfully hard length. It was a bit embarrassing— the way he was able to wrap one arm around your waist to hold you up as the other gripped his length. The thought of all the different ways he could use this newfound strength sent bubbling excitement straight down to your core. “Take what you can, pretty girl.”

His compassionate words, even as he had you hovered over his desperately touch deprived cock warmed your heart. You nodded wordlessly, mouth falling open as he slowly lowered you onto him. Your nails dug into his shoulder to cope with the slow burning sensation that filled your core as he unconsciously bucked up into you. Before long, you were fully sheathed over his weeping member.

A long whine fell from his lips as your ass met his thighs. The sound was deeper than his usual, pitchy moans that you’d come to love, and it made a heat spread through your chest. You shifted to adjust your thighs in order to begin moving against him, desperate for any sort of friction after the long period of waiting for you to adjust to his new size, but he stopped you. Large hands came up to grip under your ass, lifting you up with ease to grind you against his already twitching length.

“Allow me, my love.”

Okay, maybe you could get used to this Yuta.

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