#tw asshole ex-boyfriend

[siconetribal]

How to handle a troublesome ex, royal edition. Love it. If that loser decides to come back on some ego trip, he's gonna regret it.

Can you do a jealous ex where reader is with Loki and the ex starts getting mad and starts texting and calling reader constantly then one day she forgot her phone and Loki reads the texts and listens to the voicemails then reader comes home to a concerned Loki because reader got hurt somehow?

She's Mine Now

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You and Loki have only just started dating and you're worried your ex-boyfriend will ruin everything. You've been able to hide how often your ex contacts you but one night he calls over and over while you are with Loki. After finally admitting to Loki what has been going on, the God of Mischief takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings: controlling ex-boyfriend, jealous ex-boyfriend, some vague mentions of previous abuse (nothing specific), arguing, swearing, threatening language, name calling, Loki being super protective

A/N: I'm so so so sorry it took me ages to get to this. I'm finally going through my request box and I loved this the minute I saw it. I changed it just a little but I hope that's OK. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚

Also... I realized as I was proofreading this that I never named the ex-boyfriend so it's whatever you want it to be lol pick any jerk you know haha

Loki sits on the end of his couch, your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers run slowly up and down your arm. You've only been together a month but you have completely fallen for him. You look up at him and smile when he laughs at the movie you selected.

He notices you watching him and kisses your nose causing you to giggle. "The movie is more interesting than I am, I assure you," he jokes.

"I've seen it," you respond but rest your head against him again.

Everything about him makes you want to tell him how perfect he is and how deeply you love him but you are afraid to. A small voice inside you keeps holding you back from opening up to him the way you want to. Every time you told you ex-boyfriend you loved him, he would tell you that you sounded clingy or needy or desperate. You don't want Loki to feel the same so you keep those three words to yourself.

Loki's fingers move from your arm to your back, moving in slow circles. You close your eyes and focus on how calming it feels but then his hand moves further up. He begins playing with your hair, his eyes still fixed on the screen, a small smile on his lips. You try to keep your thoughts from racing as you feel a familiar pit growing in your stomach. He's upset, he doesn't like your hair this way, your inner voice starts to spread panic throughout your body, he's going to grab a fistful of it any second and yell at you. You tense as his fingers gently run through your hair and he notices the change in your behavior.

"Are you okay, love?" he asks, he removes his hand and looks down at you concerned.

"Yea, I just-" you look down and begin playing with the sleeve on your sweater as your mind replays what happened the last time you got a haircut without talking to your ex first. "I'm sorry, I- I was going to ask you before I cut my hair. I know I should have but I was only going for a trim so I thought it was okay but then I saw a shorter style I really liked and I just went for it but-"

He cuts off your words suddenly when his lips met yours, your whole body responds to his kiss and the feeling of his hand softly touching your cheek, relaxing you instantly. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked on yours so he knows you are listening to him. "It's your hair darling. You can do what you like with it," he gently plays with the ends of your hair. "You don't need to ask me to do things like this," he says as if it is obvious.

You nod and remind yourself for the hundredth time that Loki is not your ex-boyfriend.

He settles back on the couch, bringing you with him easily, his arm around you. He smiles and adds, "I'm sorry if I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful today."

You blush and bury your face against his chest, the heavy feeling inside of you vanishing completely. He kisses the top of your head and goes back to watching the movie. You close your eyes and force the images of your ex-boyfriend's reaction from your mind, replacing them with Loki's words.

Half an hour later your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You lean forward to try and reach for it but Loki keeps his arm around you. You giggle and try again but he doesn't let go. He looks down at you and smirks, "Where do you think you're going?"

Your phone continues to vibrate. "I need to answer my phone," you roll your eyes.

He looks back towards the TV and dramatically puts his foot on the edge of the coffee table, sliding it further away from you as he straightens his leg.

"Loki!" you laugh as a smile spreads across his lips. He finally loosens his grip so you can get up. You pick up your phone but as soon as you see the number, you end the call and put it face down on the table.

"Who is it?" he asks.

"Wrong number," you answer with a shrug but the laughter is gone from your voice.

You sit heavily next to him and he waves his hand to bring the table back to its original spot. He doesn't respond but you know he can tell you are lying, his expression has become serious and his eyes remain fixed on your phone. Before you can think of a better excuse, your phone begins to vibrate again. You grab it and hang up quickly without stopping to see the number, you know who is calling.

"Who is it, Y/N?" he asks again, his tone is curious but you can feel your nerves getting worse.

"It's no one," you tell him as you tug on your sleeve again.

He sighs at your response and turns off the TV. "I don't like being lied to," he says as he faces you.

"I know," you shrink away from him, waiting for him to yell or tell you to leave.

"Y/N," he reaches out to touch your chin lightly, wanting you to look at him but you flinch away from his touch involuntary. He pulls away as well, giving you more space instead of invading yours. You look up after a moment and instead of seeing anger in his eyes as you expect, he looks sad.

You know in your heart Loki would never hurt you but your instincts had forced you to distance yourself from him. When your ex was upset because you had lied or had done something he thought was wrong, he could be unpredictable.

Your phone vibrates again and he sighs as he picks it up off the table. He hands it to you and says, "Whoever it is must really want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to him," you tell Loki, trying to hold back your tears. You toss it away from you wanting it as far from you as possible. It skims over the top of the coffee table and lands on the ground in front of the TV.

"Who keeps calling you, Y/N?" he asks again and this time you know you need to answer him.

You tuck your legs underneath you and move further away from Loki, wrapping your arms around yourself. He shifts his body to face you but doesn't move any closer. "It's my ex-boyfriend," you tell him, you try to keep the fear from your voice but you know he hears it.

"The one Wanda told me about?" he asks, his eyes glance towards your phone and you see a flash of anger cross his face.

You nod but don't say anything else, you had barely mentioned your ex to Loki for so many reasons. You aren't sure how much Wanda told Loki but it was obviously more then you had ever shared with him.

"Please talk to me," he says, moving towards you slowly, testing to see if you will pull away again. "I don't understand why he would still be calling you. I thought you ended things with him months before I met you."

"He started calling and texting me again a few days after our first date," you finally admit to Loki. "I don't know how he even found out about us..." your voice trails off as you look down.

You feel Loki move closer to you again and your body tenses as you prepare for an argument or worse, you shouldn't have hidden this from him, it was as bad as lying.

"I'm not texting him back I promise. I always ignore him. I don't want him to call me but he just keeps doing it, I've asked him to stop but he won't," you say quickly, all in one breath. Loki opens his mouth to say something but you are too afraid to give him a chance. "I didn't want you to be upset, that's why I didn't tell you, I wasn't trying to hide anything or lie about it, I'm sorry," you feel the apology pouring out as it had so many times with your ex. You cover your face with your hands but can't stop the first few tears from escaping.

"I'm not upset Y/N," he says softly. He gently touches your hands and slowly takes them away from your face, "I'm worried about you, that's all."

You look at him, not having expected that response. When your ex found out you were texting Wanda after work, he had been furious. He had never met her and didn't want you telling a stranger anything about him or your relationship.

"I'm sorry," you mumble quietly, not even sure what you are sorry for anymore.

"Please stop apologizing," he says in a calm voice, "You haven't done anything wrong." He wipes the tears from your cheeks, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nod and without thinking you answer him, "Sorry."

He gives you a half smile and puts his arms around you, pulling you close. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your cheek to his chest as he rubs your back slowly. He holds you and sighs, "I don't know what he did to you... and I will never ask you to tell me," he adds when you look up at him, "But I need you to remember that I am not him. I never want you to be scared of me, you can tell me anything."

"I know," you wipe your eyes again. "I'm sorry-"

He raises an eyebrow at you and you let out a small laugh. "There's that beautiful smile I love so much," he smiles in return.

A few hours later, Loki lays awake staring at the ceiling, wishing you hadn't left. He has told you on numerous occasions that he sleeps much better when you are curled up in his arms. Unfortunately, you need to run an errand before work tomorrow so you had gone back to your apartment after the movie finished. Closing his eyes, he rolls over but sits up quickly when he hears a faint buzzing sound.

He gets out of bed and follows the sound into his living room. Loki looks around as the buzzing gets louder until he finally sees your phone lighting up on the floor just under the tv stand. You must have forgotten you threw it there when your ex-boyfriend was calling. He was worried when you didn't text him to say you arrived home like you always did, so at least now he knows why.

He stands still for a moment, watching it ring as he debates what to do next. The call ends and he bends down to pick it up then he takes a seat on the couch. After a few seconds, it vibrates once more notifying him that there is a new voicemail.

He sits back, phone in one hand with his other hand over his eyes. Loki trusts you more than anyone he has ever known, on Midgard or on Asgard and doesn't want you to think he's invading your privacy. It's not you he wants to check up on, it's your ex-boyfriend. Everything he knows about him, he heard from Wanda in one very short but eye opening conversation. She only told him what little she knew but it was enough for Loki to know that you deserved better. He sounded like a man you weren't safe with and your reaction to his calls tonight confirmed that for him. Loki would do anything to protect you so he takes a deep breath and unlocks your phone.

Thankfully he remembers your password, you had told him what it was last weekend so he could send himself some pictures you took together at the museum. He opens your call history and covers his mouth with his hand in shock. Fifty-three missed calls in the last week alone, he stares at the number in disbelief. You hadn't answered a single call but still he attempted to reach you over and over. Most of the calls came in groups late at night, like they had while you were watching the movie.

He opens your texts, feeling both guilty for looking around and angry knowing what he will likely find. He smiles a bit when he sees how you've saved his name in your phone, Mischief 💚, but immediately frowns when he sees an unsaved number right below his conversation with you.

He clicks on it, at first he barely reads the words, he just scrolls further and further down hoping to find the end. He sees text after text after text, some are long rants while others are a single insulting word and it seems to go on forever. Once a day is a text from you pleading with him to leave you alone but it only seems to enrage him.

Loki quickly goes from upset to angry to furious as he reads the threats and insults your ex-boyfriend had thrown at your over the last few weeks. He grinds his teeth as he thinks about you being afraid of your ex and the things he has done to you. He sits back and types out a lengthy reply but at the last second he deletes it.

With a smirk he sits forward with his elbows on his knees and begins to type a new, much shorter message. He hits send and waits a few moments. Your phone vibrates when your ex replies and Loki turns off your phone before going back to his room.

You look both ways and cross the street quickly, excited to finally see Loki for lunch like you do every day. You spot him sitting on his usual bench just past the entrance to the park, lost in his book. You smile when he looks up, his book vanishing as he stands. He hugs you tightly then leans down to give you a kiss.

"I missed you," you tell him, his arms still around you.

"Then you shouldn't have left last night," he smiles. "Oh, I believe this is yours," he takes your phone out of his pocket.

"Thanks. I can't believe I forgot it, that was really stupid," you shake your head. You had realized when you got home last night that you had left it at Loki's but it was too late to go back.

Your heart stops when you realize its your ex-boyfriend. You look up at Loki, one of his arms is still around you but his eyes are fixed to your ex as he approaches with a wide smile and outstretched arms.

"You are not stupid," he corrects you and before you can respond you see someone walking over to you.

He continues towards you and when your brain finally registers that he is trying to go in for a hug you free yourself from Loki and quickly back away. Loki moves in response, putting himself easily between you and your ex which causes him to stop.

"Seriously Y/N?" he says, already sounding annoyed with you. "I drove all the way out here for lunch with you and you won't even give me a freaking hug? You're lucky I accepted your ridiculous invitation after you kept ignoring me."

Loki says, "Y/N did not invite you here, I did."

"Oh really?" he's looks from you to Loki and seems unphased that he is face to face with the Prince of Asgard. "What, are you looking for some tips on how to control her better?" he laughs to himself. "Of course, if you've decided you're done with her, I'll gladly take her back. I put years into fixing her, wouldn't want that to go to waste."

You take another step back as his eyes find you again and they roam up and down your body. You suddenly wish you hadn't worn a skirt and you cross your arms tightly around yourself. He always commented on how you dressed, he had so many opinions on what he wanted you to wear.

Loki notices how uncomfortable you are and brings the attention back to himself. "Do not look at her, this conversation is between you and me," he tells your ex.

He sighs and says, "Fine, what do you want?"

Loki holds his anger at back and in a controlled tone says, "You will apologize for how you treated her in the past and then you will leave, never return here or contact her again."

He almost laughs and says, "I treated her the way she deserved. She needed to learn how to behave and you should be thankful I trained her as well as I did."

Your eyes dart from your ex to Loki and your heart races with anxiety about what might happen next. Loki doesn't respond at first, you watch his fist clench and his jaw tighten. He looks like he is holding himself back from lashing out with every bit of strength he has.

"You have no idea what she was like before. When I first met her-" he tries to look at you but Loki cuts him off.

He walk steadily forward, glaring at him as approaches. "I will not stand here and listen to a pathetic mortal like you speak poorly of Y/N. She is kind, funny, generous, creative, beautiful and so much more. She never deserved to be mistreated by the likes of you. Y/N is a queen and I will ensure she is treated as such."

You can't take your eyes off of Loki, you've never had anyone speak about you this way before.

Loki stops just in front of your ex and says, "If you ever speak to her, text her or see her again, I will make sure you suffer greater than any human on Midgard has ever suffered before."

Your ex-boyfriend looks at him in shock but it quickly morphs into anger, he does not take being challenged or threatened well. He takes a small step backwards and says, "You can't just threatened me like that. You might be some fancy royal on your planet but here your just another asshole. If I want to talk to her, I will. She was mine once and I could take her back if I really wanted to."

As soon as the words come out of your ex's mouth, you know he finally pushed Loki too far. Loki's full armor and tall horned crown appear in a bright flash of gold and green. Your ex goes quiet in an instant as you are both reminded that Loki truly is a God among men.

The God of Mischief looms over him, staring down at him, daring him to speak again. Loki raises one hand and suddenly your ex is picked up by his throat, a green mist surrounding his neck. He tries to claw at it but Loki's magic brings him closer, until they are eye to eye. In a dark voice, Loki says, "She's mine now."

Your ex-boyfriend looks utterly terrified and a part of you can't help but enjoy seeing the fear in his eyes after all the pain he inflicted on you. You watch, your heart still pounding quickly. As much as you want your ex to suffer, you are afraid Loki will go to far, you've never seen him so angry. Look had worked so hard over the last few months to gain the trust and support of the Avengers, if he hurts your ex he will have to face serious consequences. As much as you hate your ex-boyfriend, its not worth risking Loki's future with the team or with you.

Loki's magic brings him closer, until the are inches from each other, his feet dangling helplessly above the ground. "Do not doubt for a moment that I will do what needs to be done to protect the woman I love. Is that clear?" Loki asks and he nods rapidly in response.

Loki releases him from his grasps and he falls to the ground. Getting up quickly, he runs from the park without looking back.

Loki's magic vanishes, his crown and armor fading away in the breeze as he turns to face you. The determination and rage in his eyes is gone, replaced with his own nervous fear. Your eyes remain locked on him as he slowly walks towards you.

"Y/N," he asks softly. You don't answer, your mind still processing the events from a few moments ago. "I'm sorry, I never meant to let my temper get so out of control but I just couldn't bear to listen to him talk about you for another moment," he explains and you nod in understanding.

He reaches out to take your hand, looking down as your finger interlock and sighs. "I told you not to be afraid of me and then I showed you exactly what kind of terrifying monster I really am. I never wanted to scare you, I only wanted him to leave you alone."

"You um..." you pause, biting you lip as you think. "You said you love me?"

"Loki," you close the distance between you and touch his cheek with your other hand. "I could never be scared of you." He looks at you slowly and you smile, he breaths a sigh of relief and smiles in return.

He laughs and relaxes completely, his arm wrapping around your waist. "Darling, I have loved you from the first time we spoke," he tells you. "You mean everything to mean."

You reach up and kiss him, his hands move down your back to hold you flush against his body. You look up, still pressed together and say, "I love you too. Thank you for keeping me safe from him."

You rest your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. "I promise, I will always protect you, you just need to tell me what is bothering you," he swears.

You smile when you look into his eyes and see how much he means it. He leans down to kiss you again and between breaths he whispers, "Mine."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

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[feyriejane]

My entire life, I was taught that love is sacrificial. When you love someone, you drape yourself across the altar of their desires and hand them the knife. You say "Cut from me what you need. I'm happy to give it." You give of yourself. Give your time, give your body, give your comfort, give your heart. Give, give, give. That is what I am meant for.

Many people will gladly take what they need and want from you. You were taught never to ask for anything in return. You grin through the pain and never let the tears come and you take the scraps of affection they give you and you are grateful. Grateful that they even bothered to have you around, a lowly needy creature at their feet. You are a useful tool and that makes you happy because love is something you have to earn. If you sacrifice enough, some day they'll make sacrifices for you because they love you...

Right?

The day comes where you need something bad enough that you reach up with your bloody, trembling fingers. You say things like "if it isn't any trouble", "sorry, I know I'm asking for too much", "it's okay if you can't", "please..." You make yourself as small as possible, make your needs as convenient for others as you can. You make the sacrifice before you're even asked to because that's what you do when you love someone.

Still, you are punished. Still, you are kicked. Still, their voice rises with anger. How dare you ask them for anything? After all of the scraps they've given you, after all of the time they've allowed you to sit at their feet, after all of the purpose they gave you, this is how you repay them? You're a selfish, manipulative creature. This is not how you're meant to love. Love is making sacrifices and they're gracious enough to let you. You learn to be grateful for what you have. You learn that needing anything earns you a punishment. You learn that you need to handle your needs on your own while still giving everything to them.

The day comes, however, where you've outlasted your usefulness. You've given so much that you don't have anything left. You're not worth the scraps anymore. You took advantage of their kindness and you deserve to be punished. You can't give them what they want anymore and that makes you selfish. You, who has spent so much time crawling on the floor and hurting yourself, you are tossed out into the cold and the rain and told you are nothing. You were never worth what little you were given in the first place.

You believe this. You believe all of it. The rain stings as it hits your wounds and you thank the sky for it because if it's hurting you, that must mean it loves you. Love is pain. Love is sacrifice. Love is usefulness. You have just run out of your usefulness. You don't deserve love anymore.

You learn how to survive after this. You learn how to move on and take care of yourself, slowly but surely. But you're always carrying these beliefs with you. You are selfish. You are manipulative. Asking for help is wrong. You don't deserve to be happy. Happiness isn't even real in the first place and when it is, it's fleeting and you can't trust it. You can't trust anyone. No one is ever going to love you again.

But one day, you are loved again. You didn't think it was possible! This person saw something of value in you and invited you to sit at their table. You're going to do it right this time. You're not going to ruin it the way your did before. You're not going to be selfish. You're going to make sacrifices even bigger than you did before. You can't wait.

You sit under the table at their feet the way you're always used to. You are shocked when they're confused by this. They tell you there's a chair for you and you're left reeling. You didn't do anything to deserve something as nice as this. You haven't even made any sacrifices yet. Maybe they're giving you this kindness because then you'll have to give them something in return later. That seems more than fair, actually.

...

Time passes and you realize you've been wrong about love this whole time. Love is a seat at the table. Love is holding someone when they cry. Love is kindness. Love is giving, yes, but it is also taking. Love is cooking dinner for you. Love tells you not to apologize for needing something. Love gives you what you need freely, as best as it can. Love is laughter. Love is light. Love is warm and kind and soft. You were wrong about love all along. You never knew it could be like this.

I spent years in someone's shadow, made to feel beneath them. I was starving and cold. I begged to be considered, I begged to be a priority, I begged to be loved for who I was instead of what I could provide, I begged for a seat at the table, I begged to be worth more than what was between my legs.

I've stepped into the warm glow of the sunlight.

I will never beg again.

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: dubcon-ish due to suggestiveness and alcohol, yandere, breakup, depression, schemes, manipulation, office au for some reason

part two in Gojo's pov

fem reader

It’s been two weeks since your breakup—since you got dumped on your sorry ass.

You wished you could say you were fine, wish you could say fuck that guy, anyway, good fucking riddance—that you’d make him regret it, that he didn’t know what he lost, that he’d come crawling back begging your forgiveness soon enough. You really wish you were that girl—the one who gets up and dusts off and gets back out there with her head still held high. You really do.

But no, you’re one of those girls who feel silly getting dressed—worried that you’re trying too hard. Fuck, it’s hopeless. You feel like shit, and you look like shit, and you don’t even want to go out anyway—it’s just some shitty office party at some shitty little bar where everyone’s going to make your breakup their business. It would be best not to go—leave them to talk shit about it behind your back. 

Sure, you could slap on your best tough act and tell them all to go fuck themselves, but why bother? You’re just going to drink too much and end up doing something you regret.

And oh, how right you were.

It’s not even been a good few hours before you’ve got the office slut’s tongue down your throat—all but clinging to him as you press your body up against his. Manicured hands tussled in his pretty white locks, pulling on him while sucking each other’s faces, leeching off the feeling of his hands grabbing your waist—oh god, it feels good to be wanted again.

Yes—yes, this is what you need. Fuck your ex-boyfriend, he’s probably out fucking some skank himself. Well, two can play that game. He’ll see. You’ll make him see. That fucking asshole—

Oh no.

“Wait—stop,” you break off the desperate kissing. 

Hanging your head while steadying your breath, you push both hands flat on his hard chest, keeping him distanced even as he leans after your lips. 

You swallow thickly, then wipe your mouth, taking a step back. “The fuck am I doing…”

You don’t dare look back up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you just want to get out of there as quickly as your feet can carry you—catch the first cab home and forget all about it. Pretend it never happened. 

“Sorry, ‘m gonna go,” you mumble as you start walking away, leaving your confused colleague behind, alone outside the bathroom stalls, still recovering.

You make your way down the hallway with dim neon lights flickering overhead, feeling swallowed up by the graffiti-littered walls.

What a sorry place for mistakes.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I was about to be one of those girls.” You shudder as you wrap yourself in your own hug, feeling silly for wearing a cropped jacket—and why the fuck is your dress so short? You’re not a fucking teenager anymore. “Fucking hell… I’m such a mess.”

“No, wait.” A tug of your jacket holds you in place. Oh, but you really don’t want to look at him. It’s humiliating enough already that you’d sought him out for validation—you don’t need his pity as well. It’s Gojo, for fuck’s sake. A different girl brings him lunch about every day—the whole office knows.

You might just die from the toll of it.

“Com’on. I’m perfect for this, aren’t I?” he asks under his breath while maneuvering you up against the wall again, his dewy breath brushing your scalp as he peers down at you in wait for your answer.

“What are you on about?” You veer away. You should be in a cab already. Better yet, you should have never gone out in the first place. What was your goal here anyway? To not wallow in your own worthlessness? And you really thought seeking Gojo’s seal of approval would make you feel any better about yourself? The office hottie and the century’s ultimate fuckboy?

Fuck, it’s so wrong on so many levels, you feel disgusted with yourself.

“We’re both drunk,” he states, but you don’t really want to hear it—head too filled with your own bullshit to heed any of his. You swear, if he tries any one of his sleazy pick-up lines on you, you’re gonna knee him right in the balls. It would be nice to get fired now anyway—you’d take it as a blessing.

What he says instead is unexpected—brutally and grossly honest, “You need a rebound, right? And I wanna fuck.”

Your thoughts stop shaming you as you look back at him, returning his gaze with an awaiting silence, allowing him to go on.

“So let’s use each other and blame it on the drink.”

It sounds like the lyrics of an angsty heartache song they might have played back inside the bar—the muted thuds seeping in through the walls makes it all but true. And still, there’s something oddly enticing about it, even as it makes you cringe.

“No hard feelings. No strings,” he continues, a small grin playing in the corner of his lips. “Just a good ol’ tit for tat.”

He almost sells it. But you’re just one too many bad nights too tired to buy.

“Don’t be dumb—” you dismiss and try nudging him away again—only, he doesn’t let up.

“C’mon—you’re angry, aren’t you?” he poses with a quirked brow. “What better way to stick it to him than fucking the hottest guy around?”

It stunts you. Suppose that had been exactly your objectives tonight, unknowingly and much to your shame. At least you can find some mediocre solace in your next confession, for as it turns out, “I’m not that kinda girl.”

It’s a depressing outcome. Made even shittier by how you sort of wish you were—that kind of girl. The type who doesn’t let anything get to her, who moves on and doesn’t think twice about it—who fucks the hot guy in front of her and wakes up feeling empowered the next morning. If only you weren’t such a tragic fucking loser…

“Be her for a night?” he suggests, still not having given up. He cups your chin and brushes a thumb over your lips. It’s really intimate, makes you feel pinned beneath that look in his eyes—as if the sky was coming down upon you. His words are low, brushing your face with heat as he says them, “I promise, I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all about him.”

Goddamn it—there it is, the fucking pick-up line. Now, it doesn’t really make your knees weak or anything, but you’re sorry to say you can’t deny it’s tempting, either. 

Besides, you really didn’t want to go home and spend the night crying yourself to sleep—again, now paired with regrets about this night on top of it all.

You look at him through the thicket of your mascara, into those big blue puppy-dog eyes looking at you in something so strange such as earnest. Oh God, he really wants to do this for you, doesn’t he? He could go find himself any other girl—everyone had been eyeing him earlier—it’s not too late for him to simply go pick any one of them up. 

Is this his way of being considerate—being a good colleague by offering you a fuck? Ugh… that makes you feel so fucking pathetic. But then again… why does it really matter? You couldn’t really stoop any lower at this point—might as well have some fun while at it, right?

You were out of ice cream anyway…

“C’mon,” he drawls, eyes growing heavier as he leans further in—once again, only a tiny inch separating you. So close you taste his breath and feel his voice on your lips. “Don’t make me beg.” 

You don’t. No, you end up saying not another word. Too busy drowning your sorrows, getting drunk while kissing him breathless.

And oh, you and your bittersweet heartbreak taste so good on his tongue—coercing your boyfriend into dumping you was the greatest ploy for your heart he could ever do.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[acid-ixx]

I have this thought in my head of reader calling Connor "my heart" and Connor calling reader "lovely" and Jason calling Conner "bitch"

just a taste (again &. again drabble)

ft. yandere connor kent x reader w/ the batfamily.

masterlist ! reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— tw suggestive, making out scene. i need someone to draw what i envisioned for this omg... pls let this blow up i love connor and u guys seem to love him too hehe. if u guys want to see me write more of these (w/ other characters) pls do comment below!

the 90's version of connor will have no filter in front of your ex-family and will literally appear right beside you moments before tim could drag your ass back to the manor, your already vulnerable state panicking at what seems to be a sleep inducing drug that he'll soon inject into your system.

but your boyfriend, kon, is one step ahead of your entire family, already having planned against them shall they ever abduct you.

he'll greet you with a flirtatious smile, even biting his lips as he checks you out, eyes flittering throughout your entire body like it was you were a glamorous display of meat for him, ignoring your brother's presence while at it.

"hello to my lovely darling!~" is what he tells you with a purr in his tone, kissing your cheeks for what seems longer than a second, hands immediately encasing your waist right before tim could make a show of grabbing your wrist. your boyfriend's grip is tight but comforting at the same time. you feel like you don't deserve it but if you voice out your insecurities now then you'll only find yourself smothered with kisses; him flirting with you in front of your supposed abductors would only worsen the situation. but you don't feel too anxious right now, because he's kneading the soft flesh of your waist, rubbing sensually in up and down strokes as if making a show in front of tim and the countless of cameras that litter the public space.

it's his way of telling you that you don't have to worry about anything but his affection, and his way of telling your family to 'fuck off, don't bother our moment together'.

you reciprocate with a hasty kiss to his lips, ignoring the side eye and the smug grin he gives to your brother after.

"hello to you too, my heart..." you fight back the urge to melt right into him, but it seems like he could easily read your mind, his hand settling itself into your head comfortably, scratching your scalp with well-timed precision whilst he leans your head right against his chest, right where you can hear the soft thumping of his heart.

what a flirt.

but you expect it. after all, he's the same guy who brags about your relationship to anyone and everyone he knows. it's no wonder tim easily tracked your location to the same place where connor lives, every puzzle seemingly being put into place.

when you had both caught bruce wayne tailing after you when you had gone on a date with him, it was connor who immediately devised a plan after he had to calm you down from panicking.

your lover is willing to sacrifice everything for you.

so it's not a surprise to you that his next course of action was to shamelessly take you flying away with him, off to somewhere desolate where he knows your family couldn't easily track you in, somewhere only you two kept a secret from everybody; a shared house, if you will.

nothing is shocking about what he had done...

... not until his grip on your body provides enough opportunities for him to just, make out with you then and there, tongue and all, without a care if your brother bears witness to his shameless display of lusting towards you.

what a prideful asshole he is, but he's your asshole now. and you can't bring it in yourself to reprimand him, enjoying the sweet sounds of your lips smacking in tandem and the taste of your favorite brand of coffee in his saliva as you two soar off into the air making out, exploring each other's body; your hand finding each other on his neck, another on his head, pushing him further near you, until your noses touched and until you struggle to breath, tongues lapping in tandem, refusing even a second of reprieve, even allowing him to bite your lips teasingly.

you love it when he uses his charms to take you away from the stress of your current life.

it was a distraction for both you and him, from the thought of your family turning kon into their new target as he defiles what little innocence they thought you had.

yet you enjoy this life, and you'd rather not come back to the stuffy manor, especially not right after kon offers you a taste of what you had never experienced; love.

and you embrace the giddy thumps of your heart for once with all the joy in the world, because you're not alone anymore in your own personal endeavors; you finally have someone. and that someone is your boyfriend who's always there for you, at the right time in all the wrong moments.

and kon? he especially enjoys using his superhearing just to eavesdrop on his ex-friend's seething because he was far too late, he loves hearing the growl on jason's voice over the comms as he calls connor a bitch, a seething pile of trash for taking away from them. he loves being an audience to their well deserved suffering. but...

but he can't focus solely on them, no, not when he's barely finished devouring every drop of saliva his eye candy offers him.

... ah, he loves it when you give yourself so willingly to him, when you let him wrap his arms around your body without fear he would hurt you, when you allow his hands to explore further below, fingers dangerously close to your thighs as it kneads the meat from your hips.

connor is never letting the world take you away from him.

it was you who parted first from the kiss, a string of liquid dispersing from both your swollen lips. if it wasn't for the fact you both are still high up in the air, you wouldn't doubt that your boyfriend wouldn't hesitate to undress you then and there.

but he could control himself for now, just for now.

'oh, babe... whatever you're doing to me is so irresistible.'

whatever happens after in your shared home is a different matter.

[aurorawritestoescape]

WHO’S YOUR DADDY?

Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York || 2,7k

Part 2 of Table for Three (can be read alone)

Summary: Joel Face Times you.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, mfm (kinda), not specified age gap, dom/sub dynamic, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, squirting, m!oral, f/m masturbation, cum eating, voyeurism, exhibitionism, pet names (baby, kitten, babygirl, sweetie). Pics are for the mood only, reader has hair, but no other specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I saw that video and had to write this. Pedro is such a menace! Warm hugs to @iamasaddie for the gif in the m/b❤️Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing💖 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Hope you’ll like it! Love you all😘

Pt 1 TABLE FOR THREE || GET A TASTE || MASTERLIST

“Who’s your daddy?”

“Fuck off, Joel, you know it’s not you.”

Joel is Face Timing you while you’re still lying in bed in the early afternoon after a night of passionate fucking with your boyfriend Dave.

You are surprised by your ex’s call but can’t deny that after last week when you sucked him off at a restaurant, meanwhile sitting on Dave’s cock, the surprise is pleasant.

Joel’s in his bedroom, judging by the background, and he looks so hot, you immediately gush. His hair is slicked back, chocolatey eyes sparking with mischief and his five day stubble is calling to be rubbed against your pussy.

“Yeah, I know Dave’s your dom daddy now. Is he with ya?”

“Dom daddy,” you snicker, rolling your eyes, “you watch too much porn, Joel.”

“Yeah, ya think I’m beating my own meat every day, cryin’ over you, babe?

“Aren’t you?”

You both stare at each other but Joel cracks first as a smile tugs at his lips and you both laugh. After a few moments you remember the question he asked.

“Dave’s in the kitchen. Why are you calling? I thought you had me blocked. Or vice versa.”

“Well, i reckon, none of us could say ‘goodbye’”.

“Oh, I can now. Bye, Joel!”

“Wait, wait, baby,” he gruffs hastily through the phone speaker, stopping you from hanging up.

“What?”

“I need to ask ya somethin’. ‘s important”. He narrows his eyes, his expression is serious.

“What is it?”

Joel’s squinting at you for a few seconds while you’re taking in his combed back curls, his handsome tanned face, broad shoulders under a plaid shirt. Every time he talks, his voice makes your pussy tingle, sounding even sexier through the phone. Finally he breaks the silence.

“What are you wearin’?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“You’re an asshole, Joel.”

“I’m just a man in love.”

You giggle, raising your brows and shaking your head in disbelief.

“You hated me a few days ago.”

“I did, baby. But I let the past go.”

You take a deep breath, feeling your guilt for what you did years ago slightly lifted off your heart.

“So?” He presses.

“I’m not telling you, Joel.”

“Ok, then just show me.”

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. Your eyes dart to the door where you hear Dave, making breakfast for you two. You don’t think he would mind you flirting with your ex a little, considering he let you give the older man a handie in front of him. Besides, you look very cute in your sexy nightie with nothing else underneath so you change the angle of the phone so Joel could peek at your body, splayed on the bed, a blanket covering just a part of your leg.

You hear a whistle and your heart sings.

“Pretty, babygirl. Did he buy it for ya?”

“He did,” you reply with defiance in your voice.

“‘s he rich?”

“Dave’s doing fine. But I’m with him not because of money if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Ain’t implying anythin’.”

Then you just look at each other as the air in the rooms gets heavier and a light flirting morphs into something else. Joel breaks the silence first.

“I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

You haven’t expected that and suddenly your throat gets squeezed with emotions.

“Thank you, Joel,” you say softly.

“Who are you talking to?”

Dave walks into the room with two mugs of coffee and the aroma quickly fills the bedroom. He’s wearing a gray tee and a pair of sweatpants.

“Joel’s FaceTiming me.”

“Joel?” Dave repeats with his brows raised.

He puts the coffees on the nightstand and lies down next to you and your mouth waters as his scent engulfs you.

You shift the position of the phone so Joel could see you both and Dave greets your ex.

“Joel says that he’s happy for me,” you tell your boyfriend with excitement in your voice.

“Oh, thank you, Joel. I’m glad that you two solved your past issues.”

“Her apology really helped, man. I wouldn’t say no to another one though.”

Joel winks at you and Dave smirks, “I understand. She’s very good at apologizing.”

Your eyes are darting between the two men. You can’t shake the feeling of wanting them both and your pussy tingles with desire. Dave’s body pressed to yours sends a surge of arousal to your core and you feel the cold air of the room on your bare wet folds and shiver with excitement. Joel is making you even hornier. He looks hot and masculine with his slightly wet hair. He must have had a shower.

For a second you remember how he made you squirt for the first time. On his knees in the shower in front of you he licked at your pussy and sucked your clit until your legs started trembling but he didn’t stop and began pumping his thick fingers into you, curving them and pushing on that sweet spot in your burning core. In no time you were spraying your juices everywhere, his hand squelching against your folds as he was repeatedly hitting your clit with the heel of his palm. Only your hands on his broad shoulders helped you not to collapse on the floor.

“Kitten!”

Dave calls you, not for the first time apparently, and you blink at him trying to shake the images of the past that were occupying your mind just a second ago.

Joel laughs, “Babygirl, were you thinking of us just now?”

“No,” you mumble, averting your eyes from both of them.

“You’re lying,” Dave says, not asking, and you see his gaze darken. It’s filled with curiosity and lust.

“Tell me what you were thinking about.”

“I—I just,” you stutter, looking at one man and then the other.

“It’s ok, kitten. You two had a past. Daddy wants to know.”

You swallow loudly and reply, “I was remembering—.” It’s so quiet in the room. “—how Joel made me squirt for the first time.”

Joel’s smug grin can be seen from fucking space. He looks sickeningly proud of himself and you immediately regret telling them.

Dave smiles carnally, as if he was waiting for that, and asks,

“How did it happen?”

“In the shower. He ate me out and fingered me.”

Dave turns his face to your phone and asks Joel, “Did you plan on doing it?”

“Yeah, I wanted her to squirt all over me. Does she squirt with you?”

“Yes, she’s a talented girl. Thank you for giving her her first time,” your boyfriend says to your ex and you’re afraid that you’re going to soak through your nightie. But Dave doesn’t give you a respite.

“Kitten, say ‘thank you’ to Joel.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you purr obediently and the older man winks at you through the screen.

“You’re welcome, babygirl.”

You see Dave adjust himself and notice that his prominent bulge has grown even bigger since he joined you two on the bed. He’s enjoying Joel’s call just as much as you are.

Not being able to wait any longer, you get closer to your boyfriend and put your head on his shoulder. With your big eyes looking up at him, batting your lashes the way you know makes his cock twitch, you ask,

“Can we fuck, daddy?”

You hear Joel curse under his breath and then groan. It’s clear that he wishes to be here with you.

“It’s a little rude, baby,” Dave chides you, “We haven’t finished talking to our friend, have we?”

You whine, pouting your lips and he turns to you and pecks your nose.

“How about you put your pretty mouth on my cock and I’ll talk to Joel.”

You hear Joel’s half chuckle-half grunt and almost drool at the suggestion and swiftly reply with an ‘ok, daddy.”

Then you give Dave your phone and climb down the bed, getting comfortable between your boyfriend’s legs, your head hovering over his huge bulge.

“We can talk, Joel, but maybe you’d like to watch as well?”

You don’t see your ex but you know his eyes are obsidian with lust right now.

“Fuck, yeah. Show me what our— your little slut is up to.”

Dave presses the reverse camera button and positions it with his big hands so Joel can see you perfectly.

By now you have already freed Dave’s semi hard cock and it twitches as you’re holding it inches from your lips. You smile at the camera and give Joel a wink.

“Show daddies what that mouth’s good for,” Joel encourages you and Dave smirks, “You’re right. Sucking cock is truly her calling.”

Eager to prove them right you wrap your hand around the base of Dave’s cock tighter, open your lips and circle them around the fat head.

Your boyfriend bucks his hips, impatient to slide his whole length into your mouth, but you decide to give them both a show so you lick a wet languid stripe from the base of Dave’s cock to the weeping tip, covering the underside with your warm saliva.

Then you kitten-lick the slit, gathering his clear precum, and a moan escapes your lips at the taste, as you flutter your eyes shut.

“Shit, Dave, ya lucky bastard.”

“Her mouth is fucking heaven, Joel. Baby, show our friend what you can do to daddy’s balls.”

You smile and nod, before lowering your head. Your hand is still holding Dave’s cock but your tongue is now licking at your boyfriend’s balls, and you tilt your head to get a better angle.

“Fuck, babygirl. Doin’ real good,” you hear Joel’s praise, followed by a sound of a zipper.

Your ears immediately perk up and you ask, parting from Dave’s balls for a moment,

“Joel, are you gonna jerk off?”

“‘m afraid so, sweetheart. If Dave doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t, Joel,” Dave says, his half lidded eyes shifting between you, gliding your cheek against his cock, and the man on the screen, “let’s see if this little slut can make two men come. A bit of a challenge for my kitten.”

You purr at his words, feeling your heated pussy ache with need and pressing your thighs together.

“Can I touch myself, daddy?” You ask as impatience paints your words.

“Not yet, baby. Work my balls a little more and maybe I’ll let you come.”

The hope is all you need so you get back to Dave’s heavy balls and start sucking on them, licking the seam and then open your jaw wide to take one in your mouth. As you’re rolling it with your tongue, you hear Joel’s growling and the sound of him fucking his fist.

Dave’s eyes are set on your lips wrapped around his ball but from time to time his gaze flicks to the phone where Joel is pumping his cock and you moan at the fact that the image of your ex, pleasuring himself turns on your boyfriend.

Dave’s dominant, always controls the situation, but you’ve noticed that he loves seeing what you do to other men, how much you affect them. You suspect that’s one of the reasons why he loves such a giant slut like you.

“Ok, kitten, get to the main course,” Dave commands and you part from his ball with a pop so you could give his cock your full attention.

Through the squelching sounds coming through the speaker you hear Joel encouraging you,

“Yeah, deepthroat that cock, babygirl. Still can’t forget how good you could swallow me. Remember, sweetie?”

You slightly nod with your boyfriend's tip already breaching your puffy lips. You unhinge your jaw and slowly take him all in, soon nuzzling his trimmed hair. Dave groans and clenches your hair with a tight grip, gently rolling his hips to help you swallow him.

“That’s my good girl. Take everything I give you. Make daddy proud.”

Your throat contracts around your boyfriend’s cock while the fap-fap-fap noises, coming from the phone, are getting faster.

“Fuck, Dave, are we gonna come at the same time?”

Dave chuckles as his dark eyes almost close with pleasure.

“Yeah, I’m gonna feed it to her soon. Get ready.”

“Let’s do it, man,” Joel almost moans.

“You too, kitten. Play with your little pussy. Bet it’s so messy right now.”

You take Dave’s cock out of your mouth and croak, “Thank you, daddy.”

To give them both the best view, you lift your ass in the air, getting on your knees, and the bottom of your nightie slides down to your waist. Now Dave and Joel can see your naked ass as a background of the blowie. Your hand slithers to your pussy and your fingers dip between your folds. Dave’s right — you’re dripping like a faucet.

You easily insert two fingers into your hole as your mouth swallows Dave’s cock again. You start plunging your digits in and out of your warm cunt, slightly rolling your hips while your head bobs as you’re massaging Dave’s manhood.

The groans of your boyfriend and your ex fill the room, mixing with your muffled moans and whimpers.

Dave’s leaking a lot into your eager mouth and you know he’s close.

“Fuck, if I was there with ya, we’d fuck all your holes, babygirl,” Joel grunts, his teeth clenched, as he’s probably trying not to bust his load just yet.

“Would you take her ass or her pussy, Joel?” Dave asks and your cunt clenches around your own fingers.

“You’d share her with me like that?” Joel asks.

“I’m a generous host, Joel. You can choose.”

“I’d fuck her pussy, pal. I miss it more than anything. She’s sloppy all the fucking time. Loved her sweet cunt.”

“‘k, I’d be fine with the ass. I work her open fast now. She sometimes wears a plug. Pretty little toy. We’ll show you one day.”

“Be happy to see it.”

Your ex and your boyfriend’s discussion about fucking your holes like you’re their mindless fuck toy is the final drop in a full glass of your pleasure and you overflow with ecstasy as your pussy spills squirt all over your hand, between your thighs and on the bed under you while you’re moaning loudly around Dave’s cock.

The vibrations of your throat and your euphoric expression makes him explode too and he satisfies your thirst, spurting his cum down your throat. Dave gives you so much, you almost choke on his thick load but swallow it swiftly again and again.

“Fuck yeah, babygirl, drink it up,” Joel groans, probably seeing the creamy seed, seeping out of the corners of your lips, and makes a loud grunt, the sound so familiar and dear to you.

You know he’s coming.

The noises from the speaker get wetter and you regret not being able to taste your ex too.

When you take everything Dave gives you, you pull your mouth away from his cock and rest your head on his hairy thigh, catching your breath and licking your puffy lips.

“You did it, kitten. You made us both come. And at the same time,” Dave praises you, gently patting your head, and you purr, closing your eyes with satisfaction. Your body is pleasantly tingling after a great orgasm.

“Can I talk to her, Dave?” you hear Joel’s tired voice and lift your head up.

“Of course,” Dave turns the screen to you and you see your ex’s face on the screen, cheeks redder than before, his eyes hazy. He smiles at you warmly and rasps,

“Thank you, babygirl. I enjoyed the show. Now I need another shower,” he laughs and you and Dave both follow.

“Ok, Joel, was good talking to you. Among other things,” Dave says, turning the phone back at him, “We should meet. We have a lot to discuss. And share.”

“Yeah, Dave. Any time.”

The promise of them both fucking you makes your pussy tingle again and you bite your lip, already daydreaming about it.

Dave hangs up and throws your phone on the bed.

“I’m proud of you, kitten. You did great. Now go get your prize and sit on daddy’s face. Let me clean this messy pussy.”

You almost squeal with excitement, immediately following his order.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic, it motivates me to write more stories for you, lovelies!💖🌺

Table for Three || Get a Taste || Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Also tagging some wonderful people who might be interested❤️ @bonezone44 @janaispunk @neverwheremoonchild @survivingandenduring @tammythr @604to647 @baronessvonglitter

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[moonybug444]

back together, ig

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

——————————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

“—you don’t even know—”

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

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

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

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

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

“ok well,” you sigh, “bye.”

“alright, see ya in a minute pretty.”

______________________________________________

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

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

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

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

“you good?”

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

“y-you cheated on me! you fucking—”

just like that his whole tone changes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he thinks it makes your pussy better.

[macsimagines]

Ex-boyfriend & Yandere!Ran Haitani

(This is my best one guys i really like it. Please tell me what you think my ask box is open!!! Ms.Mac)

TW: Stalking, gaslighting, abuse, murder Unhinged behavior

Leaving Ran wasn't easy. He never took you seriously when you kept trying to tell him you were done.

Would still show up at your place demanding sex or somewhere to crash after partying too hard.

Its like he wasn't letting you break up with him. You kept trying to make it clear you were over it and he'd just reel you back in with empty promises and sweet lies.

But then he'd go and be an asshole and smack your ass infront of his friends or call you mean names...flirt with other girls in front of you...

You're done officially. You don't even tell him in person, just shoot him a text and move out of your apartment and out of Roppongi.

You choose to block him on all platforms, change your number, you're literally cutting out every piece of him.

Of course, you're not that lucky. It only takes a week or two but he eventually shows up at your apartment demanding to know what shit you think your pulling now.

A fight ensues, you yell and he yells then you're crying and he really thinks he's slick when he tries to hug you. But you shove him away and tell him you want out of this relationship.

The way he looks at you after that is down right unsettling, but he asks you for sex. He really does ask you for "one more unforgettable night." to seal the deal.

Despite all the red flags in your gut, you cave. Anything to get rid of Ran Haitani forever.

Its great. Its actually some of the best sex of your life. It leaves a giant hole in your chest though.

You tell him no kissing, and he actually looks like he might cry, but if he can't kiss your lips he's kissing every other part of you. He treats you like an actual partner. The way he caresses your body burns from how soft it is and the way he whispers about how much he loves you and can't live without you makes you want to cry.

You just want him to fuck you and get it over with, but, the bastard, decides that for the first time during your last time he'll actually treat you like a lover.

When it's all finished Ran lays with you for an hour. You're turned away from him waiting for him to just leave. "This it then? You ain't got shit to fuckin' say to me?"

Fighting back tears you nod. This was a mistake. You can tell from the tone in his voice.

He leans in real close right above your ear and whispers; "You're never gonna have someone like me, you'll never find what we have again. I'm gonna make sure of it, Y/N."

When he finally goes he slams the door behind him and everything in the apartment rattles with the force of it.

And you lie awake that night in fear and heartbreak because you know Ran meant what he said.

It's months before you feel normal again, you've got this weird pit in your stomach that someone's watching you and at night you can feel eyes while you sleep. Things disappear from your apartment and you're starting to feel paranoid.

But eventually your friends convince you its all in your head. Soon you start going out again and trying to meet people.

Keyword trying. It's always one date and then they ghost you, you can't even get a hookup. Maybe people can tell you have too much baggage.

Finally in desperation you go out to a bar. You've got an itch and you're hoping at least one stupid fling will officially make you move on from Ran Haitani.

You meet someone and you're too drunk to care what he looks like, you don't care that his cologne is so pungent it makes you wanna gag, you don't care that he's not even going to take you to a love hotel he's just got you in an alley, you don't care that it's not Ran.

His lips are on your neck and you close your eyes. You try to picture a handsome man, maybe an idol you saw on TV but that doesn't help at all. You pray to god he just finishes quickly but then thankfully you don't feel his lips on your skin.

For one blessed second you hope he lost interest and just left you alone. But when you open your eyes you see a literal ghost.

You almost don't recognize him with his hair dyed and cut so short but its... Ran Haitani.

He's on top of the man beating him to death. The sickening sound of his fists hitting bloodied wet skin is resonating in the alley way.

You can't even stutter out one word too terrified and shocked at the sight before you. Ran has never looked this way before. Just a snarl on his face and his eyes wide and crazed.

When he's done, after the other man has stopped making any noise, dear god is he dead, he looks at you. His eyes are blood red and unfocused. His whole body is shaking but he stumbles towards you on unsteady legs.

Finally, you get your senses a little too late, You try to make a run for it but he's grabbing you and shoving you against the wall. His bloody hands on either side of your face looking you dead in the eyes.

You get a good look at him, the hair isn't the only thing that's changed he doesn't look like he's slept in weeks.

"That's fuckin' it, Y/N," he whispers, voice cracking, "Thats enough, no more of this breakup shit. You hear me, Y/N? DO YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME?"

You nod, frantically. Tears streaming down your face. You're shaking too scared to fight back.

"Fuckin' cheating. Never thought you would baby, can't believe you'd do this me." He holds you tight in a hug the blood all over him smearing on you as well.

"My own fault. Should'a stuck by closer. You needed the attention, my own fuckin' fault." he kisses the side of your head and you can barely breath with how tight he's holding you.

"Shaking like a leaf. Fucker scared you. He got what he deserved, touchin' you like that. Pretty baby."

You're shivering and sniffling because Ran is what's scaring you, but you don't dare tell him that with his deranged rambling.

"I'll do better, baby, I'll treat you good this time. No one's gonna take you from me..."

Darkness fills your vision and you realize that Ran just knocked you out. Before you're completely unconscious you hear him say something he's only ever said once or twice.

"I love you..."

[lovebugism]

OK the fall prompt "rainy walks" got me thinking like... what if reader got upset about something and went for a walk and got caught in the rain, and ended up running into Steve who is just out walking and loving the fall gloomy vibe

ty for requesting! — steve runs into his ex while trying to escape a bunch of freaks and finds out you're running from something of your own (exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, tw mentions of toxic relationships, 1.9k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve doesn’t usually smoke. He dropped that habit when he graduated high school and realized he only needed a cigarette when his group of asshole friends were around. He smoked because it felt cool mostly, but also because it felt good to be distracted from his lingering feelings of non-belonging.

Now he’s got people around him who make him feel like he belongs. 

It’s too bad they’re all a bunch of freaks.

After being cooped up in the Munson trailer all day, he thinks he’s developed something short of cabin fever. Desperate to get away, he swiped one of Eddie’s cigs and a forgotten zippo before heading out to smoke on the back porch.

He exhales grey smoke from his pink lips. It leaves in invisible wisps beneath heavy storm clouds. He thinks he hears a voice over the muffled sound of Dustin Henderson’s yelling. “Fucking asshole— who do you think you are?” the voice speaks, familiar in a way that makes his stomach ache. “Like, fuck you, dude. You don’t get to talk to me like that. No fucking way.”

He peeks around the corner, and there he finds you — an old ex from a lifetime ago that he hasn’t quite gotten over yet. His chest starts to tighten. He can’t tell if he’s happy to see you or utterly horrified.

You’re still dressed in your pajamas despite it being early afternoon — if an oversized t-shirt that certainly doesn’t belong to you can be counted as pajamas, anyway. It’s a white and red Metallica tee that falls to your knees, slightly frayed at the hem. 

It probably belonged to Billy before it belonged to you. If Steve had to guess, you probably stole it like you did all his shirts. He still isn’t sure what came of his favorite Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt.

You come down the road from the Hargrove-Mayfield trailer, looking like you left in a rush. You’re barely dressed and shivering in the cold, walking fast like you’re angry and desperate to get away.

You and Steve broke up a long time ago, but his heart still swells with the familiar urge to protect you.

“Are you okay?” Steve calls to you as he rounds the corner of the Munson trailer.

The crunchinggravel beneath your feet goes quiet when you still. Your head whips toward the sound of the familiar voice, eyes widening when you find Steve there. Your heart starts to race — not because you’ve just run into your ex, but because you’ve run into your ex who you kinda sorta ditched several months ago.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay,” he repeats with a quiet, lopsided grin. He flicks the end of his cigarette with his thumb and tries to meet your gaze. “Sounded like you were giving someone a hell of a talking to.”

Your face flares with embarrassment. You shift your weight on your feet and cross your arms over your chest — partly to shield from the crisp cold but mostly to comfort yourself. “Yeah. I’m just— I was just talking to myself,” you stammer, flashing a wavering smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’m good.”

Steve nods, then squints like he doesn’t believe you. “Okay… Are you sure?”

A laugh tumbles from your mouth. It’s cynical and bitter and utterly forced.

“Yes, Steve. I’m fine,” you assure with a bite to your tone, colder than the grey autumn around you. You smile through it anyway, like you’re trying to convince yourself just as much as him. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. You’re not my boyfriend.”

Steve knows this. He hasn’t been your boyfriend for a while, but something about the way you say it makes his chest ache. He isn’t sure why.

“No, I know,” he nods quickly, shrugging with his brows pinched. “But I’m never gonna, like, not worry about you, you know?”

The empty feeling in your chest starts to warm. Your nails dig crescent shapes into your arms.

“Why?” you murmur.

“I don��t know. Because you were really important to me, I guess— you are really important to me. And that doesn’t just, like… go away,” Steve rambles, shier than you’ve ever seen him. He swipes an anxious hand through his cinnamon locks. The rouge strands hanging over his forehead fall back into place a second later.

Even though your boyfriend forced you not to talk to any of your friends, he wants to say. Even though you’re not mine anymore.

It’s been so long since someone’s been this soft with you. You’re not used to it anymore. You’d much rather him be mean because at least then you’d have a place to put all your anger.

“That’s… That’s nice,” you mutter under your breath like an idiot because you don’t know what else to say.

Steve takes one last puff of his cigarette, if only to distract himself from the awkward silence. He takes a deep breath in and tosses the stick to the gravel, exhaling the smoke as he snuffs out the ash with his sneaker.

“Where were you, uh— Where were you headed?”

“Nowhere. I was just… on my way back home.”

His brows furrow. He doesn’t bother to hide his concern. “Do you have a car?”

“Nope,” you answer with a sigh. “Still don’t have my license, so…”

“Still?”

You nod, scrunching your nose all sheepish. “I know…”

“We used to practice all the time!”

Steve’s golden laugh makes you smile despite yourself. “Honestly, I’m still a little scarred from when I almost hit that deer.”

He nods at the memory, quietly nostalgic and warm with it. 

That was on the way to Deep Green Cove, where the two of you were headed to meet his parents at their over-the-top lake house. He let you drive because he knew you’d been wanting to and thought the vacant countryside road would be easiest for you to practice on.

It hadn’t been.

And you did it all for nothing because his parents didn’t even show.

It was a good weekend, though. He can’t believe he forgot about it until now.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I guess,” Steve shrugs with his head tilted to his shoulder. “It took me three days to get you in the car again.”

“I’m pretty sure I cried, like, all night after that.”

“Yeah, my t-shirt still has tear stains on it, actually,” he teases with a boyish chuckle.

Your own giggle sputters from your mouth. You hide it with your palm — like you feel guilty about it. It feels good to laugh, though. To remember that you used to cry over stupid stuff like that and not shit that actually breaks your heart.

A fat raindrop plops cold on your shoulder. You wince. “Oh, fuck— I gotta go.”

“Let me take you,” Steve offers without thinking twice.

You stumble back when he steps towards you, shaking your head to dismiss him. “No. It’s okay.”

“C’mon. Just let me drive you home—”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not letting you walk in the rain.”

“It’ll be okay—”

“You’ll freeze.”

You scoff a bitter laugh. “It’ll be better than what Billy does to me if he finds out I was alone with Steve The Hair Harrington.”

You say it like it’s a joke, and it isn’t, really, but Steve isn’t laughing anyway. His chiseled features twist in concern, like your words have somehow pained him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you answer, perhaps too quickly, laughing as you shake your head. “It was just— It was a stupid joke. I’m just being dramatic.”

“Are you saying he’ll hit you?” he wonders in a quiet murmur, far too somber than you’d like.

“No— what? No!” you stammer quickly, face as screwed up as his scruffy one. You start to ramble before you realize it. “Billy isn’t like that, okay? He’s just— He’s a fucking baby, and he’s dramatic, and I’d love to go one day without being fucking gaslit. That’s all. I’d rather just freeze on my ten-minute walk back home than have him berate me about hanging out with my ex.”

A few more raindrops fall. Spots of ashy gravel turn to a darker shade of grey. 

Steve grows quiet, letting the gentle cadence of water on tin roofs fill the silence. His chest aches all over again. He can’t decide if he’s sad for you or angry at Billy or grieving that he ever let you go in the first place. Maybe a mix of all three.

His hands tremble with the intensity of the swirling emotions, but it’s still in his nature to be soft with you.

“Do you wanna come inside?” he wonders, nodding back towards the trailer.

“To Eddie’s?”

“Yeah.”

“…No,” you answer with the shake of your head, face twisted like the offer offends you. It does, but only because you’re almost sure Eddie hates you now. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. If your best friend chose some asshole over you, you’d hate them too.

“No?”

“I haven’t talked to him in forever— I haven’t talked to any of you in forever.”

“It’s okay,” Steve nods, so gentle it makes you writhe.

“No, it’s not, Steve. I ditched all of you. I was awful to you.”

You don’t want his gentleness. You want him to hate you. You don’t deserve his warmth or the one inside Eddie’s trailer, practically aglow with the laughter of all the friends you left behind. You deserve the isolation. You deserve to stand in the rain and freeze.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, a newfound insistence in his tone like he wants you to really hear him. His bushy brows raise and his honey eyes sparkle, golden even in the grey. “We know why. We know it’s not your fault.”

You falter, swallowing through a closing throat. “You do?”

“Yeah. And we don’t— we don’t blame you for it, okay? For any of it. We miss you, actually.”

The crooked pink grin he flashes should comfort you, but it only makes you shrink inside yourself. “You’re just saying that,” you murmur, disbelieving and dripping with self-loathe.

“Ask Robin if you don’t believe me,” Steve tells you, smiling wider now. “Actually, she was just talking about how making fun of me isn’t as fun without you.”

You don’t want to believe him, but you glow with the faint hope that he’s telling the truth, anyway. 

“Really?”

“Really,” the boy nods, then grimaces when the light rain grows suddenly heavier. His brows scrunch as he holds out an arm towards you. “Screw your boyfriend, okay? Just come inside. We can take care of everything else after.”

You want so desperately to take the hand he holds out for you. Your fingers twitch at your side with the longing to hold him, but you don’t let yourself — even though it goes against all your human instincts not to. 

You’re made slightly braver than he had said we. “We can take care of that later,” he’d promised, a subtle assurance that you aren’t as alone in all this as you feel. But you often feel like you’re a black hole at times — you don’t want to suck anyone else into the mess you’re in.

“I don’t know…” you waver, teeth threatening to chatter when a breeze makes the rain colder.

“C’mon, before both of us get soaked—” Steve laughs when it starts to rain harder. All the clouds begin to pour at once. You rush to him before you can think twice about it. His palm is warm at the small of your back when he ushers you towards the trailer.

Beneath the high-pitched squeaking of the screen door, you hear Steve mumble behind you. “Dustin’s gonna fucking flip when he sees you.”

[meguwumibear]

tw: mentions of intimate partner violence (NOT between togame and reader), reader has a black eye as a result of the IPV

The streets of the city come alive at night. There’s a buzzing in the air that isn’t present in the morning. Shops and restaurants turn on their bright, neon signs that thrum audibly with electricity. People move about chatting and laughing with each other about the latest workplace scandal or other idol gossip.

The streets are crowded tonight too, despite the weather. Thick, heavy drops of rain fall from the dark night sky, pattering against the soft awning you’re crouched under. The storm came on suddenly; the weathermen didn’t predict it. When you ran out into the night, you did so without your shoes let alone an umbrella.

Absentmindedly, you picked your way towards the nearest convenience store, planning on buying something frozen to ice your eye with. A pint of ice cream, most likely. Two birds one stone or what not.

Problem is not only are you without your shoes or umbrella, you’ve left your wallet at his house too. After he raised his hand at you–not for the first time–you simply ran from his apartment as fast as your legs could carry you. His temper has always been bad, but it’s gotten much worse these days. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of it anymore.

A blast of cold air hits you as the convenience store’s automatic doors slide open. You don’t pay any mind to the man who walks out until he joins you under the awning. He too, it seems, is without an umbrella.

It doesn’t take long for you to get the feeling the man is looking at you. Just your fucking luck. Got away from one asshole only to have to deal with another. You look up at him and shoot him the meanest glare you can manage. Soaked through as you are, you figure it doesn’t amount to much.

“Ouch,” is all he says, staring directly at the growing shiner your (ex) boyfriend gifted you with. “Hope you returned the favor.”

“Tsk,” you huff with a roll of your eyes, “do I look like a fighter to you?”

The man continues to look at you through a pair of yellow tinted shades. After a moment passes, he shrugs. “Looks can be deceiving. You’d be surprised.”

It’s then you notice the orange jacket the man is wearing. Two twin lions embroidered on the breasts of the jacket.

Shishitoren.

Shit.

You look away.

If you don’t engage with the guy, maybe he’ll just up and leave you the hell alone. You stare at his sandalled feet, tracing the rigids of the shoes with your eyes to distract yourself from the fact that the guy is still fucking staring at you.

When the dude finally looks away, it’s to root around in one of his bags for who knows what. There’s a rustling sound as the guy picks through the plastic. When his hand emerges again, it’s holding a can of soda.

“For the shiner,” he adds when you don’t immediately reach for the can. “Gotta ice it so it doesn’t puff up.”

Fuck, why can’t the guy just leave you well enough alone? You gingerly take the soda from him, nodding your thanks, though your eyes don’t leave his toes. Is it possible the man recognizes you? It’s possible he passed pics of you around the gang.

You press the perspiring aluminum against your cheek and focus on the cold radiating from the can. You really should head back to your apartment. You haven’t really put much distance between you and him.

There’s quiet hum above you before the man lowers himself to a crouch in front of you. It’s harder to ignore him now he’s this close to you. Can’t the motherfucker take a hint?

“Can I see?” he asks.

“Why.”

He shrugs, “Had my fair share of black eyes. Just wanna assess the damage for ya.”

An exacerbated huff escapes you. Dude’s either the dumbest man in Japan or intent on ignoring social cues. Either way, fastest way to get away from him is to let him give you a once over. So you do. You drop the can from your face and briefly try to meet his gaze. It’s gentler than you expect it to be.

Your eyes find the orange of his jacket again. You stare at the dark threads of the embroidered lion’s eyes. A hand raises, moves towards your injured cheek, and you flinch away.

The man curses under his breath and tears you didn’t even realize you were holding back begin to fall.

“Who did this to you,” the man asks, voice hard and firm. When you turn to face him again, there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“What’s it matter?” you sigh. “Your kind protect their own.”

The man’s fingers ball into tightly clenched fists at his side. His hands are huge and scarred at the knuckles. They’re hands that have known violence. When he notices your eyes drift to them, he makes a visible effort to unclench them.

“Name,” the man repeats, struggling to keep the urgency out of his voice. Then, “Please.”

The next time you see Togame, he’s tossing the jacket of your ex into your lap.

“I don’t protect woman beaters,” he says. Followed by, “Would you like to go for dinner? I’m starved.”

[seijorhi]

Wither and Bleed

sorry for the wait y'all <33 Daishou Suguru x female reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader w.c 4.6k tw: dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, nsfw, stockholm syndrome, mentions of blood, alcoholism, mild smut

Daishou eyes the bottom of his glass dispassionately, watching the amber dregs of whiskey roll as he slowly tilts it – pointedly ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching, the low, mocking whistle that follows.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, Daishou, but I gotta be honest, this place is a dump and you look like shit.”

There’s a flush high on his cheekbones, his eyes are glazed, bloodshot. Despite the heaviness in his head, the liquor fuelled haze and exhaustion that makes pulling a coherent train of thought… somewhat difficult, he’s not so far gone that he can’t recognise the grating voice and accompanying laugh. 

One more. One more, and maybe then he’ll stumble off home to continue drinking in peace. That, or he’ll pass out the second he hits the couch. At this point, he’s not picky. 

“Another,” he rasps at the bartender, whose only response, aside from the surly look he sends Daishou’s way, is to unscrew the cap of the bottle of cheap whiskey and tilt it back over his glass. Glaring, all the while. 

Once upon a time, Daishou might’ve said something to that. Made some snarky remark, goaded him ‘til he got a rise – or got his ass thrown out.

(You’d chide him for it, too, in that exasperated tone of yours. He’d be tempted to think you were serious, but you’d sigh, call him hopeless and your hand would snake in his on the walk home anyway.)

Disdainful sneers, the staring, the whispers and pointing, baldie behind the bar wouldn’t be the first stranger to recognise him. Daishou can’t even blame the guy, really. A woman goes missing, all eyes turn to the husband. The boyfriend. The ex. He might be a piece of work, depending on who you asked –an asshole, arrogant, a conniving son of a bitch – but hell would freeze over before he’d ever lay a hand on his girl. On any girl. 

So, yeah, he gets why the guy’s staring at him like he’s the scum of the earth. Doesn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow. 

“You planning on ignoring me, then?” 

“Trying to,” he mutters, accepting the drink with a short dip of his chin. The whiskey burns on the way down, warming his chest through. Bottom shelf liquor’s too cheap to enjoy for much else. Daishou closes his eyes, “Leave me alone.”

And that stupid, suit-wearing, smug asshole laughs, and pulls out the seat next to him. 

Fucking terrific.

Kuroo tuts, motioning at the bartender for a drink of his own, “Aw, c’mon. That’s no way to greet an old friend, is it?” He waits a beat for the reaction that doesn’t come, the mirth in his eyes fading somewhat, then sighs. In a more sober voice, he says, “I heard Yotsuya Motors dropped you. I’m sorry, man.”

The muscle in his jaw tightens, his knuckles turning white. Dropped was a good way of putting it. Closer to the truth than the bullshit story they’d peddled online and to the fans, the one wherein Daishou and the Yotsuya Motor Spirits had amicably reached the decision to part ways before the beginning of the new season. 

‘This isn’t a position any of us want to be in, Suguru. You’re a good player, you’ve done well this past season, but you have to consider how this looks for both the team and the V League as a whole. We’re not saying you’ve done anything wrong – of course not – only that the public perception holds weight these days.’

And so it went. He’d sat there, numb, and listened for fifteen minutes while the head coach and upper management explained that him ‘voluntarily’ stepping down was in his best interest. Pretending, all the while, that they were on his side. That they for one second actually believed in his innocence. 

The cowards couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

None of which makes enduring his old rival’s fake fucking sympathy any easier. 

“For what it’s worth,” Kuroo continues, “while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind–”

One minute, his drink is in his hand, the next, he’s hurled it against the wall behind Kuroo’s head, the glass shattering on impact, cheap whiskey sliding down the paint, and Daishou’s on his feet, chest heaving, muscles taut. Hands shaking as they flex and curl around nothing. 

For once, Kuroo’s stunned into absolute silence. 

The whole bar stills, a deathly quiet falling over the room. The other patrons gawk at him, wide eyed and horrified – a violent unravelling they’re eager to glut themselves on – no noise but the forgotten hum of 80’s rock drifting through the speakers. 

No one breathes.

No one moves.

Daishou, shaking, trembling in the cold wake of his own dissipating rage, shudders out a strangled breath. “She’s not–” the words stick in his throat; tight, painful. He forces them out through gritted teeth, “She’s not dead.”

Kuroo, staring back at him with some inscrutable expression, says nothing. Does nothing, aside from slowly lowering his drink – still untouched – down to the bar, as though Daishou hadn’t just pitched a glass tumbler right past his head. At his head, technically. 

“Out,” the bartender snaps after a tense beat, jabbing one thick finger towards the door. “Get the fuck out!”

Daishou can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. 

“She’s not dead,” he repeats, his voice hoarse. 

Through all of this, it’s the one thought he won’t entertain. No matter how many times he’s hauled back into the police station, or someone recognises him from the news and the dirty looks and whispers start. No matter how much hatred and vitriol and accusations are thrown his way, that thought alone is constant. 

You can’t be dead.

“Out!” 

Daishou doesn’t need to be told a third time. He spares the raven haired bastard one last look on his way out, sneering, and lets the door sweep shut behind him. 

The place was a shithole anyway.

And he can pretend, for a minute or two, that the churning, sick feeling eating away at his insides is the liquor, that the sheen in his eyes is purely due to the icy bite of the wind as he stumbles off in the direction of home.

Too much alcohol flooding his veins, too screwed up to register the prickling on the nape of his neck, or the footsteps that follow after him, down the narrow laneway – a shortcut he’s taken a thousand times.

When the blow comes, striking hard and fast at the back of his head, Daishou drops like a stone.

—

When Daishou was seven years old, he fell out of the tree in his backyard and broke his arm. He also managed to knock himself out – for all of about five seconds.

Long enough to scare the hell out of his parents, anyway. When he woke up, bleary and dazed, his parents hovering over him, Daishou didn’t feel any pain, not immediately. That’d come later, trying not to blubber and wail in the back seat of his dad’s car on the way to the E.R. At first, though, it was just… sort of like being shaken from a deep, deep sleep. Disorientating, more than anything else. 

This isn’t like that at all.

Coming to, all Daishou can focus on is the pain in the back of his skull. His eyes are too heavy to lift, his limbs sluggish and sore. From a dry, cotton mouth, a low groan escapes him.  

At first, he assumes he’s at home – lying sprawled on the bathroom floor, having hurled up his guts through the night. Wouldn’t be the first time, and considering his sorry state, he’d hazard a guess that it wouldn’t be the last, either. 

“Suguru.”

Warmth. A loosening in his chest. Despite the discomfort, the sound of your voice never fails to soothe. In the weeks that you’ve been missing, Daishou’s dreamed of waking up beside you. Of rolling over and cracking an eye open to find you right there, fast asleep and curled up beside him, where you’ve always been. 

Where you’ve always belonged. 

You stir when his fingertips trace along your jaw, smile in that sleepy way of yours, catching his hand, keeping him there. And even in his dream, when there’s no reason for his chest to tighten, a lump to settle in his throat at the sight of you, it does. 

“Suguru, listen to me!” your voice pleads.

There are other dreams, ones where you’re lying on the living room floor surrounded by a pool of blood. There’s a kitchen knife sticking out of your chest, and he’s the one holding it. 

Daishou prefers the ones where you’re alive. Safe. Home with him. 

“You have to wake up.”

Why? He wakes up and you disappear again. Cheek pressed to the cold bathroom tiles, sick to his stomach and head throbbing.

And you still won’t be there.

“Please.” Your voice sounds… different. Not soft and loving, not the sleep tinged murmur he usually hears. “Please, Suguru, you’ve gotta wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Daishou doesn’t want to. Pounding head or not, he’d stay in the dark with you – your voice, strained as it is – as long as his subconscious would allow. But that’s not a choice he gets to make, leaden lids slowly prying open, squinting under the influx of light.

The first day or two after you disappeared, Daishou convinced himself that despite all the evidence to the contrary, you weren’t gone gone. An accident, a miscommunication, dead phone, fuck, a fight he didn’t remember picking; he clung to any excuse, any explanation that left room for you walking through the door, sheepishly abashed over all the fuss caused. 

He would’ve forgiven you – for anything. 

The days passed, the cops came by, dragged him in for questioning, and Daishou started to realise that you weren’t staying with your parents, or a friend. You weren’t pissed at him for something stupid he did or said. You weren’t coming home on your own. 

Which left the alternative. 

People who disappear like you did; out of the blue, no warning, no trace – they don’t come back unscathed. 

If they come back. 

Daishou’s had weeks now to sit with that – while he drowns himself in bottom shelf whiskey and cheap beer, wallowing in his own fucking misery, you’re going through an unimaginable hell. 

Blinking against the brightness, the room slowly comes into focus, his eyes adjusting, and Daishou’s heart leaps into his throat. He forgets the pain. Forgets that he’s spent weeks – months, now – thinking over every awful eventuality and drinking himself stupid in the process. All he sees is you; sitting up in bed, hair tousled, wearing an old, faded tee two sizes too big, looking the way you do in the dreams he has where you never disappeared. 

“Suguru,” you gasp, the noise choked, halfway to a sob, your wobbling smile mired by the sheen of tears brimming behind your lashes. 

But Daishou doesn’t see that. Doesn’t register it, not as he scrambles forward, his desperation to touch you, feel you, make sure you’re here and you’re real overriding every other sense–

Only for the cold, metal handcuffs hooked from his wrist to the broken radiator to pull taut, jerking him to a stop. 

“… The fuck?” he mutters, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Experimentally, he tugs on it again. 

It doesn’t budge. 

Daishou swallows, mouth dry, blood running cold, and as this new, unsettling reality takes root, slowly drags his gaze from his cuffed hand back to the bed. To you, watching him with a devastation that has his heart clenching. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his subconscious sings, the warning bells tolling, and for the first time since he opened his eyes in this unfamiliar room, Daishou sees you.

The mottled marks of red and purple, fading yellow littered across your exposed collarbone, trailing along your neck. The shadows under bloodshot eyes, the pallor of your skin. 

And Daishou remembers.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him through tears, the words spilling out as though you’re confessing some great, unforgivable sin. “It’s my fault, Suguru. It’s all my fault.”

His mouth opens – all that comes out is a strangled rasp of your name, which only serves to make you cry harder, shoulders shaking and a hand clamped over your lips to stifle them. 

Daishou’s never wanted to wake up from a nightmare so badly. He’s never wanted so desperately to pinch himself and prove he’s not dreaming.

But at the sound of footsteps approaching, a change sweeps over you. You stiffen, freezing for the briefest of moments before you hastily set about wiping away the evidence of tears, shooting him a pleading, desperate look he doesn’t really understand.

Not until the deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, and Daishou’s confronted with the man who took everything from him.

One by one, the pieces fall into place with horrifying clarity. 

The bar, their ‘chance’ meeting, all that goading– ‘For what it’s worth, while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind.’ 

A small, insane part of him wants to laugh hysterically.

He settles for a baser instinct. Strains against the chain at his wrist, face twisted into a feral snarl, and hisses, “You fucking asshole.”

Kuroo’s eyes crinkle with a grin, but his attention doesn’t remain on Daishou for long. On cue, you shuffle to the edge of the bed, shoulders low and eyes glistening. “I-I’m sorry, Tetsurou,” you murmur, meek and demure.  

The fucker laps it right up. Coos as he makes his way over, disregarding his other captive entirely. Two long fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. He holds you there, lets his thumb brush along your lower lip. You shiver, and that too he greedily drinks in. 

He doubts very much that Kuroo’s forgotten about him, yet the way he stares at you – insatiable, a craving that goes too deep, a yearning too consuming – and you back at him, Daishou may as well have been invisible 

A wave of disgust seeps through his bones, tainting his blood, curdling in his stomach – but he doesn’t look away. He can’t bear that, either. 

When Kuroo finally decides to close that gap and kiss you, you don’t offer a shred of hesitation. You surrender to it, breath hitching when he catches your lip between his teeth and nips at it– 

(The way you used to when he’d do the same.)

–and when he breaks away, a strand of his spit still connecting you, and moves to cup your tear stained cheek, you nuzzle into him, peppering soft little kisses to his palm.

“I know, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice a touch deeper, clearly affected by how sweetly you’re trying to pacify him. “But actions gotta have consequences. I warned you what’d happen if you brought him up again,” he pauses, and chuckles a little, “and you know I’m too much of a jealous bastard to let that kinda stuff slide.”

Hooded, hazel eyes flicker back to him, pinning him in place. The amusement in Kuroo’s face fades, leaving behind a blistering cold contempt as he regards his old high school rival. 

Daishou sneers back. 

“You said you loved him.”

“I don’t,” comes the immediate response. Too quick. 

Kuroo scoffs. “You still mumble his damn name in your sleep. He the one you’re imagining when I’m buried inside of you, making you cum, sweetheart?”

You’re fucking right it is, you piece of shit, Daishou thinks viciously. The words themselves sit on the tip of his tongue, prideful and sharp, itching to be inflicted. Damn the consequences, he might’ve said it just to see the look on that bastard’s face – except Kuroo isn’t even looking his way. Isn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention, idly toying with a lock of your hair as if you aren’t clutching at him, eyes betraying your panic like a deer in headlights, and Daishou feels sick all over again. 

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“N-no, of course not!”

“No?” Kuroo’s brow arches upwards. “You sure ‘bout that?”

There’s no answer you can give that’ll convince him, yet silence proves equally damning. You seem to realise as much, mouth opening and closing as you try and fail to conjure up the right words to diffuse the situation. Kuroo offers you no out, letting you dig your own grave with the shovel he’s given you, taking some kind of sick satisfaction in your distress. 

Unable to summon anything more than a choked squeak, you stretch upwards again, a delicate hand on his jaw, and kiss him. The action is desperate and clumsy, borne from panic over passion or affection. Kuroo accepts it eagerly all the same, one arm snaking around your waist to draw you closer – or rather, to keep you from slipping away ‘til he’s had his fill of your lips. “I love you,” you murmur against him. “Only you.”

Though they’re shaky, the words stand stronger than those that came before. 

His nose nudges against your own, a look of contentment gracing his features. “Not yet, but we’ll get you there. On your knees, pretty girl.”

Your face crumples in dismay, lips parting only to fall shut with an audible click. As Kuroo’s grip on you loosens, you obediently slide off the bed and onto your knees.

“Arms up.”

Trembling like a leaf and looking faintly ill, you obey, letting him tug your shirt – his shirt, from the looks of it – up and over your head, carelessly tossing it aside. And though you flinch, biting down on your bottom lip, eyes glossy, burning with shame and humiliation, you don’t make a move to cover yourself.

You must know better.

His blood roars, heart thundering violently against his ribs. There’s no pretending he doesn’t see the love bites and bruises spanning your chest, nor the smug, triumphant look in that fucker’s eyes when he notices Daishou looking, his body tensed, shaking with barely contained fury. 

Kuroo strokes your cheek, “Keep your eyes on me. Just you ‘n me, yeah?”

You nod. Without prompting you reach for his belt, the clinking of metal and the hiss of Kuroo’s zipper rattling in his skull, the deep, husky groan that slips from his lips when your fingers slide into his pants and curl around his cock, pulling it out.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Daishou doesn’t want to watch you kiss a trail from Kuroo’s navel down to his cock. He doesn’t want to see the way your thumb swirls along the head of his dick, smearing his pre only for your tongue to follow its path, lapping it right up.

He doesn’t wanna watch you lick your lips, lean in and suck Kuroo’s cock like a well trained slut while he palms at your tits, but between the rage and disgust and the nausea crawling up the back of his throat, Daishou’s frozen in place.

Guided by the not-so-gentle grip he has on the back of your hair, you take more of him into your mouth with every bob of your head, your other hand diligently working away at what doesn’t fit. He allows it for a minute or two, watching you try your best to take all of him with a hiss of pleasure.

Eventually, though, greed wins out. Kuroo’s hips cant forward, bucking past your lips to force his cock deeper, grazing the back of your throat. Eyes widening, you make a surprised noise and try to pull back, allow yourself a little breathing room to set a pace you're comfortable with, but Kuroo’s having none of it. He growls once in warning, grip tightening around your hair, holding you in place, and begins to fuck your face in earnest.

“That’s my good – little – whore,” he grunts, each word punched out with another cruel thrust of his hips. 

The sounds of you gagging on the dick in your mouth, your choked little whines and whimpers burn through Daishou like wildfire, igniting something deep. A faint stirring in his gut he wishes, more than anything, he could smother entirely. 

He doesn’t look away. 

It’s only when the lack of oxygen becomes too much and you claw at Kuroo’s thighs, tears streaming down your face that he finally relents, letting you pop off his dick with a heaving gasp. With nothing else to tether you, you collapse against his legs, boneless and panting, your eyes fluttering shut. 

They crack open, however, looking up when his hand comes to a rest on the crown of your head, “Say it again. I want to hear it.” 

The demand takes a moment to process, but you swallow and tell him what he wants to hear. “I love you, Tetsu. More than anyone.”

He grins, lazily stroking your hair, “I know, sweetheart. Now c’mon, up on the bed. I’ve been been dreaming of your perfect little pussy all day, wanna fuck you properly.”

—

Hours pass. Half a day, a day. Maybe longer. There’s no light down here, no windows to track the path of the sun, the shadows creeping across the floor, but he can feel the endless drag of seconds and minutes ticking like a slow suffocation. 

After fucking you to the edge of exhaustion, Kuroo had carried you out, cradled to his chest like something precious, and left him alone in the dark. 

Left Daishou to scream and rage and cry like a fucking baby. It doesn’t help any. His bones and muscles ache, the skin of his wrist rubbed raw trying to move to a position that doesn’t scream with discomfort, the cold, unforgiving floor beneath him offering no relief. Mere feet away lies the bed Kuroo fucked you on, with its pillows and blankets, soft, plush mattress.

With his eyes adjusting to the complete lack of light, Daishou can only make out a vague shape in the darkness. In some kind of fucked up way, he decides it’s a blessing in disguise.

Being able to see the bed’s another cruelty, the promise of comfort and warmth when he’s shivering and cold and lying in his own filth, placed just out of reach. And while the thought of lying in the sheets he’d fucked you in (raped you in, a voice reminds him) makes his stomach turn, he’s not so sure that given the chance, he wouldn’t shove those thoughts aside for a soft reprieve and a few hours of rest.

Some messed up part of him wonders if the pillows and sheets still smell like you.

So no, it’s a good thing he can’t really see the bed, or the door, or much of anything, really.

Besides, it isn’t the hunger pangs or the lack of sleep or the dull, throbbing pain from his joints that bother him the most, it’s the feeling of inhaling razor blades doused in fire he’s subjected to with every shallow, rattling breath. The last taste of water he’d had… would’ve been before the bar, however long ago that was. Too long. More than a warm bed, more than food or freedom from the cuff around his wrist, Daishou thinks he’d just about kill for a single sip of water to wet his throat. 

More than likely, that’s the whole fucking point. 

Left to rot in the darkness, Daishou has plenty of time on his hands to think, musing over the bed in this little windowless room, and the other door he suspects must lead to a bathroom. That asshole went to some effort in getting him here, he’ll admit, but he doubts all this was solely for his benefit.

You were here when he came to; obviously he’d kept you down here, the question was for how long? Did he keep you chained up and hungry in the dark when you wouldn’t play nice? The way you’d melted for him, the affection, the goddamn look in your eyes when you’d said that bastard’s fucking name–

The fear that’d shone there when you’d said his. 

Daishou knows from the depths of whatever’s left of him, that he could never, ever hate you. If he starves to death alone down here, if you’re the one to plunge a dagger into his heart yourself, if you forget all about him and buy into the delusional fucking nightmare that psychotic prick keeps peddling, he’d love you. That much is immutable.

But hatred’s too soft a word for the thorn riddled vines that sprout and twist inside of him, ripping away at muscle and flesh, choking his organs, his veins, everything that he is – because of Kuroo. 

When he hears those footsteps again, the clicking of the altogether unnecessary locks, Daishou can’t help the wide grin that cracks at his face. “Was wonderin’ when you’d come back down to gloat,” he croaks, manages a laugh too, though it feels like dragging his vocal cords over sandpaper.

Having flicked the light switch on (half blinding Daishou in the process) Kuroo fixes him with a sardonic smirk. “Missing me already?”

“Hate waiting around.”

“Ah well, what can I say? I had better things to do.” His smirk broadens, a cruel glint under too bright fluorescent light as he plops himself down on the bed Daishou’s been doing his utmost to ignore and stretches out, rolling his shoulder and neck. “Prettier things.”

A stab of something dark and ugly wrenches between his ribs. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits through cracked, dry lips, and before he can think better of it, adds, “Mommy didn’t love you enough, Kuroo? That what this is?”

Kuroo doesn’t snap the way he expects him to. He doesn’t lash out like he would’ve when they were hot headed teenagers desperate to grind the other into the dirt and lord it over them. The muscle in his jaw jumps and his eyes narrow, sharpen – but his expression is quick to smooth over. Water off a duck’s back. He lets out an amused snort, rising from the bed. 

“Y’know, as entertaining as it was watching you self-destruct, losing your volleyball career, your fans, friends, all those nights you spent searching for her at the bottom of a bottle – and it was entertaining, believe me – I think I like this better.” 

A short, sharp burst of pain. Warm copper spills over his tongue. 

“You’re not gonna survive this. Even you’re smart enough to have realised that much.” He crouches down low, at eye-level, just out of reach, appraising him with a tilted head – as though Daishou’s some whimpering puppy at the pound. 

Daishou’s not a fucking puppy. 

“Most likely it’ll be the dehydration that kills you first,” Kuroo continues. “That only takes a few days, but with water, you could probably make it two, three weeks before your body starves itself to death – plenty of time for your muscles to begin to atrophy, which’ll be painful as hell, not to mention how bad the isolation’s gonna fuck you up. And who knows, maybe I’ll be nice and bring you something to drink every now and then, throw you some scraps from dinner. I might even let you out of those cuffs for an hour or two, so you can walk around down here, stretch those legs of yours before they completely shrivel up… But you won’t see her again, ever.”

Scowling and hateful, Daishou spits at Kuroo and bares bloody teeth. 

Kuroo wants to treat him like a dog, fine – but wolves gnaw through flesh and bone to free themselves from hunting traps, and he ain’t about to just keel over with a whimper and make this easy for him.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Tension crackles through the air like an oncoming storm. 

Daishou falls back against the radiator, breathing heavy and Kuroo wipes at his cheek with the pad of his thumb and huffs out a dry laugh, eyeing the bloody digit. Looking back at Daishou, he stands. “You look thirsty, I’ll go get you some water. Can’t have you croaking on us just yet.”

He’ll bite his fucking throat out if he has to. 

[0xstarzx0]

DANCING QUEEN |ONE-SHOT|

Drew Starkey x Reader

{OPEN COMMAND}

synopsis: Y/N has always managed to scare the men who tried to seduce her, but Drew is determined to be the first to fail to scare

[english is not my native language .❗️❗️]

tw: smut, felation, sex, penetration, raw language, abuse, unprotected sex, vaginal sex.

______________________________________________

"You really had to do this?" asks Camilla, your best friend. "I told you I didn’t want to come, he was sticky, and besides, when he talked to me, he looked at my boobs. He’s a big jerk." You say while lighting a cigarette.

"You threw your glass in her face and threatened to cut off her balls!" she said, shocked at your behavior last week.

"You’re not fucking kidding," said your best friend, Trevor. Half choking so much he’s laughing.

"Seriously, aren’t you tired of being alone?" Camilla asks.

You drink your drink, knowing already what kind of speech you will have the right.

"You go home by yourself, no one gives you a gift-" That’s not true, Trevor does!" You laugh and Trevor throws you that means "not now" with his disapproving head movement.

"Seriously Y/N when is the last time you have sex?" you blush instantly and sigh.

you drink your shot and get up. " For starters, I haven’t had sex in six months" Shit, you thought it was less serious in your head.

"I’ve decided, do you really think an asshole could have this?" you show your body as a trophy." And then I’m not determined to be in a relationship with someone who wouldn’t be able to help me when I need it."

Your ex was a first-class asshole, he put you through hell. He stole your money a hundred times, let his friends insult you with all the names and if you retaliate it was like you insulted his mother personally, and he didn’t care what you wanted, he took it without your consent 99% of the time

And when you weren’t his docile bitch he didn’t hesitate to hit you or threaten you.

You left him eight months ago now, threatened to press charges if he didn’t leave you. Luckily your threats scared him and left you.

You chase away bad thoughts and you take a tone that wants to be funny " and then anyway, the only people I want in my bed, are old rich grandpa who are easily manipulated who will give me their money when they die." You smile cheerfully before heading to the bar.

You come to the bar and you order from the bartender, Calvin, three shots of tequila.

You turn your head when you see three guys talking together, two blondes and a brown guy. The three of them are chatting, you detail them one by one and one particular catches your attention.

He’s tall, thin with shaved hair. His arms are big and veiny. You watch his abs fit perfectly to his white tank top.

"Hey, honey, you got a little name?" asks a heavy guy who just arrived.

You wave your hands to say you are “mute” and he nods and apologizes.

He orders and Calvin gives you your three shots. "Thank you my favorite bartender!" you say drinking one of the three. The three men laugh and try to hide their laughter when he sees the head of the heavy guy.

"You’re not mute Then I can know your pretty name," said the stranger. Calvin looks at you like Trevor, his boyfriend. A disapproving head movement.

You smile at Calvin and then your face gets bored when you look at the unknown again. "Calvin, can you pass me the meter?" You ask not to let go of the man’s gaze.

He gives it to you and you start taking it out until 6,1 He looks intrigued by what you show him.

"My ex was 6.1, if you do more than him I’ll let you buy me a drink!" you say cheerful. 

He stands next to the meter, For his greatest happiness it is more than 6'1, your face becomes jaded.

"So you want a shot?" he asks, smiling with all his teeth.

Well, you only have one more option.

"Yes, but first, my name is Y/N and I have three cats: Kitty, Daphne and Omar, I am Cancer but I do not go out with the: belier, capricorn, Pisces and Taurus." You say without leaving time to understand. He opens his mouth as you speak.

"I want to get married in... 1 year and have four children, so what? You miss me having a drink!" you say happy grabbing his arm.

he abruptly takes off his arm and leaves without turning. You turn to Calvin and he sighs. I do not understand why you reject all the men who approach you " he says exasperated.

"I didn’t reject him, he left all alone!" you say defending yourself, one of the three men of earlier laughs, the blond, Mister big arm.

Calvin looks at him with fascination, as if he were in front of a super star.

You leave laughing at yourself.

You were Camilla sitting in your seats when your flagship music started.

Dancing Queen, you got up and took it with you to the dance floor.

You dance with her, you do the choreography she and you invented when you meet the blond eyes of earlier. 

You stop each of your movements and Camilla looks at you strangely. she turns her head or you look. And her eyes turn into admiration.

Ok this guy is beautiful, but from there to admire him like a god. It’s weird.

"Oh fuck Y/N! Drew Starkey is here and he’s looking at you!"

"WHO THE FUCK IS DREW STARKEY ??" 

You’d like to yell at her instead you nod, Drew is so well-built that your eyes can’t help but look at his body instead of his eyes.

She takes your hand and trotts in her direction. Your eyebrows instantly frown and you curse her because even before you try to run away you are already in front of the three men.

"Hi!" she begins, you raise your eyes to heaven. " I’m Camilla and she’s my best friend Y/N I just wanted to know if I could take a picture with you, I’m a big fan of outer banks!"

"Yes, of course!" Camilla smiles and approaches them, she stands between them and looks at you." Y/N? " she says firmly.

You turn the head to look innocently. "Yes?" you say  "The picture? please.".

You take your phone and position it correctly. You notice that Drew is not looking at the lens but in your direction. Eh Mister big arms could you look at the lens, please?" You lean your head to the side. 

You open your eyes wide when you realize what you just said. In front of your reaction he laughs, as if you were just both.

You come to your senses and take the picture for Camilla. Once finished you tell her and she insists that you take one with them. You refuse several times by saying that you had not seen the show but she pushes you towards them by saying that one that you would have seen the show you will be happy to have a photo with these actors.

She forces you to put yourself right for the photo, the blond on your left, the brown on your right and Drew behind you. Oh my god, you can feel his breath on your ear. 

When the picture is taken, you run to the toilet, too embarrassed to stay longer.

You walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror, Fuck, you’re red like a tomato. You don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol you drank or the fact that Drew triggered something in you that no one had ever done.

You try to calm down when the door opens. You turn your head and has your greatest regret or happiness- you do not know what you want- Drew is there smiling when you turn away the look too embarrassed.

"Is there a problem?" You ask when you put on your femme fatale mask.

"No, should be?" He sees clearly in your game and has you way of acting, he tries to destabilize you and god only knows that he can do it.

You don’t answer his question and look at the mirror in front of you, it puts your hair back in place when you see its reflection move to get on the door right behind you.

"If you try to flirt with me your way sucks." You say barely audible.

" I don’t need to flirt with you because I meet all your criteria.". Shit. He heard you.

You turn and frown, he continues:

"I am 6'3, I love animals, I am scorpion. Marriage is an event that can happen quickly in a relationship if you are sure you want to and I want children but I can negotiate for three."  He says he’s sure.

You smile sincerely before bursting into a sweet laugh.

Drew’s heart tightens, was he falling in love with a girl he had just met? probably yes, but love at first sight exists no? If you thought about it, why not.

______________________________________________

You spent the whole night laughing with Drew leaving her co-stars with your best friend, who was happy you were having fun with someone other than her or Trevor.

When he offered to take you home you wanted to refuse but, without really knowing why, you did not hesitate and accepted on the spot.

When you got to your apartment door, you felt the atmosphere was palpable. Your desire to throw itself on him was immense and the desire that he undressed you invaded his mind.

So when you threw yourself on his lips he answered your kiss by dipping his tongue in your mouth you went back into your apartment glued to his lips, he closed the door with his foot.

He grabbed you from the back of the thighs with his big hands and carried you. He threw you on the couch and stood on top of you. while continuing to kiss you.

You started to undo his belt when he simply tore your t-shirt causing him a painful erection, which could only be cured by you.

He began to wrap your breast with his lips, you moaned while he was not even in you.

You managed to take off his jeans and touch him through his boxer causing him a growl.

You put your hands on his chest and pushed his away calmly, causing his to misunderstand you. 

You went into your bathroom and took a rubber band and made yourself a ponytail and knelt right in front of him. you lowered his boxer and he dropped his head back when you put your mouth on its length. kissing her before taking her whole in your mouth

you started to go and come with your head when he looked down at you, trying to maintain eye contact. He likes it.

When you felt his dick shaking in your mouth he took you away, despite the fact that you were soaked, you wanted to feel it in you. 

He grabbed you by the arms to position you just above him. he approached your ear and said:

 "I want to come into this little pussy that I’ve been thinking about since I saw its owner."

You blush in front of his words and he starts to take off your cyclist. your panties are completely wet and he knows it.

When he sees your little red panties he gets even harder. He takes it off and without even warning you he pushes his cock inside your folds deeply. causing a sharp moan from you.

He maintained eye contact with you throughout his deep, frantic thrusts. Every time you closed your eyes or looked away, he grabbed your jaw and said, "You wanted to play, so let’s play."

your nails dig on the bare skin of his abs, and his hands grab your hips as he kisses your breasts always holding your eyes in his.

you feel your orgasm coming when your moans get stronger and you move faster on him. he accelerates his thrusts." Come on, come on my dick I’ve been waiting for this from the beginning" you squirt on his dick and it comes, pulling long lines of sperms into you.

You take yourself away from him, legs trembling, chest and neck full of hickeys. You sit next to him, grabbing his arm and positioning your head on it. He turns the head to see how much you have been subjected to him. He smiles when he notices your little body trying to resume normal breathing without him realizing it.

"My room is down the hall on the right." You just say, he gets up his hands on your back and behind your thighs and lifts you up.

Once in the Chamber he puts you on the bed then settles next to you, he pulls you towards him and puts one of his legs on your thigh and you fall asleep against the other.

______________________________________________

The next day when you open your eyes you see him lying next to you, you have not changed position and in addition you managed to sleep all night while usually you wake up in the middle. You don’t know but in any case you would like this moment to last forever.

______________________________________________

.

.

.

.

[tojifm]

ride or die (mafia au). ༄ ryomen sukuna.

― summary: you were living your best life, single and newly employed but sukuna had to swoop in to collect his payment (aka, you).

― TW: 18+ plot holes, dubious consent, choking, vaginal fingering, dom/sub undertones, a little bit of blood, uhhhh I think that's it?? I mean honestly sukuna comes with a warning.

word count: 3,721.

Crazy and high.

That’s how you felt as the man before you began to decide whether or not to kill you.

Crazy and high.

That’s how you felt when he asked what your boyfriend meant to you. Nothing. Your answer was breathless.

Crazy and high.

That’s how you felt when he grinned at your answer. His eyebrows furrowed as he questioned you once more.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you confirmed, shaking your head. “W-we were broken up, months ago.”

He watched you for a moment that held too long. “That’s not what he said.”

Despite the situation, you feel a current of red hot anger moving through your veins. Maybe it was the pent up anger of having to be mature throughout the whole relationship as your ex tainted your image. Maybe it was the fact that even apart and allegedly six feet under your ex was still ruining your life. Maybe it was the fact that you were drugged, kidnapped, and presented before this made-up king on the day of your first real job. Or, maybe it was a combination of everything. “Well, he said a lot of things, but it says a lot about you if you choose to believe him.”

You are grabbed by the hair and yanked back, the grip was tight and your eyes met the ceiling. You wince at the suddenness and less at the pain.“Apologize,” a voice hissed. You clenched your jaw stubbornly, sliding your eyes down to see the demon who watched as if it was nothing but a pleasant exchange. He watched you curiously, chin resting in his hands, eyebrows still furrowed. The lighting was still too dim for you to make out too much of his face. Asshole.

A yank to your hair and you realize that you had said that out loud. “You want to die, don’t you, bitch?” That wasn’t Sukuna. No. It was the disrespecting, self-destructive, low-life who had his hand in your hair that spoke. Sukuna’s eyes don’t waver as you thrash, your tied wrists jerking around behind your back, and yell at the man to let go. He observed you as if you were a zoo animal that needed to be caged. He watched as your seemingly timid figure, clawed at the hand, not realizing the man behind you was triple your size. He took note of the blood on your blouse and the rips on your skirts, the strands of hair sticking to your face and your neck from the nervous sweat. Sukuna meets the eyes of his guard who waited patiently for the finalé. Waited for his boss to make the call. Waited to put an end to the stupid girl at his feet. Poor guy. Sukuna smirks and gives a small shake of his head.

The grip lightens and soon enough, it's gone. You raise your hands to rub the sore spot, not realizing Sukuna had stood up. You mistake his footsteps for the man behind you. You turn around to glare only to find a row of masked army, posted dutifully against the concrete wall. All of them are sized similarly. All equipped with a number of weapons. Vests heavy with bullets. Belts adorned with glinting knives. You try to lock eyes with any of them but they stare ahead. Sukuna had recruited these men that looked straight out of the games your ex-boyfriend played. Call of Puberty or whatever. It couldn’t have been easy. These types of men were not bought with money. They’d do anything for him. You had no idea how you had been able to escape them in the car but you’d rather not test your theories in such a vulnerable position. Newly intimidated you turn back around.

Only to find another problem.

Your nose bumps against Sukuna’s and you let out a soft yelp at the sudden proximity, jerking back quickly. But his hand is already there, behind your head, long fingers encased you, holding you close to him. He is smiling. Up close, you are able to make out his features much more clearly. The left side of his face was scarred almost handsomely. His hair was a faded pink, his face decorated with tattoos on his forehead across his nose, jaw, chin, neck and maybe even further down but the blood stained shirt covered his torso, cutting your eyes short. Your breath becomes ragged, coming in short bursts as your eyes widen in a mixture of apprehension and fascination. You looked like the deer he had shot last week. “Why so skittish?”

It felt almost intimate if not for the situation. Caught between the tumultuous flurry of fear, your body mistakes your racing heartbeat for attraction directed at the killer before you. You struggled to find your voice. “I am not.”

Sukuna's satisfaction becomes evident in the gleam of his dark, lidded eyes at the rasp of your voice. His enjoyment at your disorientation was palpable, a sinister delight that sent a chill down your spine. His hot breath mingled with your own. You are dazed and he is happy. “Oh, but you are,” his dark and lidded eyes scan you one more time, before delivering the verdict. “I’ve decided.”

Crazy and high.

Mad and madder.

That's how you felt when he leaned in closer and bit your bottom lip. And you could not find it in yourself to care for the words he had just let out.

Throughout the steps back to your room, you are nauseous. His words ringing in your head like a warning. You were relieved. But mostly, you were confused. He had spared you. No, he had ripped everything away from you. You were not thankful. Just relieved. That was it. Nothing more. 

You will not be a victim of Stockholm syndrome on the first day of captivity.  

Another thing was rushing through your head but it was not the words exchanged or the fact that you were most likely to be jobless in case you did make it out (highly unlikely), but rather something else . . .

A recap. A wildly inappropriate and embarrassing recap. In all honesty, you could’ve convinced yourself that you had dreamt the whole interaction if not for the dried blood on your lips and the sound of his reverberating hum that had echoed in the silent room. 

If not for the shocked moan, if not for the feeling of his smile against your lips, if not for the hot tongue that had coaxed your mouth into a pliant mess. If not- 

Shaking your head you tried to focus on your steps. You had to stop. Distraction you needed a distraction. You decide to focus on the pair of Sukuna’s masked guards that were now guiding you to a room. They were taller and leaner than the ones in the basement and dressed in Tom Ford. They seemed more agile, more alert. No wonder you were free of the ropes that had caged your wrists. They would not make the same mistakes the others had. They will not let their attire hold them back. 

You look around the hallways, there's nothing traditional about them. The walls are painted a crimson color so dark it was almost black. It seemed to bleed into the air, permeating the corridor with an unsettling energy. The flooring is a marble that seemed to glare at you for even looking at it. Definitely expensive. It wouldn’t be a surprise. You doubted Sukuna was donating his blood money to charities. He looked and dressed like he could afford to buy countries, it only suited him to live like he did. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the guards stop in front of a tall mahogany door. One of them reaches in his pocket to retrieve a long silver key. With a deliberate motion, he inserts the key into the lock, turning it with a resounding click that reverberates through the silence. The room is dark and you cannot make out anything inside. You wait for one of them to reach inside and turn on the light but they simply stand. You stare at them, unmoving. They stare back, equally blank. 

“Get in,” one of them says, still not moving. His voice is calm but laced with warning. Hesitantly you step inside only to jump when the door is thrown shut with a slam that echoed. You hear the door click and come to the conclusion that you’ve been locked inside. You inhale your shock and try to locate the light switch.

“Assholes,” you mumbled into the darkness, “all of them. Stupid jerkfaces.” 

Your hand brushes against a smooth spot in the otherwise roughened wall, and smile victoriously when the lights turn on. The room is as big as your apartment but there is nothing lavish about it. The furnishings are functional but lack any sense of warmth or personal touch. To your right, a queen-sized bed in the center accompanied by two side tables honing a singular lamp on top. There's a desk pushed against the wall next to you and just above it was a seemingly new T.V. You delve deeper into the room and locate a door to a walk-in closet that led to a bathroom. What the hell was this house?  

You step into the bathroom and observe yourself in the mirror. Your hair was a mess. Your cheeks stained with the mascara that had dripped from your eyes. Your gaze falls upon your swollen lips, stained with blood, a vivid reminder of the violence and danger that has infiltrated your world. Your fingers tentatively brush against them, tracing the tender flesh, and a shiver reverberates through your body. It is a visceral shock, a jolt of reality that reminds you of the gravity of your predicament.

Was this your life now? From securing an internship to landing a job at the same building you had met your boyfriend. From scrounging for change to make up for the student loans. From shopping at stores until you felt satisfied. From sloppy lunch dates to being enslaved by a man wanted by the country.  

Hopeless. 

Your vision blurs at the sudden tears that coated your eyes. You blink, once, twice, trying to get rid of them but they just fall. Racing down the path already created for them. 

Within the walk-in closet, you discover a treasure trove of clothes, each garment carefully selected and tailored to fit your size. The array of outfits spans a wide range, from elegant gowns to stylish blouses, from casual shorts to impeccably fitting pants. From shorts to the most perfect pants. In a flurry of misplaced emotions, you had tried on almost everything, watching yourself in the mirror. The way the denim hugged your curves. The way the material of pants danced when you walked. The way the skirts cinched your waist and drew attention to your seemingly elongated legs. Almost everything had fit you perfectly.

Too perfect. 

You push back the question of just how Ryomen Sukuna would have access to all this information but you didn't need to trouble yourself with any more questions. The day had terrorized you enough, you didn’t need your psyche to do it for you all over again. You knew if you began thinking you would come back to the point of cursing a dead man you had cut out of your life. 

You walk back into the shower after picking out a silk pajama set hanging in the closet. Turning on the shower and undressing, as the warm water cascades down your body, soothing your tense muscles, you take a moment to relish in the simple comfort of the shower. With each passing minute, the weight of the day's events begins to wash away, if only temporarily. As you reach for the body wash, your fingers brush against a familiar label. Surprised, you examine the bottle more closely, and to your astonishment, you discover that it is an exact replica of the one you use at home. A sense of surrealism washes over you as you realize that the products in this bathroom are not mere imitations but rather the very same ones you have come to rely on in your daily routine.

He had these brought from the security of your home.  

Unsettled once again, you close your eyes, feeling the hot whispers attempt to relax your stiffened body. 

You feel refreshed after the shower. Dressed in silk and hair wrapped in the fluffiest towel to ever exist. Somewhat free of your conflicting thoughts you step outside the door to your closet, still drying your hair. 

Sukuna's gaze lingers on you, a sinister satisfaction evident in his dark eyes. As you go through your nightly routine, diligently applying the creams and lotions to your face, his presence feels like an unwelcome intrusion. Every motion, every touch of your hand, draws his attention like a predator observing its prey. The subtle satisfaction in Sukuna's expression is unsettling, his amusement at your compliance apparent. His presence, like an invisible weight, hung in the air. He watched as you massaged your temples, seeking solace in the simple act of self-care, unaware of the twisted pleasure it brought to him. His enjoyment at your satisfaction, at the contented hums that escaped your lips, bordered on sadistic

He felt his pants tighten. He watched as your previously distracted gaze raised to meet his giant figure sprawled out comfortably in your temporary bed. He grinned at the sudden shriek you let out. “Making yourself at home?”

“What are you doing here?” 

“Greeting my guest, what else?”

You clench your jaw, refusing to meet his gaze directly. His predatory eyes continue to roam over your body, making you feel exposed, vulnerable. The weight of his gaze feels suffocating, as if he is stripping you bare with his eyes alone.

It took you two heartbeats to realize that you basically were. You did not wear a bra or underwear because the closet had everything but the necessities to hide your freshly hardened nipples. It was all intentional . So here you were, in front of your captor, commando mode. You quickly throw your wet hair over your chest, trying your best to cover what the man had already seen. 

Sukuna's grin widens, stretching across his face, revealing a set of teeth that adds an unsettling edge to the situation. With a self-assured air, he lifts his hand, running it through his tousled pink hair in a seemingly nonchalant gesture. The action draws your attention, momentarily diverting your thoughts from the impending doom that surrounded you.

In a startling display of confidence, he pats the space next to him, beckoning you to draw closer. “Come here.”

Your affronted scoff breaks the tension in the room for a moment, a flicker of defiance shining through your fear. Despite the overwhelming sense of vulnerability, you refused to cower before him.

"I am not coming anywhere near you," you assert firmly, your voice carrying a mixture of determination and apprehension. The words spill from your lips before you could control it.

For a brief moment, the atmosphere seems to shift, the balance of power momentarily wavering between you and Sukuna. His grin falters ever so slightly, a glimmer of surprise flitting across his dark eyes. It's clear that he's not used to defiance, to someone resisting his commands.

Yet, despite the daring response you've mustered, you remain acutely aware of the danger that surrounds you. Sukuna's unpredictability leaves you on edge, uncertain of how he might react to your refusal.

"Not even on my face?" He pouted mockingly before his tone became menacing. “You don’t have a lot of options right now, doll. Come here.”

Doll.  

You repressed a shiver and weighed your options. Which were basically none. Running for the door holds little promise, as you suspect it's likely locked, effectively trapping you within this nightmarish space. Seeking refuge in the bathroom offers no solace either, as the man before you seems all too capable of bypassing such simple barriers.

Your mind races, searching desperately for a glimmer of hope. Yet, the room felt like a claustrophobic cage, suffocating and closing in on you. Fear and desperation intertwine, clouding your judgment as you grapple with the limited options before you. 

To choose him is to relinquish your autonomy, to place yourself at his mercy. Submitting to his control means opening yourself up to the unknown. However it is clear what you needed to do. 

With a heavy sigh, you find yourself moving closer to Sukuna. You were a butterfly drawn into the intricate web spun by a spider. Too distracted by the beauty to recognize the threat until it was too late. The trepidation lingers, your heart heavy with a mix of resignation and defiance. It was a compromise. 

Simple action. Simple defiance that consequently had your head against Sukuna's shoulder and his fingers in your pussy. 

- - - - - - -

"You gonna do it again?"

"N-no."

"Say sorry." He emphasizes the word by a particularly hard thrust of his long fingers.

"I’m - Please !"

“What is it?”

“I’m so- SUKUNA!” 

His name on your tongue sounded like a lullaby.

“You’re not telling me anything, princess.”

His fingers curl inside you, hitting a spot so deep you didn't even think it was possible. Your mouth is parted in a silent gasp and your back arched against his broad chest. He was still dressed whilst you sat in his lap as naked as the day you were born. Your stained silk pajamas long forgotten on the marble floor. His other hand slides up from holding your thigh open to tracing a path between the valley of your breasts and wrapping around your throat. Your sudden whimper at the grip had Sukuna chuckling half-heartedly. His body was hot against your skin. You could feel the taut muscles against your back. 

You could feel every rising breath. 

His amusement ended with an involuntary groan when you clenched around him. “You like that? Huh? Fucking whore.”

You shake your head to deny it. But to your surprise you feel your release building. You feel yourself clench at his fingers

“ Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You had to stop him. This was so wrong. For so many reasons. He had taken everything from you, ripped you out of your little bubble for his own selfish reasons- You had to stop him. And as your hands grip his wrist, his thumb lands on your clit. You absolutely keened at the contact, feeling your legs tremble. But it felt so good.  

“You’re so fucking wet. Makin’ a mess all over my clothes. C’mon, say sorry and I'll let you cum.” 

The sounds of his fingers thrusting into you were loud in the otherwise silent room. Wrong. It was all so wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. It was too much for you to handle. 

“You hear that? Your pretty little cunt just taking it all in. All for me.”

You try to bury your face in his neck but his grip on your throat tightens. You were getting close. Your vision was becoming hazy from pleasure but you don’t dare tell him out of fear that he’d deny it for his own sick enjoyment. 

You were basically burning. It’s right there. You were close. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he continued the relentless attack on your pussy, plunging, twisting, curling... You were so close, you could feel it. You could just feel yourself pulsing and gushing all over his fingers. You were a mess. Moaning, whimpering, whining in Sukuna’s ear. 

His grip on your neck loosened and you found yourself biting onto the point between his shoulders and neck. His jaw was clenched and lips parted in concentration. 

“Say sorry,” he grunted, feeling you clench and tremble. “Say it.”

He wanted to give it to you so bad but you were defiant. Tight-lipped. Miserable. A mess. His erection is prominent against your leg, the giant bulge brushing against your lower back as your body jerked and grinded against his fingers. 

“Don’t you wanna cum?”

You don't answer, feeling it coiling in your stomach. But then Sukuna was pulling out his fingers, refusing to give you what he wanted. No, no, no, no, n-

“You think, I can't tell when you’re about to cum?” He breathed against your ear, breathing hard, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek. Then he raised his head and looked down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. “Grinding on my fingers like that, you want it, don’t you?”

You nodded too fast. 

He smirked, his hand fell from your throat, brushing against your nipple. Asshole. “Say the magic word.”

“Sorry,” you gasped out not realizing that you had been holding onto your breath. “‘M sorry.”

He seemed satisfied. With your apology, in mind he went back to work with a newfound energy. He pinched your nipples, earning a high-pitched moan from you, before switching over to the other one whilst his other hand traced along the already damp and swollen lips. Your legs widened shifting in his lap, looking for the friction you craved, hoping he’d take the hint just this once.

 “You’re all wet and creamy. Fucking leaking all over me.”

You moaned at his words and you both groaned when his fingers finally, finally, slipped inside you. The sound that left his mouth did something to you that even his fingers couldn’t. A shiver runs down your spine, and soon enough you are arching against him. 

“A-ah, I’m clo- O-oh.” 

“Yeah? I feel you pulsing, doll, so fucking tight. Look at that, such a pretty and perfect cunt. I bet you’ll look so good riding my dick, c’mon, baby. Cum.”

Three more strokes and a thumb circling your clit, you were soon experiencing the most earth shattering orgasm ever. His soft hair brushed against your face as you leaned back against his shoulder, your pussy convulsing around his fingers from the aftermath. Your legs trembled. After making sure there was nothing more left, Sukuna pulled his fingers out and licked them swiftly. 

You watched him still breathless, still shocked at what had just happened. 

"You sound good when you apologize," Sukuna teased before he was sliding you off and leaving through the door he had come from. His pants still stained with your cum. 

What the fuck? 

a/n: literally my first time writing smut hehe. lemme know how I did!

honestly I don't even think I had a plot in mind when I started writing but I wanted mafia sukuna so bad 😭😭😭

[tomscocksleeve]

The Accident

Tw: smut, cursing, unprotected p in v, anything kinky really

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊•‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈

Tom x f Reader

───────── ౨ৎ ───────── ─────────

It was raining and you had just been through a breakup with your ex boyfriend, you felt damaged.. numb.. but only one thing could make you feel better and that was your best friend Tom. You texted him asking if you could come over and of course he happily said yes.

Once he let you inside you were dripping wet from the rain and Tom was a little worried you would get sick. He grabbed a blanket wrapping it around you and then he gave a light smile. “I’m gonna run you a hot bath” he said. You were confused because you hadn’t planned on sleeping over and you didn’t even have any clothes. By the time you had opened your mouth to tell him to wait he was already in the bathroom running the water.

What was up with him? You thought to yourself. Why was he acting so strange? Does he already know about the breakup? How would that even be possible? All these thoughts were filling your head and it was bothersome. As you walked into the bathroom he smiled and he gave you a hug. “All done perfectly warm.” You hugged him back awkwardly and you weren’t sure how to respond or react so you just gave a slight nod. Once he left you took your clothes off and entered the bath. Weird as it was the bath felt really really good. After an hour or so you stepped out with your towel you entered Tom’s room. He was lying on his bed shirtless with grey sweatpants and he smiled up at you and he stood up looking down at you.

You gulped surprised by his movements and his muscles.. he then whispered into your ear “are you still with that asshole?” You shook your head sadly, he then had a light smirk on his face as he grabbed the top of the towel. “Perfect..” he then began kissing your neck. You wanted to push him off since you just got broken up with today.. but his lips felt way too good. “Let me take care of you.” He then pulled the towel off you exposing your body and you had gotten a little cold and he just hugged your body and he took complete control.

He started kissing your neck more and he left a few hickies.. he then started kissing your collarbone and you couldn’t help but feel wet. His pants tightened as he grew harder. You could see it. He then started kissing your lips and you could just tell how lustful he was. He wanted you. All of you.

He softly asked if everything he did was okay and you nodded turning red. You wanted him. You needed him. And you leaned down on the bed. He crawled on top of you and he kissed you interlocking your hands before leaving more hickies. You moaned softly as he sucked on your breasts marking you, you felt so good and you just needed him inside you now. “Tom please..” you whined. And he smiled shaking his head wanting to tease you a little more. He gently rubbed your clit but it was too slow. You groaned and whined wanting more. “Tom please.. more.. harder.. faster..” he liked that you were begging and he then leaned down holding your legs open and he stuck his head to your heat and began licking you and using his finger to massage your clit. You moaned loudly and you wanted to squirm around but Tom’s hand was right in between your legs holding you down.

Once you had came the first time he was satisfied and he kissed you. You could taste yourself on his lips and it turned you on so much. He then slowly put his tip right at the entrance and he smiled softly. “Are you ready.. you can tell me to stop” you nodded and smiled. “I’m ready Tom please..” that was all he needed and he placed himself inside. He was slow at first making sure he didn’t hurt you and let you adjust to his size. After he pulled out completely before filling you up again. He went slowly for a bit before picking up pace and he held your throat as he started fucking your brains out. If you ever got too loud he would shut you up by kissing him and he’d shove his tongue down your throat.

You guys had fucked for most of the night you couldn’t even speak or process life and Tom had came in you and he stayed inside for a bit. He then kissed your lips and neck before pulling out and lying next to you. He kissed your cheek and held your hand. You looked at him with a soft smile.

After 30 minutes he grabbed your hand and he started another bath but for both of you. When he opened the door he asked a question that completely shocked you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at him not sure what to say..

Was this all a mistake..?

──────────── ──────────── ────────────

Guys this was my first smut I have ever written :,) it kinda sucked because I suck at consistency but any requests ask. I’m also in school so I had to rush ❤️

[mypimpademia]

— Darlin’ I Don’t Wish You Well, When You Ain’t w Me

Ex!Bakugo x gn!reader

TW; Swearing, Bakugos a bit toxic but he doesn’t act on anything

Note: Part 2 (SMAU) is here !

⇶ While Katsuki wouldn’t be a bad boyfriend, he’d be a god awful ex

⇶ He’d treat you well during your relationship, actually, much to everyone’s surprise

⇶ Tends to all your needs and always makes sure that you knew how much he loves and cares for you

⇶ Your relationship wouldn’t be anywhere near bad, it’d be amazing actually and he makes a great boyfriend

⇶ But the way Katsuki acts in other areas is what leads to the downfall of your relationship

⇶ His ego, the way he treats and speaks to others, and other bad habits

⇶ He’s confided in you about his personal struggles with these things, and of course you were understanding and consoled him

⇶ But at the same time, you couldn’t stand seeing him act like such an asshole to people, especially since he acknowledges his issues but it seems to do little to nothing about them

“I can’t do this with you anymore, Katsu.”

You and Katsuki didn’t argue as much as people would think. And when you did, a lot of them were easily talked out after a quick intermission for both of you to calm down instead of screaming at each other. But there was one repetitive issue that you two never seemed to resolve.

A repetitive issue with him.

“What? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Katsuki heaved.

He knew exactly what you meant. He just hoped you didn’t actually mean it.

“I can’t be with someone who’s just such a fucking dick to everyone and anyone,” you ranted. “I mean seriously, would it really kill you to at least have basic human decency?”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. Truly, he’s too blinded by his own ego to understand what the problem is. It’s not like he treated you poorly, so why do you care so much?

“Oh my fucking god,” Katsuki whispered. “Why does this shit even matter to you so much? You act like this affects you somehow.”

The crazy part is, that he knows his ego is getting in the way of him seeing through this. But even then, he still can’t wrap his head around it.

“Are you deadass?” You gaped at him, completely in shock that he’d even think that, let alone say that to you. “‘Y/n, what’s wrong with Bakugo this time?’ And ‘Y/n, why’s your boyfriend such a fucking cunt?’ But you’re really gonna tell me this doesn’t affect me?”

“I mean, fuck, Katsuki, your head is so far up your own ass sometimes,” now, you were yelling, and Katsuki’s heart was sinking at the thought of what was to come. “You treat me right, and I won’t say that you don’t, but you can’t be that dense to not see how what you do bounces back onto others.”

His breathing pattern was all over the place, and his heart was beating rapidly. Katsuki wouldn’t have been surprised if he passed out right there.

“Okay, okay. You’re right, it does, I’m sorry,” he raked a hand through his spiked hair. “But what do you mean you ‘can’t do this anymore’?”

He wasn’t trying to deflect, and you both knew that. But the weight that the four words held was unbearable.

“I mean, I can’t be with you anymore.”

⇶ Katsuki isn’t a begger by any means, but he begged that day

⇶ He told you how much he loved you, and needed you, that you mean the world to him

⇶ And none of it was a ploy to get you to stay, he really did feel that way about you

⇶ He told you’d he’d change in a heartbeat, just say the word, and he would if it meant you wouldn’t leave him

⇶ But you left anyways, and to say that it crushed Katsuki would be an understatement

⇶ Between dying and admitting that he cried his eyes out for a week straight every night, he’d much rather die

⇶ Katsuki got his act together that same week, hoping that this was just something the two of you could move past if it was quickly resolved

⇶ He wouldn’t even call anyone an extra, or refer to Izuku as “Deku”, and everytime that he’d literally bite his tongue to keep him from doing so, he’d glance in your direction hoping that you were giving him a look of approval

⇶ But you hardly looked at him anymore, and when you did it wouldn’t even last a second

⇶ And his blood boiled when you moved onto someone else a few months later

⇶ You weren’t even dating the person, just casual back and forth flirting and talking

⇶ But it made Katsuki sick to even think of you with someone else

⇶ When you were dating, he always “joked” about how he wouldn’t want you to move on and be happy with someone else if he died while the two of you were together

⇶ But he wasn’t joking, and he doesn’t you to be happy with anyone else if he’s dead or alive, to be honest

⇶ Of course, he wants you to be happy and healthy and hopes you get all the good things you deserve… just not in a relationship sense when it’s not with him.

⇶ He acted like none of it bothered him, but it did

⇶ Katsuki wasn’t going to go as far as harassing you and your new partner. He’s thought about it, of course, but he knew that wouldn’t win you back

⇶ He also wasn’t going to go around with other people to get you back either, because that definitely wouldn’t work.

⇶ Not only would it not work, but Katsuki just isn’t the type to get around with people in general

⇶ He’s selective with who he gives his time to, and when he’s emotionally invested in something or someone, he goes all in, so he’d really hate to waste his own energy like that

⇶ Someway, somehow, despite being the one that got broken up with, his ego inflated even more when you left him

⇶ Sure he cleaned up his act, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a cocky asshole

⇶ When he first sees you with your new fling, he wanted to throw up at first, but eventually he got over it because in his head, you’ll never find anyone better

⇶ And he wasn’t totally wrong about that either

⇶ If anyone ever asked you, you don’t think you could even remotely lie and say that he treated you poorly in any way

⇶ Sure, you had your moments like any couple, but truthfully, he set a very high standard for your future partners

⇶ Katsuki always paid for everything, took you places, amazing dates (even if they usually weren’t expensive, because he knows the experience counts over everything), attentive to all your needs, never forgot important days, hardly even raised his voice at you despite his rough demeanor, and even more that you could go on about forever

⇶ He was an amazing boyfriend, really. So much so that even you weren’t sure if you’d find someone better

⇶ He might not actually do anything, but he will most definitely talk shit about your new little thing to Kirishima and the bakusquad

⇶ You expect that from him, but when Sero and Mina told what all he was saying (not to be snitches for fake, just to let you know that he’s going a bit crazy without you), you were honestly a bit shocked at how far he was going

⇶ They went from being Katsuki’s normal hater-ass comments to just nitpicky and spiteful

“Damn, did you see what the fuck they had on, I feel bad that Y/n even has to walk around with that.”

“That motherfucker seriously brought them _? Y/n hates that shit, it’ll be no fuckin’ surprise if they leave that loser.”

⇶ And while he won’t actively try to force himself back into your life, he can and will take every opportunity that will even slightly worm him back in

⇶ Opportunities usually present themselves in the form of group work, when the teacher still habitually places you two in the same group because they still think you’re together

⇶ And don’t let it be a project that’s just for a pair, because then he’ll LEAP for that chance

⇶ Even though there’s tension between you, for obvious reasons, you don’t feel awkward being alone with him. Even after months of hardly even looking at him

⇶ Katsuki is the type of ex you’ll always feel comfortable around, because he’ll always keep a special place for you in his heart

⇶ Still looks at you with pure adoration, even if he wants to gouge his eyes out with a spork when your new talking stage flashes you a smile across the library you’re working in

⇶ Still pays for everything, like the coffee and snacks you go get on your break, even if you insist that you can pay on your own. Granted, you’re much more angry about it this time around than giggly like before

⇶ Still takes you to one of your favorite hangout spots, even though the sweet memories you share there make both of your chests hurt now

⇶ Still calls you beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, his baby, angel, doll, etc even if you aggressively tell him to stop. And he does, he tries to at least, but it’s still so second nature to him that it just slips out like he never stopped using those names on you

⇶ Still asks how you’re feeling, how you’re really feeling, if you ate that day, drank enough water, even if you only grunt out short answers everytime

⇶ Eventually, he asks how you and “whatstheirface” are doing to cut through the thick silence

⇶ It catches you off guard, enough for you to raise your head up from your work to meet his eyes for the first time in forever

⇶ All you say is “We’re good”, but Katsuki knows better than that, he knows you better than that, and he chokes back a laugh at how much you suck at lying to him

⇶ All he says is “Y’know you can still come to me if you need anything?”, but you know better than that, you know yourself better than that

⇶ Because if you did talk to him more than you need to, you’d act on your urges to suffocate him with kisses and tell him you miss him, tell him that ‘whatstheirname’ isn’t jack shit compared to him, ask him if it’s too late to come back

⇶ You ask him if he’s talking to someone and he looks at you with adoring eyes, and shakes his head, leading you both back to an uncomfortable silence

⇶ Katsuki thought about telling you that he still loves you, that he misses you, to tell whatstheirname to fuck off, and so much more

⇶ Hell, for a split second he thought about begging again

⇶ The thing about Katsuki is, since he doesn’t like to use his precious time and energy on just anyone, when he views people in a romantic light, he views them as someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with

⇶ Someone that’s his everything, the only person in the world to him, his one and only

⇶ You were his first partner ever, and he wanted you to be his first and last everything

⇶ Which is exactly why you still are to him

⇶ Or you still can be at least, if you came back he’d have no objections, and he doubts that you’d have any either

⇶ The only question is, will you come back?

—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏾 !

[dollywoo]

woosan - you’re not alone, and you never will be.

just some woosan smut with angst and fluff ! sorry if its messy! i hope u guys like it!

tw: depression, anxiety attacks, body image, smut! 18+ !

pairings: college student/gamer! san x college student/gamer!wooyoung

gentle laughter emerged from the brunette, clicking keys on the keyboard before him, the only light that graced his dark dorm was that of the monitor before him. “fuck, it’s a huntress.” wooyoung groaned, speaking in reference to the game his was playing, Dead by Daylight. a reply rang through his headset, his best friend responded, “ah fuck, and shes on me already” san groaned in response, his voice filling wooyoung’s ears. after a few more moments, another sound filled the gloomy room.

ding

wooyoung dropped everything, reaching for his phone with a gentle smile on his lips. though, once his brown orbs danced along the screen, his smile disappeared.

Danny ! 💞

D: sorry love, i wont be able to make our date tomorrow, i truly dont think this is working out anymore.

quickly, his nimble fingers tapped across the screen, a frown forming.

W: what? what do you mean? danny? why?? whats not working out?

the response came five minutes later, in this time wooyoung had silently left the discord call, closing his game out. he would text san later, if he reminded himself. the next words caused his eyes to brim with tears, chewing on his bottom lip as he read the message over and over again.

D: sorry, danny’s busy. ;)

seen 2:49am

oh.

he shouldnt be surprised, but he was. why did he allow for this man to become his reason for existence? he hated him, he absolutely HATED his now ex boyfriend. he had been holding all the weight of the world on his shoulders, the burden of his classes, his insecurities — everything.

but those words caused it all to crash down on wooyoung, as he threw himself on the bed.

he felt weightless, he felt nothing.

he hadnt remembered when he started crying, his knees were curled to his chest, eyes soaked and his hair sticking to the sides of his face.

why? why.

nothing mattered to wooyoung in this moment, he absolutely loathed himself. every fucking inch.

ding, ding.

wooyoung thought he was different, he thought he mattered, he thought that he had finally found the one.

was he not pretty enough anymore?

ding.

how long had he been seeing someone else? wooyoung felt dirty.

ding, ding, ding.

“why am i not enough…” a shaky, fragile voice crept out of wooyoung’s dry lips, barely a hushed whisper.

he wanted to disappear, the notifications that rang through his phone repulsed him. the brunette wanted to smash it. why was the phone taunting him?

click.

wooyoung barely noticed that his front door had been unlocked until his bedroom door slowly began to open. he didnt move, only continued to sob into his sheets.

a gentle voice rang through the darkness, the stifled sobs barely covering the alluring voice of his best friend. “wooyoungie?”

shit. he forgot he gave san a key.

then, weight shifted on the bed, now san had sat on the edge, reading through the still open conversation on wooyoung’s phone.

“fucking asshole.” he spat, his eyes filled with hatred until they landed on wooyoung once more.

the way san’s eyes softened as soon as he looked down at the quivering boy before him made wooyoung’s heart flutter. he had been inlove with his best friend since high school, since the raven haired beauty would beat the absolute shit out of everyone that dared to mess with wooyoung.

despite this, woo was convinced that the feelings weren’t reciprocated, he forced himself to find someone else, that is when he found danny. now look where he was, crying and weak infront of san again.

“darling..” san’s voice was gentle, and warm. it wrapped around wooyoung like a weighted blanket.

“come here, baby.” next thing wooyoung knew, he was sat in san’s lap, being held like a baby. the mountain of a man rocked the smaller back and forth, gently humming a tune to him. wooyoung nuzzled deep into his toned chest, tears slowly flowing. his thoughts running wild.

‘do you love me sannie?’

‘please love me.’

as if san had read the boy’s mind, his soft voice gently whispered into wooyoung’s ear, lips barely hovering over the entrance. “i would never treat my wooyoungie like that, never. you deserve to be treasured, you deserve love.”

wait, what? what was san saying? wait.

“i love you, woo.” san blurted out, cheeks heating up immediately. the raven haired male had always loved his best friend, as soon as wooyoung had left the call he was on his way over. like a moth to a flame.

“sannah..” wooyoung whispered, shifting to straddle his best friend’s lap, eyes on him.

their eyes stayed locked on each other, time stopped.

“i love you too.”

with those words, wooyoung threw his arms around san’s neck, planting a needy kiss onto the other’s plush lips, whining slightly.

“i love you, i love you, i love you!” he chanted against san’s mouth as they kissed, the older’s hands began to wander down to the brunette’s hips, squeezing them lovingly. this earned san a gentle moan against his lips from the younger.

his sounds went straight to san’s member, blushing darkly as their eyes met once again. “im sorry, is this okay? are you sure you want me too?—“

wooyoung’s answer came in the form of his hips pushing the swell of his ass down against the older’s clothed area. “yes, san. please, ive wanted you for so long. ive loved you for so long, i NEED you.”

with that, san picked wooyoung up, laying him down on his back against the bed. the toned male’s massive arms completely caged wooyoung in, this was what the boy always daydreamed of. it was finally happening.

wooyoung clawed at san’s shirt, whimpering in need as his best friend began to grind his hips down into him, the brunette thanked himself for wearing only his boxers tonight. san was gentle, kissing down his neck and leaving dark marks on each patch of skin.

this drove wooyoung mad.

“fuck sannie, please. shirt off, please!” wooyoung demanded, tugging at san’s shirt. “pants too! need you…cant wait!” his own member ached inside of his boxers. thankfully, san obliged, removing his clothing — including his boxers.

wooyoung’s eyes hooded with need, leaning up to pull off his own shirt while san pulled down the younger’s boxers. the older then reached into his best friend’s nightstand, grabbing a bottle of lube that he had seen in there when he would come to grab wooyoung’s medicine for him. or on the nights that san had slept over, holding wooyoung from behind and his manhood failed him — causing the older to relieve himself in the bathroom using that lube during those times. he prayed wooyoung would never find out, but that was before he knew that his best friend loved him too.

wooyoung loved san too.

lost in thought, the only thing to bring him out was the absolute beauty underneath him, “sannah? everything okay, handsome?” wooyoung’s gentle, soft voice was like music to san’s ears, causing his heart to flutter. his brown eyes directed themselves back down to his lover, “yes, angel. now spread for me so i can prep you.”

the brunette blushed darkly at san’s words, spreading his legs to expose his entrance, his leaking member flopping onto his stomach. a slight whimper left his lips as he felt a cold liquid circling his hole.

san’s fingers fit perfectly, pushing a single digit inside of the blushing boy, soon after he added two and began to scissor him open.

all the while, wooyoung was as loud as san had always imagined, squirming and whimpering his name over and over again — becoming completely ruined on the older’s fingers alone.

after a few minutes, san pulled his fingers out of wooyoung, who began to babble and beg to be filled again. how cute, the loud mouth jung wooyoung reduced to nothing but whimpers and pleads.

pouring lube onto his own leaking cock, san began to pump himself slowly, ensuring every inch of himself was lubed up for his lover. “shh honey, im coming..” he reassured softly, “im not going anywhere.”

with that, san slowly lined himself up with wooyoung’s leaking hole, pushing himself inside gently. “more sannie..” woo would whisper soon after, “i can take it, i can take all of it i promise.”

the toned male gripped wooyoung’s hips, one had moving to caress his face, dragging his thumb along the younger’s lips slowly — admiring him. whilst he did this, san pushed his entire length inside of the brunette, who whimpered out loudly.

once wooyoung adjusted to his size, san began a slow pace with him, not wanting to be to rough for their first time. he always imagined this, being gentle with wooyoung, he knew the younger wasnt used to it. every ex that his best friend had had was rude and pushy, always wanting to have sex with wooyoung roughly, never wanting to make love with him.

it enraged san, he always wanted to treat him the way he deserved — he wished to worship the ground wooyoung walked on.

the brunette’s feeling were that of the same, however, wooyoung had always worshipped san, the feeling of the other’s cock deep in him reminded him of that. his stomach swirled with admiration, lips parted and soft whines and moans left them with each thrust of san’s hips.

in this moment, wooyoung belonged to san, and san belonged to wooyoung. finally, the two were one.

as time went on, wooyoung’s nails dug into san’s toned back, moaning loudly as his prostate was struck over and over again. tears brimmed his eyes as san continued to whisper, “you’re doing so good, puppy. so so good for me, yes? such a good wooyoungie. all for me, all for your sannie.”

and with a final thrust to his prostate, paired with the gentle words that left san’s lips, wooyoung came undone, san milked the younger’s cock dry as wooyoung came all over his own stomach. soon, san followed suit, cumming deep inside of his best friend.

after a few moments, san pulled out of wooyoung gently, rushing to the bathroom to grab a clean washcloth and returning. he gently cleaned wooyoung up, before scooping him up bridal style. the younger was completely out of it, clinging to the broad shoulders that beloned to his soon to be boyfriend.

san had preemptively ran wooyoung a bath, gently lowering him down into it before climbing in behind him. this is where the older would gently clean the boy and himself. the younger hummed softly the whole time, starry eyes stayed put on memorizing every inch of san’s face. wooyoung couldnt even speak, only admired how attentive his lover was. no one had ever done this for him, he had never experienced any after care. usually he was thrown a towel and ordered the clean himself up. but san was different, the attentive male made sure to take care of his wooyoungie no matter what.

soon, they returned back to wooyoung’s bedroom, where san pulled his sweatpants back on and then dressed wooyoung, giving him a new pair of underwear and his own tshirt to sleep in.

as soon as san landed in bed next to wooyoung, the younger laid his head on his chest, hooking a leg around the taller’s.

“how are you feeling?” san was the first to break the silence, gently tracing hearts into wooyoung’s thigh.

“way better now.” wooyoung started, “i love you sannie.” he added, looking up to the other.

san smiled softly, “i love you more, youngie.” he whispered in response, kissing the other’s forehead. “wooyoung. will you—“

“be your boyfriend?” wooyoung finished the other’s sentence, a giggle leaving his lips as san nodded in response. “of course i will, sannie!”

then a mischievous look appeared on wooyoung’s face, biting san’s shoulder harshly and leaving a dark mark there. the older yelped, hissing out, “woo! dammit not again!” which earned an evil little giggle from wooyoung.

“just giving you a reason to be harder with me next time..” the brunette teased, smirking as another giggle left his lips. “tomorrow though, im sleepy!” he added, nuzzling his head into san’s chest.

san rolled his eyes, of course wooyoung was a tease in a relationship, this didn’t surprise him at all.

soon, wooyoung drifted off to sleep, san still wide awake with a dumb smile on his lips. he reached over to grab wooyoung’s long forgetten phone, opening up the conversation with wooyoung’s bastard ex boyfriend.

W: sorry, he was busy. - C.S.

san sent the message before promptly hitting the block button, laying the phone on his toned chest and following his new boyfriend into a deep slumber, a smile stayed on both of their lips the whole night.

— 🧸taglist !: @vampzity @sanshairfollicles @dvrktvnnel @hwasddeongbyeoli @scarfac3 @rvereri @joonezra

comment to be added to taglist !! <3

tysm for reading!! sorry if theres any spelling mistakes! i did this kind of fast lol! <3 i hope u enjoyed !