#and the third one is still looking for a name | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

upsidedownwithsteve · 2 days

Text

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.7K]

THE TIMELINE

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender. And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning, I never know what to think about. I think about you."

- About You By The 1975

V. HAWKINS, INDIANA: 1988

Two years had passed since the last gate had closed and despite the aftermath of the “earthquakes,” Vecna had yet to make any sort of reappearance.

Max’s bones healed, eventually, and she regained most of her sight, relying on thick lensed glasses when she grew tired or the words in her books turned blurry. Nancy went to college, Jonathan tried it for a year, Hopper took El on a month-long camping trip to see something other than the town repairing itself and Lucas went to therapy.

Soon, each kid followed suit, attending sessions that eventually helped them sleep a little better because even though they couldn’t tell the person on the other side of the coffee table about monsters and the world under their feet, there had been enough death and suffering to fill the hour with regardless.

Dustin told Steve he should go too and Robin agreed. After Eddie’s funeral, the one where they all stood with Wayne, a guy from the garage Eddie worked at on weekends and the remaining Hellfire members beside a small gravestone, they had another one.

A second ceremony near the woods behind Eddie’s trailer, close to where he died, to where Dustin had found him bleeding and proud. The kids cried and Joyce held on tight to Will while Jonathan hugged Nancy and Dustin punched a tree trunk. It felt better than the first one, easier somehow, when they didn’t have to lie and hide the guilt they had at knowing each and every one of them felt a little shame in having a hand in someone’s else’s death.

But it was closure.

The town healed, roads were repaired, houses rebuilt, new flowers planted in the park in memory of those who had been lost in the accident - the natural disaster that made headlines, the one that no one could have predicted.

Steve helped Dustin clean Eddie’s grave when the spray paint covered the dead boy’s name. Robin stopped crying when she looked in the mirror each morning. Jonathan left his room.

The kids got better. They smiled more, went to the new arcade on opening day, shared slushies and rode their bikes around town again. Joyce visited Wayne when she could, took him pies and meatloaf and eventually got him out of his armchair and into a coffee shop for a full hour. Hopper got his job back, had a ceremony that preceded the funeral he had years before and Robin managed to get her and Steve a sweet gig at the record store that replaced Family Video.

It felt fresh. New. Clean.

So why was Steve still dreaming about gates?

For the third night in a row, he woke up gasping. A yell stuck in his throat that tasted like metal, like blood, and he was drenched. Shirtless, his sheets stuck to his chest, the weight of them tangled around his legs in a sickly familiar way, vines tugging at his ankles. His room was dark, the house empty, too quiet. Quiet enough that his breath ripped from his lungs in harsh pants, his head pounding from the exertion of running in his dream, back in a place that he hadn’t seen in almost twenty one months.

At first, he dreamt of death.

Of Eddie and how they found him lifeless and in Dustin’s arms. How Max was barely conscious in the attic of the Creel House, her body broken in ways that no doctor could understand. He dreamt of how he had pulled Lucas away from her, the boy sobbing and yelling, fighting with more strength than he knew he had as Steve tried to restrain him just enough for the paramedics to get Max into the ambulance.

Then the dreams turned empty. He dreamt of losing everyone, Robin, Dustin, Hop. El was gone, Will too, Mike nowhere to be found. Nancy’s house was empty, Joyce and Jonathan didn’t exist and Steve sat alone in a town that turned grey, crumbling to dust until the vines came back and the clouds turned red.

He ran miles every night, searching for his friends, his family. Woke up to shaking breaths and sore legs like he’d really sprinted across a town that was no longer home and each morning when the sun rose, he sat with a coffee and his bare legs dipped in the pool in his backyard. He stared at the water until the ripples blurred and wondered how long it would take for Barb to come haunt him too, if she’d reappear in his dreams despite the years that had gone by, if she’d come crawling back out of his pool like she used to, dripping wet and with no eyes.

But Barb never came and he stopped dreaming of the kids, stopped hearing Lucas’ screams, stopped seeing Max in a hospital bed with blood coming from her eyes and eventually, one night, he dreamt of a gate that he’d never seen before.

It didn’t even really look like a gate.

Not the ones Steve knew. It wasn’t framed by dead vines, it didn’t pulsate, it didn’t have a red glow coming from its innards. This one didn’t look like rotting flesh, like a wound in the earth that couldn’t be healed. This one wasn’t at the bottom of a lake, lined with wet moss and cracked rocks, it wasn’t in the Munson trailer nor in the middle of the woods.

This one opened on a blank wall in Steve’s bedroom, replacing the shelves where his old basketball trophies sat, where he usually left his pile of clothes before falling into bed. In the dream, it started as a crack, a crumbling of plaster and blue plaid wallpaper and Steve watched it open, a yawning thing that split the room and bathed it in light. It was too bright at first, like blinking into a summer sun. And once the white-hot of it cleared from Steve’s eyes, he saw blue skies and he could smell the ocean.

There were trees he’d never seen before in real life, something out of a movie, tall and green and narrow as they swayed in a breeze he couldn’t really feel from his spot on his bedroom carpet. The buildings were a pinky-peach colour, like clay, with orange slate tiles and there were foundations and statues carved into the walls, water trickling from the mouths of gods and vases that stone faced women held in their marble arms.

It was like looking at a painting, a canvas between his bed and his old desk, framed with olive branches and large, red fruits that protruded from the gates mouth.

Pomegranates.

Steve could smell them, a sweetness that mixed with the ocean air, a kind of freshness that you couldn’t find between the fields and farms that surrounded Hawkins. In the dream, he wanted to move closer but found that he couldn’t, his eyes wide and his bare feet rooted to the spot as he stared at the scene. It felt like a memory the more he looked, the buildings becoming familiar, a baby blue door that looked like somewhere he’d once owned the keys to and the cobbled streets became a well walked way home.

Then, as if he weren’t supposed to really see it, he spotted something move in an upstairs window. Two houses from the front of the gate, with rusted shutters and white linen curtains, he saw a girl stand between them.

A pretty girl, with eyes he knew he’d seen before, in a white dress that he was sure he remembered the feeling of.

The sight of her made Steve’s heart hammer, the dream making him dizzy, the realisation that he knew that girl making the line between unconsciousness and reality a little blurry. He didn’t know her name, or where he knew her from. He didn’t even know where he was looking or why the gate was there.

But he stared and stared until the girls eyes met his and before he could lift his hand, or even try to speak, there was a crack that seemingly came from the sky - the one above Hawkins or the one inside the gate, he didn’t know - but something flashed, the gate went dark and the rip in his bedroom wall stitched itself back up.

He woke up feeling like he’d remembered and forgotten something all at once. Like a book he’d read back in middle school, a photo he’d once misplaced, a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remebered some of the words too.

He knew her. He knew her.

Steve thought about the girl so much, so often, that it didn’t take him long to think of her, to refer to her, as you. You were someone he’d once known, from a memory or another dream, he wasn't sure. It was the same feeling as watching a movie and seeing a pretty actress on screen, in a different outfit with different hair but knowing her face and wondering what show he’d seen her in before.

Except with this, there was an aching want that buried itself in his chest at the sight of you, an awful feeling that grew larger each night. And every time his wall cracked open again, it seemed like his ribs did too. A crushing feeling, a yawning expanse inside his body that made room for the way his heart seemed to grow and grow at the sight of you.

Yearning, that’s what he thought it was. A slow, burning build of it.

The second night, he dreamt of you in a garden. A sprawling, green lawn with a pond so green-blue it made his eyes hurt. There was an awning beside it, a pergola of sorts made of white stone and it had ivy growing between the pillars, covering the roof and reaching down to trail its flowers in the water below. You were closer than before, than you were in the window, and Steve could see the way your lashes hit your cheeks as you looked down, stitching something that you held in your lap.

There was a wicker basket beside you, a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth and he could still smell pomegranates, sweet and tart. There was a space beside you on the blanket, enough room for two but no one else came.

You were always alone.

Steve tried to talk to you, to reach out and see if this gate worked like the others, if he could walk through into this other world, this other dimension, but it didn’t work.

Not yet, anyway.

You seemed to notice him more on the fifth night, as he watched you walk along the edge of a lake. Your hair was shorter now and your clothes had changed. They look more modern, more like his, the cabins behind you reminiscent of a summer camp, a holiday lodge or something. He could hear music, a song he swore he heard on the radio not too long ago and that night, you watched him back.

It seemed like you were waiting for someone. And when Steve saw your face light up with a smile, his heart stumbled. You raised your arm, reaching out a hand to the edge of the gate, off to the side as if someone else was in Steve’s walls. He saw another hand reach for yours, larger, definitely male, with a freckle where the thumb joined the palm.

The jealousy he felt was unmatched, a burning thing that scorched his chest and his throat, hot needles at the back of his mouth. Before the man came into view, the crack in his wall trembled and the gate stitched itself closed once more, leaving plaster dust and flakes of paint on his carpet.

Apart from the small mess, no one would have ever guessed another world opened up inside of Steve Harrington’s bedroom each night.

It took him a week and half to notice his hand had a freckle in the same spot. A small beauty mark he’d never really paid attention to before, painted in the space that joined his thumb to his hand. He tried not to read too much into it, tried not to hold onto the hope that maybe it meant something - because none of this made sense, not really.

They were just dreams. Strange things, brain scrambling things. But it was a welcome reprieve from death and darkness and vines that held onto him too tight. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat, he no longer wished for morning to come, no matter how tired he felt when he opened his eyes.

Steve wondered if anyone else was experiencing these kinds of dreams. If the rest of the party were getting glimpses of other worlds, other timelines. He wasn’t sure what they were, too scared to ask, too afraid to make everyone else worry. The thought that these dreams could be a trick crossed his mind more than once, a new tactic from Vecna, an infiltration of his sleep that was meant to lull him into some kind of false sense of security.

Safety - an unknown feeling.

But everyone else spent their days talking about school and their new bosses, the fair that was coming to town to celebrate the town hall finally being rebuilt. No one mentioned Vecna or dreams or gates or girls they knew from somewhere they couldn’t place.

So Steve accepted the fact that whatever these dreams were - whatever they meant - they were just for him. Which meant that you were his too.

Weeks went by with Steve viewing you from the split in his wall, sometimes hearing music, sometimes hearing your muffled voice. Never real words, never loud enough to hear and it didn’t seem like you could hear him either. But Steve watched, enraptured, following you around different parts of the world, new countries and scenes that he could never really place but, oh my god, each one felt like home with you in it.

Then one night, he saw himself.

He felt the surge of panic flood him even in his sleep, his body jolting against his bed as he saw the familiar face, staring back at him, nonplussed. He looked a little different, maybe older. His hair was shorter at the back, cropped closer to the nape of his neck but the biggest difference was how happy he looked.

This Steve, the one in his dream, inside this gate - this Steve from another time, another life - he looked lighter. He didn’t have purple smudges under his eyes, no deep lines settling across his forehead from frowning so much. His clothes were different too, looser, less fitting, the colours more muted. He wore a pair of jeans that looked much more comfortable than his tight Levi’s, a soft burgundy sweater that had the sleeves rolled up.

Steve didn’t recognise where this dream took place, but he knew it wasn’t Hawkins. America, yeah, the street signs and licence plates on the cars in the street giving that detail away, but he wasn’t too sure where. The buildings were bigger, shinier, more glass than brick but the skies were still blue and it looked peaceful, warm.

Safe.

Dream Steve strolled down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure the real Steve was following him. He walked past storefronts and stopped to pet a dog, a golden retriever who was waiting for his owner outside of a bakery. When he came to a bookstore, Steve could see a large building in the distance, a huge billboard atop it that looked like it was advertising a new movie, or a show maybe. It didn’t have much details on it, no actors nor dates to tell what year this was supposed to be.

Certainly not 1988.

It only had lettering across it, big and bold and red against a pristine white background: “ANOTHER LIFE.”

The bell to the bookstore jingled and then Steve saw you. As pretty as you had been in every other gate, every other world, every other lifetime. Like a figurine inside a snow globe, like something from a fairytale. Steve had never seen you this close before.

He watched your smile, the way it widened at the sight of his counterpart, this other version of him. You were so pretty that his breath got caught in his lungs, his sleeping body kicking out in shock when you lunged at the dream version of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in greeting.

Steve watched the two figures embrace on the street, he watched how this luckier man got to bring his hand to your cheek and hold to there to kiss, how his lips - Steve’s own lips - met your own and parted them, mouths melting together in something that was so much more than a quick hello.

Steve didn’t have it in him to feel jealous then. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He watched the hand that held your jaw, the thumb that caressed your cheekbone as you grinned into him, your own hands clutching his waist now. There was a freckle, the same as the one he had on his own hand, in the matching spot on yours. This Steve took that hand and kissed that very mark, smacking kisses across your palm and up your wrist until you were laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright.

Steve hadn’t seen anything so happy.

He woke up before the dream finished, before the gate closed. Steve woke up with tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurry in the navy gloom of his bedroom. It wasn’t yet morning. There was no gate on his bedroom fall, no new city between the plaid striped wallpaper.

He thought it could’ve been Chicago, maybe New York. Perhaps Philadelphia.

He wondered if he left and went looking for that bookstore, that street, that billboard, he’d find you too. If he was supposed to, if you were real, if this life was all he was supposed to get.

Something told him otherwise, that open crack inside his chest that made him ache for hours after he awoke. He never forgot about you during the day, each life he’d watched you live, how you had grown your hair out and then cut it, how you seemed to change your clothing depending on where you were, from old petticoats to jeans and shirts with logos on them he’d never seen before.

Steve felt like he’d lived a thousand lives with you.

He wasn’t sure what he had to do to get you in this one.

After two weeks of dreaming of this life with you, one that he was so sure would happen, he spoke to Joyce. He waited until the kids dragged Hopper out into the yard to help them with some sort of rocket they wanted to make and he found her in the kitchen. It was the closest kind of feeling he had to home - bar from the sight of you, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted when he was asleep.

So he tried to sound casual when he leaned over the Byers kitchen counter, elbows avoiding the jelly stains that Mike had left after making a sandwich, and asked, “hey, uh, do you believe in soulmates?”

Joyce blinked at him, flour and butter between her fingers as she tried to turn the page in her recipe book back to the instructions for apple pie. The book flopped shut when she let go, her hands reaching for a rag instead. Her eyes never left Steve’s.

“Uh, well. I guess so,” she paused, head tilted to the side as she watched the younger man, how his cheeks turned pink and his gaze fell to the floor. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Why’d you ask?”

Steve didn’t know what to say then. So he floundered, flushed in the face and nose scrunched as he ran his fingers through his hair too harshly, hoping that no one else walked in. What was he supposed to say? That he was dreaming of gates in his bedroom walls? But it was okay? ‘Cause these ones didn’t have monsters or creatures set out to kill him, no, these gates held something that he thought he’d once had, that they held something he was so sure he was supposed ot have again?

Maybe, just not in this life.

Maybe, this time, something was broken. Wires were crossed, cut, unravelled. Maybe the upside down messed up a timeline, maybe it ripped apart whatever plan it had originally laid out for Steve Harrington.

He didn’t know. But he knew it sounded crazy, even in his head.

So he shrugged and said, “no reason.”

And then that night, after Joyce gave him funny looks over the dinner she served him and the rest of his friends, the kitchen table full, he went home and lay on his bed, hardly bothering to pull the sheets over his bare chest.

He counted his breaths, hoped for sleep and wished for you.

Like always, his room grew darker, his lids heavier and the crack in his bedroom wall crumbled and split until the dust settled and he saw your face. You were alone this time, pretty as ever and in the same looking city he’d last seen himself in. The skies were blue behind you, the buildings still tall and shiny looking, all glass window panes and metal framework. If he concentrated enough, he could smell summer.

Hot tarmac and sunscreen, fresh fruit from one of the stores behind you, tart lemons and freshly ground coffee.

You were looking right at him and even in his sleep, Steve smiled. Your eyes were pretty, too pretty, the colour bright and your gaze excited as you gazed at him. Like you’d been waiting. You held out a hand, coaxing, kind, soft, patient. And for the first time, when Steve reached out too, his hand slipped through the gate.

He was right, about the season, about it being summer. The air inside this world was warm on his skin, like the sun was on him despite being sprawled out in the blue gloom of his dark bedroom. It felt like a July morning, right before the heat hit.

He was almost touching your fingers when he woke up alone again.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington au

313 notes · View notes

hoesformatt · 2 days

Text

THE HEAT

matt smut, when i saw this photo of matt on chris’ story I ran to write this

dom!rough!matt • poc!reader friendly

contains: pet names, no use of y/n, established relationship, missionary, choking, dacryphilia, a bit of sadism

word count: 1.6k

summary: matt, chris and you watch the miami heat vs boston celtics game since matt and chris root for their hometown team, and you also do the same for the heats. The stakes get high during the game and your mouth begins to get smart so Matt decides to put you in your place

“You got the drinks?!” I yelled while collecting the snacks off the counter, bringing them to the living room. “Getting this ready for a fucking basketball game is pathetic, drinks, chips, candies?! You don’t need all of that shit." Nick protested against us watching the games because he wanted to watch Edward Scissors-Hands for the umpteenth time.

I jumped onto the couch beside my boyfriend, wearing the green Celtics jersey “We’re gonna beat Miami bad.” He flaunted his team, grabbing the bag of chips I set on the table. Chris crept up, placing three shot glasses and a Casamigos bottle on the table.

“Finally some Caso-freak-hoes, I’m tired of the Julio” Matt scoffed, playing around, looking like he was offended because his favourite drink to sip on was Don Julio.

“With every quarter, whoever is leading the losing team has to take a shot” Chris raised his eyebrows at us, and I took the bet, so we all took a shot for pre-game.

At one point, once the game was beginning, we all sat down on the couch and watched the referee throw the jump ball, which the Heats got the power of. “See we started this off and we’re gonna finish it” He rolled his eyes snatching the bag of chips from my grip, my hand still remaining in the position it was before. Not even a few seconds later, the Celtics had the power of the ball and got a 3-pointer on their first shot.

We watched the first quarter go by quickly as the Celtics led by 9 points, and I shook my head. “We’re smoking the heats right now,” Chris nagged, pulling on my shirt and making me roll my eyes. “You gotta take you shotttt,” he said, singing.

Matt poured my glass to the rim, then passed to me, “Cel-tics, Cel-tics, Cel-tics!” They chanted as the tequila burned my throat. Chris clapped in amusement, pouring my Dr. Pepper into a red cup. Matt smirked with a winner-winner chicken dinner smile, and I stuck out my middle finger in defence, which he smacked down and raised a brow at me. “Don’t try that shit princess.” I stayed silent until the game started again.

Jayson Tatum on the Celtics started off the 2nd quarter with a 3-pointer once again, which got Matt and Chris jumping out of their seats, hollering for their team as I laid back in my seat. By the time that the 2nd quarter ended, Bos 42, Mia 27 and I was taking the piss… and this shot.

Matt once again began to put my shot in, but this time painfully slow, talking his mouth off about how the Celtics are going to shit on my team. I got ahold of my glass. “Shut up before I throw this shot in your face” I said without thinking, downing the liquor in the next few seconds. When I placed my cup down, Matt had his tongue pushing against his cheek, staring straight at me.

I completely ignored him, waiting impatiently for the ads to end and the 3rd quarter to start, I arose from my seat and walked to the kitchen to get more ice for my soda. “I’m not gonna tell you again, I hope you know that” Matt had said following me “Yeah, I know” I bitched.

“Stop being a fucking brat, it’s just a game, and we’re just having fun” I walked back to the couch after slamming the fridge door shut, sitting on Chris’ side of the couch instead since I was getting irritated by Matt.

The third time. For the third fucking time, the Celtics started off with a 3-pointer. It was like they were mocking me on the screen at this point. Once the shot sank in, Matt looked behind the couch and Chris’ head, at me, burning a hole through my head. It was 70 - 45 and at this point, I was so over it that I instead took the bottle off the table and poured myself a shot before the quarter even ended.

I was about to drink the shot when Matt stopped me “Chill out, Miami is done for so you don’t even need to be having your 4th shot of the night” I glanced at him, looking back at the shot, tempted to just take it.

“Don’t tell me what to do, I know how to handle my drinks, plus it’s just a game and we’re having fun right?” I clapped back which made Chris’ jaw drop as he began to snicker, looking at Matt with a you’re going to take that smile, unable to leave his face.

“I think she’s a bit tired now; come on, up” Matt demanded, curving around Chris to grab my wrist and pulled me out of my place on the couch. I resisted at first but then I saw the pissed expression on his face and realized what I had done. He guided me up the stairs, smacking my ass while I walked up too slowly.

I entered Matt’s room and he shut the door loudly behind him “Strip and get on your knees” I hesitantly removed my shorts, then my Miami jersey and my bra and finally my panties.

I listened to his orders and got on my knees to the cold floor and pulled his grey sweatpants and boxers down with me. "You talk too much. How about we use your mouth for something better?”

His cock slapped against my face and he glared down at easily becoming impatient with me, I spit on his tip then spread it around his shaft working with my hands at first.

He pulled my head back from refrain myself from sucking his dick. “You thought you were gonna suck my dick? Brats get their throats fucked”

The back of his head hit the end of the cold sink for support but he still held my hair in his hand and his dick in the other.

“Open your mouth for me princess” He smacked his length on my face before shoving it all on mouth choking me out, my head was in his hands filling my cheeks.

His mouth was at a ‘o’ moans escaping and his head falling backwards, I felt choked out by his girth, warm tear falling down my cheeks “You like being a brat, you can take it” He smiled at my expense, pushing my head so far back that my lips touch his balls, gagging.

My hands held the back of his thighs “Hands behind your back” He slapped my cheek lightly as I winded my hands behind my back, bobbing my head at an animalistic pace. He thrusted his dick towards my face until he pulled out jerking his cock and coming on my face.

“You’re not going to talk to me smart again huh?” I nodded taking the stickiness off my face, licking it off my fingers. “Get into the bed and spread those legs for me, princess” I obeyed his orders, taking my naked body onto the bed, the cold air hitting my nipples, making me wince.

Once Matt took off his jersey, he came up in-front of me, opening my folds and placing his middle finger on my clit, playing with it. He dipped his fingers in me, making me gasp, gaping up at Matt and his dangling silver chain.

Matt finished prepping me and aligned his length to my soaking cunt. I whined loudly as he thrusted his cock into me without remorse. “Matt please, please slow, slow” My hand landed on his chest, “Brats don’t get what they want baby," he moaned in my ear.

Matt raised my arms over my head, intwining my fingers with him to press into me deeper. I felt Matt’s warm breath on my neck and our warm skin meshing together. Matt’s thrusts were hard, hitting my g-spot repeatedly at an animalistic pace.

We looked down together, watching his cock disappear and reappear in me “You’re so perfect; this pussy is so perfect." He kissed, sucked, and licked my neck, making dark circles. His sultry words made me wetter, our lewd sounds of moans and whimpers mixed together. I grabbed on his neck so my eyes locked with his and he smirked, not parting with them.

My wet insides squeezed around him as he slid into me feeling his pre-cum leak inside of me. “Say my name princess.” He purposely dug so deep I didn’t even know he could reach that far.

“Matttt— Matthew!” I violently came, my legs trembling with all the pleasure taking over my body. I squeezed Matt’s cock in so hard when I came that he released inside of me. I whimpered with Matt’s and my cum coated in and over my pussy. “We’re going to go back and watch the rest of the game, you better behave.”

“Yes” Matt walked into the bathroom finding wipes to clean between my thighs and my stomach, helping me up. I waltzed downstairs with a limp “Celtics just beat Heats by 20 points” Chris announced.

Matt glanced at me with a grin on his face teasing me “I told you so”

tags: @lunariaxzz @chrissturniolosbitch @leahsbussy @luv4kozume @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @idkwhosnyla @strniohoeee @iiheartstef @nonamegirlxsturniolo @ka1nani @1800chokedathoe @fuzzycupcakebeliever @mattgirly @love4chris @mattslutt @nickgetsmewetter @luhsexcbihh @hearts4chriss @thenickgirl @jnkvivi

#hoesformatt #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo smut #smut #sturniolo smut #fan fiction #fan fic #sturniolo triplets

365 notes · View notes

candylix · 2 days

Text

one little lie | hyung line (part 1)

Pairing • FWB!Minho x Fem!Reader x Hyung Line A/N • This is part 1 of the fic! There's going to be 3 parts total (if everything goes according to plan) read part 2 here!

Summary • The boys have one rule in their shared apartment. Don't bring girls over for sex. So when Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin walk in on Minho fucking the living daylights out of you in the living room, he has to lie to save his own skin. His excuse? That's not a girl under him... you're a sex robot. And now they all want to try you out.

Genre • smut, sci-fi ish? (sex robots are a thing in this world that people know about and use)

WC • 3.6k

Content • reader pretends to be a sex robot, free use, dubcon, piv penetration, clit stimulation, groping, orgasm denial, creampie, unprotected sex

"You like that?" Minho says, pounding his cock into your pussy over and over until you see stars. You're too fucked out to respond. You're lying naked on top of the coffee table in his apartment, feeling nothing but the cold wood on your back and his throbbing hot shaft inside you. The lewd noises of his dick slipping in and out of your sopping wet cunt fill the room, along with heavy panting and moans that escape your lips. He thrashes against you, hitting your g-spot again and again until you're a twitching mess under him.

You've known him for about a year, through your mutual friend Jisung, but Minho suggested this friends with benefits situation only recently. Normally, you went to your place for sex, knowing the rules his roommates had about bringing people over for it. He told you about a one night stand gone extremely wrong, so it made sense why they would ban it altogether. But, you found out, Minho liked a little bit of danger, so he brought you over when all the guys would be away.

His pace is uncoordinated and relentless, but your mind is too clouded to care. You just want to feel him go deeper and faster against your sweet spot. You moan his name, and his bucking gets stronger until he's almost ramming his entire body into you. You can feel your orgasm coming, and your walls clench around his cock as he keeps slamming into you.

And then you hear the door unlock. You both freeze. His dick is fully inside you, frantically throbbing and twitching, but the man it belongs to is still as a statue. He looks you in the eyes, and mouths the words 'stay still'.

Three men you don't know walk in, chatting amongst themselves, until they see your naked body on their table and Minho with his pants down on the other side.

"Minho, what the fuck," one of them says, and slams the door shut. He's shorter than the others, but way more muscular, and you think you recognize him from the photos Minho showed you of his roommates. You think that must be Changbin.

"Guys, it's not what it looks like," Minho says.

He quickly pulls out of you, and you resist the moan that threatens to escape. He scrambles to pull up his pants and look presentable. You can't say the same for yourself. You're entirely exposed in front of these four men, and now that your only heat source has left, you're very cold as well.

"Ok, well, it looks like you brought a girl home and were fucking her on the table," another man responds. He has long hair and a pretty face, and you assume that must be Hyunjin. Minho didn't let you look at his pictures for very long, for fear that you'd swoon over him instead of Minho (not that he'd admit that, of course).

"N-no," he stammers, "let me explain." Changbin folds his arms, but they let him continue. "This is actually... a sex robot. Yeah."

A sex robot. That's why he wanted you to stay still. He wanted you to pretend to be a sex robot.

It's not like sex robots don't exist, or are even uncommon. In fact, you saw a viral tweet about a guy who 'married' a sex robot just the other day. The technology is getting better and better every year, so it's certainly plausible.

That didn't mean you thought this was a good plan, though.

The third guy, who you assumed was Chan, cocked an eyebrow.

"You bought a sex robot?" he asked, and walked over to inspect you. You kept your eyes straight ahead, and tried to control your breathing.

"No, uh, I'm just borrowing her. From a friend. I have to return her later," Minho says. He's clearly flustered in his lie, but he plays it off as embarrassment for being caught in the act.

The other two walk over to inspect you as well, and you do your best to lie still and emotionless. Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest.

"What friend? What kind of person would let you just... borrow a sex robot?" Changbin asks.

"Jisung," Minho answers, and they look oddly satisfied with that answer.

"That makes sense," Changbin says, and you wonder what kind of relationship they have with Jisung that makes this believable. You've known him for a long time, and he's a normal guy. What has he done to make them think that?

You can't wonder for long, because Hyunjin grabs your boob and pulls on the flesh. You almost yelp in surprise, but you bite your tongue to stop yourself.

"It's surprisingly realistic for a sex doll," he says, and gropes your breast some more, admiring how 'real' you felt.

"Ew, don't touch that," Chan says. He smacks Hyunjin's hand away from your chest. "Minho was just fucking it, you don't know where that's been."

Hyunjin quickly yanks his hand back to his own body and wipes his hand on his pants.

"She's a sex robot, not a sex doll," Minho corrects, "I have some class."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. You're not looking at anyone directly, but from the corner of your eye you can see Changbin scanning your body, exploring every inch of you by sight alone.

You tried not to think about how exposed you were to these men, who talked about you and touched you and looked at you like an object. Minho managed to get out of trouble, but now you had to lie here and just take all this to protect him. You don't know why you did. By all means, you should've gotten up, put your clothes back on, and left Minho forever. That's the normal thing to do.

But as they talk about the sex robot in their room, Minho gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze and his guilty expression bores into your soul. His pleading eyes say sorry in a thousand unspoken words, and you resign yourself back to lying there and being pretty.

"Well," Minho says, patting your thigh, "I should probably bring her back to Jisung now. I'm sure he misses her dearly."

At least it would be over soon. It was smart to bring up Jisung; now he has an excuse why you can't stay here. Good thinking, Minho.

"Wait," Changbin says. All eyes go to him, and he coughs awkwardly before finishing his sentence. "I've never seen a sex robot this realistic."

Your heart almost stops. You were almost home free, and he managed to figure it out. It would be super embarrassing if you had to just get up and leave after all this.

Changbin scratches the back of his head, and looks away from the boys.

"Jisung can just pick her up later, right? She looks... really real."

The other two men look back at you, and their eyes look over every curve of your body.

"What are you trying to say..." Minho gulps, and you dread the words that come next.

"Don't make me say it, man."

"You want to use Jisung's sex robot?" Chan says in shock.

"I kind of want to try it out too," Hyunjin says, sheepishly.

Chan's face turns bright red, and he looks back and forth between the two of them.

"Are you guys serious!?"

"Come on Chan, what's the harm," Changbin says, slightly more confident now that he knows he's not the only one that wants to take you for a spin. "When life presents you with an opportunity, you take it."

"When life gives you a sex robot, you fuck it," Hyunjin adds.

Minho is unforgivably silent. He's sweating bullets, racking his brain for some sort of solution to get you out of there. Under normal circumstances, he'd be able to solve any problem on the fly. But these are not normal circumstances, and he appears to be short-circuiting.

"You guys are crazy," Chan says, but his eyes travel down your body to the sticky mess that is your pussy. "You should, uh, clean her up before we- THEY use her."

Hyunjin laughs at his slip of the tongue.

"Yeah, I'll go do that now," Minho says, desperate to end this conversation.

He lifts you up off the table, and your back is stiff from lying flat on it for way too long. Fortunately, it helps sell the robot look. With one hand under your arm, he pretends to hold you up, and he walks you over to the bathroom.

Changbin whistles in amazement.

"Wow, it can kind of walk. Technology is amazing."

You enter the bathroom, and Minho sets you down on the closed toilet seat. He quickly shuts the door and locks it. He turns around and leans his back on the door, out of breath from nerves.

"What the hell was that!?" you whisper-yell. You had every right to be angry in this moment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do!"

"You could've just told them the truth! A sex robot!?"

"I know. That was the only thing I could think of. But I can fix this. I'll call Jisung and tell him what happened, and he'll come pick you up."

"No. You can't tell him any of this."

"I have to. I can't risk him saying something like 'Hi, I'm here to pick up my friend that I've known for years and is definitely a real person and not a robot.' I have to tell him."

"Fine," you say, and your heartbeat finally calms down. Minho can stall in here until Jisung arrives. Everything is going to be alright.

Minho takes out his phone to call Jisung. The phone rings... and rings... and rings... and you finally hear a voice on the other end.

"Hey!"

"Jisung, I really need your help-"

"I'm really busy right now, probably hanging out with some babes at the beach. Leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Or not, who knows."

A long beep plays out over the speaker.

Of course it went to voicemail. It's a weekday. He's at work, like a normal person on a Wednesday afternoon.

"Jisung, call me back ASAP. It's an emergency," Minho says, and hangs up the phone.

"Why did he have to be a functioning member of society today," you complain.

"Do you know when he gets off work?"

"Around 5, I think."

Minho looks at his phone clock.

"It's 1:07."

"God damn it," you whisper, and bury your face in your hands.

"Look at the bright side," he says, and you turn your head to squint your eyes at him. "You came here to get fucked, right?"

You don't say anything, hoping the silence and the irritation on your face spoke for you.

It clearly didn't, because he continues.

"Even I can tell they're good looking guys. Well, they're not me, but still good looking."

"Minho, I came here to be fucked by you. I know who you are, it's different."

He gets down on his knees and begs.

"Please please please do this for me. I'll literally do anything. I'll fuck you whenever and however you want for the rest of your life."

"That's all?"

He hesitates, searching for an answer that will convince you to get fucked by his roommates. There's not a lot that would convince anyone, but thankfully, this time he has an answer.

"I'll pay your rent this month."

"You'll pay my rent this year."

"I don't think I make enough for that..." You tsk at him, and he gives you a better answer. "What about every other month for a year?"

"Deal."

You shake hands.

Finally done talking, he cleans you up with a wet towel. You stand up, take a deep breath, and when you're ready, Minho opens the door and pretends to walk you back to the living room.

"That took a while," Hyunjin said.

"Yeah, I had to, uh, refill the liquid."

"The what?" Chan asks.

"She's self lubricating and has the ability to orgasm, but I used up all the liquid when I was... you know. So she had to be refilled." It's funny how quick he thought of that lie, but he couldn't think of something earlier to get you out of this mess. And by funny, you mean not funny at all.

"Whoa," Changbin says, "what other functionality does she have?"

Minho doesn't miss a beat. "She has realistic moans. You've got to hit her sweet spots to hear them, though."

"She's got a speaker?" Chan asks. He's starting to get interested in the idea of fucking a sex robot, much to your dismay. "Can she say other stuff? Like..." he pauses, flustered at what he wants to say next. "Can she say your name?"

"Yup! She has this really cool recognition software." You want to elbow him in the ribs. He has too much free reign with your 'features', and he makes it worse the more he talks.

"So what you do is, insert your dick in her and say your name. She'll recognize your unique dick patterns and remember the name you set. Any time you use her in the future, she'll know it's you."

What the hell is he talking about.

He's clearly having fun with this. Hopefully, that's all you can do.

"That's... actually really cool," Chan admits.

"Ok, I need to try that out. What else can she do?" Hyunjin asks excitedly.

"Oh, she can-" Minho starts, but you kick the back of his foot to stop him from saying anything else. "Actually, I'll let you find out for yourself. All the stuff she has is very realistic."

"I call dibs," Changbin says. Hyunjin whines, but Changbin is already lifting your body, throwing you over his shoulder to take you to his room. He drops you on his bed, and you do your best to stiffen your body against the impact, but you bounce on his springy mattress. His eyes are glued to your chest as your back hits the bed, and watches as your boobs bounce a second time.

He spreads open your legs, and you realize this is really happening. You're going to get fucked by multiple men who think you're an advanced fleshlight. Just the thought of that makes your core pulse, but you don't know why. His fingers trace a line down your pussy from top to bottom, and you shiver under his touch. "He said you're self lubricating, but you're not wet yet..." he starts, before realizing what else Minho told him. "Oh right, you're supposed to be realistic. Maybe this will do the trick."

He draws rough circles around your clit, and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. After everything that happened, you forgot you were seconds away from an orgasm. Your body is still hungry for someones touch, and it doesn't care who gives it to you.

The more he rubs, the deeper the feeling in your core gets. It doesn't take long for you to start rocking against his hand, and he admires how your body reacts to him. He's already getting hard just watching you writhing under his fingers. "I can't believe I get this pretty thing all to myself," he says, and those words only strengthen the orgasm starting to build. His fingers slide more easily around your clit, and he realizes you're wet enough to stop.

You whimper at the loss of contact when he takes his hand away. He pulls down his pants, then his boxers, and he can finally start using you the way he intended. He drags his fingers down your sensitive core, collecting your juices. He rubs it over his cock, pumping it a few times, and you can feel him stretching you open with his fingers.

"Let's test out this name recognition thing," he says, and you feel his dick prodding at your entrance.

He slides it in, and you're overwhelmed by how thick he is. He puts it in slowly, and you can feel him stretch you out. Your walls clench around his girth, and he fills you up inch by inch as he pushes deeper inside. You can't help but moan as he reaches the end, his tip pressing against a sensitive spot when he bottoms you out.

"Changbin," he says, and it takes a moment for you to remember what he's doing. "Changbin," you repeat, slightly moaning his name. His dick throbs inside you, increasing the pressure against your walls. "Oh, fuck. That's hot." He pulls most of his cock out of you, and you feel it drag along your walls. He pushes it back in, slightly faster. He pumps in and out of you, and the bed creaks as he pushes his way back in. You're tight around his massive girth, and with each roll of his hips he stretches you out more.

He rocks into you with a steady rhythm, feeling every inch of you around him. They way he can barely fit inside you turns him on more. Your wet cunt wraps around his dick perfectly, and the slight pressure makes him groan as he feels his orgasm building. His rocking gets slightly more frenzied when you moan his name, and each time he buries his cock in you, it hits you with more force.

He speeds up his pace, and he can't control the rhythm anymore. He's panting over you, holding on to your waist while his cock pounds into you over and over. His can feel his climax coming, and he bucks into you harder to chase the feeling. Every time he slams into your g-spot, you moan his name louder, and his head rolls back as each moan takes him closer to the edge. The pleasure takes over your mind completely, and you don't care that you're shouting his name every time his massive dick rams itself deep inside you. He hits your sensitive spot one last time, and you moan loudly as you gush around his cock. You spasm under him as your orgasm washes over you, and your erratic movements are what finishes him off. He gasps, and hot liquid spurts out inside you. He slows down his rocking, and you lay in exhaustion as he rides out his high. When he finally pulls out, his semen drips out of you, overflowing down your pussy and onto his bed.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, and you hear his ragged breaths in your ear as his heartbeat slows down. You come back to reality, realizing what just happened. A part of you can't believe you let this happen, let a stranger fuck you until you came all over him, all because you covered for Minho.

The other part of you can't believe how thick Changbin was, and how good he felt when he was inside you. You almost want to beg him for more, beg him to fuck you again and again until you can't move the next day, but you can't. You're a sex robot, and you can't break the illusion. You wish you met him under different circumstances. "Fuck... I need to steal this thing from Jisung," he says, finally catching his breath. That's an idea. If Minho brings you back here, Changbin can use you as much as he likes. Suddenly, your rationality comes back. You can't seriously be thinking of doing this again, right?

When Changbin is finally able to stand, he leaves you dripping on his bed and goes to the door. "Hey Minho?" he yells, loud enough for the guys to hear it in any room of the apartment. "You might want to come refill her." He leave you in the room by yourself, and a moment later Minho comes in. Seeing you splayed out on another mans bed with his cum leaking out of you... it does something to him. He resists the urge to rub his crotch, fearing it might make his growing erection more visible. Changbin comes back with a wet towel, ready to wipe you down, but Minho gets to him first. "I'll take care of that, don't worry," he says, and grabs the towel from Changbin's hands. "You sure? I can just do it myself." "She has specific care instructions. And I have to check how much fluid she has left anyway. I got it." Changbin shrugs, and watches as Minho lifts you up and walks you back to the bathroom. You take your seat back on the closed toilet, and Minho locks the door again. You're still breathing heavily after that interaction. "You ok?" he asks. You're not sure how to say yes, it was amazing and I hope he does it again without embarrassing yourself. "I'm good," is what you finally settle on. "I'm just-" you start, but Minho brings the cold towel to your core, and you twitch at the sudden contact. "Still sensitive?" he asks, and you nod. "I'll let Hyunjin know to be gentle with you." "Is he next?" "Yeah, he wouldn't stop grumbling about how it wasn't fair that Changbin got to go first." He wipes Changbin's fluids off you, pressing the towel softly against your body so you're not overstimulated.

"I'll give you a more thorough wash when Jisung picks you up." Your eyes light up at Jisungs name. "Did he call back?" "Yup. And he found the whole situation extremely funny." You groan. You're never going to live this down. "But he'll come as soon as he can," Minho continues, and you breathe a sigh of relief. A knock on the door makes you jump. "Are you done in there?" you hear a voice ask, and Minho's eye twitches. "Give me a sec, Hyunjin. Just wait in your room." When you hear his footsteps getting farther away, Minho's face relaxes. "Guess you better get going before Mr. Impatient has an aneurysm."

read part 2 here!

398 notes · View notes

glearyyyne · 3 days

Text

the boy is mine

Synopsis: After your business trip, you head back to the Jujutsu High only to hear that there are newly transferred students when it hasn't been that long since Kugisaki and Itadori came. You didn't think that the new student will potentially be your rival to your boyfriend.

Word Count: 5,247

Warning: 18+ DNI, student-teacher relationship, Jealousy, possessiveness, marks, injury, tied wrists, new students.

Note: Yes you read the warning, this is a student-teacher relationship. This is like half of the smut since I'm still not confident to write it but I want to challenge myself to write smut. this story might be cringe to you though since I already find it cringe at the end T-T But I can't ditch this since I already finished making this so I hope you enjoy it!!

_____________________________________________________________

"Are there new transfer students again?" you asked nobara, who sat nearby, meticulously filing her nails while filling you in on the latest gossip from Jujutsu High during your brief absence on a recent business trip.

You were taken aback by the news of more transfers, considering it hadn't been long since Nobara and Yuji joined the school.

Nobara hummed in agreement as she blew on her nails, and you continued unpacking your things from your luggage.

"What did Sensei say about the situation?" you asked slowly.

"Oh, he's the one who introduced them to us, and, take note, he was happy while introducing them," Nobara answered.

You stood there, holding your clothes, suddenly feeling a surge of jealousy.

"What do they look like?" you quickly asked, not noticing how Nobara smirked before she answered.

"Oh, well, just a girl and a boy. I heard they were from Kyoto under Utahime's supervision, but I don't know the story behind why they were moved here," Nobara simply answered.

"They've already met Maki-san, Inukami-san, and Panda-senpai, so the only person they haven't met is you, a third-year student," Nobara added.

"So, am I meeting them later?" you asked after finishing hanging your clothes in the closet and putting away the luggage.

"I don't know, they're on a mission right now. Megumi's assisting them," Nobara answered.

"Then I guess we should head for training," you said while walking out of your room, leaving Nobara whining since you picked training instead of going shopping.

You and Nobara stopped training, catching your breath after some intense combat training.

Just as you were about to drink water, you heard a commotion from the training room.

The door was slightly open, revealing an annoyed Megumi before he opened it widely to let someone, or some people, through.

You were met with unfamiliar faces, their sheepish smiles suggesting a mix of nervousness and excitement.

"Nobara, it's your time to tour them," Megumi instructed her.

"What? Gojo-sensei specifically asked you to tour them!" Nobara argued back, leaving the two of them in a back-and-forth argument that made you sigh.

"Sorry about them, they're like oil and water," you apologized to the newcomers.

"It's fine," the girl replied with a reassuring smile.

"You two must be the newly transferred students, I suppose?" you asked, noticing their enthusiastic nods in response.

"I'm Riku Nakamura," the boy introduced with a toothy grin.

"And I'm Himari Takahashi," she introduced with a confident smile.

"Oh, and I'm—" You began to introduce yourself, but before you could finish, Himari cut you off.

"You must be [Reader's name]?" Himari asked, leaving you confused as to how she knew your name.

"How did you know my name?" you asked her, confused.

"Oh, the pink-haired boy told us," Himari replied casually, as you mentally facepalmed.

'Right, it had to be Yuji,' you thought to yourself.

You glanced at Nobara and Megumi, who seemed to have calmed down as you addressed them.

"I'll go and tour these two; you two go have some relaxation time," you said before gesturing for the new students to follow you out of the training room.

With a nod of agreement from Nobara and Megumi, you led Riku and Himari out, ready to show them around the school.

After walking for a while and sharing some history about a particular object you three passed by, you suddenly bumped into Satoru.

"Sensei?" you asked when you noticed him.

"[Reader's name]! I thought you were still on a business trip," Satoru exclaimed, offering you a warm smile.

"Here," Satoru added, passing you a bag filled with donuts. "I got them for you," he said with a toothy grin.

"Thanks," you replied dryly, but deep down, you were truly grateful for the gesture.

Satoru's eyes then shifted to the two new students as the conversation took a turn. "How was the first mission? Was Megumi a great help?" he asked them.

You observed the exchange, particularly focusing on Himari, who seemed to be acting differently.

"Good, Fushiguro-san was a bit annoyed, but he's a great help," Riku answered, with Himari nodding along.

"Well, I guess being stubborn still sticks with him," Satoru remarked with a chuckle.

"Oh, Riku, come with me right now. I need to talk about something, regardless of your rank," Satoru told him, prompting Riku to nod before following him.

As they were about to leave, Satoru turned to you. "I'll see you later. You know where to meet me," he specifically told you.

You nodded, already aware of what was to come.

"I will, Sensei," you replied as he smiled before he and Riku left, leaving you alone with Himari.

"You seemed close with Sensei," Himari remarked after glancing at you.

"Yeah, I've been ever since I came here," you replied casually.

"Is that so?" Himari replied, her tone neutral.

You hummed as you continued walking, with Himari following closely behind.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Himari possibly trying to get close to Satoru.

But deep down, you knew he was yours and yours alone.

After a long day, you made your way to where Satoru was, ensuring no one was following you since it was nearing midnight, and everyone should have been asleep by then.

Standing at the door, you took a deep breath before softly knocking as you waited for Satoru's permission to enter.

When you heard a “come in” from satoru, you opened the door slowly, keeping your gaze on the doorway as you closed it with your body facing the door.

Lost in thought, you remained standing there, unaware of Satoru's presence behind you until he wrapped his arm around your waist and whispered in your ear, "Is something wrong or bothering you?”

You felt your body heat up quickly from the closeness, but you managed to maintain your composure.

"Nothing," you replied softly, but Satoru wasn't convinced.

Slowly, he dipped his head down to the exposed skin of your collarbone, leaving a trail of gentle kisses that sent shivers down your spine.

With his free hand, he delicately tilted your jaw towards him, his touch sending electric tingles across your skin.

His lips met yours in a sensual kiss, you felt a rush of desire wash over you, melting into the intoxicating warmth of his embrace.

Without breaking the kiss, you turned around, wrapping your arms around Satoru's neck, pulling him closer as you sought to deepen the embrace.

Sensing your urgency, Satoru pressed you against the wall, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he intensified the kiss.

Lost in the moment, you surrendered to the passion, feeling the heat between you two grow with each passing second.

After pulling away to catch your breath, Satoru's other hand moved up to the door, stopping right beside your head as he lowered his gaze to meet yours.

Despite the romantic setting, you felt a sense of intimidation wash over you.

"You sure it's nothing bothering you?" he asked again, his concern evident in his eyes.

You looked at him and nodded. "Yes," you replied, trying to reassure him, even though there was a hint of uncertainty lingering within you.

Even though Satoru was wearing his blindfold, you could feel his blue eyes staring at you with doubt.

After a moment, he sighed and pulled you into a hug.

"I missed you," he said softly. "I missed you so bad ever since you went on that business trip," he added, and you couldn't help but giggle, knowing he would sulk any moment now.

"But we video-called every night when I was away, though," you reminded him.

"Yeah, but it's much better if you're here in my presence, not on some phone," he replied, his voice tinged with longing.

"Hey," he said, making you hum in response as you continued to hug him.

"You'll tell me if anything is bothering you, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You nodded, replying softly, "Yes, I will."

Satoru let out a deep chuckle. "Good," he said reassuringly.

Feeling like you shouldn't dwell on thoughts of Himari, you decided to let things go, focusing instead on the warmth of Satoru's embrace.

As you reflected on the past week, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret about your earlier reassurances.

Himari has been getting on your nerves lately.

Recalling how she constantly eyed the door from the training area while she was training with Maki, you remembered how you had been there, waiting to train with Maki after she finished with Himari.

Her eyes kept darting towards the door, anticipating Satoru's arrival with his usual sweets to interrupt the training session.

You couldn't help but feel a twitch of annoyance when you noticed how her eyes would light up upon seeing Satoru.

During one time when Satoru once again disrupted the training session and distributed his usual sweets to everyone, you were the only one who received strawberry mochi.

It was impossible for anyone not to notice, and they all seemed to understand why you were the only one with a different treat.

However, Himari, being the curious cat she was, approached you after the training session to inquire about it.

As you were gathering the used weapons, Himari struck up a conversation, catching you off guard. "Do Sensei usually do that?" she asked, referring to the different sweets he gave you.

"About what?" you replied, feigning ignorance.

"The, uhm, giving you a different sweet?" she clarified.

You paused for a moment, considering your response.

Despite your irritation towards her, you decided to entertain the conversation.

"He knew I'm allergic to those, that's why he got me strawberry mochi. That's how considerate our Sensei is," you explained.

She simply responded with an "oh" before returning to help you clean the training room.

You suddenly wanted to whack yourself for not telling the truth, especially after an incident in the classroom. You were busy taking notes when the first-years came to accompany you.

Despite their innocent intentions, you couldn't shake the feeling that they were up to something, especially with Himari present and Riku nowhere to be found.

As you were engrossed in your notes, Nobara approached your table with a smirk on her face.

"Oh, [Reader's name], could you please pass this to Sensei?" she asked, handing you a paper.

Muttering a sure, you reached out to take the paper when suddenly someone else grabbed it, causing you to flinch. You looked to see Himari holding the paper.

"I'll do it, [Reader's name] is busy with notes, so instead of making her do more work, I'll do it. You don't mind, right?" Himari explained before turning to you, awaiting your reply.

Your blood boiled as you clenched your fists, trying to calm yourself down.

"No, I'll do it, Himari. Besides, I had something to pass to Sensei—" You started to stand up, reaching for the paper, but Himari pulled it away.

"Oh no, really, you stay here and finish your notes. I'll pass this to Sensei," she insisted before swiftly leaving the classroom.

Frustrated, you grabbed the crumpled paper you had tossed aside, tightening your grip on it as Nobara tried to suppress her laughter at the situation she had just witnessed.

You quickly glanced at Nobara, who abruptly closed her mouth and averted her gaze.

"Nobara, as much as I hate to point fingers, what was that?" you asked her, frustration evident in your tone.

"What's what?" she replied innocently, pretending to be oblivious.

"What Himari did!" you finally snapped.

"She's trying to make you jealous," Megumi interjected.

"Fushiguro!" Nobara exclaimed, clearly annoyed by Megumi's interference.

"It's better to speak up than to let things escalate," Megumi calmly countered.

"I think your idea is a bad one, Kugisaki," Yuji chimed in.

"Oh, please, I just want her," Nobara said, pointing at you, "to realize that Himari could be her potential rival for Sensei's attention!" Nobara explained, her determination shining through.

"Just admit you're there for the dr—" Before Megumi could finish his sentence, Yuji quickly chimed in, "Oh well! I think it's best if you continue doing notes," he said, with a nervous laugh.

You stared at the three of them suspiciously. "Look, I'll do whatever I have to do to her since Sensei's my business now," you told them firmly.

They already knew about you and Satoru being in a relationship. Yuji and Nobara had accidentally seen Satoru's contacts, noticing the name he had saved yours under.

Megumi had been aware of it even before he joined the first year.

All they could do was sigh in response, muttering okay before returning to their tasks.

You did the same, focusing on your notes, but your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of what to do about Himari.

As you sat there, pen in hand, you couldn't shake the feeling that something needed to be done about her meddling behavior.

You had asked Riku to accompany you to the storage room to retrieve some boxes.

"You take this one while I take those on the side," you instructed him.

He nodded in understanding and went to lift the designated box, while you grabbed another.

As you both left the storage room and headed downstairs toward the classroom, Riku spoke up. "[Reader's name]," he began.

"Yes?" you replied, curious about what he was going to say.

"Are you and Sensei, like, closer than everyone else here?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

You felt a twinge of surprise at his question.

How did he already know that when even Himari seemed oblivious?

"I guess you could say that," you replied cautiously, your grip tightening around the box as you continued on your way.

"Why do you think so?" you asked him, intrigued by his observation.

"Well, every time he accompanied me on a mission, he always made sure to bring some sweets on our way back. He'd stare at the display of sweets and mutter something like, 'What does she want, hmm?' I just thought since you got the strawberry mochi last time, I guessed he was talking about you. Am I wrong?" Riku explained, his tone thoughtful.

You were surprised at how observant he was, especially since he often seemed quiet during training sessions.

"I see, you're quite observant," you told him, offering a compliment that seemed to make Riku giggle, pleased with himself.

You and Riku were so engrossed in conversation that you didn't notice the staircase ahead.

The box you were carrying blocked your view; before you knew it, you were stepping into thin air.

Panic surged through you as you began to fall, instinctively calling out Riku's name.

Riku reacted just in time, shoving the box away and reaching out to grab your arm.

Despite his efforts, both of you tumbled down the stairs, and you ended up landing on top of him, your body pressing against his chest as you both lay sprawled on the ground.

You began to panic, attempting to stand up but failing as intense pain shot through your ankle, causing you to whine in agony.

"[Reader's name]! I-I—" Riku stuttered, clearly flustered by the situation.

Suddenly, someone wrapped their arms around your waist, helping you stand and pulling you into a comforting hug.

"What happened?" a concerned voice asked, and you recognized it as Satoru's.

"S-Sen—ow," you tried to explain to Satoru, but before you could finish, you fell back into his chest again, letting out a yelp of pain.

Satoru's voice was filled with concern as he spoke to you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. "Are you alright? What happened?" he asked, his tone worried.

As he glanced over at Riku, there was a subtle hint of jealousy in his eyes, evident to anyone who knew him well.

However, he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile, his focus returning to you as he waited for your response, ready to offer his support and assistance.

"All you could muster was, "Hurts... so bad," as you told him about the pain. Satoru let out a sigh of concern, gently lifting you into a princess-style carry.

As he carried you, his gaze flickered over to Riku, a warning look in his eyes that seemed to say, 'If I were you, I would stay away from her.'

With that silent message conveyed, Satoru hurried you to Shoko's clinic, determined to get you the care you needed.

After Shoko treated your ankle, you found that you could walk just fine again.

However, Satoru still insisted on carrying you like a princess back to your dorm.

"Sen—Satoru, I can walk," you reminded him gently as he lifted you, navigating the stairs.

"I can't help but think you're dangerous to the stairs, baby," Satoru replied with a smirk, refusing to give up his hold on you.

"Oh, come on, I fell because the box was blocking my view," you explained, feeling a hint of frustration.

"But that still doesn't help me with my jealousy," Satoru said playfully as he reached your door and finally let you down.

You sat down at the edge of your bed, letting out a sigh, while Satoru stood nearby, silently observing you.

He walked up in front of you, his presence commanding attention, and took off his blindfold, placing it on your nightstand.

Looking up at him, you noticed the intensity in his gaze, like that of a predator sizing up its prey.

"What?" you asked, curious about the purpose behind his scrutinizing stare.

He didn't give a response; instead, he leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

You responded eagerly, your heart racing as Satoru gently pushed you onto the bed, never breaking the kiss.

He hovered over you, it became clear that his actions were fueled by the jealousy he felt earlier, a desire to declare his claim over you.

Satoru's hand caressed your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he played with the hem of your uniform.

Pulling away slightly, he took a deep breath, his eyes locked with yours.

“I love you” he spoke with affection showing in his eyes. You suddenly felt soft as you replied. “I love you too,” you told him with a soft smile.

He smiled and suddenly you forgot about Himari, the cause of your jealousy.

A few days later, Satoru organized a training session for everyone, emphasizing that attendance was mandatory.

Fortunately, you hadn't been assigned to a mission yet, so you were able to attend.

Arriving at the training room in your usual workout attire, you found everyone already engaged in warm-ups.

Satoru stood at the front, observing everyone's movements with his usual keen eye, despite the blindfold.

When he noticed your presence, his smile brightened, and he waved in your direction.

Even though his eyes were hidden, you could sense the warmth in his gaze as it landed on you.

Satoru's clap echoed through the training room, effectively capturing everyone's attention.

"Now that everyone's here, we should start our training," he announced, his voice projecting clearly.

As the group gathered in front of him, forming a line from left to right, Satoru contemplated his next instruction.

"I'm thinking we should do pairing," he suggested, his tone thoughtful as he considered the most effective way to structure the training session.

"But then again, since y'all are not an even number, someone will be without a partner. I'll be their partner then," Satoru generously suggested.

The pairs were quickly formed: Maki with Panda, Inumaki with Megumi, and Nobara with Itadori.

However, this left you, Riku, and Himari without partners, as Satoru had predicted.

You were about to head over to Satoru, knowing he was your usual training partner when someone grabbed your wrist. Startled, you turned to see Riku standing there.

"[Reader's name], be my partner," he said, surprising you with his request.

"Uh, but—" you began, unsure how to respond, when Himari interjected.

"Looks like I don't have a partner, Sensei," she said, her tone sweet as she batted her eyes at Satoru, clearly vying for his attention.

“Well, I guess I don't have much choice," Satoru replied nonchalantly, leaving you staring at him with frustration.

It felt as if he were doing this on purpose, purposely pairing you with Riku instead of himself.

You and Riku moved to a spot not too far from where Satoru and Himari were standing. As you began cleaning your weapon, Riku spoke up. "I'm sorry," he started.

"About what?" you asked, looking up at him.

"That I stole you from Sensei to be my partner in training," he explained apologetically.

You sighed, feeling conflicted. "Well, I couldn't do much since it happened already," you told him, trying to brush it off.

"But really, I was just forced by Himari when Sensei said that we're doing a pairing," Riku revealed, causing you to freeze as you stared at him in disbelief.

"What?" you asked, taken aback by his confession.

"The truth is, Himari actually knew you two were together. She just can't accept that uh, you got the strongest sorcerer?" Riku explained, his words catching you off guard.

"What?" you said again, incredulous at what you were hearing.

"Her words, not mine," Riku added, emphasizing that it was Himari's perspective and not necessarily his own.

"I don't know why, but I know it had to do with her clan. It was supposed to be only me who transferred here, as I was recommended by Utahime-san to the first grade. I needed Gojo-san to accompany me on missions since you know how it is when you're being recommended," Riku explained.

You nodded along, listening attentively as he shared his insights into the situation.

There was more to Himari's behavior than initially met the eye.

"That's why I'm telling you, [Reader's name], to do something that'll make Himari know her place," Riku urged, his tone firm and determined.

"I've got an idea. Riku, I need you to hold my feet as I do push-ups," you instructed him, lying down on the ground while Riku looked on, confused.

"How would that be a good idea?" he asked, clearly skeptical.

"Just do it," you told him, deadpanned, sensing Satoru's gaze on you even though you didn't look directly at him.

Riku was about to protest, but he sighed and complied, positioning himself in front of you and holding your knees tight.

You stole a glance at Satoru and Himari, noting that they were busy with their combat training.

Despite not looking directly at them, you could feel Satoru's gaze on you, his attention never wavering.

"Don't freak out when my face gets close to you," you warned Riku, but he seemed preoccupied with glancing back and forth between you and Satoru, who was paying attention to your interaction.

"I-I don't think this is a good idea," Riku protested, but you ignored his concerns and began to do your push-ups. As you lowered yourself towards the ground, your face came dangerously close to Riku's.

Intent on making it appear as though you were kissing Riku, mimicking the style of exercise Satoru favored since it often led to affectionate moments between you two, you held the position for a moment before pushing yourself back up.

Just as you were about to complete your eighth push-up, a hand suddenly came through, blocking your face from reaching Riku. Startled, you looked up to see Satoru with an irked smile on his face.

"Is there a problem, Sensei?" you asked innocently, playing along with the situation, while Riku looked on in panic, unsure of what to make of the unexpected interruption.

"Satoru looked at Riku. "Riku, I need you to partner with Himari for now as I need to talk to [reader's name]," Satoru instructed Riku with his authoritative tone.

Riku, sensing the seriousness in Satoru's voice, stood up and left, obediently complying with his sensei's command, leaving you two alone.

Satoru's smile dropped as he looked at you, his expression serious. "You," he pointed at you, then pointed to himself.

"Me," he gestured to himself, before indicating the door.

"In my dorm. Now," he commanded firmly.

You stood up, meeting Satoru's gaze, and noticed Himari staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression.

Without hesitation, you stuck your tongue out at her before turning to follow Satoru out of the training area and towards his dorm.

Once inside, Satoru pushed you onto the bed after locking the door behind him.

You landed on your stomach, about to protest, when he swiftly grabbed both of your wrists and tied them together with his blindfold.

"Satoru—" you began, but he silenced you by leaning down close to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "You're playing a dangerous game, baby," he whispered.

"What game?!" you exclaimed, trying to free your wrists from his grasp.

"That," he replied, his voice low and husky, "doing our usual exercise position with someone else. You know how much I like that." His words sent a thrill through you, despite the apprehension swirling in your mind.

"But it's not fair when you let Himari be your partner when you know we're usually partners in training!" you defended yourself, frustration evident in your voice.

"Oh, baby, I see, you were jealous, weren't you?" Satoru teased, his tone playful as he held your tied wrists.

His other hand traveled up to your shorts, teasingly grazing over your clothed pussy, eliciting a surprised gasp from you as you arched your back at the unexpected sensation.

"You were jealous too!" you pointed out, your voice tinged with accusation as you tried to suppress the moans threatening to escape.

Satoru noticed your struggle and quickened his pace, the intensity of his touch driving you closer to the edge.

Desperate to muffle the sounds of pleasure building within you, you buried your face in the sheets, trying to stifle your moans as Satoru continued to push you to the brink of ecstasy.

"So what if I am?" Satoru countered, his voice husky with desire as he continued to rub your clit, coaxing wetness to soak your panties.

"Baby, I always show everyone how I get when I'm jealous, and I was just curious about your reaction," he explained, his touch igniting waves of pleasure that coursed through your body.

"Ngh, stop, ah," was all you could manage to reply as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure Satoru was giving you.

"How about this, baby," Satoru proposed, his voice husky with desire.

"You stop playing games with Riku, and I'll stop with Himari."

You were unable to reply, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body as you felt yourself getting closer to climax.

"Getting close, princess?" Satoru asked, his voice teasing as he noticed you slightly shaking.

"I am—ah," you replied, your words trailing off into a moan as the pleasure intensified, pushing you toward the climax.

"Promise me, princess," Satoru urged, his voice filled with longing, but you were too lost in the waves of pleasure to respond.

Sensing your lack of response, Satoru slowed down his pace, eliciting a whine of protest from you.

"I was... so close—why slow down?" you managed to utter, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

"You weren't answering me, kitten," Satoru chided gently, his voice tinged with amusement as he chuckled at the way you shivered at the pet names.

"About what—ah!" you yelped when you felt Satoru slap your butt, the sudden sting adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"You weren't listening to me, baby," Satoru reminded you, his tone firm yet teasing. "I asked that you promise me to stop that nonsense with Riku, and I'll stop with Himari."

"I promise! Please, let me cum," you begged desperately, the need for release consuming you.

"I will, princess," Satoru whispered into your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he fastened his pace once more, finally granting you the release you craved.

Your body convulsed in ecstasy as you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you as Satoru guided you to the peak of bliss.

Satoru removed the blindfold from your wrist and placed it over your eyes, positioning you on his lap.

"Let's continue, baby, but I want you to wear my blindfold," he chuckled, but you were still too lost in the aftermath of your climax to fully comprehend his words.

"Is there anything that my baby wants?" Satoru's voice brought you back to the present moment, and you found your voice.

"Let me mark you," you told him, a sense of possessiveness washing over you.

Even though you couldn't see him, you knew Satoru was smiling like a fool.

"I'll let you later, baby," he promised, guiding you to lay on the bed as he positioned himself on top of you, showering you with passionate kisses.

The rest of the day melted into a steamy night with Satoru, and as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you felt like the ultimate winner, content in the knowledge that he was yours and yours alone.

You woke up to the sound of loud knocking, finding it difficult to move with Satoru spooning you from behind.

With a groan, you attempted to untangle yourself from his embrace, finally managing to slip out of bed.

You grabbed a shirt of his and hastily threw it on before making your way to the door, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"What?" you asked, your voice groggy with sleep as you opened the door to see who was disturbing your peaceful morning.

To your shock, it was Himari standing at the door, holding a bunch of papers. "Oh," she replied, her tone smug. "Isn't your room in the other building?" she asked, her audacity irritating you.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "Well, it's never too bad to have a second room to sleep in."

Himari scoffed, unimpressed by your response. "Where's sensei?" she asked, her fake smile not fooling you.

"Sleeping, obviously," you replied curtly, but she wasn't satisfied. "Can you go fetch him? I need to give some important documents to him," she insisted, her tone demanding.

You had enough of her nonsense, so you snapped at her.

"Listen here, you dimwit, can't you see this?" You pointed to the mark Satoru left on your neck from the previous night.

"Isn't this enough to tell you that I'm his girlfriend? You can just give that to me instead of ordering me to fetch him for you," you angrily told her, frustration evident in your voice.

Himari was too stunned to speak, giving you the chance to snatch the papers from her hands.

"I'll let him know that you dropped this off. But if you ever try to get close to him again..." You trailed off, mimicking a neck slice gesture with your hand as you smiled sweetly at her before slamming the door shut.

You sighed, placing the papers onto the coffee table, intending to deal with them later.

You turned to head to the bathroom to cool off, but you heard Satoru's groggy voice from the bedroom. "Baby?"

"Yeah?" you replied, pausing to listen.

"Where are you? I need my morning hug," Satoru whined, his voice filled with longing.

"I'm coming," you told him, unable to suppress a giggle at his antics.

"You better be," he teased in response, his tone playful.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu satoru #satoru gojo #jjk angst #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #maki zenin #inumaki toge #panda jjk #gojo smut #satoru smut

200 notes · View notes

hon3y-y · 5 hours

Note

NUH UH roomate!sukuna had his thot era, it's time for reader to have hers!!! And he's gonna sit there and WATCH it- payback baby. I wanted reader to fuck satoru, suguru, kento, choso, even fucking hiromi- she gonna get it ALLLLLLL before sukuna can even get a taste 😤

cw: noncon filming!

pt 1: here<3

omfg he would be soooo pissed💀

picture this;

The morning after everything happened, Sukuna was more than ready to make it official with you. He had already planned how he was going to seduce you. He got up early to hit the gym before you even woke up, so when you were finally awake, you would see him all jacked up and sweaty. It literally had his stomach fluttering with excitement at just how fast he knew you'd fold.

Well, easier said than done, because when he does get home and hear someone in the kitchen, it's not you cutely rubbing your sleepy eyes in nothing but a baggy shirt. Instead, it’s that white-haired freak from last night.

He literally rolls his eyes, ignoring the greeting the guy sends and telling him to “get the fuck out” to which Satoru just laughs, takes his toast (which he made in Sukuna’s toaster, by the way), and exits the kitchen while taking a bite. Sukuna goes to your room door but is stopped by the obnoxious blond.

“She left, said she was going to see a friend.”

“Why are you still here?”

Satoru shrugs before grabbing the shirt he had thrown onto the couch the previous night and waving goodbye, crumbs from the toast he was eating still on his lips, before the door slams shut.

Ryomen was floored. Were you two officials? Is that why you finally brought someone home? He couldn’t deny the pinch in his chest, but he shoved it aside. I mean, he would happily break up a home, so even if this was your stupid boyfriend, it wouldn’t dampen anything. He doesn’t mind a little competition.

At least, that’s what he thinks it’s going to be. Since that night, both of your schedules had been too complicated, and you two had only seen each other in passing. But tonight, he knew you would both be off and it’s the weekend, so he knows you at least don’t have anything till midday.

You return late, and you are absolutely not alone.

You’re with another guy, some blond man who looks a little too pristine to be found at the club (who he later finds out is kento from your whimpered of “kento! Oh fuck—yes! right there!”).

You don’t even notice that Sukuna's door is wide open and instead stumble straight into your own. and Ryomen is jaw-dropped, shocked.

He begins to feel like a cuck; all he does is listen to you fuck this random selection of men you’ve created within these recent couple of weeks and fuck his fist stupid. It’s so embarrassing to feel like a hormonal teenager who can’t get a grip. but he can’t stop; he just remembers what you look like under Satoru.

Night after night, all weekend long, you’re bringing home someone new. although after a while it’s just the same three guys. the annoying blond, Kento (or “the businessman”), and some random boy named "choso,” who he walked in on you giving a blow job to.

You stopped immediately, so embarrassed and shy, as if you didn’t just have this guy with his eyes rolled back, nearly crying every time you gagged on him. Choso, on the other hand, looked too fucked out to care about the third person in the room.

Sukuna was so hard and horny all the time, and his interest in finding someone to handle it was useless. He wanted you, not some random girl. He even bought a fleshlight for the first time, needing something other than his hand to hump.

One night, he returned late and heard the sweet noises of your mewls (again, it was starting to feel like a routine). He tried to quietly pass your door, but stopped short. three voices?

He almost couldn't believe it, but after cracking your door open, there you were. You were jerking Satoru off, his white hair sticking to his damp forehead, while this guy with long black hair was pounding into you. One of his hands wrapped around your throat while the other played with your clit, your body jerking at the intensity of stimulation. Satoru played with your swollen nipples, pinching and leaning down to suck them.

Sukuna can’t help but pull his phone out and record it, going back to his room and rutting into his fleshlight until his cock is raw. the video on a constant loop because he was so fucking addicted. You looked so good. so pretty, and pliant under them. He wanted, no, needed to have you.

You lay in bed, absolutely exhausted after Suguru and Satoru left. You still can’t deny the effect Sukuna has on you, but since you’ve started having hookups, you haven’t even tried to listen to what Ryo does (not that you could’ve or noticed, clearly. he’s been on a dry spell). While you sleep peacefully, snuggled into your warm comforter, Sukuna lies awake, extremely frustrated.

he’s sooo down bad://

256 notes · View notes

atlasnessie · 17 hours

Note

hii i saw ur requests were open and i decided to make one :3, how the bsd men would act when they are lovesick? Like not yandere and those twisted things, but they just feel like a teenager boy in highschool with their first love, nothing else than pure fluff =w=" i honestly dont care which characters you add, but id really like to see fyodor in there ;P.

Bonus points if the reader is just so gentle, kind and pure with everyone ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა!! You can ignore this request, take your time. I hope you have a good day and thanks for reading me :DD

GOD, IM SO LOVESICK. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME ?

osamu and chuuya slowly realizing that they’re in love with you.

an: FINALLY FINISHED THIS OMG anon im so sorry it took so long also i’m … still unsure of how to write fyodor ughh ikk embarrassing !! hope this is okay nonnie :((

OSAMU DAZAI never had the chance of falling in love. everything ended one sided, a side that would benefit him and him only. he’s lived long enough to know that he was not worthy of such a delicate feeling; everything he has and wishes to have will all disintegrate as soon as he has it. dazai was not willing to risk it. not now, not ever.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

dazai can’t shake off this feeling when being around with you. he stands by the roadside of the sidewalk when walking with you, voluntarily giving his coat when the weather gets chilly, and surprisingly have enough money to buy you some good coffee (and not put it on a tab). he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, it’s not like he’s into you, but his thoughts wander off to wanting to feel your hands on his, to know how his first name would sound from your lips instead of his surname. and once he realizes he’s in love, he’s gone.

lovesick isn’t something dazai had ever felt. romance and osamu dazai should never be in the same sentence, they don’t belong together.

“you’ve been avoiding my texts, my calls, and now ignoring my knocks on your door ?” you stand in front of the paint chipping door, a bento in one hand and a finger pointing at his chest with the other. dazai looked terrible, his eye bags more apparent and the stench of alcohol from inside could make a lightweight drunk at the smell.

“ah, whatever do you mean —”

“you know what i mean, dazai. i’ve gotten calls from kunikida telling me that you haven’t shown up to work for a week ! he can’t even enter your apartment and he calls you every morning to check that you’re okay.”

you pushed your way inside his apartment before he could speak. this wasn’t the first time you’ve been in here, and was definitely not your second. or third. or fourth, or fifth, or however amount of times you’ve been here. dazai can’t remember.

placing the bento down on the cheap wooden table, the color of the lunch box was the only bright thing in the whole house. dazai quickly closed the door, almost tripping on your shoes before speed walking behind you. if he’d known you’d come in, in which he probably did, he would’ve cleaned and tided up a little beforehand. your eyes darted around the room before unboxing the bento.

“sit down. i made you something to eat.” your voice was quiet, but a little higher than a whisper. the aroma of fresh, real food made dazai’s mouth water.

“at your command, then.” dazai responded back, pulling a creaky chair and sitting, his eyes shining dull as he heard the sound of wooden chopsticks break.

“here, you eat. i’ll clean.”

“awh, i was hoping you’d feed me.” chocolate brown eyes met with yours, faking tears to brim out of his eyes as he lazily held the chopsticks, holding it as if he had never seen them before. an excuse. this was an excuse. not for you to feed him, though, he’d most certainly love that, but for you to not clean up the mess he had made. the cluster of sake bottles and canned crab made his apartment look less pleasing to look at.

“eat. i’ll clean.” your voice was persistent as you pushed the bento closer to him. grumbling, dazai pick up an egg roll and inspected it. how stupid, he thought. a toothpick shaped as a cat stood idle in the middle of the roll, its dark void eyes staring at his. it looks a lot like you, naive and ever so …

shit. thoughts like this shouldn’t be running in his head. you’re just a co-worker, afterall. right ? though … dazai has to admit; the food that’s on the bento tastes better than anything ever, and the soft hum of your voice lulls his worries away.

to be loved is to be known, he thinks.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA has no time for feelings outside of the port mafia, but you’re an exception. the sun sets slowly on the horizon of yokohama, and the wind is just right for a nice breeze. the picnic cloth is laid on the ground as chuuya swirls his glass of wine, watching as you talk about your day. you weren’t anything special, hell, it was total coincidence that you two even met.

a civilian and an executive of the port mafia. what a story to tell. but you weren’t aware of chuuyas profession, no, why would he break the trust that built up and took so long to gain ? he wouldn’t dare, he couldn’t.

“and then, while i was walking home today, i bumped into some guy and he was all like, ‘double suicide’ this and ‘double suicide’ that. scared the hell out of me ..!” you laugh and take a sip of your own wine and out of the corner of your eyes, you can see chuuyas shoulders tense up.

“he didn’t … he didn’t have some weirdass bandages all over … did he ?” chuuya grumbled as he pressed the wine glass to his lips, hiding his irritation.

“oh, he did. it was really weird.”

fuck ..!! chuuya though, grinding his teeth together just at the thought of that disgusting man. his thoughts of killing dazai were interrupted as you point at the sky.

“look, isn’t it pretty ?” you sigh, placing your hands behind you and leaning back. the sky was painted a radiant orange, complemented by pink and yellow. chuuya blinks and stares into the horizon, the corner of his eyes shifting back to you subtly. his chest tightens and—

oh, how he’s smitten. maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the gentle rays of the sun, but his face feels hot and he leans closer to you, bringing up a hand and tucking in longer strands of hair behind your ear. you turn your head as chuuya stops midway, your hair falling out of his fingers. leaning back, chuuya coughs and plays it off, pouring himself another drink.

“sorry. looked like it was bothering you.” he mumbled, biting the rim of his glass before taking a sip, his gaze avoiding yours.

it’s the little things, but to him, he wants to do more than subtle hints of love. this is a start, at least.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x you #dazai x you #atlas writes !

184 notes · View notes

rafecameroninterlude · 3 days

Note

kook!reader and jj, in which reader gets jj a job and country club but the other kooks are pretty mean to him :( .

warnings: light flirting, fighting, rafe is jealous you like jj and not him, name calling

“so how are they treating you here?” you took a seat at the bar where jj was making a round of drinks. “how do you think?” he looked up from under the wisps of his hair. “okay, cool it with the sass. i was just asking.” he shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “look, i appreciate you getting me this job and all, but this shit blows,” jj glanced in the corner where rafe and his friends were dowing their beers, “and those assholes are the worst part of it all.” you turned around, rolling your eyes when rafe blew you a kiss.

“they’re so annoying, just ignore them jayj.” you sighed, eyeing the veins on his arms. “at least you look hot in your uniform.” jj pushed one of those fruity drinks you liked in front of you, leaning in as he did so. “you think so?” you hummed, a smile forming on your lips as he trailed his fingers down the side of your wrist. “yeah, i like-” before you could finish your sentence, a familiar, aggravating voice cut you off. “i see you’re still doing charity work for this piece of trash.” rafe took a seat next to you, fully aware of the way jj was glaring at him.

“how about you run back there to the kitchen and get us something to eat like you’re supposed to, pogue.” rafe spat the last word, his lip curling in disgust before landing his focus back on you. “do you always have to be an ass?” you shrugged him off, silently begging jj not to do what you knew he was fully capable of. “getting food isn’t in my job description, moron. i think you’d know that if you actually filled out an application.” jj winked, making rafe scoff. “why would i when we have people like you who need it more than i ever will?”

“rafe get out of here, seriously.” you shooed him, only for jj to intervene. “people like me? people who don’t have to depend on their daddy still?” you sighed when you saw rafe get up, his friends all somehow making their way over in unison. “let’s not do this, please, let’s just go jay.” you adjusted your little purse on your shoulder, motioning for jj to follow you out. “jay? you have a nickname for this loser?” rafe narrowed his eyes, “you know your parents would never approve of this scumbag.” jj reached over the bar, grabbing rafe by the collar of his shirt.

you stepped in front of rafe’s friends before they could team against jj. “and if her parents knew who you really were, they wouldn’t approve of you either. how does it feel knowing y/n will never choose you?” jj smiled. rafe was seeing red at this point. pulling his fist back, rafe swung and landed a punch square on jj’s cheek. the club then broke out into complete chaos. while rafe and jj were full on fighting with nothing but the bar between them, you were pushing rafe’s friends, telling them to let rafe and jj handle their business alone.

“what the hell is going on here?!” the director of the whole place came rushing in, his face beet red as he glared at jj. “just a little falling out, sir. they’re already done.” you flashed him a sweet smile, hoping he could just drop it. “you let go of that cameron boy right now, young man! his father is a very generous patron here,” rafe smirked as jj shoved him away, “and give me that apron, you’re done.” you sighed, shoulders falling in defeat as jj rounded the corner of the bar. this is officially the third job jj has gotten fired from on figure eight.

you followed jj as he balled up the material, chucking it in the director’s chest. “good, this job fuckin’ sucked.” you gasped, apologizing for him as you two walked out of the country club. “what the fuck?!” you stopped him, pulling his shoulder so he could face you. “look, i’m gonna do my own thing on the cut, and get money how i want to, alright? this shit isn’t for me. if you want to be mad at me for how i reacted towards rafe, fine, but i’m done with figure eight.” you watched him get on his dirt bike, pinching the bridge of your nose as he rode through the flowers.

#‧₊˚✩彡 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #my first jj maybank post on here!!#leave jj requests <3 #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj outer banks #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction

160 notes · View notes

oracle-of-dream · 2 days

Text

Slow Day

Minors DNI (Not Proofread)

Summary: Just another slow day at work. Jay is running the store alone. At least, that's what everyone can see...

Warnings: Male reader, Public Sex, Blowjob, Throat fucking, Hair pulling, Cum Swallowing, Whimpering, Overstimulation, Sub!Jay, Pet name (Puppy)

Wordcount: 970

The electronic chime of the front door interrupted the sound of soft music as a new customer walked in. They eyed the menu while Jay stood at the register to take their order.

Jay–slouched onto the counter, kept his eyes on the ground, and focused on breathing. When the customer was ready to order, he raised his head to look at them. "H-How can I help you?" His voice shook as he spoke.

"Can I just get an iced americano?"

"Yeah. What size?" Jay's eyes drifted down as he took their order, twitching and shifting uncomfortably.

"I'll take a small."

The customer handed Jay their card, but the counter was too wide and he had to learn to reach it. Jay sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned forward over the high counter, his hands shaking as he took the card. He typed in the orders, swiped the card, and returned it to the customer.

"I'll go make it right now."

Jay sighed as he walked along the counter, his rips scraping against the countertop. He started making the coffee, his face was shiny with sweat and his face was pink. He looked at the ground under the register, speaking with his eyes–giving a pleading look. Once the drink was made, he walked back to the register.

"One Iced Ah–" Jay's voice caught in his throat as he said the order, the drink shaking in his hands while the other hand gripped the counter. "I-Iced Americano," Jay stuttered out.

The customer picked up the drink and Jay silently cursed as he saw them sit in the empty cafe. The customer pulled out a book and slowly drank their drink, while Jay prayed for them to leave. Praying for anything to make them go. He couldn't keep quiet forever... The seconds were so painfully long. Jay leaned on the high counter for support, his breathing getting heavier. He covered his mouth and tried to keep his noises down, but whimpers emerged from his lips. The music in the store was barely loud enough to his moans from reaching the customer. That's when Jay's prayers were answered. The customer's phone rang and they picked it up, put their book away, and left as they spoke on the phone.

"Have a n-nice day," Jay muttered as they walked out. As soon as the door closed, Jay's facade came undone. "Holy shit, y-y/n! You're doing too much!" Jay looked down at you hiding under the counter with his cock in your mouth. Your eyes fluttered up to him as you sucked him off.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth with a wet pop. "That's the third customer today, and you still managed to hold it together. What a good boy you are!" You cooed at him. "Should I reward you?"

"Yes! Fuck! You said-" You stopped touching Jay altogether, making Jay silent.

"Are you forgetting your manners? I thought we talked about this."

Jay shook his head furiously, his hair cutely shaking. "No, no! I'm sorry, I got too excited. Please give me a reward." Jay groaned as he pushed his cock toward your lips. "Please. I can't cum without you..."

You kissed his tip, earning a yelp from him. "I know... I trained you so well that you won't even cum unless I tell you to, didn't I?" To take him into your hand, lazily stroking him.

"Y-Yes! I can't cum until you say so–I promised."

"You did," You hummed. You licked his tip, now getting more whimpers from your well-trained dog. "Beg for more, puppy."

You knew Jay was always embarrassed when it came to begging. He wanted to be the strong and dominant one with you, but he'd always melt when you touched him. His ears turned red as he opened his mouth to speak. "Please... touch me, baby."

"What a good boy!" You giggled.

You relaxed your jaw and throat completely as you slowly slid his cock down your throat, moving your tongue playfully. As soon as his tip kissed the back of your throat, you moaned on him, sending vibrations through him. His body jerked forward, trying to go deeper. You slapped his leg. Jay knew the rules–he can do what he wants if you let him. Otherwise, you have to take what you give him.

Jay's eyes rolled back as moans spilled from his mouth, the cafe's music drowned out by his voice. "More, please, give me more–" You reached for his hand and gently laid it on your head, tapping it twice. Jay smiled when he got the signal. It was finally his turn.

His fingers laced into your hair as he pushed your head and trusted his hips into your mouth. He was already super sensitive from the teasing, as his eyes squeezed shut from the sensation. You knew he always came fast when you let him drive, which is why you liked taking your time with him–milking out every moan before letting him run himself into the ground. Jay's breaths were loud grunts as his hips stuttered, his head falling as he forced himself to look at you to watch his favorite part.

"Cum, cum, I– please!"

You tapped on his leg three times, giving him permission to orgasm. On command, Jay came instantly and poured his seed down your throat. His eyes lost focus as he leaned on the counter to catch him from falling back. You continued to suck him off, earning desperate cries from him, as you sucked him dry. Swallowing every drop–super sweet, just the way you liked it.

You climbed out from under the counter. "Puppy, go clean yourself up. I'll watch the register." You watched Jay cutely stumble toward the back, holding his wet cock as he carefully tried to pull his underwear up without triggering himself.

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #x male reader #kpop male reader #enhypen fanfiction #x male smut #x reader #jay enha #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #jongseong #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen jay x reader

131 notes · View notes

eggyrocks · 2 days

Note

Hi!! I really love your work and congrats on getting 500 followers!! i was wondering if you could write #83 with mattsun?? thank you!!

yes yes yes i love this prompt fhjdkjkhlj i hope i do it justice

500 follower special: #83 “It’s always been you.”

mattsun x gn reader, friends to lovers, party setting, language, not proofread

written content masterlist

They picked a bathroom to hide in, them and Matsukawa. Outside the closed and locked bathroom door, is a crowd of drunk people listening to loud, bad music with the lights off. But inside that small, cramped bathroom, they sit with their back against the edge of the bathtub, legs stretched out towards Matsukawa, who leans against the opposite wall, his legs resting on top of theirs.

They like it better like this. When it's just them.

"Oikawa's gonna be mad at you," they say casually, holding a plastic cup up to their lips as they speak, trying to hide their self-satisfied grin. "This is the third person he's tried to set you up with that you've bailed on."

Matsukawa snickers, arms loosely crossed over his chest. Out there somewhere is his 'date,' probably bored and probably looking for him. They almost feel bad for whoever it is. They would feel worse if Matsukawa hadn't explicitly told Oikawa not to do this again.

And maybe they're just a little too overjoyed that he's here with them, again, instead of Oikawa's matchmaker experiment, to feel bad. Maybe their chest is fluttering at the idea that they're Matsukawa's first choice for company.

"Who cares? He's always up in arms about something," Matsukawa shrugs. "He'll get over it."

There's a knock on the door. Three loud, impatient bangs. "Occupied!" they call out to whoever's on the other side, not looking away from Matsukawa as they do.

From the other side, there's a groan, and retreating footsteps. Neither one of them feel too bad; they've got several other options, in a house like this.

"What about you?" Matsukawa asks, nodding his head in their direction. "Didn't you ditch the guy you came here with?"

That they do feel a bit bad for. The what's-his-name they showed up with seemed nice enough, they figured. And they had resolved before showing up to this stupid party that they would at least make an honest effort to stay by his side for the majority of the night.

But all it took was one look at Matsukawa from across the room, and they abandoned all of their resolve. All he had to do was smirk, and they were trailing behind him, obedient.

It always ends up like this. Just them.

"Eh," they respond with a shrug of their own, placing their cup on the floor beside them. "I don't think he's really my type."

Matsukawa scoffs. "You say that about everyone. I'm starting to think no one's your type."

Heat creeps up their neck. "Yeah, well you reject every-"

There's more knocks on the door, these ones more aggressive. Matsukawa lifts a leg off of theirs and jams the heel of his foot into the door. "Occupied," he says, voice low and not too concerned.

"Oikawa's looking for you two fuckers," the voice from the other side of the door, and they immediately recognize it to be Iwaizumi's. "And if he keeps annoying me about it, I'm gonna tell him where you are."

"Got it," Matsukawa calls back, eyes still heavy on them as he speaks. "Thanks Iwa."

They can hear Iwaizumi scoff as he retreats. Matsukawa gestures for them to continue. "Go on," he instructs.

"I was just saying," they continue, almost wishing they didn't have to; it's a dangerous line of conversation, "you can't really talk, since you've turned down every single person that's ever been interested in you."

And there's this sort of shift in the way Matsukawa looks at them. He lowers his gaze, and he leans forward, just a touch. "Have you ever thought," he starts, his voice shooting right through them, "that maybe there's a reason for that?"

They're not sure if their desperation for him is making them imagine something that's not there, for if there's a new light in his eyes, that he's looking at them differently. They swallow. "You're picky, is what I always thought."

Matsukawa sighs, and leans back against the wall. "Nah, you're way off."

"Well, then tell me," they insist, and now they're the one inching closer. There's a light knock on the door once more. "Fuck off," they spit out unceremoniously. "What's the reason, Issei?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Why do you wanna know so bad?" he questions.

Their face flushes, and they suddenly feel caught. They force themself to relax, shoulders slumping. "I mean, I dunno. I guess it's just...interesting."

Matsukawa removes his legs from theirs and sits cross-legged in front of them, inching closer. "What's so interesting about it, then?"

The small space of the bathroom suddenly feels much hotter than it did before, like the bright, yellow lights are heating up and burning them. Matsukawa does not once look away from them. "Is it so bad to wanna know things about you?" they question, unable to think of anything else reasonable when he's looking at them like that.

He looks over the details of their face, eyes roaming from the bridge of their nose to their shinning eyes to the curve of their lips. They feel like they can't breathe, when he looks at them like that. "I guess not," he answers softly and evenly. "It's you."

Their mouth feels like it's full of sand. "What?"

Matsukawa reaches forward and loops his fingers around the belt loops of their jeans, and he pulls them closer, sliding them against the tiled floor until their nose almost touches his. The sudden proximity makes their breath catch in their throat.

"I don't want them because they're not you," he says, eyes lowered.

Their eyes are wide and fixed on his, heart beating rapidly in the base of their throat. And they've lost all grip on their thoughts, head now full of buzzing static. All they can focus on his Matsukawa, and the way their body reacts to him.

"The reason I reject everyone is you," he tells them. "It's always been you."

For a moment, his words hang in the air. They don't settle in. They won't really settle in for a while. All that matters to them now is the way Matsukawa is looking at them, eyes intense and unwavering, "Issei," they finally breathe out, able to manage it because his name is one of the few comprehensible thoughts spinning in their head. "I want you."

The words come from them without much consideration of their meaning or implication, but it's true. They do want him. They've always wanted him. And it doesn't take much else for Matsukawa to smirk, and reach his hands up to cup their face, gently pulling them in closer.

And then-

"You two!" Oikawa's voice from the other side of the door rings out, accompanied by his fists slamming against the wood. "I am so sick of you two! Get out here and socialize with everyone else for once! God, with the amount of them you guys have been hiding you better've hooked up by now!"

Matsukawa doesn't even react, like he doesn't even hear the words of his friend as his eyes flutter shut, and his lips finally crash against theirs.

an: another one down....im afraid i'll be writing these forever......(also first time writing mattsun pls let me know what u think im afraid lmafo)

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @michivrse (complete form linked in navigation to be added pls, send me a msg if you would like to be removed)

(my first time remembering to tag ppl in written content <3)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq #mattsun x reader #mattsun x yn #mattsun x you #matsukawa issei #hq matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei x yn

101 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 3 days

Text

Ancient Transformation

I know how we all love to meme on how it's stated transformation is seen in the Ancient society, but I also tend to think it's one of those cases where the actual meaning of the passage has been, well, meme'd a little too far.

(Like how the devs have had to go out of their way to point out Estinien does bathe, guys, it was aetheric alteration to his armor, and he does regularly wear armor which might lead to funk and helmet hair but he likes to be clean when it's off.)

Let's look at the actual passage in the Elpis quest "Their Greatest Contribution" where they're trying to help the charybdis fly (bolding by me):

Hermes: I shall transform and fly with it, helping it to manipulate wind until it finds its wings. Troubled Observer: What!? Y-You needn't go to such lengths… (Emet-Selch notices the WoL's confusion) Emet-Selch: You don't know? But of course not… Emet-Selch: Transformation is an art in which one manipulates a vast quantity of aether to construct another body around oneself. Emet-Selch: In practice, this allows one to assume any conceivable form, and thereby transcend the limits of one's flesh. Emet-Selch: Yet convenient though it may be, transforming in the presence of others is considered vainglorious in the extreme. As uncouth and unseemly as running about robeless. Shameful. Emet-Selch: Am I to understand you make a habit of this? Hermes: N-Nothing of the sort. It's just that, when transformed, I can wield the wind and fly. Hermes: It may seem excessive, but what is our shame next to the lives of these creatures? Hermes: They deserve a chance, and we owe it to them to do all in our power! Emet-Selch: Be that as it may…

What everyone tends to focus on, of course, is his analogy of "running about robeless" and equating that it's the same as nudity. Which makes for funny memeing.

But look again at the actual description of how transforming is seen:

Yet convenient though it may be, transforming in the presence of others is considered vainglorious in the extreme.

"Vainglorious" is the adjective of "Vainglory" which Merriam-Webster defines as "excessive or ostentatious pride especially in one's achievements; vain display or show; vanity."

the "uncouth and unseemly" part isn't so much the nudity part, but the showing off. Visibly boasting about one's power and strength by displaying one's transformed state.

So why the nudity analogy? Well, for one, is it actually discussing nudity, or walking around in outfits/ways that don't conform to societal standards? Ancient society seemed to be striving for an egalitarian system, which their magics made easy enough, though there's still stratification of some kind (based on peoples' roles). But the robes and masks are an attempt to produce a visual equality among members with variable magical skill (and that would otherwise be seen via those transformations if they indulged in them). It's about the conformity (for better or worse) to community.

The other reason I can think for that analogy is how common Ancient Greek inspired words and names in Amaurot's world are. And what many people also equate to Ancient Greece, aside from the tales of the Olympians, is the myriad artwork, often in various forms of athletic bodies in competition, whether war or sports. While there's plenty of fully clothed/armored imagery, classic nudes are common imagery in popular culture and not even in a sexual way; they're showing off their prowess as athletes and warriors.

(The third possible reason is Emet-Selch has ever been a Dramatic Bitch Like That and tends to the theatrical in his wording, even at his most traditional and conservative.)

Emet-Selch's concern about Hermes transforming is because it's considered bad manners to just transform on a whim--because it would indicate he's a boastful show off, or reliant on his transformed state, or otherwise cavalier about societal norms--which however one reads the line about transformations, would, from Emet-Selch's view, be a bad look for a potential member of the Convocation!

And the poor charybdis observer is all too aware that a member of the Convocation is standing right there, boss! Even if this is something Hermes does at times in extreme cases to aid their creations in his role as chief, this is not the best time to break out the transformation, even for the sake of a troubled creature.

And of course we do eventually see Hermes in his transformed state, and just how capable he is at manipulating wind magics in it.

In the end, the question of transforming for something as simple as the charybdis's struggles strikes me as yet another indicator, despite his mentor's nomination, that Hermes was not Convocation material despite his role as Elpis's chief; his shaken state post-Ktisis would be seen as a reaction to the "accident", and he likely knew how to mask (in the social emotional sense) and give the right answers despite his own depression and doubts. And with none but Venat remembering what else happened in those days at the facility, he managed to obtain the role anyway, now that he believed his Meteion project to have failed.

#final fantasy xiv #endwalker #elpis #hermes #emet-selch #transformation #memes #lore #interpretation

106 notes · View notes

billthedrake · 2 days

Text

FAMILY BUSINESS

"You want another, son?" Frank Mazza asked as he and his son Anthony sat in the living room of Frank's townhouse. Thursdays after work were generally dad-and-son time, a chance to catch up outside of work. It was pretty much the same every week. Two beers before Tony went back to the "luxury apartment" he shared with his girlfriend Becky. The TV on mute as ESPN or some sports game played. Conversation drifting between small talk to serious matters and back to small talk.

Every Thursday Frank asked his son if he wanted a third beer, and every Thursday Tony declined. Frank gathered Tony wasn't pussy whipped or anything, but the two had shared enough guy talk to know the 24-year-old never liked to miss a day when it came to sex and if he came home too late, or too drunk, Becky wouldn't put out.

The Mazza men had shared a lot more guy talk lately.

Tony lifted up his bottle and gave it a glance before finishing it off with a final swig. The kid had the killer Mazza smile and those soulful brown eyes that made him a ladies man in high school and in his fraternity days at college. "Yeah, sound good, Dad," he said. "Though I'll have to take an Uber or something."

Frank cracked a grin and patted Tony's knee with his big mitt of a hand before he hoisted his beefy body up. "You're always welcome to crash in the spare room."

Tony grinned. "You ever gonna put away all my football trophies?" he laughed.

Frank chuckled. "It's still your room, Tone... I guess a father never gets over the empty nest thing."

Tony rolled his eyes some but didn't lose that Mazza smile. "Empty nest? Dad, we see each other practically every day. More than after the divorce."

Frank winced a little in the grimace. That had been tough. He still didn't know if he'd made the right move divorcing Janice when he did. It killed him to think he'd put his son through that and selfishly he knew it had made his relationship with Tone a lot tougher for a lot of years. "Yeah," he said softly.

"Come on, Dad," Anthony objected. "I didn't mean it like that."

Frank nodded and went to get two more beers. He felt relieved when he came back and indeed Tony was in one of his relaxed, happy go lucky moods.

"Long day," the son said as he took a sip.

"Now you know how I've felt all these years," Frank said. It wasn't that Frank Mazza didn't value being a family man, but he'd always been a workaholic. He loved being in the provider role, maybe, and certainly loved the satisfaction of an honest day's work, maybe it was more satisfying than the emotional connections he sometimes had a hard time with in marriage.

Anthony shrugged. "I don't mind the hours when I know I'm working for myself."

Frank grinned. He was 44 now and thick-muscular Italian looks were now more clearly handsome. Gray temples set off his tan face and his otherwise dark hair. And his clean-shaven scruff made his dark complexion more alluringly masculine. "You know... I didn't expect you'd come back and join the business," he said, opening up with that third beer.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, Dad. I know. But I never had a doubt I wanted to... I mean... you worked hard to build the business up, I wanna do the Mazza name proud."

Frank worried he was going to get emotional. He and Tone had a rough patch when he was in high school, and he knew for sure that once the kid went off to college and got the degree his father never did... well, Frank expected Tony to never look back.

Instead, Mazza Contractors became Mazza and Son. They joked that Frank was the Brawn and Tony was the brains. It wasn't like his son wasn't muscular in his own right - a former tight end in high school and a regular devotee of the gym these days, Tony was downright buff. But he had a Bachelors in Business Administration and a good head for accounting. Tony was already the one interfacing with clients, generally well-to-do suburbanites looking for an upscale kitchen or bathroom remodel job. More than Frank, he knew how to talk those fuckers' language and how to placate demanding Karens. And when needed, Frank would show up to assure them of that blue-collar work ethic.

"So..." Frank said, changing the subject. "Becky not expecting you home?"

Tony shook his head. He had a look that was a mix of wounded and defiant. "Nah, we broke up."

"What?" the father said. Maybe because Tony had rekindled things with his high school sweetheart after graduation, he expected this one to last. "Sorry to hear, son."

Tony shrugged. "It's all right. It kind of sucks, but I was the one to call things off."

Frank leaned forward, his brown eyes showing that parental concern. "Can I ask what the problem was?"

Gone was that Mazza smile as Tony explained. "It's just... you know how Becky is very independent. You know, the career woman type... I don't know, Dad... I think I need someone more traditional."

"Traditional?" Frank questioned.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, you know, kind of like you and Mom. The wife staying home, taking care of things, the man being the bread winner. That kind of thing."

Frank patted Tony's shoulder in reassurance. "I know times have changed," he said. "But I'm pretty sure there are some traditional women out there."

Tony nodded. "Probably, yeah."

Frank leaned in and sais in a quiet, conspiratorial tone. "Just be careful... some of the traditional girls... well, they sometimes expect to be spoiled some. Particularly if they're pretty."

Tony laughed. "I know Mom was a princess, Dad," he said. "You don't have to mince words."

Frank clapped Tone's firm shoulder and withdrew his hand. "Guess not. Look... I made a promise I was never gonna speak ill of your mother to ya. But I'll just say there were times I wish I'd been supported more at home. After a ten hour day, sometimes a man just wants to be pampered a little when he gets home, you know?"

Tony's eyes met his. "That's it in a nutshell, Dad. It's just us guys, right?" the son asked as a prelude to what he was about to say. Not all fathers and sons talked openly about sex, but Frank never seemed to have any hangups, and since Tony had first gone to college they reconnected almost like buddies as much as family.

"Yeah," Frank assured him. "Just us guys."

"Becky was nice and all... and in my way I loved her, Dad. Still do.. but, fuck... I'd get home from the office and she'd be yammering about all her work crap and I'd just want to kick back and get a fucking blowjob."

Tony's crude words didn't shock Frank. Just as Frank's never shocked Tony.

"I hear ya, son," the man said. "Your old man's not one to be handing out dating advice, but you should find a girl who likes giving head and doesn't mind giving it."

Tony grinned. "Had one girl in college who did. But she was a stuck up bitch," he said. "She thought she was slumming it by going out with an Italian dude... I guess we both used each other."

Frank grinned. He had a good idea which girl Tone was talking about.

But his son's train of thought had already moved on. "Well, it's a hell of a lot easier with guys."

Frank's eyes went wide. He'd had a couple experiences like that under his belt. But the father-son chats had never gone there, not even in their most buddy-buddy candidness. "You done that, Tone?"

His son took a sip of beer and nodded. "It's easy as ordering fucking takeout, Dad," he laughed. "You go on your phone, see what's on the menu, pick out a cocksucker... and then it's pick up or delivery." His accent was now half North Jersey, half generic college-bro, but as he talked crudely, his thicker Jersey side won out.

Frank laughed. His mind was going to where he tried not to let it go. To the idea of his own son's cock and some man servicing it. "Easier than when I was your age," the father blurted out.

Now it was Anthony's turn to be surprised. "You done that, too, Pop?"

Frank blushed, but he didn't want to seem like the shy one. "Well, maybe a little younger than you... before I married your mother... sure, but it was more buddies helping each other out, you know?"

Anthony gave a half-shrug, half-nod that said he'd never had that kind of arrangement with his friends. Then his lips curled into a naughty smile. "You, uh, interested in some fun, Dad?" he asked.

Frank gulped. His mind was definitely going somewhere it shouldn't. And at that moment he wished his only son wasn't so goddamn handsome.... "Whaddya mean?" he asked softly.

Tony pulled out his phone and swiped to open it. "There's one guy who always drops everything when I hit him up," he typed the phone screen a couple times and looked up. "He's really fucking good, Dad... my favorite lately... I'm sure he'd be up for taking care of you, too."

"I don't know, Tone," Frank said, caution kicking in.

But his son was undeterred. "Come on, Dad, it'll be fun..." Then leaning back, he flashed that Mazza smile to his father and asked, "when was the last time you got laid?"

Frank shook his head. "I'm not sure this is something a father discusses with his son."

"It's just us guys, Dad," Tony countered. "How long?"

Frank blushed again. "Eight months."

"Jesus fucking Christ," his son swore. He went back to messaging the online cocksucker. "You're definitely getting some head tonight."

The burly, blue collar man thought he'd be pissed at Tony for being bossy like this. But he was secretly glad. He needed to get out of his comfort zone. Maybe Tone was onto something, using guys until the right woman came along. And he even more secretly he felt a thrill at seeing his normally good-kid of a son have a naughty sexual side. A take charge side.

"There," Tony said with a laugh as he set down his phone. "Told ya. He'll be over in fifteen minutes."

Fear came again to the Dad. "Is he... um gonna do both of us? At the same time?" The idea thrilled Frank but scared the hell out of him too.

Tony shook his head. Eyes meeting his father's for that brief moment of illicit knowledge passed between them. Tony imagining that incestuous scenario but he laughed it off. "Fuck that would be wild... ha, no, we'll take turns. He knows you're my dad, though... I think that turns the fucker on... hope you don't mind."

"No," Frank replied quietly. Then looking into Tony's brown eyes, he asked, "He's good, you say?"

"The best," the son replied. He nudged Frank's arm. "Seriously, he's gonna put those high school buddies of yours to shame."

Frank was still nervous when the guy showed up. Ian was his name. Good looking, gym built gay dude in his late 30s. Surprisingly comfortable being led in by Tony.

"Ian... this is my Dad. Dad, this is Ian," Tony said. Weirdly confident and relaxed. "Ok, if I go first? I could fuck a hole in the wall I'm so horny."

Frank felt a tightness in his crotch. He'd shared guy talk with Tone, but never seen his boy quite like this. He just gave a nod and watched his son lead Ian down the hall.

The wait was interminable. But was really five minutes tops. Then Tony strutted in, face flushed, a smile showing. That recognizable just-got-laid relaxation on his face.

"Your turn, Dad. He's waiting in my room for ya."

"Thanks," Frank said, standing up. He considered backing out, but he was too turned on now. He wasn't as nearly self conscious as he should have been by the hardon his son could see or the smirk Tony flashed when he saw it.

Ian was waiting for him all right. Sitting on Tony's old bed, surrounded by his son's old stuff that Frank kept in that second bedroom, all the posters and the football trophies. The man was unzipped and had a cock in hand and a horny look on his face.

"God, I can't believe this," the cocksucker said.

Frank didn't know a lot of gay guys, but this guy was rearranging a lot of his hang ups fast. He looked at the guy's dick. The first he'd seen up close and personal in a long time. He shut the bedroom door and locked it. Then turned to Ian.

"Ok, if I suck you?" he asked. He was almost too chicken to ask, but he knew he'd never get a chance like this again.

Ian's eyes went wide in surprise for a second, then he let go of his prick, a solid tool nearing seven inches and standing ramrod straight as the man leaned back on his arms on Tony's bed. "Sure, man... go for it."

Frank Mazza was running on adrenaline. The way he crouched down and got in place. Like he'd seen chicks do in porn. He was like one of those bimbos, he thought, but the idea didn't scare him like he thought. It turned him the fuck on.

"God yes," Ian hissed as Frank started taking that dick into his mouth. "Suck me, Daddy."

Hell, this was fucking with Frank's mind. He bobbed faster and deeper. He choked some and Ian had to tell him to go slower. He did and gradually he got into a good rhythm, a nice balance between speed and depth.

THIS felt incredible, the father decided. Not like those truth-or-dare experiments or those BJ swaps with his high school buddies. This was raw intense sex between meen. Frank was 44 and just now discovering how right this felt for him. He sucked more furiously, happy his gag reflex was holding off. Barely but holding off.

Even as cum pulsed into his throat. Ian didn't bother to announce his orgasm. Didn't matter: Frank would have swallowed that load greedily. He almost didn't want to relinquish that prick, but Ian was getting sensitive.

"Damn... you should definitely treat your son to THAT," he laughed. "That's some great head."

Frank leaned up. He was beyond thinking straight, he was horny as hell and hard in his jeans. "What?" he asked.

Ian grinned. "Dude, you're both such pervs... Tony couldn't stop talking about you the whole time I blew him."

"For real?" Frank asked excitedly, not concealing what he wanted the answer to be.

"For real," the man assured him. Then reading the older man's face, he added, "That turns you on, doesn't it?"

Frank nodded, tears welling up a little, but his dick hard as steel.

Ian grinned and reached down to rub Frank's crotch and unbutton him. "I wanna suck you too, man... first son, then father... total fantasy on a silver platter."

Frank grunted and nodded. And then watched as an experienced cocksucker crouched down and slowly, expertly brought him off to a deep cum.

The two got straightened up and Ian got a suddenly sheepish look on his face. "If I give you my number, will you let me know if anything happens between you two?"

Frank could tell the incest thing was a big turn on for this guy. But was feeling less comfortable now. "I don't know, man."

"Come on... just take my number. You don't have to tell me anything too private. Hell if you just wanna hit me up for some no-strings fun, that's cool."

"Yeah," Frank relented. He had to admit that idea was appealing.

Ian gave a quick wave as he walked past Tony. "Later, man."

"Yep," Tony half waved and went back to watching sports.

Frank realized he had a similarly primal look of sexual satisfaction his son did a while ago. But as he sat down, he realized that maybe something more had transpired that evening. That maybe the genie was out of the bottle.

He looked over at his son. He had the Mazza nose and jaw line, along with some of his mother's good looks. Tony was a stunner, all right, just the kind of young stud that was just "nice" and approachable to get women to put out.

Frank thought about what it would be like to suck his son's cock.

Tony caught his father looking. He glanced over with a wink. "Ian's good, right, Dad?"

Frank blushed and nodded, turning his attention back to the TV and picking up the beer for a much needed gulp. It was half-warm but he didn't care. The man was parched now. "Yep, Tone," he finally replied. "Like you said... the best."

#drakestories

124 notes · View notes

strawberrystepmom · 12 hours

Text

pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader

word count: 9.7k

contents: Canon compliant up to the events of JJK0, cult leader!Suguru, naive reader, slight age difference between reader and Geto (5 years), reader can see curses/has cursed energy but it is kept intentionally vague

cw: dark content | emotional manipulation, dubious consent, voyeurism, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of religion and religious imagery, mind fuck-y

notes: so this is a remaster/full repost of unkindness that was on my old blog! i only got up to like the third segment in that post so i figured why not do it all at once. thank you for reading if you do and i hope that you enjoy my little story! ♡ | crossposted to ao3

When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs.

“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to detangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils.

Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.

“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”

“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”

The most unbelievable thing of all?

“You end up in love and you end up losing yourself along the way.”

Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear.

“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.

You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.

You hate that you still have the dream.

You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“Suguru?”

His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen.

Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.

You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.

He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found.

Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.

“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”

Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community.

He wouldn’t allow it.

“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.

“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”

The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.

“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?

Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.

“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”

He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5.

“How do you know about that?”

The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”

How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.

As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.

"Look at me."

He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.

"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"

A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."

The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.

"How?"

Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.

"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?

"How can you help me?"

The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You hate her.

Never in your life has such a bitter feeling gathered in the pit of your stomach. Your face flames every time Manami walks by, you can feel it and you know she can see it. Tonight, you are more glad than ever to be on kitchen duty even if it means having to listen to her cackle from the other side of the wall.

“Geto-sama!”

She sing-songs across the tatami with a giggle as Suguru traipses by en-route to have dinner with the group, seating himself at the head of the table as everyone else files in around it. You fight the urge to roll your eyes from where you’re standing next to Mimiko and Nanako, pouring hojicha into tea cups.

“Geto-sama,” you mock under your breath and Nanako giggles, dishing rice into bowls at your side. The two of you giggle together, a secret shared, as she begins to bring the dishes to the table for service. Sorting your tea cups, you count how many more servings you need as you look around the doorframe to see who is waiting.

Your relationship with Geto’s most trusted inner circle has expanded greatly since you first arrived months ago.

They knew better than to be outwardly distrustful of you. Aside from the twins, every one of them had set out to find Suguru and his group on their own. He found you. He brought you. He touted your abilities long before you arrived.

“She’s the perfect blank slate,” he gushed over dinner one night as the other members of the group listened enraptured. “We got to her just in time, too. My source says that Gojo was planning on paying her a visit.”

Your arrival was underwhelming. Greeted at the end of the footpath that leads to the front door by Miguel, Larue, Mimiko, and Nanako while Manami glowered from the porch with folded arms, you weren’t immediately made to feel welcome by anyone except for Suguru who continued to guide you along the property with your arm looped in his. She was scoping you out, taking an assessment. She believed you to be no threat. She believed wrong.

Tinkering with the last cup on the counter, you take one look into the dining room again and the realization that your usual spot is full makes you chuckle humorlessly. Not that you’re surprised, Manami has done all but piss all over Geto to mark her territory but the sight makes a bitter, sour feeling turn in your guts just the same. Your nose scrunches as if you’ve smelled something bad and you don’t immediately hear when someone else enters the kitchen to pick up the tea cups you are still filling.

“About ready?”

The voice you recognize as belonging to Mimiko calms you and you respond with a nod, wrapping your hand around the warmest cup as you take a breath and plaster a smile on. This one goes to the man himself and you feel eyes upon you as you offer it to him with a bow. His hand lingers on top of yours for a moment and you’re glad your face is pointed toward the ground, your flustered look hidden as long as you don’t make eye contact.

“We’re just waiting on you,” he chides lightly, always a stickler for timeliness. You lift your head to his view enough to offer an apologetic half smile. He pats the side of your face with his tea-warmed hand and your smile grows. Your eyes meet his rich, umber colored pair and you feel at peace. “Manami will be out of your spot by the time you get back.”

A small “oooooooh” breaks out around the table but the tension is quickly killed with a sharp look from Suguru. Everyone quietly begins shuffling their utensils and you don’t stick around to watch Manami’s rejection, scurrying back to the kitchen to gather your own rice and tea.

“I want to share a few moments after dinner, if you’d all like to stick around.”

Suguru’s words inspire nods and happy, affirmative hums and you catch the tail end of them as you settle next to him at the table. Your opposition glares icily from the other end of the table, the same look she kept plastered on her face the day you arrived, and you meet her eyes long enough to offer a sweet smile before bowing your head in thanks for the meal you were about to share.

“I’d especially like for you to stay,” he looks across the table at Manami who nods once before turning back to her plate. Her lips are pursed and her eyebrows are knit together in irritation but smugness glimmers in her eyes. “You too,” he says and you turn your head to see him glancing down at you. Fondness crinkles the corners of his eyes slightly and you shrink into yourself with a nod and a shy smile. “Of course.”

The rest of dinner goes as you’ve come to expect. The twins giggle and joke with every other member of the group and you all sit beneath the watchful eyes of your leader who sips at his own tea with a barely visible over the edge of his cup smirk but you can see it from where you sit. You can see the corners of his mouth upturned just enough it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

He looks down at you and thinks about how vulnerable you look. How little you hide, your emotions and yourself alike. Were you like this before he met you or is this his influence? He takes credit. He knows the way you flash fake nice shit eating grins in Manami’s direction is for his sake. His sweet little bird isn’t afraid to fight and he hoped that would be the case.

“Since we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a few things,” Geto clears his throat and sets his cup on the table in front of him. He basks as he feels every eye in the room turn toward him but none make him feel more intoxicated than yours. When he casts you a glance, you smile shyly. He wonders if you’ll do that forever, look at him as if he’s a savior on a big white horse. He hopes so.

“I want to make some changes in what we’ll all be doing around here,” his voice rings proud and clearly and you fight the urge to prop your head up with your hand girlishly to get a better look at him. A few people shift in their seated positions but you don’t glance around to find out who, gaze fixed upon the person you want to witness the most.

“Manami, your duties are changing.” Replacing the sound of shifting clothing is small gasping and murmuring. Manami has been Geto’s assistant for close to two years, a coveted spot amongst anyone in the group. “You will still be my personal assistant but only for off compound events and daytime hours.”

Grateful for your own refusal to look at the rest of the table, you can tune out the uncomfortable chatting. “I know this may be surprising but we have many things ahead of us we need to prepare for,” he starts and the noise quiets. “Manami is one of the brightest among us and she will excel no matter what she’s doing.”

Hearing him praise someone else makes your back stiffen, the urge to pick at the seam of your t-shirt making your fingers twist in the fabric idly. You’re grateful your grip is beneath the table, hidden from view. No one will suspect how you feel as long as you’re careful but you gasp as you feel two large, soft hands untangle your fingers from your shirt and squeeze them between their palms. Looking up you’re greeted by the handsome, vulpine smile of Geto and you feel another gentle squeeze of your hands.

You take a deep breath and ground yourself, focusing on his words as he opens his mouth.

“You will be my new on-premises and evenings assistant.” Despite your shock and the look on your face that shows it clear as day, you nod. “I would love to,” you clarify and he squeezes your hands once more as he rises and drops your clammy fingers back into your lap.

Standing at his full height, Geto smiles as he looks over the faces of everyone sitting around him. Even Manami is working to hide her pout, looking toward the ground but keeping a smile plastered on her face. You sit with your legs tucked beneath you, a shred of hope illuminating parts of you that you once saw as dark and empty.

You get to spend most of your day with Geto, most of your evenings too. Perhaps in that time he will finally have the opportunity to tell you about your gift. In 6 months you’ve learned as much as you knew the day you arrived but that may be soon to change. Giddiness makes you smile slightly, your face beaming as you keep it looking up.

Suguru extends his hand in your direction and your smile grows wider. Gingerly placing your palm in his, he helps you rise as he places his hands on either side of your face. You strain your neck glancing up at him, you’re only chest level or so to his massive form and you can feel him using his grip on your cheeks to lower your head. Once you’re gazing at the floor his lips graze your forehead and you gasp, fire erupting through your limbs.

“I’m going to teach you so much,” he coos as he uses his grip to turn your face back toward him. His eyes drink in the sight of you - the tip of your nose, the shape of your lips, and he smirks so quickly you swear you only imagined it. His thumbs graze your cheeks before he drops his grip and looks over your head at everyone else. That tall, dark shadow rests directly over you, though.

“You’re all dismissed, thank you for a lovely evening.”

Everyone stands and you stay facing Geto until all of the footsteps have filed out, waiting for his permission to leave next. You flinch slightly when his hands grip your face again, a natural reflex to the surprise of his touch, and he gazes at you silently for so long you stop keeping time. It could have been seconds, it could have been days - you will never know but you will accept it nevertheless.

“Come see me tomorrow morning,” he whispers and you nod. You can see his eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth and you wonder what he’s thinking. He dips his head slightly and you can feel his lips brush gently against yours, a kiss almost too small to be qualified as one. You shiver, his thumbs digging into the plump flesh of your cheeks.

“Yes sir.”

“Say that again,” he mutters against your lips. The vibrations of his words are directly on your skin and the heat that erupted in your limbs before has become a full blown fire, your face hot and your palms sticking together. “Yes sir.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead and releases his grip, straightening his back out as he walks toward the door and offers you a bow of his head. “Get some rest.”

You make certain he’s gone before you touch your fingers to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you commit the feel of his soft mouth on yours to memory. You won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Geto-sama?”

The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.

“Why am I here?”

If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon.

“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”

Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh.

You’re uncertain of how much time has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?

“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”

Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.

“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”

Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next.

Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.

“Please be honest with me.”

Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?

Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.

“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”

His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer to you but cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.

The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.

“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”

He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.

“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak.

“So long, Suguru.”

He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of heaven, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.

“Can I touch you too?”

Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.

“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”

Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did when he felt the first of your defenses crumble, the day he approached you to come with him. It strikes him as funny that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further.

“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.

"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."

His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.

Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better.

“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”

Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth.

“I knew it was you from the moment we met.”

He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.

Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.

“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”

Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority.

Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag.

“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.

“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live.

Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”

The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.

“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”

You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.

Days spent on the compound are simultaneously mind-numbingly boring and some of the busiest you’ve ever had.

Each morning, you rise with the sun and watch her from the window that is on the wall opposite where you lie. Most of the time you are on your side, arms wrapped around yourself, in your bed or Suguru’s depending on the events of the evening prior. He most often has you visit him in his quarters and you appreciate the near luxurious gift of privacy on those evenings. It’s far less private in your own room, thin walls separating yourself and whoever is in the room next to yours, although everyone seems to know exactly what Geto uses you for and has since your arrival.

He honors you by allowing you to love him, you remind yourself while the dark thoughts swirling in you churn. They’ll be chased away by the sun and by his presence when he returns to his room where you lay. His side of the futon is empty, already made up as if he were never there, so you allow your mind to wander. If he’s feeling generous, maybe today he will have lunch with you or even better, he’ll finally allow you to begin training your cursed energy into something more than a never-ending sinking feeling in your guts.

He promised you a very long time ago he would help you learn about your own abilities. It seems ungrateful to still long for usefulness considering you know exactly what your role is, yet you can’t help but wish to find this key to understand yourself that seems to always be out of reach.

Tracking the time fell away from you long ago, not long after the first time you were intimate with the man you so dutifully serve. Autumn gave way to winter which faded into a difficult to remember spring followed by the once again balmy days of summer. Again and again and again. Cicadas ring out across the secluded surroundings of the compound morning to night. You blink as they instruct you to rise, singing a tune even more rehearsed than the mechanical beeps of the alarms you used to set on your phone. How long has it been since you’ve had a phone?

Does it matter?

Months or years may have passed but you find that you don’t care all that much. Time passes the same without being able to watch it, a voice that sounds a lot like Geto’s reminds you in the back of your head. You are here forever as part of your purpose to serve his goals and time is just a construct.

When’s the last time you felt like yourself?

Last night, when his satisfaction was the only thing you had to be concerned about, you chide yourself silently. You sound ungrateful to your own ears even if you don’t speak, these endlessly appearing questions becoming more aggravating with each second that passes, and you are annoyed and angry when you rise from Suguru’s bed, re-knotting the tie of your yukata. The shoji is open and he stands just outside of it wearing a cotton robe of his own, sunlight silhouetting him.

He’s a God, you remind yourself, though it doesn’t kill the bitter taste in your mouth the way it usually does. Shuffling toward the door, you take a deep breath and call out his name from inside, his face turning toward you. This makes the bitter taste turn into something sweet you wish to taste again, a soft smile replacing your uncertain frown.

“Good morning,” he calls toward you, sweeping his hand out in front of you to indicate where he’d like you to be. You dutifully follow the wordless instructions and arrive at his side with a smile, squinting in the early morning light.

“Good morning, Suguru. How did you sleep?” Smiling down at you, he gently takes your hand. “As well as I always do when you’re in my bed.”

The compliment and his touch make you feel girlish, heat rising in your face. To be a God’s beloved concubine is an honor, one you rarely take for granted even in your weakest moments. He has given you purpose, motivation, and an understanding you would not have found in a world with people who are unlike you.

Yet that same pit in your stomach lingers. He can tell, narrowing his eyes when he glances at you again though you avert your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?”

A tight smile slips across your face, measured and careful; similar to the one you always give Manami when she’s swearing her devotion to him at dinner or after the congregation. You want to tell him the truth, to open up and make him understand your need to be useful, but the words stick inside of you.

“Nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well.”

It isn’t exactly a lie but he knows that it isn’t the entire truth and his blood runs cold wondering what you’re hiding. You are usually so placid around him, glassy eyes and subdued smiles with averted eyes, but he can feel the anxiety flaring from your body. Are you unhappy? Is the spell he has held over you weakening? Does he need to scare you into reminding you of where your place is, the way he has with so many others?

Tutting gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side.

“Speak freely, I value everything you have to say.”

Lulled into a false sense of security, you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“May I train with you today?”

Suguru laughs, lifting his hand and gently brushing his thumb against your chin. He’s always touching you when it’s just the two of you, hands rubbing your forearms or fingers pressed against your face. He’s a sculptor and what are you if not simply the clay he’s molding beneath his touch, smoothing out edges and reshaping you from the bottom up into something you aren’t sure you recognize anymore which is how he has always intended things to be. His perfect blank slate, he said so many years ago. There isn’t a time where you haven’t proven it to be true even if you need a reminder.

“Why?”

The tone of his voice makes you feel foolish for asking and your sidelong glance turns to the ground beneath you. Subservience is a practice and one you tend to be good at, evidence provided in the form of your refusal to make eye contact even when he begins speaking again.

“I’ll protect you from anything that could hurt you. You know that, right?” He furrows his brow, one of his hands wrapped around your forearm while the other remains on your chin. “You are safe here. Nothing here can or would hurt you, not while you’re in my care. Isn’t that enough for you? You demand training so you can, what? Fight?” Chuckling and finishing with a haughty sigh, he shakes his head. “You don’t have a fight in you, little girl. You never have.”

Defenses faltering, you laugh to yourself and up at him, sensitive eyes once again squinting when faced with the grace of the higher being in front of you. Of course he’s keeping you from having to enter battles you aren’t equipped for, isn’t that what he has been doing this entire time? Protecting you from those shadows that have lurked over your shoulder and kept you from sleeping since you were a child, comforting you, blessing you.

Your rudderlessness isn’t Suguru’s fault, it’s simply your own for assuming you know more than he does.

Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.

“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

You call him Suguru in pleasure and Geto-sama in exaltation, raising it to the heavens that put him on the earth. Moving to fall to your knees before him in apology for making him believe his protection isn’t enough, he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. His thumb digs into your collarbone, somewhere between painfully and pleasurably, and you remain standing on wobbly feet with a dumbfounded expression.

“I already have. For everything.”

There is so much you’ve done since you’ve arrived, so much to be forgiven for. Questioning him, doubting your place with him, doubting others, speaking with a jealous tongue and thinking poisonous thoughts. You accept his grace with a smile, tears rimming your eyes. You have always been told that forgiveness grants freedom, the wind at your back and the sun on your face. You feel it on this day, gazing up at a man who has saved you time and time again despite your own folly.

Nodding and sniffling, you shut your eyes to stop yourself from open mouthed sobbing in thanks. You don’t deserve this and never have.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve told nobody else, okay?”

The assertion that he still trusts you despite your disrespect makes you emotional again, eyes opening and tears falling while you nod.

“I love you.”

I love your devotion to me, he means, though you’ll never read between the lines to consider that the truth is that you are just a pawn to a man you’ve dedicated your existence to pleasing. Your body, your words, even the way you enter a room have all been carefully trained to suit him. You’ve been broken by his hands and he is always in a hurry to remake you, fashioning you into something once again useful.

“That’s why you’re here, little bird. To be safe and loved, not to fight or grow jealous or be angry with me. Are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly, leaning into his touch with furrowed brows. He drops his hand from your chin and wraps his arm around your waist. “Never, Suguru.”

“Then don’t ask about training again, understood? Trust me to take care of you.”

And trust you do, nodding and finally letting that open mouth sob escape. He does a bit more tutting and his large hands paw at your body, yanking at the knot keeping your robe closed, roughly cupping your breast when the fabric falls open. Tears drip down your cheeks and onto the back of his hand, just how he likes it, and his tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he glances down at you.

“Do you trust me?”

This isn’t even close to the first time that he has asked but he needs to know just how many pieces he has smashed you into. He flexes his hand, squeezing your breast, further punctuating the point he’s trying to make - every little bit of you is his to have, to control, to make, to break, to feel.

“More than anything, Suguru, I swear.” Your legs ache to once again fold and bring you to your knees, the way you best know how to prove your regret, but you remain standing, lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your apology is a mantra you repeat as his hand dips lower beneath your robe, grazing the soft skin of your stomach and hip. Roughly wrapping a hand around said hip, he pulls you against his body, cold glance locked on your puffy, wet eyes. Despite himself, he smirks down at you, head tilted to the side. His hair is a black curtain that falls over both of you, soft strands resting against your bare torso and arm.

“Do you love me?”

You do not have to think about your answer though it shakes when it leaves your mouth, your lungs begging you to gulp down enough air to replace what you’ve let escape through sobs.

“I love you so much.” You shake your head and sob again. “Please, please believe me”

You feel like a half-formed thing, ready to be made over however he sees fit.

“I believe you, no need to cry,” he assures you, grip on your hip tightening. You breathe through your open mouth and he takes the opportunity to bring his thumb to your face once again, pulling your jaw down and widening your mouth. You know what’s coming next, heat stirring from deep within you despite your sorrow, before he even commands it.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and he spits down onto the muscle.You roll it back into your mouth in an instant, grateful for the opportunity to have even the tiniest piece of him in you, his eyes following your throat as you swallow. Communion, consumption of him to purify yourself from the inside out. The ultimate apology until he can use your cunt to fulfill himself later, although he wants to take you now, right here, inviting everyone out to see the work of a master craftsman.

Sobs gradually give way to less powerful sniffles, you squint up at him with your skin exposed and his touch and his hair and his scent and wonder what you were even wishing would happen in the first place. That he’d train you to do what, exactly? This is what you were meant to do.

“Do you feel better?”

You nod and he smiles down at you, the same measured smirk he always wears. He leans down and kisses your forehead, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to give you some semblance of modesty but leaving it open as he ushers you back inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suguru crowds you into the room, leading his nearly lost lamb toward the futon while untying his own robe.

“Now, apologize like you mean it.”

Now, you fall to your knees, grateful he’s allowed you to show how sorry you are in the shadows of his room instead of by the light of the sun.

“War is on the horizon.”

Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you at Suguru’s side on the elevated platform at the front of the room, you keep your eyes downcast while he addresses his congregation. This is your role, it has been for a very long time now, and you’ve learned to ignore curious onlookers or newcomers who will never be able to fathom such fanatical love.

You love him so much you silence yourself. You sit by his side, so quiet you may as well be nothing but air. You have never learned how to defend yourself or even delved into the curses that used to weigh you down; freedom from these responsibilities came in the form of surrendering yourself fully to him. Body, mind, soul, all tied to his whims. You are a puppet on a string and he is free to move you in whichever way he chooses.

Just the way you like it.

“I’ve officially made the declaration to Satoru Gojo himself.”

For the first time in years, you look up when you are meant to look down, the anxious murmuring of the crowd making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You know what happens when the congregation disagrees or questions their leader and he rises with a flourish, petting the back of your head gently before stepping off of the platform.

“Do I sense disagreement?”

Looking every bit the apex predator that he is, you dare keep your gaze trained on his back rather than the floor. His head swivels from one prostrate form to another, seeking out anyone who dares disagree with his plans. Foreheads touch the ground below them, the ultimate show of devotion, yet one head remains raised and Suguru chuckles as he approaches the newcomer.

You don’t know their name, you realize. You stopped bothering to learn the newcomer’s names given how little interaction you have with them. They’re nothing but faces to be forgotten about after they have spoken out of turn and met their end at the hands of the man standing with his chin held high.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

Whatever boldness was previously etched into the face of the man kneeling before Suguru has very clearly disappeared but tension flares through the room regardless. You know that whatever choice he makes, however he chooses to deal with this foolish man, is exactly what he deserves. To spit in the face of God is bold and everyone has to learn their place eventually.

You certainly have.

“N-no, no. Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

Suguru clicks his tongue, turning to face the rest of his family with his arms spread wide, face turned toward the ceiling. Your eyes are to be trained on the ground but you drink in the sight of him standing amongst the mortals who have always believed they know better than he does.

“What do you think I should do to the non-believer today?”

The question is rhetorical. At least, the silent room treats it that way, no one rushing to answer. Everyone knows to only speak when spoken to, even the inner circle who welcomed you years ago keep their foreheads pressed to the ground. He quietly pads through the crowd again, headed back toward you, and your eyes meet the ground swiftly to avoid being punished for looking at him out of turn.

“Look at me.”

Yours are the only pair of eyes he ever truly cares to have on him. Following the command, you glance up at him, remaining with your knees tucked beneath you and your hands folded in your lap. The way he looks down at you is as tender as he will ever get, even his softness is cold and harsh, but he speaks loudly enough that even the room behind him can hear that he values your opinion above the rest of them.

“What do you think I should do with him?”

Smiling back at him, your glassy eyes meet his and you say exactly what you know he wants to hear.

“Kill him, Suguru.”

Smirking, he reaches down to pinch your chin between his index finger and thumb like he always does when you are performing as expected. It isn’t a performance anymore, if it ever was, it’s simply the way you feel when it comes to those who oppose him. He wags your head back and forth before dropping the touch completely, turning around and leaving you facing his back.

Your eyes dart toward the ground once more. You were not instructed to look at him.

Geto walks through the rows of people once more, reaching to touch the backs of each of their heads while he passes, finally stopping in front of his target. His hands rest in the opposite sleeve of each of them and he bends at the waist, offering the same smile he gives to all of his victims.

“Well, unfortunately, your fate has been chosen. You may as well speak now while you still have the chance.”

A curse materializes, brought to this realm by the man in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the ground while screams and the sound of the rending of flesh fill the congregation room.

You’ll only look up once you’re instructed, as always.

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #kendall writes

72 notes · View notes

hannahssimblr · 2 days

Text

“I have to say, this is an impressive body of work.”

I shift in my seat, “By impressive do you mean that it’s good, or that there’s a lot of it?”

This gets a laugh. “Both,” says the man, Paul, flicking through a sketchbook with tattooed hands, fingers stained from nicotine. I notice things like this now. Hands. I notice their lines and their bones, all their interesting details, and perhaps Paul himself could gauge this now as he pours over my figure studies where there are pages upon pages of hands, old and young, my friends, my sisters at the piano, an old woman clutching at a handrail on the train, and my own, a hundred times in different ways, blisters, plasters, hangnails and bruises from the rugby pitch.

The woman, Ida, shuffles through a stack of watercolour paintings I did last summer, mostly seascapes, the beach and the rushes, the whitewashed houses and rusted iron of the Wexford coast. Just looking at them I can recall the grit of sand under my bare feet as I warmed them on the deck of our holiday home behind my portable easel. In three months I’ll return again for one last summer, and after that I expect I’ll miss it there.

“And you said you didn’t do a portfolio preparation year?” She says, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“No, I’m still at school.”

“Highly unusual for a sixth year,” her eyebrows climb up her forehead, “You've clearly dedicated a lot of time to this.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I like making art, I don’t know.”

It’s difficult to tell what this woman is thinking. Everything about her is harsh, dramatic, from the sharp fringe that sits straight and neat above her brows to the slash of her mouth, thin lips, pointy chin, hard eyes, but I have to assume for the sake of my own self esteem that she doesn’t positively loathe my portfolio. She spends some time looking through my work, slowly, methodically, sometimes leaning closer to frown at something, maybe some proportion that’s off, bad composition, a clumsy attempt at ambient occlusion that doesn’t hit the mark…

“It’s beautiful,” she says simply, and I exhale.

“Oh look, a familiar face,” Paul holds a portrait to Ida, “That’s the girl that we were interviewing a few people before this, what was her name again?”

“Michelle,” I say, “My girlfriend.”

Paul nods, “Michelle, right! Good likeness,” and places the notebook back onto the table. Leaning back in his chair, he cracks his knuckles, “Look, Jude, there’s no two ways about it here, your work is outstanding. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a portfolio that hits every mark, every requirement and goes beyond, I mean,” he lets out a puff of air and gestures to the table, “this is nuts. And for a sixth year? Come on. This stuff would blow some of our third and fourth year college students out of the water.”

I feel like I could melt off the chair with relief, but try to suppress my utter delight so that they don’t think I’m too hungry for validation.

“Cool.”

“It’s the sensitivity,” Ida adds, “Your observation skills, your sense of weight, movement, knowledge of anatomy. It’s rare to see this kind of work from a secondary school student. Your efforts are just… so impressive.”

“And look, we know it depends on your Leaving Cert points, and yeah, that’ll be a contributing factor when it comes to acceptance, but, like,” Paul looks over the table again, tossing his hands up conclusively, “as far as I’m concerned, we’ll see you in September.”

Ida’s mouth curls into a smile, “We hope. If you choose us.”

If I choose them? Am I dreaming? How have I become the kind of person who is coveted by an art school? Surely not. Surely soon I’ll wake up and discover that this whole interview has been a product of my dreams. Too much time spent stressing out over art, the requirements, the brief... Almost certainly I’ve fallen asleep somewhere and none of this is real.

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m glad you liked my stuff.”

“Blown away,” says Paul, and he leaps to his feet to shake my hand like I’ve just won a prize, “all we need is a pass in the Leaving Cert, you can surely manage it.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do.”

They’re smiling at me as I gather up my work, and still smiling as I give them one last sheepish wave from the door, and I realise I am still smiling too as I face the hallway of waiting students, staring at me with portfolios rested against their knees. I probably shouldn’t look too overjoyed, it might knock their confidence, so I try to look very bored instead as I pass by, though I may explode from the inside out.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's back baby #looking cuter than ever #I love hipster era Jude so much??#and c'mon #y'all know what's coming this summer #anyone recognise Ida?

48 notes · View notes

cuteskunkz · 1 day

Text

╭──────────.★..─╮

One Night With You

~ Part 3 ~

╰─..★.──────────╯

(Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Summary~ The night starts to heat up between you and Mike after a few shots. 1.7k word count

Read part 1 & part 2 for context <3

Tags~ SMUTTT, pet names, olderbf! Mike (you're 20, he's 28), fem reader, public-ish sex, dominant Mike, submissive reader, creampie, drinking

Note~ I wrote this is a day!!???!!! Big shout out to my coworker Malachi who helped me with the direction of this fic! Heads up, I did minimal proofreading on this hoe bc it's deadass 3am and I have to be up in 5 hours for work (send help). I'm debating if I want to continue with this story so if you want me to update lemme know :33

⊱✿⊰

You furrow your brows with determination, "Fine! Don't expect me to drag you home when you black out though!"

"You actually think 3 shots are gonna fuck me up that bad? You're hilarious" he chuckles as he tilts his glass towards you. You take the shots in unison and glare at each other, scanning for any reactions to the alcohol.

Mike hiccups finally giving you the opportunity to pester him. "Aww is it too much for you? Should we slow down?" you assert in a sarcastic and flirtatious voice.

He flutters his eyes trying his best to adjust to the intoxication, "You won't be laughing when I say that to you later tonight..." Mike says while holding back a laugh

You punch him in the arm and giggle, "Oh yeah?" You gulp back your third shot, immediately feeling the sense of relaxation hit. It's like all your problems and worries fade away into nothingness when you drink. You meet Mike's gaze, wanting to hear more about him. "So... what's up with you lately? If you're going to take me out, the least you can do is tell me a few of your secrets."

"I mean, life's been rough lately but... when isn't it, Y'know? It's one always one thing after another." You can hear the frustration in his voice as he swirls around his glass, avoiding eye contact. Mike looks around the bar and then down at your hands.

"Yeah... I know. My fucking job blows and all I want to do is just- start fresh... no more late nights working my ass off just to miss rent again." The drunken state you're in is allowing your emotions to spill out with no hesitation.

"Believe me I'm in the same boat. I mean..." he sighs and rubs his temples. "I work as security for an abandoned pizzeria like....it's fucking abandoned! What am I actually securing dude!" Mike buries his face in his hands, feeling insane for working such a dead end job. "There's people my age with degrees and real accomplishments under their belt and what am I doing? Wasting my life days at a time for shit hours and pay."

You grab his hand and hold it tight. "Mike... I'm literally a stripper... I'm in no place to judge" you say in an attempt to lighten the mood and smile at him. "We do what we do for a reason, right? To keep a roof over our heads... and to go out drinking!" He chuckles at your words and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah...." Mike grips your hand tighter and wets his lips before speaking, "You wanna take a walk?"

"Sure! Fresh air won't hurt." He holds your hand to help you out of the booth and guides you to the parking lot. With it being a small town it, isn't so crowded out. Cars occasionally pass by as the warm breeze cools you both down. You look up at the night sky, amazed by the twinkling stars. Mike stares at you longingly and smirks. He can't think back to the last time a girl made him feel the way he does right now

"Isn't it so beautiful, Mike?" you say while gazing at the stars.

"Yeah.... definitely" he responds still taking in your features. His chest tightens and thoughts begin to race in his head. Mike didn't want to ruin the moment by taking things too fast but god did you look breathtaking right now. "So beautiful..."

You peer down at him and notice he hadn't looked up once and was fully referring to you. This causes a pink color to rush across your cheeks and you move closer to him. He caresses your cheek and plays with a strand of your hair. "Y-you... you don't have a boyfriend, right?"

You seductively respond back at him, "You want to change that, sir?" Mike swiftly wraps his hand around the back of your neck to bring you in to meet his lips. His kiss is hungry for more, clearly desperate for your embrace. He's completely given up on taking it slow.

You pull away and look up at him, your eyes glassy from the drinks. The lip gloss you wore transferred onto his lips. "You sure about this? I know we were drinking and I don't want-"

"Mike..." you roll your eyes at him, wanting him to take control.

"I just don't want to be too rough on you... or ruin my chance with you." he says in a low voice.

"All that flirting earlier and you're backing out now? Don't you want to..." you pout at him playfully, "teach me a lesson for going out with strangers?" A little giggle escapes you when suddenly you're grabbed by the wrist and dragged to the alley next to the bar.

"Do you want this? Yes or no. No bullshit, tell me now." he exclaims as you're backed up against the wall, him towering over you.

"Y-yes sir I do..."

He reaches his hand up your skirt and feels up and down your lacy panties. "You wore these for me, hm?"

"Y-yeah I did... Do you like them?"

"Of course I do sweetheart. Very kind of you to do that for me" He starts pulling them to the side, eager to feel your arousal. He slips his finger in to rub small circles with your wetness. "All that from some kisses? What an eager little girl, so adorable"

"I really like you- that's all!" You're not sure why Mike is making you feel this shy and bashful. You'd like to think you're very dominating towards men due to your profession but he's proving this to be false very quickly.

He grabs you by your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes and speaks. "Promise me that if at any point you feel uncomfortable or want to stop, you'll tell me...okay?"

You mumble this promise over and over again while feeling up on him through his jeans, your excitement for what's to come literally dripping out of you.

"That's a good girl. You're an amazing listener, do you know that? Keep it up, kiddo" he teases. He turns you around to face the brick wall and pushes your skirt up. "You ready for me?"

You nod your head quickly, overcome with passion.

"Use your words, pretty girl. You can do it."

"Yes... I'm ready, I promise!"

"Yes, who?" Mike says in a commanding manner.

"Yes, sir..." Your legs tremble uncontrollably and your breath accelerates, something about the thrill of possibly being caught is turning up the heat.

He slowly pushes into you, letting you adjust to his cock. "Theeere we go... How does that feel, babygirl?" He bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix ever so slightly.

"It's g-good sir... feels good" The euphoria from the shots and his length are sure to collaborate with each other in your body.

Mike starts to thrust slowly, using your hips as leverage. Small whimpers and moans slip out of you. "I bet it does... You're so tight around me... I seriously don't know how you're not taken already... A pretty girl with a tight pussy like this should be fuckin' married by now."

He pounds into your cunt harder almost as if he's mad at you for being single. The sound of skin on skin fills the dark alley. Your eyes roll backwards when he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, pushing you closer to the edge of breaking. "Sir p-please... can't go for much longer... S'too much" you beg.

"You can take more, I know you can. Hang in there for me, okay? He says this in such a genuine way, it's only making you fall for him more. You're really hoping this isn't a one night stand situation.

He grunts and moves his hands around your neck, putting you into pretty much a headlock. His cock throbs violently in you, threatening to release soon. "Fuuckk I needed this..." You arch your back against him allowing for your g-spot to be avoided as to not cum quickly.

He instantly noticed this shift and pulls you back up, "You wanted this, don't run now..." There's a hint of condescension in his words. You moan loudly when he juts harshly into your poor pussy, leaking with fervor.

"Can you stay quiet for me baby? Just a little longer, okay? We can't have people finding us out here, right?"

"B-but sir-"

"No buts princess... That's a direction. What happened to my good little listener?"

You pout and bite your lip to hold in the moans begging to topple out of you. Only small whimpers and whines allowed you remind yourself mentally as he continues on. He purposely rubs on your spot with his thick cock and sneaks a hand down to toy with your swollen clit, guaranteeing to make you cum any second.

"M'gonna... gonna cum... Mike please!!!"

"Cum on my cock like a good girl, baby. You deserve it after all..." You quiver and whimper as you reach your limit, your pussy clenching down onto his member. You squirt from the stimulation, dripping down on your legs and leaving a wet spot on his jeans. Mike's thrusts get sloppier and his moans get heavier simultaneously.

"Y-you're on the pill, r-right?" You nod aggressively with his hand over your mouth to block your screams of pleasure. "G-good... gonna ffuckin' cum inside- shit... fucccckk...." He pumps all his cum into you, whining into your ear. He keeps his cock stuffed inside your hole so he can catch his breath.

"You did very very well baby.... I'm proud of you" he says while stroking your hair. When he pulls out, little drips of cum leak down your thighs. Mike pulls your panties back into place and pats you on the head. "Ready to head home, little one?"

You turn around to face him and smile from being fully fucked out and cockdrunk. "Cooould I... come home with you maybe?"

⊱✿⊰

30 notes · View notes

lefteagleblizzard · 1 day

Text

𝕭𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖐

Derek danforth x gender neutral reader

Summary: as Derek’s personal assistant, it’s your job to do whatever you need to in order to make your boss’ day run smoothly.

This is like a continuation of the other story that I wrote for Derek, but can also be read as a standalone.

Warnings: gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Smut! Oral sex (reader giving). Dom Derek. Boss x advisor relationship. Sorry for bad grammar. Sorry if it’s cringe. Enjoy :)

Word counts: 3000+

The coffee pot is already halfway empty when you walks into the staff kitchen at half past eleven, the handle of your green and white spotted mug hanging loosely from your fingertips. You nod a greeting at a coworker of yours, scrolling through her Blackberry as she sips from her own orange mug, and step up to the counter. Setting your cup down on the linoleum surface, you grab the pot and fill the cup two-thirds with the liquid energy that doesn’t work as well as it used to.

The office is abuzz with the usual hustle and bustle. People huddle around the coffee machine, tapping away at keyboards, and discussing weekend plans.

You could hear whispers barely audible from behind you.

You strut past, your chin held high. You catch their stares but don’t flinch.

They are more than likely talking about the purple constellation that adorned your neck.

Courtesy of the esteemed boss, Mr. Danforth. They are like a badge of honor, they show how dedicated to your job you were.

You open the cabinet overhead and digs out three packets of sugar and a stirrer. Tossing them next to your mug, you traverse the small space to the fridge and pull open the door to grab the hazelnut creamer off the side. When you turns around, closing the fridge door with your elbow, Mickey is squeezing into the room around the woman as she leaves.

“Need a boost already?” Mickey asks with a bit of laughter in his voice.

Mickey is one of the members of the UDG and, although he and you aren’t particularly close outside of the office, he makes for good company during the day.

You offers up a smile before returning your attention to your coffee. “I’ve been running around all morning coordinating the arrival plans of various investors,” you explain, opening the creamer and filling your mug the rest of the way. “And there’s that joint meeting with Production after lunch so I can’t risk passing out.”

Putting the creamer aside, he tears open all three packets of sugar at once and pours them in.

Mickey hums sympathetically even though he’ll be sitting in on the meeting as well. He takes a quick look at the side of your neck, rolling his eyes at the indecency in trying at least to hide obvious things. He goes to grab a cup of greek yogurt with his name written along the top and side in thick, black marker, nabbing the creamer on his way to the fridge to put it back.

You gently stir your coffee to dissolve the sugar. You curl your fingers around the handle, careful so they don’t brush against the burning stoneware.

“Long night, eh?” He said while glancing back quickly at your neck with his eyes.

“Oh, you have no idea.” your eyes gleaming as you remembered the party that occurred the night before.

You raised the mug in a wave and laughed at the annoyed pinch of Mickey’s eyebrows. Lifting the mug to your lips, you take a sip off your coffee as you turn to walk through the floor back to your own office. It’s still much too hot, and you may have overdone it on the sugar, but you need the caffeine to kick in sooner rather than later.

You walk past, triumphant, leaving behind your coworkers still whispering behind your back, unapologetically proud. Because sometimes, in the corporate jungle, you’ve got to wear your bruises with pride.

The department is in a casual disarray with the preparations for the afternoon meeting, the potential launch of a new line of products the main stressor. It’s still rather early in discussion; all of the serious panicked overtime work won’t happen for another couple months.

Taking another sip of your coffee before placing your mug down on the coaster you drunkenly stole from a sports bar a few months ago, you drag over your tablet. You tap and drag your stylus over the screen until you pull up your email. There’s already five new emails in your inbox.

You sigh from annoyance.

At the light call of your name, you push out of your lazy lean over your desk and straighten up. Turning over your shoulder, you lock eyes with your boss. The slightly older man rests against the open doorway, a hand tucked into the pocket of his light green slacks. He wears a light smile that quirks into something of a smirk.

His pupils were dilated.

The fucker was already having fun without you.

“Yes, Mr. Danforth?” you answer, fully facing your boss with your head resting on the back of your hands closed with your fingers intertwined. Your eyes start to wander toward the floor but you drag them back up to the older man’s face.

Your boss looks you up and down with purpose. “Come into my office for a moment, please?” He talked with that preppie teenage snot voice that you’ve come to like more and more.

“Now?” You hide a grin behind your hands. You could hear footsteps of other coworkers.

“If you have the time.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on your boss as the older man steps out of the doorway and walks across the hallway to his own office. Once he’s out of sight, you heave in a deep breath.

You grab your coffee, taking one last drink while it’s still warm because you know you’re not going to be back before it cools.

For being the CEO of a ‘successful’ company at the young age of twenty-eight, Derek Danforth has a unique head on his shoulders.

As his personal advisor, you know a lot of Derek’s quirks — the signs he’s not as indefinitely happy as he seems and wading in stress. Signs like the way his eyes were iced over a moment ago, and like the way his fingers twitched where they hid in his pocket.

And it’s your job to keep Derek ‘in check’.

It had started with a stealthy look during a meeting, when you were still relatively new to the job.

Then with a stolen smile in the hallway.

Then with a light exchange of words while you were still working at night.

To then sex whenever the two of you wanted to.

Every encounter was a risk (at least for you in the beginning), but the thrill and the passion had overwhelmed you two like a stormy wave.

You step into Derek’s office, eyes on the tips of your shoes. You drag the door shut and twist the lock behind your back without raising your chin.

“Yes, Sir?”

Derek’s fingers tap along the surface of his desk, the skips in rhythm a confirmation that he’s under stress. They stop, and then you hear the slide of a computer mouse over a mouse pad followed by a click and a flurry of typing.

And you wait, playing with your fingers behind your back where Derek can’t see. (Although he probably knows that you are fidgeting. You always had a problem with fidgeting.)

The tip tap of Derek’s fingers moving over the keys echoes in the spacious expanse of his office and the lack of immediate attention leaves you to hover between alertness and disconnect.

“Come sit,” Derek says at last, tone conversational.

You lets yourself disconnect a little more, the command enough to push you into a pleasant haze. You bobs your head in a nod. “Yes, Sir.”

Derek isn’t one for flair but the visitor’s chairs in his office have cushions like clouds. You leave a subtle hint every once in a while that you want to know where they came from but Derek has yet to divulge.

You want to reach out to touch the back of one of the two chairs, but you keep your hands to yourself as you round the desk and stop at Derek’s left. You catch a glimpse of Derek’s desk as you drop to your knees.

There was some strange paper that looked like a sort of message but you had no time to read it as the paper was instantly crushed by Derek’s fingers and thrown to the trash.

Derek sinks his fingers into your hair with an approving hum.

A quiet exhale blows over your lips. You lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut as you’re petted. When your mind starts to wander, you lose track of time, so you don't know how many minutes pass before Derek turns in his chair and guides you between his spread legs.

“Do you mind helping me out?” Derek asks in a needy voice, massing his fingers into your nape.

You hum, pleased. The fingers at your neck press harder and you pull your eyes open. “Of course.”

Derek’s hand leaves your neck and travels to his belt.

“Actually...” you meet Derek’s eyes for the first time since entering his office. The heady gaze of hunger makes your cheeks tint and your heart soar. At the quirk of an eyebrow, you know to continue. “I was waiting until after the meeting but I have a proposal for you.”

Derek’s right eyebrow raises to join the left. He leans back in his chair and props one of his elbows up on an arm rest. “Show me, then.”

You rise to your feet. You preen under Derek’s attention, squirming cutely as you undoe the button and zip of your pants and inches them down to your knees, along with your underwear. Waddling to face the desk, you spare a glance back at your boss before moving his laptop off to the side.

Resting your weight onto your elbows, you leans over the desk with your unbuttoned slacks held up by spread thighs. You swipe your tongue over your lips and shifts your weight onto one arm, reaching back with the other to spread yourself open for Derek to see.

The chair creaks a bit when Derek raises out of it.

“You’ve been stressed as of lately and it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it to me. I was hoping I could—”

“Quiet.”

Pressing your forehead against the desk, you bite back another whimper and clamp your lips shut.

Derek’s fingers are cold as they trail down the slight exposure of your back and over the curve of your ass. Already properly ready to take him thanks to you.

“How many times have you come today?” He rubs his finger up and down.

You shake your head.

Clicking his tongue, Derek bears his hand down on your ass, the slap light but scolding.

Your breath hitches and you exhale out a small giggle, soaring a little higher after the hit. “Zero.” You answer properly.

“I’d love to fuck you loose and then turn you over the other side of my desk. Unlock the door and let anyone who comes in see how beautifully you gape.”

Whimpering, you clench around nothing under the effect of his finger. Derek rubs circles into the small of his back, shushing you under his breath.

“You want it that badly, eh?”

His words get lost in the clouds filling the space between your ears, making his voice a dull noise that sounds like it’s happening outside the walls of the office.

“Sweetheart?”

Giggling, you press your cheek into the desk and tries to look up at your boss.

Derek pokes the tip of his nose and chuckles when you scrunches it. “You went down further than I thought you would,” he mumbles to himself. “That’s fine. I guess we both need it.”

You stare at him starry-eyed, grin uncontrollable, as Derek retrieves his fingers and yanks your pants up.

Beginning to work at his belt, Derek nods at his advisor. “On your knees”

A part of you wants to whine at the command — wants Derek to touch you, wants to be able to touch yourself — but the gruff voice of your boss’ voice scrapes over your skin and leave you warm and obedient. You push yourself up and easily return to your position on the floor, back pulled straight in attention and arms folded behind your back, hands curved around your elbows, in denial.

Derek brushes soft fingers over your cheek and under your jaw. “Aren’t you so beautiful like this, sweetheart?” He slides his belt free and loops it around the back of your neck. With a harsh tug, he pulls your face to his crotch.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so you’re going to suck me off and then I’m going to send you out,” he explains. “But since you prepared such a nice present. Sit close to me during the meeting so it won’t be as boring. If you can make it through without needing to excuse yourself, we can just leave, maybe go back to my place and fuck over and over. I don’t need to explain to you what happens if you can’t resist, clear?”

“Crystal,” you slur, mouth smushed against the stiffening swell of Derek’s erection.

Derek releases the belt, leaving it hanging around your shoulders, and let you work at the button of his pants.

You lower yourself to sit back and to be in line with Derek’s hips.

Without answering, Derek opens his pants enough to pull himself free. His cock hangs heavily between the green flaps of his slacks, already hard enough to hook to the right. Leaving one hand loosely curled around himself, he presses the fingers of the other to your lips.

You part them, still looking up at your boss with starry eyes. Derek teases a finger along your bottom lip.

He chuckles brightly but a second later his entire face closes off. “What are you smiling for?” His voice sinks nearly a whole octave and, as expected, your tiny grin drops.

Breath quickening, you quickly lower your gaze and try to straighten your back impossibly more, the sound of Derek’s voice hitting that particular low knocking you into another level of submission.

The fingers at your lip hook over your teeth and pull his jaw open wider.

“Excited to have my dick?” Derek angles his dick up and rubs the shaft, already smelling thick with arousal, over the ball of your cheek.

Your eyes begin to glaze over where they’re glued to the fall of Derek’s light green or seawater tone dress shirt over the base of his cock. You try to blink yourself out of it, faintly aware of where the two of you are and your limits, but when the hand at your mouth leaves and drags back along your jaw to settle like an anchor at your nape, the desire to sink is so inviting.

“You’re my sweet, little cockslut, aren’t you?” Derek punctuates the question by slapping the side of your face with his dick, the sound made hollow by your open jaw. “Always so good for me.”

Sucking in a shuddering breath and letting your eyes drift shut again, you nod once. “Yes,” you exhale and turn your head to press your nose into Derek’s shaft.

Derek’s grip softens and he grazes lines into your skin. “Haven’t had you like this in a while,” he says, and then reestablishes the weight of his hand.

He presses the tip of his cock to your lips, which part once more without instruction, and slides into your mouth.

“That’s it,” Derek sighs. He draws out before guiding you down his length again, giving little time to allow his slut to relax. “Take all of it.”

The bit of coarse hair at Derek’s base that pokes out over the hem of his pants tickles your nose and if you hadn’t fallen deeper, you probably would have laughed. But you’re quiet as Derek holds your face flush against his hips that shallowly roll forward, pushing his cock as far into your mouth as his limits will allow.

He sighs again, more labored, and you peel open your eyes to glance up at him.

Derek’s own eyes trail up from where they were watching your mouth to meet his slut’s gaze.

You blink three times, your signal for an okay when he can’t use his hands or words.

Derek inches out, checks his hold on you, and slides back in, gaining speed and ending up choking you as he uses your mouth to get off.

And you take it so well, hollowing your cheeks on the backstroke and swallowing around the head of Derek’s cock when it bumps the back of your throat, even as the rough treatment steals the air from your lungs and builds tears in your eyes.

Sporadically, Derek murmurs a compliment in between the low groans and hushed curses, so proud of his precious advisor, his sweetheart — and every word makes you ache between his legs, makes your hands tighten where they’re clamped around your elbows, makes you skyrocket.

The ringing of Derek’s office phone goes ignored as he focuses on the moist warmth of his slut’s mouth and chasing his end. It’ll get him in trouble one day, maybe, but here in this moment, with your throat working around his dick in that way he likes and the blood in his veins singing, he can’t be bothered with caring.

Derek doesn’t always warn you before he comes, but you know all of the signs. Signs like how he presses his nails into your skin or how his left knee trembles the slightest bit. And when he sucks in his cheeks and hum, Derek comes warm and thick on your tongue.

Some of it leaks when Derek pulls out of your mouth, sliding over your swollen lips, but the older man is quick to catch it on a finger and feed it back to you.

“Tuck me in” Derek demands after you swallow, voice still husky but now light. The corners of his lips rise into a satiated smirk.

Unfolding your arms, you shake the crawling feeling out of them before tucking Derek back into his underwear and adjusting his pants. As he redoes the buttons, Derek rubs all over your neck, upper back, and shoulders. “Was I able to help?”

With a gruff he managed to pull you on his lap, not that you showed any sign of protest. “Not too bad so far. We’ll see how I feel later tonight”

All you do in response is tuck your nose into Derek’s throat and enjoys being held.

“Can’t wait,” you exhales.

Note: thanks for reading. Criticism is completely accepted

30 notes · View notes